Fixing To Die

“There may be something else going on that we don’t know about,” An’gel said. “I have the distinct feeling that Mary Turner and Henry Howard haven’t told us the whole story yet.”

“You’re probably right,” Dickce said. “Why would they invite us here to help figure out what’s going on, though, and not tell us everything?”

“I don’t know,” An’gel said, “and that worries me. Back to the nightgown incident again for a moment. This time I thought to check the windows because that click I heard could have been the closing of a window.”

“You mean someone getting into the room from the gallery?” Dickce grimaced. “I certainly don’t like the idea of that.”

“Both windows were locked. Be sure to check yours next time you’re there,” An’gel said. “While we go through the house, keep an eye out for any kind of spatial oddity.”

“What kind of spatial oddity?”

“Think of it like a blueprint,” An’gel replied. “Look for places where there could be a false wall, for example, with a crawl space between rooms. Where the inside of a room doesn’t seem to match with the outside.”

“I think I see what you mean. You’re looking for a secret passage, aren’t you?” Dickce’s eyes sparkled. “Just like in my favorite Nancy Drew book, The Hidden Staircase. Oh, how I loved that book as a girl.”

An’gel smiled briefly. “I did, too, and that’s exactly what I’m talking about. There could be a secret room or two, small spaces, I’d say.”

“Maybe there’s a secret tunnel from the house to one of the outbuildings,” Dickce said in what An’gel considered a hopeful tone.

“Possibly,” An’gel said. “But I’m not planning to go through any secret tunnels, especially one that could be one hundred and fifty years old or more.”

“Chicken.” Dickce grinned. “But I know what you mean. At our age, the last thing we need to do is go exploring underground passageways.”

“If there ever was one,” An’gel said. “Let’s start with the front parlor.”

“Okay.” Dickce followed her sister to the room in question.

“Have you seen anyone since you’ve been downstairs?” An’gel asked as she opened the parlor door.

“Not a soul,” Dickce said. “Oh, this is such a lovely room. It reminds me of home.”

“It should,” An’gel said tartly. “It’s furnished with the same period of furniture, and the carpet is nearly like ours, too.” She regarded the Aubusson with a critical eye. She spotted a few nearly threadbare sections. “This one needs some restoration work, however. Remind me to give Mary Turner the name of the company that did ours.”

“They might not be able to afford to have it done,” Dickce said. “You need to keep that in mind.”

“True,” An’gel said. “I’ll have to think of a way to mention it tactfully.”

“You do that,” Dickce said. “I don’t see any spatial oddities in here, do you?”

“No, can’t say as I do,” An’gel replied.

The spacious front parlor at Cliffwood formed a large rectangle. The longest walls were the north and south ones, with the east and west walls perhaps three or four feet shorter. The west and north walls each had two windows that opened onto the porch.

An’gel thought, This is a room where you could comfortably entertain twenty to thirty people, although you’d have to bring in extra chairs.

“Weren’t this room and the one next door all one room at some point?” Dickce said. “I seem to recall that there was a large great room where they could hold balls and dancing parties.”

“Yes, don’t you remember that Mary Turner’s father had that wall put in to divide the rooms? He also had that fireplace installed in the center of the new wall.” An’gel gestured toward the ornately carved oak mantel and the stone hearth.

“This room and the next are under our bedrooms,” Dickce said. “If there’s a secret room with stairs up to the second floor, perhaps it’s near the fireplace.”

“Excellent point,” An’gel said. “Let’s have a closer look.”

They approached the fireplace. An’gel estimated the mantel was about eight feet wide and perhaps seven feet high. She wouldn’t have to stoop much to get inside the fireplace, she reckoned. At the moment, however, she wasn’t about to, because the detritus of a fire covered the bottom.

“If there’s a secret room here, and the fireplace is connected to it,” An’gel said, “there has to be a mechanism of some kind to open the entrance.”

“Maybe it’s somewhere in all this carving,” Dickce said. “It’s really elaborate. Trees on the sides, with various creatures hiding in the leaves and branches. And that’s some kind of vine across the front over the fireplace.”

“Something just occurred to me,” An’gel said, annoyed with herself for not having thought of it sooner. “Remember that Mary Turner’s father had all this work done. Why would he have a secret room with a staircase to the second floor put in? There wouldn’t have been one already here, since it was one large room. Does that seem reasonable?”