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"So, Chief, where are the books
you wanted me to look over?" Mildred asked after lunch. She'd
been suitably impressed by the house, but not overly awed by Remington's
cousins and aunt. In fact, she and Margaret had seemed to hit
it off rather well, Remington thought.
"In the study," he told her. "This way." As
they turned toward that room, he realized that Laura wasn't with
them. "Laura? Aren't you going to join us?"
"Why don't you and Mildred go ahead?" Laura suggested.
"I think I'm going to take a walk. Don't forget about the
investiture in an hour."
"I won't. I just want to get Mildred started on those accounts."
While he and Laura hadn't been able to find any evidence of fraud
when they had looked over the books, Remington knew that Mildred
would be able to ferret out anything untoward. "Be careful,"
he reminded her, his eyes serious.
"I will." Laura waited for them to turn a corner in
the hall before heading upstairs. She knew that John had gone
outside, to get some fresh air, so this would be the best time
to speak privately with his sister. Remington hadn't wanted to
press her with too many questions earlier, but Laura was convinced
that the young woman knew more about recent events than she had
let on. Tapping softly on the door, she waited until Bridget responded
before opening it.
"Laura," she said, with a welcoming smile. "I'm
so glad you're here." She indicated one of the chairs before
the fireplace. Bridget was standing before an ancient wooden armoire,
examining dresses. "Perhaps you can help me find something
to wear to the ceremony."
"The green one is nice," Laura told her, joining her
at the closet instead of taking the chair. "Or the light
blue one."
"I'm leaning a bit toward the green," she confessed,
sighing as she continued. "But I doubt it will matter anyway.
I'm sure Sheila will be dressed to the nines, and no one will
even notice me."
"Nonsense. You'll just have to make sure they notice you."
Laura pointed to the armoire. "May I?"
"Please."
Laura went through the various dresses, noting that they were
nearly all custom made, all vaguely more suited to a much younger
woman than Bridget. She smiled. "You could almost hide in
this thing," she commented, peering into the wooden closet.
"I used to as a child," Bridget told her. "And
there's a secret panel in the back," she confessed, her eyes
shining brightly.
"There is?"
Bridget nodded, reaching into the armoire to pull a hidden lever.
The back of the armoire swung inward. "See? Dark, isn't it?"
Laura nodded, drawing back slightly at the smell of damp and musty
air hit her. "Where does it go?"
"Oh, there are tunnels all through the manor. They all connect
with the main passage. It takes you outside the house- "
"Does it come out near the tower?" Laura wanted to know.
"To be sure. But I don't think anyone's used the tunnels
in ages. John and I used to play in them when we were little -
until Aunt Margaret told us that they were unsafe and to stay
out of them."
"Is there an entrance in every room?" Laura asked.
"Just about. No one's really sure why they are there. It's
said that Sean Harrison's son and grandsons used them to store
weapons during the dark times. He was one of the few Irish landowners
who managed to keep his property during those days. But he walked
a fine line to do it."
"Who else knows about these tunnels?" Laura asked.
"Just about everyone," Bridget told her. "Why?"
Laura smiled, pulling a cream coloured silk dress from the closet.
"Curiosity, I suppose. It's an occupational hazard. Don't
mind me. How about this one?"
"It's perfect. Thank you, Laura." She glanced at the
clock on the mantle as it chimed the quarter hour. "I have
to take my medicine," she explained.
"Where is it? I'll get it for you."
"On my night stand. Thank you." She went to a table
against another wall and poured a glass of water from a carafe
there as Laura retrieved the bottle of pills. Glancing at the
label, Laura made note of the prescription. "You're a dear,
to be so helpful. Sheila's never been very friendly to me."
"Sheila's got problems of her own," Laura pointed out.
"She and Quinn . . ."
"Most of Sheila's problems are of her own making," Bridget
commented rather harshly, Laura thought. Seeing Laura's expression,
Bridget shook her head. "I suppose she told you about how
she can't have children and that Quinn blames her?"
"Well, yes, she did."
"It's only because it IS her fault," Bridget insisted.
"She had an abortion several years ago- before she met Quinn.
It was badly done, and as a result she can't have anymore children."
Sheila hadn't mentioned that part of the story, Laura realized.
"She never told Quinn about it until after she found out
that she was barren."
"Who was the father of the child that she . . ."
"No one knows. But it wasn't Quinn's. They weren't seeing
each other at the time. She was just starting out as a model,
and was afraid a baby would hold her back." Bridget shook
her head, the red curls shining brightly in the sunlight through
the window. "Some would say that her life now is God's punishment
for what she did."
Laura glanced into the armoire again at the gaping blackness beyond
the panel. "How do you close this?"
"Pull the lever again," Bridget said. Laura did, and
the panel slid quietly back into place.
"Do you know where the entrance is from the room where Remington
and I are staying?"
"Oh, indeed. The wall panel beside the fireplace. I can show
you, if you'd like."
They turned toward the door, only to have it open to reveal a
surprised John. "Laura. I didn't know you were here,"
he said.
