No Hope In New Hope (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 7) (2 page)

Chapter 3

Absentia

Later on at the house, after stepping from my shower, I thought I heard one of the four garage doors beneath me. Had Clay arrived? I hastily wrapped a towel around myself and ran to the window, only to catch Chris and Alicia driving off in their Land Rover with luggage stacked inside.

Where were they going? I looked over to the apartment door wondering why they hadn’t knocked to let me know. That was when I spotted a small envelope that apparently was slipped under the door. I grabbed it and tore it open.

Samantha, Sorry to spring this, but we are headed to the airport for London. We have a chance at purchasing a few private oil paintings from Willow Gallery. Of course, Chris always has to see the pieces in person. He’s a stickler for that. So here we are rushing off to catch the next flight out of JFK. I do hope you understand our sudden departure. Enclosed please find our keys to our other SUV. Feel free to use it while we are gone. Best, Alicia

I reread it then pulled keys out of the envelope: Jeep.

So I was on my own. What else was new?

I was sure they would let Clay know as well, but I still reached for my cell to verify. Maybe if he knew I was alone in this big house he might arrive a lot sooner.

When his voicemail came on, I left a message, I texted too. He was either out of range or too busy to talk. That had happened so much in the past I should be getting used to it. I didn’t necessarily like it, but still half-expected it.

I dressed, headed down the apartment steps, exited the side door, walked through an open porte cochere, and then entered the garage to have a peek at my wheels. I stopped in my tracks. It was a red and tan Jeep. I hadn’t expected a ragtop.
Nice and sporty.
I continued to check the rest of the garages. In the third bay was an older red Ford pickup in mint condition: another surprise.

I entered the fourth and smaller last bay through an open doorway. It was a small workshop with an all-terrain Gator, like they used on the fields of football games. And tucked beside that, right next to its large garage door, sat two partially covered Harleys, attached to trickle chargers. With these two additional toys sitting around, I guessed that dealing in the world of art had its fringe benefits.

My curiosity satisfied, I worked my way back to the house, locking the garage door behind me. The sun was starting to set and since I was the only one in the house now, I locked that door too and returned to the apartment. In order to scrape something together for dinner later, I had to check my food supplies first then go check my emails.

Alicia mentioned she’d lightly stocked our refrigerator with food to tide me over until Clay arrived. I opened it for the first time and gaped. It was completely filled. Was there anything these people hadn’t thought of? I chuckled…

Yeah, where’s my missing blue-plate special: Clay?

Chapter 4

Bump In The Night

I checked my emails and was paying some bills when my fingers stilled: it was a loud thud from the main house.

…And I was alone. Or at least was supposed to be.

It was now dark outside and
not
my favorite time of day for being alone, especially in a large house in which I was unfamiliar. Since I was the only one there, as their houseguest, I should do a walkthrough, right? Not hearing anyone talk me out of it, I reluctantly stood up to go check.

I grabbed my heavy guest flashlight, just in case
,
and made my way down the backstairs. Light was coming from beneath the door to their family room. I listened before entering. Silence. I peeked inside. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath and let it out. Several haphazardly-stacked heavy books had fallen from the top of a bookcase.

I had a hunch on why the light was on and walked over to a wall outlet:
a timer
. I decided I’d check the house, so I walked toward the hallway. Alicia and Chris had explained they mixed originals with reproduction art on purpose.

The effect was not only impressive, but also clever. It was a museum of incredible artwork. No wonder they said they had an elaborate security system and hidden driveway annunciator. I found two more lights on in different rooms on other floors. Timers were attached to them too. Motion sensors and cameras were in key locations. All doors had deadbolts and key entries. Excellent. I felt better already and relaxed. I was retracing my steps back to the family room when I noticed a door ajar: a stairway going down.

I was afraid of that.
The basement. Ugh…

With determination and my trusty flashlight, I opened the door wide, flicked on lights and stared downward. The steps were fully carpeted: a good sign. Maybe this wouldn’t be so creepy after all. I descended slowly and then hit another light switch and gasped. It was a lushly-carpeted second family room with a large TV.

