Treasure Uncovered (Bellingwood #3) (2 page)

"You're a pushy lady. Will you at least take me out for dinner and a movie? You owe me one, you know."

The last time she had attempted to take Henry out on a date, it had been interrupted by a threat to one of her guests at Sycamore House. They'd ended up eating takeout and watching a movie in her apartment that night. He was right. She still owed him a nice evening out.

"I'll take you anywhere you want to go, but I want you in Bellingwood first."

"I miss you too. I'll talk to you tonight."

"Be good today!"

She scratched Luke's head and closed her eyes. When Polly had proposed building a barn and that led to a barn-raising, Jeff Lyndsay had accused Polly of having a menagerie. He might have been right.

Her front doorbell chimed and Polly came awake, startled. "You let me fall asleep," she admonished Obiwan, who was curled up on his blanket at the other end of the sofa. Luke must have also settled in because he stood up, arched his back, then stretched his front paws out.

Polly ran to the front door and saw that Lydia and Andy were standing there with two women she didn't recognize.

"You weren't down in your office and Jeff said he saw you come upstairs. Did we wake you?" Lydia laughed.

Polly glanced around her apartment. Other than her bedroom, everything looked fine. "I'm sorry," she said. "You're right. I sat down and fell asleep."

"Should we wait for you in the conference room?"

"No, that's alright. Come on in." They followed Polly into the entryway. She winked at Lydia, who nodded.

"Go ahead," Lydia assured her. "We'll get comfortable at your dining table."

Polly swiftly closed the door to her bedroom and checked the bathroom. She folded the towel and hung it up over the heated rack, closed the shower door and scooped everything on the counter into the top drawer. The room had been wiped clean yesterday, so she nodded at herself in the mirror, fluffed her still damp hair and went back into the main room.

"Can I get anyone some coffee? I could put water on for tea," she said.

Though they all declined, Polly drew water into her teapot and put it on to boil. The women were spreading papers and plans out on the table and she watched as they shuffled things into some sort of order.

"We have some wonderful ideas, Polly," Andy said. "And we have the labor to make it all happen."

Polly stood beside Lydia, looking down at the first layout.

"Oh!" Lydia said. "I should introduce you. This is Nancy Burroughs, the president of our local garden club and Deb Waters, whose gardens win prizes every year."

Nancy Burroughs' hands were strong and Polly could feel callouses on them when they clasped her own. A woman in her early sixties, Nancy had shoulder length grey hair, a face filled with laugh lines and green eyes that smiled even when her mouth was at ease. Deb Waters was a blue-eyed blond, whose bouncy curls were held back with bright pink barrettes. Her well-worn jeans, black t-shirt and work boots seemed at odds with the curls and perfectly made-up face.

Deb pointed to a map of the space and when she spoke, Polly thought she'd never heard such a beautiful speaking voice. Maybe it was because of her last name, but to Polly it sounded fluid, like water rushing through a river. She wrenched her attention back to what Deb was saying.

"If we get started now, we can build the basic structures, then fill out the gardens as temperatures warm up."

"Deb's husband, Louis, is a carpenter, Polly," Lydia said. "We figured Henry would be busy with other things and this would get someone else involved in a Sycamore House project. There are a couple of other husbands who have dug up their yards for ponds and waterfalls and are willing to help us."

"That's great!" Polly said.

"This corner has been so boring for such a long time, I think it's wonderful that you are going to do something with it," Nancy Burroughs said. "There are a lot of us who look forward to it being a pretty little park."

The corner of Polly's lot was nearly as big as one of the town's blocks and the women had come up with an attractive design, complete with a walkway, which included a pond and a bridge, as well as several spots for benches. They had even planned for a trellis covered entrance leading to Sycamore House.

"It's lovely," Polly said. "Now, what's this?" She pointed to a blocked out area at the far corner of the park.

Andy dug underneath a stack of papers and pulled out a sketch. It was a brick monument sign which read, "Sycamore House."

"We thought you might like this," she said.

"I love it!" Polly laughed. The concrete over her front door was engraved with "Bellingwood Public Schools" and she didn't plan to erase that connection to the building's origins, but this sign would identify the property for at least the next fifty years.

