Phantoms Can Be Murder: Charlie Parker Mystery #13 (10 page)

Back in the cellar again I took
up my spade and began to lift shovels-f of dirt into the plastic bucket. The
earth on top was loose, almost crumbly, which fit with what Dolly had told me
about the recent workman’s visit. The puzzling thing was that I didn’t see any
water pipes or much dampness. Perhaps they’d started this as a test hole and
discovered that they really needed to be working elsewhere. I kept going until
I’d reached a depth of about six inches spanning the entire two-foot square
opening. The small plastic garden bucket had long since filled up and I’d begun
piling the shoveled dirt onto the stone flooring beside the hole.

One more scoop or so and then I
would tell Louisa it was time to move on to something more productive. But when
the tip of my spade went into the ground the next time I heard a distinct
clank
.

Chapter
11

“Whoa!” The word popped out
before I’d even lifted the spade. “What’s this?”

Louisa rushed over, hammer still
in hand, and stared down at the square of freshly turned earth.

I raised the spade again and
jammed the blade of it into the dirt. The clanking sound came louder this time.
Metallic, like I’d hit a large iron box. I moved the spade around, testing. The
metal object was nearly as big as the hole I’d been digging.

“Let’s see, let’s see it!” Louisa
urged.

I scraped at the remaining thin
layer of dirt, then we both dropped to our knees and began wiping it away with
our hands. Sure enough, there was a round metal object beneath. I felt some
raised areas, like an insignia or lettering.

“Get that flashlight we brought,”
I said, brushing like crazy at the dirt.

Louisa came back with the light
and aimed it at the floor. “Drat,” she said.

I was still sweeping with my
hands, clearing the metal surface.

“Don’t bother,” she said. “See
the wording?”

I could make out B. ST. EDMS
MUNI.

“It’s an access for the water
works. Like a manhole cover.”

“What’s it doing under a
building?” I demanded, miffed that my treasure was turning out to be nothing.

“Who knows? This town has been
under construction for a thousand years or more. There are probably water and
gas lines running every which way.”

My sense of neatness could not
fathom such a plan but I had to accept it. Obviously, Dolly’s guess that the
dug-up earth had something to do with a water leak must have been correct. My
treasure chest was a goner.

I heaved a sigh and began to
shovel the dirt back over the space.

Louisa stood back, a little
dejected that her tapping efforts hadn’t yielded anything either. When I’d
covered the hole as neatly as possible I glanced at my watch. It was nearly ten.

“I hate to say this, but I think
we’d better quit making noises until we can be sure they’ve fallen asleep
upstairs.”

“I guess you’re right,” she said.
“This wasn’t nearly as much fun as the tombs of Egypt, I must say.”

We set the tools aside. I walked
up the stairs to the shop level and took a look around. The tiny night light
did nothing more than illuminate the top of the table on which it sat, but
ambient light from the street showed the familiar shapes of the merchandise and
nothing more. For good measure I walked through the shop and shined the
flashlight into the darker corners. Nothing appeared out of place.

In the stock room, Louisa had
poked around in our tote bag of goodies and she brought out the bread and
cheese for dinner, plus the thermos of tea and packet of cookies. We carried
them down to the cellar in order to stay as quiet as possible and made
ourselves at home on the long leather sofa.

“Okay, I have to ask.
What
tombs of Egypt?”

She gave a half-shrug. “Oh, just
another little ghost hunt. I was twenty-seven and someone mentioned a dig. I
got all my shots, grabbed up my pack and went along.”

“And?”

“Didn’t find a ghost. But the
place was loaded with urns and gold jewelry and such. Paintings all over the
walls. You know.”

Well, I didn’t
exactly
know but I got a pretty vivid picture. I could see a young Louisa trooping
along behind an archaeology team, pestering them the way I’d pestered a certain
detective with the Albuquerque police back home. I was beginning to see a lot
of myself in her.

She gave me a lopsided smile,
along with another wedge of cheese.

“There has to be something here,”
I said, turning my attention back to the present. “There’s a reason someone
wants to scare Dolly out of this shop.”

But a glance around the cellar
full of furniture told me that searching nooks and crannies was probably
futile. How would we ever discover just which section of the rock walls or
which portion of stone flooring hid the object the intruder was seeking? Unless
the cartons and furniture were all removed and we had a way to see the space as
a whole, we could spend weeks poking around in here.