I then turned and headed down a hardwood hallway to another darkened area. I felt for and found three more light switches. I pressed to turn them on, but then
everything
went black. My breath caught then I remembered that flashlight in my pocket. I whipped it out and flicked it on.

First thing I spotted was the closed circuit breaker panel directly across the room and went right for it. If these lights were out, they could be out in my apartment too. I’d check that panel first. Why waste my time going back upstairs? I crossed the dark room but then stopped dead in my tracks.

I sucked in air.
…What was that? I waited in silence.

Nothing…I kept going, but then froze again.

There it was: a rustling noise…

It came from a shut door I’d just passed in the hallway. First things first: the panel. I focused on moving forward.

Breathe in. Breathe out…

Chapter 5

Nothing But Something

I’d investigate after I checked out that panel. Flashing a light around in the dark had its disadvantages. I needed more light. I stared down at my flashlight:
my only weapon
.

I opened the panel and sure enough, some breakers had tripped. Relieved, I hit the switches, turned and gaped at a full-sized pool table with a massive tiffany light above it. Stools and tables were clustered for guests. A hand-painted, multi-paneled screen of the Italian countryside covered one whole wall. Then I swung my gaze to that hallway door.

As usual, my curiosity was killing me. I had to check it.

I pre-dialed 911 on my cell, but then sighed, frustrated.

Scratch that. There was no signal in their basement.

I grabbed a pool stick then stopped. The room’s door handle had a lock. I tried it.
Unlocked!
I hit the lights and glanced around taking inventory: boxes lining the walls and a long counter loaded with supplies for packing. It was nothing but a combination packing/storage room.

Then I asked myself,
so why the lock on the door?

A flash caught my eye up above then disappeared in the rafters of the unfinished storage room. I jumped back when debris unexpectedly fell onto my head. I swiped at it and inspected my hand. It was seeds and nuts and
whatever
that I couldn’t identify. After living in North Carolina in a log cabin for well over a year, I recognized those telltale signs: squirrels were inside the house wreaking havoc, having some fun. That might explain the breakers shorting out.

I laughed in relief. I’d rather deal with a squirrel or two, who were nothing but rats with good PR, than deal with an intruder: the human kind, who from past experiences rated much lower on that scale.

I brushed more debris from my hair, replaced the pool cue and made my way back to the room with the TV where I’d seen a sizable cabinet and wanted to take a closer look, curious as to what it held. It was padlocked with a darkened glass center covered over in iron grillwork. I got closer and peered inside: rifles and lots of them
.

Was Chris a hunter? Were they collectable or were they for protection? I noticed a drawer at the bottom. I reached down, expecting it to be locked, too, but it wasn’t. The heavy drawer slid open when I pulled. My jaw dropped.

It was filled with ammunition.

Of course it would help to know exactly what I was looking at, so I knelt down and started reading the boxes, the most deadly of which was hollow nosed points.

We’re talking
serious damage here
. I glanced back up to the locked glass cabinet door housing those rifles. Again I asked,
was this hunter, or something else?
The something else was looking like the clear winner.

This cache and the over-the-top security left questions…

Chapter 6

Going To The Mattress

Not willing to linger longer than necessary, I exited the basement and the front foyer then made my way down the hallway to the family room and back stairway that led to my apartment over the garages. I now had answers to that evening’s noisy mysteries, but was uneasy by what I had inadvertently discovered.

No sooner had I taken a few steps into the art hallway, an ear-piercing sound blasted me from the speaker in the wall:
the driveway annunciator.
Who was driving up at this late hour? I raced to the family room French doors, but was too late, barely catching sight of taillights through the opaque drapes, passing by toward the garages.

Okay, it was decision time. Do I stay put or sprint up the back stairs to the apartment? I chose the apartment, racing like hell, two steps at a time and shut the door behind me.

I heard the side door below me open and close. I could have sworn I’d locked it. Maybe I’d mistakenly turned the key the wrong way and the door was never locked. Was it Clay? …And if it wasn’t…
then who was it?