"Oh," Polly said, "This is all amazing. Every step we take makes things more wonderful around here. Thank you for initiating this!" She couldn't wait to tell Jeff. This garden area was going to be a terrific draw for brides as they looked for a place for weddings and receptions.

As the ladies began talking about flowers and plants, Polly quietly pulled out mugs and saucers and placed them on a tray. She had made lemon shortbread cookies yesterday after school with Jason and Andrew, the sons of her friend and Sycamore House’s chef, Sylvie Donovan. Arranging them on a plate, she set everything on the peninsula. When she handed the basket of teabags around the table, no one said a word. They were engrossed in their plans and allowed her to serve them. However, Lydia winked at her and nodded before jotting a note on the plans where the dahlias would be planted.

Polly jumped at another knock at her front door. Harry was standing there with a chunk of concrete in his hands.

"What is this, Harry?"

"I found this broken off the back step by the storeroom door. What should I do with it?" He tried to step into her entry way, but Polly stood firmly in the door.

"Go ahead and write a note telling me exactly where it was that you discovered the break and put it and the piece of concrete on the main office desk. I'll deal with it when I'm downstairs."

"I could describe the whole thing to you now," he pressed. "If I could come in and chat with you ..."

"No, I have people here right now, Harry. Go ahead and write it up and I'll be sure to take care of it."

"I'm only worried about people trying to get in that door and hurting themselves. With all of the rain and mud, it wouldn't do to have someone trip on it. Can you believe all the rain we've been having? I feel as if I'm going to drown just coming to work. You know that creek is going to flood and will probably destroy your lawn and I'll bet when it does your horses will be in trouble. Last year it was a drought and this year we have all of this dreadful rain."

He took a breath and Polly stepped back inside, pulling the door toward her. "Thank you, Harry. Please put it on the desk downstairs and I will take care of it."

She pushed the door shut and stepped back into the living room.

One more time. It figured. Custodian number four wasn't here for the second day in a row. Polly was tired of scrubbing toilets and began to think that somehow the job description was a curse. Harry Bern hadn't shown up at all yesterday and he wasn't here yet today. She slammed her hands down on her desk, stood up, and stomped into Jeff's office.

"I don't have time for this crap," she said, dropping into a chair.

He grinned. "I think I'm going to write a book called 'The Curse of the Custodian.'" They had talked about this after the third person they'd hired for the job called to tell them he was moving to Florida because he'd met a wonderful woman online and was going to live in peace and harmony with her and three other couples on a farm. Their second custodian had lasted longer than their first, Shawn Wesley. He held the record. He hadn't lasted a day before Polly kicked him out. John Bennett had lasted three days. He walked in one morning to give fifteen minutes notice because he'd gotten the job he had been hoping for as a waiter in Ames. Polly began to think Jeff was right. Maybe the job was cursed.

"Do you think there's anything wrong with Harry?" she asked.

"He’s here every morning at 9:45 to have coffee before starting to work at ten. And when he has had to be late for any reason, he calls. Let me try to reach him. I tried yesterday and didn't get an answer, but figured if he was skipping work, he was ignoring me," Jeff replied. He dialed and listened.

"Nope. Voice mail," he said. "Yes. Maybe we should worry. Do you want to drive or shall I?"

"I'll drive," she sighed. "If he's doing something strange in that house though, you're dealing with it, not me."

Polly had taken Harry home one afternoon when his car had been in the shop, so she knew where he lived. They pulled into the driveway of his small house and went to the front door.

She stopped as she raised her hand to knock on the door and sniffed the air. "Damn it. I hate to tell you that I recognize this smell."

Jeff wrinkled his nose and sniffed, then grimaced and asked, "Really?"

"Really."

She looked at the door, drew her sleeve over her hand and said, "Don't touch anything," and pulled the screen door open. With a gentle push of the front door, she opened it into the living room. Lying on the floor in a pool of blood from a head wound was their fourth custodian, Harry Bern. That was all she needed to see.

"I'm not going in there," she said.