She indicated the dress in Bridget's hand. "I was just helping
Bridget find something to wear for the ceremony this afternoon,"
she explained. "Excuse me, but I have to go get ready myself."
She left the room quickly, going to her room.
After a quick shower, Laura put on the dress she planned to wear
for the ceremony, then went back into the sitting room of the
suite. The wall beside the fireplace, Bridget had said. Laura
surveyed the inset panels, pressing on them, inspecting them for
openings, for air leakage. There was a candle on the mantle, and
she picked it up, using a nearby match to light it. Carrying it
to the panels, she held it close to the wall, watching the flame.
The left side panel had no effect on the flame. It remained steady.
But the panel on the right caused the flame to flicker as if hit
by a light stream of air. Putting the candle onto the mantle,
Laura inspected the carved wood on that side of the fireplace.
The control mechanism had to be here somewhere, she reasoned.
She found it by accident. About to give up, she noticed that one
of the carved flowers was slightly crooked. Reaching out, she
instinctively tried to straighten it to match the others. The
panel beside the fireplace slid open with enough of a squeak that
Laura worried it might have been overheard.
Taking the candle, she looked into the dark corridor, wrinkling
her nose at the dank smell. Wishing she had a flashlight, Laura
picked up the matches from the mantle and went into the tunnel.
Inspecting the wall beside the door, she found a latch which would
apparently open the mechanism from inside.
Deciding to leave the panel open, so she could find her way back,
Laura set off to explore the tunnel. It would explain where whoever
she and Remington had seen running toward the tower had vanished
to, she thought. If the tunnel had an exit there, then the red
head had probably used it to return to the Manor undetected. Now,
she just had to find out WHO that red head had been.
*****
As Mildred looked over the ledgers, Remington inspected the room.
"Did you have a chance to do any more checks on my cousins,
Mildred?"
"Oh, yeah. I found out that your cousin Quinn is in DEEP
financial trouble."
Remington turned to look at her. "How so?"
"Apparently he's had a few deals fall through lately. He's
been counting on getting the Manor and selling the property to
get him out of the red."
"What about John and Bridget?"
"Not much more than was in the original report. John attended
the University in Dublin, he's an accountant, never married. His
parents died when he was six, so he and Bridget came here to live.
They've been here ever since."
"And Aunt Margaret?"
"She's an enigma, Boss," Mildred told him. "A real
recluse. According to what I've been able to find out, she hasn't
left this place in over twenty years."
"Why?"
Mildred shrugged. "No one knows. But she hasn't left the
estate since John and Bridget O'Riley came to live here."
Remington frowned. "The more answers we get, the more questions
I have. There are times, Mildred, when I almost regret having
found my family."
"Oh, Mr. Steele. No family's perfect. Take me and my sister,
for example. We've barely spoken in years. But I know if I needed
her, she'd be there for me. And Mrs. Steele and her sister are
the same way. They might not get along all the time, but -,"
"I know, Mildred. Anything on those figures yet?"
"Nothing so far. From what I can see, all the rents are paid
up, the farm profits ARE down, but that can be put to the market
itself, not to anything else."
Remington nodded. "All right. You can finish up later, I
suppose," he said, glancing at his watch. "We'd best
get upstairs and get ready for the ceremony before Laura has to
remind us about it."
Mildred closed the ledger and watched as he put them back into
the desk drawer, turning the key in the lock. "You know,
Mr. Steele, you've fit into all this pretty easy, you know? Like
you were born to it."
"All part of the act, Mildred, my girl," he assured
her, leading her toward the doorway. "All part of the act."
*****
A draft of air caused the candle to flicker and go out, so Laura
fumbled with the matches, trying to re-light the taper, glancing
back the way she'd come as she did. The faint light from the open
panel was gone. Someone had closed it. Which probably meant that
she was alone in the tunnels- with a murderer.
Deciding not to light the candle, as it would give her position
away- give the murderer something home in on- she felt along the
damp wall, checking each step out carefully. There were probably
steps in here- that would lead to the lower floor and then to
the cellars. There was a shuffling noise behind her, and Laura
froze. Whoever it was, they were close. Laura moved again, biting
back a scream as something ran across her foot.
Rats. Of course there were rats in here. And worse, probably.
She took a deep breath and moved down the hallway again, keeping
as quiet as possible, hearing the soft sounds behind her.
The floor fell away, and Laura realized she was at a set of steps
leading down. She positioned herself at the top, pressed against
the wall, waiting, listening as the footsteps came closer. . .
*****
Remington left Mildred at her room to dress for the investiture,
then headed toward his own room. When he entered, he called Laura's
name. "Sorry, I know I'm running a bit late, but -"
She wasn't there. "Laura?" he called again, entering
the bedroom, then the bath. There was no sign of her. He tried
to tell himself that so far she hadn't been the target of the
attacks. That there was no reason for anyone to try to harm her.
But the fear he felt refused to go away, and he moved to the window.
She said she was going for a walk, he recalled, looking out at
the tower in the distance, then turned and left the room. The
investiture and everything else would just have to wait. He had
to find Laura.
To Be Continued . . .