Marja McGraw - Bogey Man 03 - They Call Me Ace (7 page)

Chapter Twelve

After Mark left I hurried back down the stairs where I found Judith and Mikey still tapping on walls. I’d tuned into the sounds of the house and after a few minutes I heard footsteps near the top of the stairs. Had Mark forgotten something?

“What’s going on down there?” It was Chris’s voice this time, and I was glad he’d driven over to see what we were doing.

Something about Mark Stanton had unnerved me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Maybe it was because his remarks sounded like he knew a secret about the house, and maybe about Marguerite.

“Come on down, Chris. We’re just looking around.” I examined the outside of another box while Chris made his way down the stairs.

“At least you’re not up on the second floor looking for clues,” he said, kissing my cheek.

“No, we’re down
here
looking for clues,” Judith said.

“But she wasn’t murdered down here.” Chris, a good son, gave his mother a hug.

“Who says? Her body could have been moved upstairs.” I wasn’t sure why Judith had switched from secret hiding places to the body.

“According to the police, she was murdered right where you found her.”

“Oh.”

“Actually,” I said, “I think your mother is looking for secret hiding places.” I glanced at Judith, wondering if she’d been trying to hide her intentions from Chris. If that was the case, I’d just given her away.

She smiled and returned to tapping the walls, so I figured she wasn’t trying to hide anything. She glanced at the meager light bulb in the basement and then at a window at ground level. It wouldn’t provide any extra light because there were bushy plants shielding it from sunlight.

“We met the neighbor from the other side of the house,” I said. “He came over to see if we were trying to pilfer stuff.”

“Were you?” Chris moved a box from a stack and checked to see how the carton was labeled. “You should be eyeballing these boxes, Ma. This one says
Books
, and you know how you love to read.” Chris shoved Sherlock and Watson out of the way with his foot. They were too curious and he didn’t seem to want them to get into anything.

I didn’t either. After nudging Chris out of the way because he stood between me and the books, I opened the box. For once it contained exactly what it said it did. I picked up one of the books to see what type of story Marguerite might have enjoyed and saw that the title was
Summer’s Ghost
. The cover showed a dark old house with a wispy–looking woman standing in front of it, looking up at a second story window. A candle sat on the windowsill, and interestingly it cast light all the way down to the lone figure. The book looked brand new even though it must have been in the cellar for at least twenty

years. Opening it, I read
the flap which indicated it was

probably a gothic romance.

Closing the cover, I saw the author’s name and knew we’d actually found something interesting. The author was Marguerite Holden, and I set the book down to see who the authors of the rest of the books were. There were four more copies of
Summer’s Ghost
, and all of the books, including other titles, were by the same woman – Marguerite Holden. I didn’t believe it was a coincidence that the first name was the same as the owner of the house.

“Judith, come look at this.” I held one of the books out to her. “I think the woman who owned this house wrote these books.”

My mother-in-law looked at the cover and opened the book to the copyright page. “This was written in 1960. I’ve read Marguerite Holden’s books, but they were all written in the fifties. They were gothic romances, and they’re what made me start reading mysteries. She’s my mother’s favorite author and she had all of her books, except this one. I don’t remember ever hearing of
Summer’s Ghost
. Marguerite was the most popular author of that genre during the fifties.”

“What’s a gothic romance, Grandma?” Mikey walked over and took the book out of Judith’s hands, studying the cover.

“They were melodramatic stories and usually had some kind of dark and foreboding circumstances surrounding a single woman, like a nanny or school teacher. You know, when a woman came to live in a spooky old house or castle to teach a widower’s children. It seems like there was usually some kind of crazy person involved and lots of terror for the innocent woman. But there was usually a romance, often involving the widowed man.”

“Oh, okay.” I could see that Mikey didn’t understand and probably didn’t care, and I didn’t think he was interested in hearing more. He left us and went back to knocking on the walls.

Chris took the book from Mikey as he walked away. “So you think this is the woman who lived here?”

“Well, her name was Marguerite Turnbal – same first name.” I took the book back from Chris to see if there was an author photo. There was. “I can ask Mark, from next door, if this was her or not. Some of his comments make me think this is exactly what he was talking about when he told me I’d find out about her if I explored the house.”

“Grandma, I think you’d better come over here,” Mikey said. “I think I found the hallowed wall.”

“Hallowed wall?” Chris turned and looked at Mikey, obviously wondering what he was talking about.