"Yeah. If he was alive, we wouldn't be able to smell it clear out here," Jeff agreed.

They walked back to the front yard and Polly pulled out her cell phone, dialing a very familiar number.

"Hello, Polly. Don't tell me you've found another body," Aaron Merritt, the sheriff, said. Aaron was Lydia's husband and the two of them had taken care of Polly through many a mishap. She could have called the local police, but knew that Aaron would tell her what to do next.

"Why do you ask me that every time I call you?" she asked.

"Because you call my wife unless something bad has happened. You've found more bodies than any one person should," he responded. "But, how can I help you today?"

"I found another body." Polly's voice was flat.

"No kidding!" Aaron laughed at her and then apologized. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh. Oh, Polly. You can't be serious!"

"No," she whimpered. "I wish I were. This morning Harry Bern didn't come in to work for the second day in a row and when Jeff and I came over to his house to check on him … well, he's very dead."

"How do you know he's dead?"

"I opened the front door because I smelled something rather familiar. Aaron, I can't believe that I have that scent in my memory. Don't worry, I used the sleeve of my shirt and didn't touch anything. He's in a pool of blood in his front room. I didn't go in to check, though. See, watching police shows is good for me and you, right?"

"Polly, I'm sorry I laughed. I'm calling Ken and he'll have someone over there right away. Do you mind staying until they arrive?"

She sighed. "We'll be in my truck."

"I'll talk to you later. I'm sorry about this Polly," he said, but she heard him chuckling as he hung up.

"We wait?" Jeff asked.

"Yes. We wait. Someone should be here pretty soon." They got back into her truck and she backed out onto the street. She knew if she didn't, the locals would come in with multiple police cars, a fire truck and the EMTs and she'd be trapped. She wanted to be able to get out of there as soon as possible. She put the truck in park, sat back and closed her eyes.

"You know this is going to increase my infamy, don't you?" she asked, with her eyes still closed. "Henry isn't going to believe this when I tell him."

Jeff started laughing. "I know this is a tragedy," he said, "but you have to admit, it's over the top funny. There is no one other than you who could have walked into this situation."

Polly started to chuckle and then snorted through her nose. "I know!" and pretty soon she was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. "How in the world does this happen to me?"

She opened her eyes, turned her head toward Jeff and said, "And crap, we have to hire another custodian!"

They were both laughing when Ken Wallers, Bellingwood's police chief, pulled up and into the driveway. He walked over to her truck and Polly rolled her window down, trying to maintain a straight face.

"I saw you laughing," he said. "I guess you know about the pool at the Elevator." Polly did know about it and she didn't like it much, but knew that it had nothing to do with her feelings. After skeletons had fallen out of the ceiling of a bathroom they were remodeling at Sycamore House and then when she and her friends had discovered Madeline Black's body in her home, several jokesters thought they would begin a pool as to which body Polly Giller might find next. Her friends all knew about it and knew that it drove her batty, but it was still in place. After today's events, she was sure that it would grow.

"Oh no!" cried Polly. "Who won this time?"

He chuckled, "I'm not sure, but this is certainly going to have the town buzzing. Aaron said you had been inside the home?"

"I only opened the screen door. The front door's lock had been broken and I was able to push it open. Harry's body is right there in the front room."

"And you're sure he's dead?"

"Well," she said. "I didn't touch him so I could check for a pulse or anything, but I remember that awful smell from Madeline Black's house."

At that, the fire truck and EMTs pulled in.

"You two can go back to work if you like," Ken said, "but don't leave the country, alright?"

Polly tilted her head at him in confusion.

"I'm kidding. I'll be over later to talk to you both about Mr. Bern."

He patted the hood of her truck and walked to the house as another police car pulled up. Polly recognized the two EMTs. They had rescued her the night she had gotten hit on the head by a couple of goons from Chicago who were there to kidnap one of her guests. Sarah waved at her and then turned to follow them all inside.

Polly pulled out and Jeff said, "Well, now that the initial shock has worn off, I'm a little freaked out by this. I've never seen a dead person before. Hanging around with you has its own special benefits."

