Poisoned by Gilt (26 page)

Burke was so livid he was scaring me, but Asia merely

clicked her tongue. "Oh, honestly! You're the big-deal

conservationist. I'd think you'd appreciate all this free water." She shook her head. "There's just no pleasing some

people."

"Appreciate it?! You seriously think I'll buy that you've

done me some kind of a favor?! My house smells like a

skunky swamp, thanks to you! Right when Audrey

Munroe is here!"

"Oh, was that today?" Asia said, the picture of innocence. She turned her gaze to the windmill and murmured, "I'm so terribly sorry. I'd forgotten. Just as you

seem to have forgotten all about stealing my power."

"You manipulative little--" He broke off just as he

heard the door open. We both turned and saw Audrey approaching. Burke continued: "--annoying person, you."

"Burke," Audrey called, "we heard a funny noise and

went downstairs. Your basement is flooding."

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"Oh, my god!" Burke exclaimed, and ran inside.

"Is that her?" Asia asked. She looked at Audrey and

said in an ironic monotone, "Our own local minor

celebrity, right here in our little corner of the world.

Why, I'm practically starstruck at the very notion."

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Burke turned off the main breaker to prevent any

possibility of an electric current being carried in

his floodwater, then returned to the fence and watched as

Asia dragged the hose away from his property. Afterwards,

Audrey and I followed him as far as the bottom step of the

basement stair. There was enough ambient light from

the window wells and the open door behind us to see

how shallow the water was--less than an inch deep. I

started to roll up my sleeves, intending to help the two

men bail out the basement, but Sullivan, who'd already

removed his shoes and socks and stepped into the water,

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said, "It's okay, Erin. This really isn't bad. Why don't you

go ahead and accompany Audrey to Darren's house?"

Burke had been wearing soft-soled shoes and strode

right through the water without hesitation. He was redfaced and his jaw and fists were clenched. He set his

anger aside long enough to say, "That's a good idea, Erin.

It was nice meeting you, Audrey. Thank you for stepping

in as judge. But stepping into floodwater would be above

and beyond the call of duty." He'd come as close to making a joke as I'd ever heard, but he couldn't muster any

semblance of a smile to help pull it off.

"My pleasure, Dr. Stratton. We'll meet again soon.

Hopefully under better, and drier, circumstances."

He nodded. "You can go, too, Steve. This won't take

very long for me to clean up, and my . . . annoying neighbor has already shut off the source of the water."

"Thanks," Sullivan said, "but I've got some time. Let

me give you a hand."

I started to turn, then did a double take at a crack in

the foundation at the west wall. It unnerved me. Two

whole sections of the wall had shifted such that one portion was indented by a full inch. Water was seeping

through that seam.

Audrey was studying my features and surely must have

registered my alarm. In any case, she couldn't have

missed the crack in the wall, and with the home's structural problems accentuated by sewer water, Burke's

chances of winning were now zilch. "Let's drive next

door, shall we?" I suggested to her.

I got behind the wheel and made a show of preparing

to drive away, but then announced, "Oh, gosh. There's

something I need to mention to Sullivan before I go. I'll

be right back."

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Sullivan was waiting for me by the door and let me in

before I could knock. "We need to tell Burke to get a

structural engineer or soil engineer out here," I said quietly.

"Yeah. I'll tell him that. But we should also discuss this

mess with Jeremy Greene. In person. I'd like to see his reaction. Burke's foundation must have the same design

flaws that Richard was suing over. Jeremy should be

forced to pay restitution to Richard's estate."

"Fine, but remember that--"

He held up his hand. "I know. Burke's our client. And

it's his house. I'll recommend an engineer right now." He

turned and headed back to the basement without waiting

for my reply.

As I returned to Audrey's car, I pondered whether or

not Burke's bad relationship with Asia or his defective

foundation could be connected to the murders. If both

Richard Thayers and, later, Walter Emory had threatened to expose Jeremy's seriously flawed designs, could

Jeremy have been deluded into believing that killing

both men would save his career? Certainly Burke now

had cause to be driven into a murderous rage, but at Asia

and Jeremy, not Richard or Walter.

I got back behind the wheel. Audrey was jotting some

notes on her pad, which she returned to her handbag

when I started the engine.

"Once again, Erin, you did a truly remarkable job on

that house."

"Thank you, Audrey." I turned onto the road.

"I'm simply stating the obvious, but you're welcome. I

only hope your work isn't going to go for naught."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that Dr. Stratton's house appears to have been

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built on a sinkhole or something, judging by the cracks

in the basement."

I winced, but if she noticed she didn't let on. She

mused, "None of the questions on my score sheets ask me

to rank the home's durability or its prospects in the event

of a geological disaster. But clearly that's an oversight on

Earth Love's part. It hardly matters how energy-efficient

your refrigerator is, for example, if you've built your

house on top of quicksand. I can't rave to Earth Love

about Dr. Stratton's house's wonderful green design and

ignore the tiny issue of the entire place collapsing."

"It's just one little crack." So far.

"So is the San Andreas fault line, but I wouldn't build

my house directly on top of it."

I pulled into Darren's driveway. Her eyes widened as

we swung around in his circular driveway. "Now this

place, on the other hand, looks like it could survive a nuclear explosion."

"I've seen lots of photos, but I've never been inside,

and I'm dying to see it. Mind if I tag along?"

"Of course not, my dear. You're the one who's been so

worried about Burke's competitors crying foul."