“A hollow wall,” Judith said, rushing over to see what Mikey might have found.

“Ah.” Chris and I walked toward our son, right behind Judith.

“What’s Ace doing?” Chris watched our son knocking on the wall, forming a pattern. He reached up, then down, right, left, and then banged his fist in the middle.

“He’s looking for secret compartments.” It sounded so silly when I said it out loud.

“I see. My mother finally got to him.”

“He’s right,” Judith said. “Listen to the difference in sound.” She knocked on the wall, using the same pattern that Mikey had used. Leaning forward and looking closely, she examined the wall and began pushing on it.

“Ma, what are you doing?” Chris was smiling, appearing slightly amused at the antics of his mother and our son.

“I’m hoping this is one of those doors that pops out if you push on the right spot.” As if the wall was listening, a small door popped open. It was about a foot wide and two feet high.

“What’s inside, Grandma?”

“Sorry, Ace, but it’s empty. It’s okay if I call you Ace,

too, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Grandma, I like that name.” Mikey smiled at his grandmother and stood on tip toe to try to see inside the compartment. He reached in and felt around, hoping Judith had missed something.

“Well, I’ll be darned,” I said. “There really is a secret compartment.”

“Too bad it’s empty.” Chris gently moved his mother to the side and peered into the dark space.

I tried to look over Chris’s shoulder, but I couldn’t see anything. “Don’t give up. Mark told me that Marguerite had some renovations done. I don’t think a renovation would be limited to one secret compartment, and it’s obvious the house itself wasn’t redone. I’d be willing to bet there are more secret hiding places in this old house. Think about it. A woman who wrote gothic romances would probably love to have hidden rooms and compartments in her home.”

“I don’t think the Realtor is going to be too happy about you three opening boxes and pounding on the walls.” Chris had stepped back and now stood with his arms folded across his chest. “After all, this isn’t your house, and the stuff in those boxes isn’t either.”

“Good point, Junior. I guess I’ll just have to talk your father into buying this place – lock, stock and barrel. I want it all.”

“Excuse me?” Chris sounded both bewildered and surprised.

“Well, Chris Sr. and I are tired of the cold weather in Michigan. We’re tired of traveling around in that motor home, too. You wouldn’t mind having your mother and father live near you, would you?”

“We’ll see what Dad has to say about all this. Besides, how can you afford to fix this place up?”

“Your father and I are still young enough to do most of the work ourselves. And we have some money set aside, not

that it’s any of your business. Well, it would have been your inheritance, but you don’t need it. We’d make some from selling the motor home, too.”

“In this economy, you’ll be lucky to get
anything
for the motor home.”

Chris and his mother stared into each other’s eyes, but they didn’t seem confrontational. I couldn’t quite put a name to it. Maybe it was a non-confrontational battle of the wills.

“Your father and I have talked about buying a fixer upper. If we don’t travel, then we need something to keep us busy. This house would be perfect.”

Judith closed the door to the secret compartment and headed for the stairs. “Pamela, would you drive me back to your place so I can talk to my husband?”

I nodded and followed her up the stairs with Mikey and Chris following. I realized that I still had the book in my hand and wondered if Max would let me borrow it. I wanted to read it to see what Marguerite was all about, especially if she’d been that popular.

We closed the front door and locked the house.

“Before we leave, let me run next door and ask Mark if this is the woman who owned the house. I’d like to know for sure.” I tapped the author’s photo on the back of the book cover with my fingernail and pointed to Mark’s house.

“We’ll wait.” Chris didn’t sound happy.

I hurried next door and knocked on the door. Mark answered almost immediately. I had a feeling he’d been watching out the window.

“Yes?” He opened the door and stepped out on the porch.

“Mark, can you tell me if Marguerite Turnbal and Marguerite Holden were one in the same?” I held the picture up for him to see.

He smiled. “Ah, you found out her little secret in a hurry. Yes, she was the author. She was a bestseller of the

times, too. Authors generally didn’t make much money, but she did. Her style was different and she had quite a huge following. Well, to be honest, her husband had quite a bit of money, too, so they were well off by our standards.”

“Thanks. I want to read this book, but I wanted to be sure about the author before I started it.”

Mark glanced at the book again. “
Summer’s Ghost
? I don’t remember this one.”

“Neither did my mother-in-law.”

“May I see the book?” Mark reached for it just as I heard Chris calling my name.