I visually scanned for something to protect myself with. I looked down. I was still clutching that flashlight. It would have to do. I stood behind the door and waited to see if the intruder headed my way with my cell phone still on speed dial for 911. I wasn’t about to make that call quite yet though. I wanted to be sure about this. What if Alicia and Chris missed their flight and returned home? I’d look like some kind of lunatic. So I waited, ready to handle whatever would play out.

Then I heard footsteps on the backstairs.

I knew if it was Clay, he’d have called or texted by now.

I was about to dial 911, but then my cell flipped from my grasp, bounced off one of the upholstered chairs and landed silently across the carpeted room. My eyes flashed back to the door handle that was now slowly turning.

…Alicia and Chris would have at least knocked, right?

Damn.
I’d forgotten to lock it. I quickly raised my arm back, gripping the flashlight tightly. The door eased open then paused, as though someone was waiting, listening. I took a breath and brought my arm up higher getting ready to bring it down hard. I saw a hand appear and decided it was now or never and swung hard. But that hand shot out, blocked my swing and knocked me off balance.

Next thing I knew, I was flat out on the carpet with Clay on top, staring down at me and wearing that sly grin of his.

“I wasn’t falling for your behind-the-door move again.”

“You know I hate surprises,” I scolded halfheartedly.

“…Oh, baby,” he said, laying his killer kiss on me.

Our lips parted. I grinned. “About time you got here.”

“How about we take this hello to the mattress?” he said.

I was still smiling. “It’s an orthopedic one too.”

Chapter 7

Snacking & Surmising

“You’re becoming a dicey liability when I arrive late.”

I smiled sweetly. “Then I suggest you don’t.”

“Hey, I couldn’t help it,” said Clay, eating cold chicken.

Our going to the mattress had worked up our appetites.

I dug into pasta primavera on a bed of arugula. “So?”

“So what?” Clay asked, taking another bite.

“What was the big delay all about?”

I could tell he was giving that some thought by the way he didn’t answer right away. Was he making something up?

Now, you see what I have to deal with: a world of doubt.

He wiped his mouth. I would have licked it for him, but stayed in my seat, trying to save my energy for later.

Something wasn’t right. “I should tell you…” he began.

I knew that look and set my fork down. “Okay, what?”

He leaned back, sighing, probably trying to figure out how to phrase his next words so I wouldn’t freak out.

“It’s not what you think,” he finally replied lamely.

“Oh, yeah? I’ve heard that line before.”

He eyed me “This trip also involves a new venture.”

I stopped eating. “Why do I have a feeling you’re about to lay one on me that might interfere with my digestion?”

“You have to trust me on this.”

“How can I when you haven’t told me yet?”

“Well, I was coming to that.”

I waited a beat. “And?”

“Oh, hell! I sold my bookstore: lock, stock and barrel.”

I waited for the punch line.
Nothing.
“Seriously?”

“No joke.”

“Who did you sell it to?”

“Remember that manager I hired a while ago?”

“The one Martha, Hazel and Betty rubbed egos with?”

He shifted uneasily in his chair. “The one and only.”

I thought how upset the ladies would be. “But why?”

“Sales were slow. Everything’s digital. I wanted out.”

“You mean you were too busy tramping the globe.”

“True, but I’ve been thinking of diversifying anyway.”

So this was the crux of it.
“Into what field?”

He watched me warily. “I might try my hand at art.”

I played along
.
“By painting, buying or selling it?”

“Selling it. I figured New Hope might be the ticket.”

I slapped the table. “I knew this was too convenient!”

“Convenient?” Clay asked innocently.

“Don’t give me that doe-eyed look, you con artist.”

“Okay, so maybe I may have been negotiating.”

“What do you mean, negotiating?”

“To babysit the Worths’ gallery to see if I liked it.”

“And what about Martha, Hazel and Betty?”

“That’s what is so great about this,” Clay said.

Those poor ladies
. “Hey, speak English.”

“I hired them for this gallery to help
us
out.”

“Whoa, just a minute! What do you mean,
us
?”