That was back when I thought he had a good chance of

winning, I thought. Before I saw Burke's basement. "I've

changed my mind. Everyone was there when Margot

nominated you for this job. Darren will just have to deal

with it."

I let Audrey lead the way and stood slightly behind her

as she used his brass doorknocker. Darren wore a big

smile as he swung open the door. The smile faded a little

when he saw me, but Audrey hastened to explain that

we'd been carpooling and she'd asked me to join her.

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He mumbled a welcome at me, but only regained his

enthusiasm when he returned his gaze to Audrey. "I'm so

glad you're doing this," he said to her. "Thank you for volunteering your time. I'm Darren Campesio."

"Audrey Munroe."

"I've heard about your show. I don't own a television,

I'm afraid, but I'm sure I would enjoy watching you, if I

could." He pulled the door shut behind me so quickly

that it nearly closed on my heel. "Let me take you on the

dime tour." He grabbed Audrey's arm and turned his

back on me. Apparently he'd decided to handle my joining his cozy twosome by pretending not to see me. "But

first, can I get you some refreshments? Tea? Juice?

Coffee? Cinnamon toast?"

"No, thank you," Audrey said graciously. "Erin? Would

you like anything?"

I was tempted to ask for a slice of watermelon just to be

obnoxious--it would have been no more incongruous

than the cinnamon toast--but I took the high road and

said, "No, but thanks for offering, Darren."

He gave me a perfunctory nod, then launched into a

well-rehearsed spiel about the wondrous benefits of underground living. If anything, though, the front rooms of

the house were surprisingly unexceptional and had the

feel of any other modest home. The furnishings were

what I'd term rustic-western-cabin: plaid upholstery, lots

of antlers and metal doodads shaped like caveman drawings of bears, and low clunky butcher-block tables,

which, not surprisingly, Darren had made himself. The

back rooms, which were actually underground, featured

light tunnels, which worked with mirrors and lenses, not

unlike periscopes, and looked like portholes. No room

was completely shut off from sunlight, and he'd posi-P o i s o n e d b y G i l t
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tioned mirrors wisely--although their frames were

adorned with deer antlers. In my opinion, antlers as decor is a stylistic choice in which a little goes a long, long

way. The loftlike upstairs, with its three bedrooms all in a

row separated by two three-quarter baths, reminded me

of a Motel 6 layout. In fact, I suspected he'd gotten all his

artwork from one of those hotel art "no paintings over

sixty dollars" sales that were periodically advertised on

late-night TV.

However, tacky decor aside, his home was remarkably

fuel-efficient. He heated the entire house using his woodstove, and cooked with it as well. So little wood was required that he only needed to burn branches that he

gathered from his own trees. He had an outstanding water collection system, which used charcoal filters of his

own design. The energy from his windmill and his solar

panels heated a hot-water tank and was stored in fuel

cells to provide him with electricity year-round. He had a

garden in the courtyard in front of his house where he

grew and canned enough fruits and vegetables for him

"to live off of forever, if I had to!" (He was a vegetarian

because it was "better for the ecology.") His home was

one hundred percent self-sustaining. Ugly, yes, but very

green. Not unlike an avocado kitchen from the seventies.

"I'm impressed," Audrey acknowledged as Darren returned us to the front door at the end of the tour.

"Thought you would be," he said with a wink. "Do

you have any questions?"

"I do," I said immediately. "Where is this shooting

gallery of yours? Is that through the one door you didn't

open, off your den?"

"Er, yes."

"I'd like to see that room, if I may," Audrey stated.

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"Ah, well, that room isn't really . . . in good viewing

shape."

"Oh, I can overlook a little dust and clutter, or what

have you," Audrey replied. When he gave no response,

merely shifting his weight from foot to foot, she added,

"I'm under a directive to inspect all rooms, Darren."

"Well, then. We can't have you ignore a directive,

now, can we?"

He ushered us back into the den, which was a more

cavelike version of the same mountain-man motif. He

removed a small keychain from a pocket in his olive

drab khakis, unlocked the door, and flipped a switch,

which gradually illuminated a long, narrow, windowless

room. We stepped inside. I generally avoid horror

movies, but this room reminded me of the trailers for

any number of gruesome films, and it was all I could do

not to bolt out of there in order to restore my normal

breathing pattern.

Directly in front of us was a half wall with a swinging

door that divided the room into two sections. We stood in

the small, square shooting portion, with a long, narrow

target hall on the other side of the half wall. Darren patted the dividing wall's two-foot-wide ledge. "Got this from

a restaurant downtown that the owner was remodeling.

Used to be part of his bar. I fortified it with two-by-fours. I

stock it with ammunition and some odds and ends from

my military days. It's perfect, don't you think?"

He grinned at Audrey, who merely shifted her gaze to

me without reply. The salvaged bar was certainly the

nicest feature of the room. Then again, it was also essentially the only feature.

Beside the door next to me hung a sturdy-looking gun

case, which held three rifles and two handguns, with un-P o i s o n e d b y G i l t
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used brackets for several more weapons. At the far wall

opposite the entrance, three targets--black torsos on

white cardboard--had been lined up on easels. Black

drapes behind the targets completely hid the back wall.

The floor consisted of strips of carpet over hard-packed

dirt, and the two long walls were cinderblocks. The low

ceiling--less than eight feet--was made of particle board

left unpainted, which supported four or five unadorned

low-wattage light fixtures.

"I love what you've done with this space, Darren,"

Audrey deadpanned.

He chuckled. "Some folks get claustrophobic the instant they walk through the door. But don't worry." He