“I’ll bring it over after I read it. Gotta go. They’re waiting for me, and none too patiently. Thanks for the information, Mark.”

I turned away from Mark and saw the Realtor had pulled up to the curb. I could see Max, Judith and Chris standing together and talking, and looking very serious. Well, to be honest, the Realtor was smiling and scratching Watson’s head. I had a feeling Judith had mentioned her sincere interest in the house.

I wondered what Chris Sr. would have to say about buying a fixer upper.

Chapter Thirteen

Judith and I drove back to the house with Chris and Mikey following, and the dogs rode with them. When I looked in the rearview mirror, I could see their heads sticking out of the windows and Sherlock’s ears were waving in the wind.

“I don’t think Junior is too excited about us moving to Los Angeles,” she said.

“I have a feeling you took him by surprise, Judith. He’ll be fine once he gets used to the idea.”

“There you go, calling me Judith again. You really can call me Mom.” She didn’t sound hurt, but there was something in her tone that I couldn’t figure out.

“I just can’t get used to calling you Mom,” I said. “I’ve tried, but – ”

“That’s okay. I never got used to calling my mother-in-law Mom either. It doesn’t really matter to me, as long as Mikey calls me Grandma.”

I smiled. “Actually, I think he kind of enjoys having three sets of grandparents. And since none of the other grandparents live nearby, if you and Chris Sr. move to Los Angeles, I have a feeling you’re going to take top billing.”

“Does he ever see his other grandparents?”

“Occasionally. His biological father’s parents see him as often as they can, and they take him camping and on vacations. My parents live on the other side of the country, but he talks to them on the phone fairly frequently. They only come to visit once in a long while. He visited them once, but he said it was too cold in Virginia and he was glad to come home.”

“And why don’t they see you and Mikey more often? I hope I’m not being nosey.”

“You’re not. My parents own their own mom and pop grocery store, so they can’t get away. They frequently work seven days a week. They adore Mikey though, and they call at least once a week to catch up on what’s going on in his life. He had a good time helping in the store while he was there. Of course, he was only six at the time.”

Judith nodded her understanding but didn’t comment.

The rest of the drive home was relatively quiet, which surprised me because Judith is so outgoing. I glanced at her a couple of times and she appeared to be deep in thought. I couldn’t help wondering if she was trying to decide how to approach Chris Sr. about the house.  If it were me, I’d be reciting my speech over and over in my head. What was there about buying the house that would make perfect sense to Chris Sr.?

Max let me bring a copy of
Summer’s Ghost
home with me, so I set it on the coffee table, planning to start reading it after dinner.

Leaving Judith and her husband alone so they could talk, we took the dogs for a walk, which was a good idea since they’d missed their morning stroll. I laughed to myself because walking two yellow Labrador retrievers was anything
except
a stroll. They definitely have minds of their own, even when they’re behaving.

I’ve heard about perfectly behaved dogs, but ours wouldn’t fit into that category. In general they’d follow

commands, but even though they were about two years old, they frequently behaved like puppies. I’ve also heard that Labs can take up to three or four years to mature. Time could drag on and on and on when it wanted to – especially if you owned two yellow Labs.

When we returned, we found Judith and Chris Sr. standing out on the driveway, waiting for us.

Judith put her hand on Chris’s arm. “I called the Realtor and he told me where he hid the key. He’s moved it. Chris Sr. wants to take a good look at the place before we discuss it anymore. We don’t want to drive the motor home over there, so we wondered if you’d take us.”

“Let’s all go,” I suggested. “Let me put the dogs in the backyard and check their water, and we can leave.”

The dogs were panting after their walk and they were more than happy to get a drink and lie down in the backyard.

This time the five of us took Chris’s light green forties vintage Chevy over to the house. He wore his fedora, because what else would a man who looked like Humphrey Bogart wear when driving a classic car around town? He almost always got either a smile or a surprised expression when people who remembered Bogey saw him.

Arriving at the old place, I was surprised to see Mark standing out in front, looking up toward the second story windows.

I climbed out of the car in a hurry and approached him. “Is anything wrong, Mark?”

He had a puzzled expression on his face. “I thought I heard noises coming from the house. Just thought I’d check it out. For twenty years things have been quiet in this neighborhood. All of a sudden there’s a murder, and it seems like there’s something going on over here.”

“Have you ever heard noises coming from the house before? Kimberly heard something the night she was killed.”