When I voiced those thoughts to
Louisa she gave a little smile.

“Spirits don’t need treasures,”
she said. “They may want Dolly out of the shop for another reason.”

I had no comeback for that, so I
offered to check on things upstairs.

As quietly as possible I climbed
the stairs to the apartment, walking near the edges of the wooden steps and
hoping a loud squeak wouldn’t give me away. At the top, all was silent, the
television set apparently shut off for the evening. If we allowed the residents
an hour or so to fall soundly asleep we could probably resume our search.
Meanwhile, I decided to post myself where I could keep an eye on the shop from
the dark shadows.

Staying still and quiet while
doing nothing is harder than you’d think. Within an hour I felt myself nodding.
The whole idea of watching for paranormal activity had begun to grate on me.
Whether the incidents had been caused by spirits or people, they were smart
enough to stay away while someone kept guard, that was for sure.

I wandered back down to the
cellar where I found Louisa running her fingers over a section of the rock wall
at the back of the building.

“Finding anything?” I asked.

“Come here and feel this. There
is a draft of air coming through a very small opening here.”

I joined her and examined the
area. Sure enough, a crack showed in the mortar between the small rocks. When I
held my hand near it I could feel cold air.

“Where do you think it comes
from?” I asked.

“No idea. But it seems there
would have to be an open space behind it, right?”

Seemed logical to me.

“I think I’ll give it go with the
hammer,” she said.

I doubted that the small
household hammer would make much of a dent against a rock wall. “The apartment
is right above this wall,” I said. “Better try to keep it quiet.”

She experimented with a few small
taps and I had to admit that the spot immediately beside the tiny crack did
seem to resound with a little more reverberation than the rest of the wall. But
it would take a sledge hammer and a lot of work to open much of a hole.

With another reminder to her to
work quietly I drifted over to the leather sofa, the one soft spot in the room
that wasn’t stacked with boxes. A woven throw lay there and I stretched out,
pulling it over me. Just closing my eyes for a minute, I told myself. Only one
minute.

The sofa was comfortable and I
soon imagined Drake’s arms around me and that we were snuggled together there.
Soon his lips were on my neck and I wanted more than just a snuggle. I woke
with a moan of frustration.

“Nice dreams?” Louisa asked from
the bottom of the stairs.

I blushed in the dim light and
tossed the woven cover aside.

“I went up to the shop for a look
around again. Didn’t see anything,” she said. “Brought sodas and some crisps
back with me.”

The can of cola gave me a slight
energy burst but by the time I’d finished it I also needed a bathroom break. I
went up to use the one just off the stock room, took a peek through the shop
and came to a dead stop.

I could see the outline of
someone standing at the door. There was a small metallic rattle as he tried the
knob. I grabbed up the long flashlight I’d left in the stock room earlier and
dashed for the door. Hitting the button and reaching for the window shade at
the door at the same moment, I aimed the light to hit the person right in the
eyes.

But when the shade rose no one
was there.

I fiddled with the lock for a
moment and flung the door open. The step was vacant. Quick glances left and
right. At the corner, about four doors away a man strolled with his back to me,
swinging a nightstick and wearing the distinctive cap of a police officer.

I backed into the shop and closed
the door as quietly as I could. When I turned around Louisa stood about a foot
behind me.

“What happened?” she whispered.

I told her about the cop testing
to see that the door was secure, then moving on. “Do you think I made enough
noise to wake Dolly?”

“No, you were pretty quiet. What
got my attention was when you opened the door. The cold air rushed through the
cellar.”

“So that crack in the wall does
go somewhere,” I mused. “It’s a large enough opening to draw a decent breeze.”

“I guess so.”

We made our way back down the
stairs as quietly as possible. It was three in the morning.

“Let’s take turns resting and
watching,” I suggested.

With no treasure to be found I
just wanted to get this long night over with. But I didn’t want to waste the
entire next day sleeping off the adventure. I offered to take the watch since
I’d already had a nap, but Louisa was bright-eyed and insisted she wouldn’t be
able to sleep anyway. I sat in Dolly’s desk chair maneuvering to a spot where I
could lean back in it and still see the front of the shop without being seen, I
hoped, in case the policeman made his rounds again.