"Stop it," she scowled. "I can hardly believe this has happened again. Am I some strange sort of dead body magnet?"

"Well, whatever you are, this is the last damned time I get in a vehicle with you to check on someone. From now on, you go by yourself or I’m sending the Sheriff."

"I hate to be callous about this, but now what am I supposed to do about a custodian? It seems tacky to advertise for a new employee when this one has just died, but I can't sit around and wait until his body is in the ground." She smacked her fist on the steering wheel and snapped, "I don't have time for this."

"I'll call the paper when we get back. There is time to get an ad in this week's edition. You call your pastor friends. I met the Standard Manufacturing’s Human Resources manager last week at the Chamber of Commerce luncheon. I'll give her a call and see if they have any good leads."

They pulled into the parking lot in front of Sycamore House as Lydia was getting out of her Jeep. She waited while Polly parked.

"Aaron called. Are you two doing alright?" she asked.

Polly chuckled and shook her head, "I'm fine. We've already found the humor in this. Now I'm annoyed that I have to find another custodian and before long I'm going to feel really guilty about having these feelings and about the fact that I didn't like the guy all that much. So yes, I suppose I'm fine. Are you here to check up on me?"

"Yes, and to show you sketches for the garden. I also wanted to show you some ideas I had for the middle room upstairs."

"Have you had lunch yet?" Polly asked.

"Not yet. Do you want to run uptown? I'll bet I could talk you into a pork tenderloin."

"I could really use that. I've been running since I got up this morning and it looks like I'm back to scrubbing toilets this week," she said.

Jeff had continued walking to the front door of Sycamore House without them.

"Jeff?" Polly called out.

He turned around, "Yes?"

"I'm running up to Joe's Diner with Lydia. Do you want me to bring something back for you?"

He thought for a minute, "Just bring me a club sandwich and chips. Thanks."

"I'll see you later!"

Lydia got back in her Jeep and quickly grabbed the stack of papers from the passenger seat. She held onto them as Polly got in, then handed them over after Polly was settled.

"Alright, Lydia. What are the odds that people are already talking about Harry Bern's death by the time we get to the diner?" Polly asked, cradling the pages on her lap.

"Even money. If they don't know about it by the time we get there, we can watch as the news begins to filter in. People will have seen the activity at his house and it won't take long for speculation to occur."

Polly shook her head. "I can't believe it happened to me again. There are nearly fifteen hundred people in this town and I was the one who knocked on his door."

Lydia patted her leg, "At least I wasn't involved this time. That gave Aaron no small amount of satisfaction. Is it wrong of me to tell you that he was still chuckling when he called me?"

"A little bit," Polly grimaced.

Lydia pulled into a parking place and took the papers from Polly. She stuffed them into a bag she pulled out of the back seat and they went inside and found an empty booth.

Their waitress's nametag read "Anna," and she placed two glasses of ice water and menus in front of them, "Will there be anyone else joining you today?" she asked and pulled out her receipt pad.

Lydia responded in the negative and asked for coffee. Polly touched her cup, nodded and began looking over the menu.

She laughed, "I'm not sure why I'm looking at the menu. Of course I'm having the tenderloin. What about you?"

"Probably the Cobb Salad. You know us older women, we have to keep watching our weight and I don't have a zoo to keep me running around all day long." Lydia laid her menu on the table and asked, "How are you doing with those horses? I haven't heard much from you lately."

"They're good and I'm doing fine," Polly said. "I think I'm finally past the full-blown exhaustion every night, but I'm still pretty weary." Her face fell. "Honestly, Lydia. If we don't find someone to work at Sycamore House pretty soon, I'm going to get on Demi and ride away into the sunset. I can't keep this up."

"Is Jeff helping?"

"As much as he can, but he's so busy with all of the events coming up and taking care of the guests and their needs and activities, I hate to ask him to do any more,” Polly sighed. "And as much as Harry drove me nuts with his whiny running commentary, at least he did his job."

"What can I do to help? I can scrub toilets and wash down bathtubs. I can do laundry and sweep floors," Lydia said.

"Oh no, it’s fine. I'm only complaining," Polly responded.