He didn’t turn to look at me, but kept watching the

second story window. “I’ve heard noises on occasion, but I didn’t really pay much attention before. Things are different now. You know, with what happened to Kimberly and all.”

Chris joined us and I introduced the two men. My husband held his hat in one hand and used the other to shake hands with Mark.

“Don’t I know you?” Mark studied Chris’s face, almost looking suspicious.

Chris put the fedora on again. “No, we’ve never met, but I’ve been told I have a resemblance to – ”

“That’s it, you look like, uh, uh…” His voice trailed off.

“Humphrey Bogart?” Chris supplied.

“No, I’m trying to think of his name. Let’s see. Oh, yeah. James Cagney.”

Mark had the right idea, just the wrong name. We didn’t see the need to correct him, so we left well-enough alone. Judith and Chris Sr. joined us, with Mikey bringing up the rear.

“Mark was telling me he heard noises coming from the house,” I explained. “I’m wondering if he heard the same thing Kimberly heard.”

Judith’s bravery seemed to depend on the number of people present. She swept her head from left to right as she looked at all of us. “Let’s go check it out. I know where the key is.”

Mark shook his head. “I’m going home. I don’t like what’s going on in that house. It’s almost like Marguerite came back and she’s ticked off.” He walked off, leaving us to watch his retreating back.

“Dad?” Mikey looked to Chris for reassurance.

“Don’t worry, Ace. I think that guy might be a gum-beater, and maybe he’s a little goofy. You’ve got four adults to watch over you, so ain’t nothin’ gonna happen today. Besides, there’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Mikey nodded and walked over to take his grand-

mother’s hand. This was
their
mysterious house, and apparently he was sticking with her – as long as his father reassured him.

“Listen, Bogey Man. I don’t think Mark is talking through his hat. I think he heard something. Maybe we shouldn’t let Mikey go inside.”

“I hope you’re wrong, but even if you’re not, there are five of us. I know someone was bumped off here, but for some reason I think this house is getting a bad rap. There’s more goin’ on here than meets the eye. That guy’s just goosy.”

“Goosy? I’d be jumpy, too, if someone had been murdered next door to where I lived.”

“Speaking of next door, isn’t that Kimberly’s friend?” Chris watched the other house as a car pulled up in front.

“Yes, that’s Cloene.” I waved at her, and she smiled before opening the back door of her car and pulling out a large box. “You go ahead and go in with your parents. I’ll be back in a minute.

I walked over to see Cloene. “How are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m okay. Kimberly’s parents asked me if I’d pack up her things and ship everything back to them. Well, all of her personal things.”

“It must be hard to go through her belongings. I don’t envy you.”

“Somebody’s got to do it, and I’m the only one here. I’m fine with it.”

I bunched my lips up and gave her a sympathetic look.

“Really, I’ll be okay.”

“Just remember, we’ll be next door for a while if you need anything.” I wanted her to know she wasn’t really alone.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” She pulled the house key out of her pocket and headed for the front door, with her head down. She was putting up a brave front, but I could see this was the last place she wanted to be.

I hurried back to see what my family was up to, and found them in the dining room. Chris Sr. was, not surprisingly, tapping the walls. It seemed to run in the family. However, I figured he was probably trying to see how sound the house was.

“Where’s Mikey?” I asked, looking around and not seeing him.

“He went down to the basement to make sure the secret compartment hasn’t magically disappeared.” Chris was watching his father tap and study the walls.

Chris Sr. backed up a step and stamped his foot on the floor. “Sturdy. They don’t make houses like this anymore.”

“Did anyone happen to make sure it was safe down in the basement before Mikey went down?” I asked.

“I did,” Judith said. “I wouldn’t let him go down there alone without checking things first.”

“Thank you, Judith.”

I walked out to the kitchen and called down the stairs. “Mikey, what’re you doing?”

“I’m trying to figure out how some things got inside the secret compartment,” he called back.

“Huh?” I started down the stairs. “What kind of things?”

I heard steps coming up behind me and turned to see Judith approaching. She must have excellent hearing.

“Did you hear what Mikey said?” I asked.

“Uh huh.” Judith passed by me and hurried down the stairs.

“Don’t forget about that third step.” I didn’t think she heard my warning, but she’d already passed the step so it didn’t matter. I’d ask Chris to take a close look at the step.

“Grandma, check it out.” Mikey sounded excited.

I hurried downstairs to see what he’d found.