At some point I wandered down the
cellar stairs to find Louisa asleep on the sofa so I left her there.
Eventually, the sky lightened and I began to hear sounds of movement above.

A very long night and nothing to
show for it.

I went to fetch Louisa and had to
rouse her out of a sound sleep to do so.

“Oh, goodness!” she said. “What
time is it?”

“Almost seven.”

“I’ve got work this morning,” she
said, looking a little frazzled.

“You go on home,” I insisted. “I
can stay long enough to tell Dolly what we did, just so she doesn’t think we
vanished, then I’ll be along behind you.”

She seemed ready to protest my
having to stay behind but it only made sense that she get home and have first
chance at the shower. She gathered the tools since she was driving and I helped
her carry them to her car.

Back in the shop I ran my fingers
through my hair and ate two breath mints. I don’t think either measure made
much difference. The sounds from upstairs were gradually increasing—water
running, pots and dishes clanking, the smell of coffee. Above me, the door to
the apartment opened.

“No, Arch, don’t bother. I’ll go
down myself,” came Dolly’s voice.

But she was too late, or he
didn’t hear her, because he came down the stairs with a zippered bank bag in
his hand. He came to a screeching halt when he spotted me.

“Bloody hell!”

“I—”

But I didn’t get the explanation
out. He took the stairs two at a time and charged into the apartment where
Dolly met him at the door. She started explaining and both their voices rose.

I picked up my purse, caught
Dolly’s glance from the top of the steps, and mouthed goodbye. Even from the
middle of the shop I could hear their argument.

“What are you thinking?” he
shouted. “An investigator?”

“I want to know—”

“I bloody well will not have it!
You’ll stop it this instant!”

Her voice dropped. “I can
afford—”

But he cut her off with more
cursing.

I opened the shop door as
silently as possible and closed it behind me. A deep breath of fresh morning
air and I started toward Louisa’s house. At the corner, the Really Rather Good
Coffee House was opening and the aroma pulled me in before I gave it a second
thought. Two take-away cups and a small bag with two strawberry pastries found
their way into my hands.

Ten minutes later I walked into
Louisa’s house to the sound of the telephone ringing. No answering machine came
on and I debated. I could hear the shower running upstairs. I set the breakfast
on the kitchen table and picked up the phone, remembering belatedly that it
would probably be either Dolly letting me know that I was fired from my little
volunteer stint as investigator, or it would be Archie reading me the riot act.

Luckily, it was neither. “Hey,
babe,” said Drake’s voice.

I was so glad to actually be
talking to him that I had to swallow back the emotion that rose in my throat.

“Isn’t it the middle of the night
there?” I asked after I’d gotten past the I-miss-you-so-much stuff.

“Nearly,” he said. “But the time
apart is killing me.”

“Me too.” I confessed to the
semi-erotic dream I’d had where I imagined myself snuggled on the sofa with
him.

He told me about a dream of his
own and we were about to get carried away when I heard Louisa emerge from the
upstairs bathroom.

“We’ll have to revisit this
subject later,” I cautioned. I asked about Freckles and about the job he was
doing for his demanding customer.

“She’s grown some more,” he said
about the dog. About the job, he told me the money was in the bank and he was
glad he’d stayed behind to do the work.

“There’s something more,” he
said. “I’ve got a job offer in Alaska.”

I felt a little whimper escape
me. I’d always wanted to go there.

“I’d have to start now. I didn’t
want to give them an answer until I talked to you.”

“How long would you be there?”

“It’s recon for seismic work on a
potential new oil field. A week or two now, but the main reason I’m leaning
toward taking it is that it could easily lead to summer-long work next year.
And the pay is very good.”

“When?”

“I have to call the guy first
thing in the morning with an answer. I’d have to leave Saturday.”

“That’s in two days! Wh—” My mind
raced with all the who-what-where-when.

“You could either join me in
Anchorage when you leave England or go on home and I’ll get back when I can.”

My heart felt pulled three ways.
I was loving the visit to Bury. But my commitment to help Dolly was quickly
reaching a dead end. I
could
leave earlier than planned. I wanted to be
with Drake but what exactly would I do in Alaska? Aside from the obvious
making-up-for-lost-time in the bedroom, I’d had no training in seismic work and
they were only hiring one pilot at this point, not two. I thought of the long
plane flight across the Atlantic followed by another one to reach him. He
sensed my wavering.