Skeleton's Key (Delta Crossroads Trilogy, Book 2) (23 page)

“No. It’s my house. I’ll go.” Dani liked to think she was being noble, but the truth was, she wanted to be the first person to see Ironwood’s upper floors after all this time. “Let’s go one at a time.”

Still barefoot, Dani approached Ironwood’s massive dual staircase, keeping to the right set of stairs as instructed. She took the first stair and then the second. The third creaked, and Dani clutched the right banister. She loved the cool touch of the worn, smooth wood, and slowly ascended to the second floor. Each step had its own grunt, and every creak and groan made Dani’s muscles tense.

Finally, she reached the top. Taking a deep breath, she turned and gazed down to the first floor. The lighting in the foyer was lousy, but the French marble floor still boasted its antique elegance. The staircase’s banisters and railing–all solid mahogany–emitted a dull glow, as though the once pristine house was trying to redeem itself. How many times had a member of the Laurent family stood in this spot, watching as guests arrived and taking in the magnificent stairs? Had CaryAnne dreamed of walking down them as a bride, with her father at her side and her groom waiting to receive her, the house filled with admiring guests?

If she had, that dream had never come to be, as CaryAnne had died a spinster. Why hadn’t she ever married? Disinterested? Perhaps CaryAnne had preferred the company of woman and so never had a chance at living out her dream, stuck in a time that didn’t understand sexuality. Or perhaps, she’d been scarred by the indecent actions of her own father.

You’re letting your imagination run off. Do the job you came here for, and leave the daydreaming for later.

Gina had reached the top. “I think I’d rather be looking for dead bodies.” She looked around. “Dusty up here. Good sign.”

“Yes,” Dani agreed. “Nice layer of dust on the floors, and I don’t see any footprints. Let’s go to the end of the hall. The master bedroom is down there. Might as well start with it.”

She took a flashlight out of her bag. The light in the upstairs hall was even worse than downstairs, and Dani wanted to make sure she could see the floor at all times. At the end of the hallway was a large window covered with moth-eaten curtains. They were mid-twentieth century and in lousy shape.

“Get ready for the filth.” Dani grasped both sides of the curtains and pulled. Dust and decaying flies burst from the material, leaving both women coughing and covered with a fine sheet of muck. But the gray light of the day at least made the upstairs less foreboding.

Dani retrieved the blueprints from her bag. “This room,” she pointed to the right, “is over the kitchen and dining area. Said to originally have been a guest room, and the church allowed renters to use it for a while.” She examined the lock. It matched the rest of the interior doors of the house, meaning a skeleton key likely wouldn’t open it.

The stale odor of a locked up room and old clothes greeted them. In the corner was an old bed stand and some boxes, and Dani was pretty certain something large with eight legs scuttled for cover. She ran her hand along the wall until she found the light switch–or rather, the old fashioned dial.

As expected, the walls and flooring weren’t in great shape. The hardwoods were heavily scratched, and the plaster walls were peeling. Gina stepped around Dani and did a quick sweep of the room. The closet doors were missing, which infuriated Dani, but she kept her mouth shut.

“Looks about like I expected, but I’ll come back to it,” Gina said. “Let’s get to the locked rooms.”

Directly across the hall was the master bedroom. Lee had noted on the blueprints the room was believed to have originally belonged to Grayson and then handed down to his son, John James.

Anticipation raced through Dani, making her head throb and her hands tingle. Records indicated much of the family furniture from this room had been sold or thrown away by the time CaryAnne died, but still, this was the room where two generations of Laurents had laid their heads.

“No skeleton key lock?” Gina asked as Dani turned the key.

“Nope. As modern as the rest of the house.”

Dani opened the door. At twenty-by-twenty-four, the room’s size was indicative of the Laurents’ onetime wealth. Directly across from the door was a large window complete with a built-in seat, the glass too grimy to see out of. To the right was the closet, Dani guessed. Probably a large walk-in with a dressing area. The bed likely would have been against the opposite wall, with the dresser to the right or left of the door.

But the room was bare.

Except for the cot sitting beneath the picture window that overlooked the backside of the property.

D
ani stood frozen
in the doorway. The cot looked like the kind a person could buy in any outdoor store. A blanket and small pillow were perched neatly at the head of the bed, as though their owner had simply made up the bed for the day and intended to return.

“The door was locked.” Gina’s voice broke the silence. “Someone had the key. To the house, and the key to this room. No doubt about that now. Stay here.”

Gina snapped on a pair of latex gloves, scanning the room as she made her way to the makeshift bed. She pointed to the blanket and pillow. “Dusty. Haven’t been used in a while.”

“The floors,” Dani choked out. “They’re refinished.” She knelt down and traced her finger along the seam separating the master bedroom from the hallway. “Sanded and stained.”

“That would have drawn a lot of attention.”

“Not if he did it by hand.” Pressure built in Dani’s temple. Why would someone go to the trouble of restoring this room? And why had they been sleeping there? More importantly, how had someone gotten inside this room without climbing the rickety stairs and walking in the dust-covered hallway?

Gina set her kit down, opened it up, and pulled out a digital camera, a second pair of latex gloves, and blue paper booties. She slipped on her own protective wear and then tossed the booties and gloves to Dani. “I’m going to take some pictures. Put these on.”

“Should I turn on the light?”

“If you’re gloved, and you can do it without entering.”

The dial was just to the left of the door, much like the guest room, so Dani was able to turn it easily. The fixtures in the master bedroom, however, weren’t as modern. Four iron candelabras, likely having replaced gas lightening, flickered to life. Spaced evenly throughout the large room, they provided a modest amount of light.

Dani tried to get her thoughts straight. Either someone had gotten into this room using the house’s main entrance or the precarious stairs, or there was another way. Going by the layers of dirt on the stairs and in the hallway, it was hard to imagine anyone had walked the halls for a long time.

“How does the dust on the bed compare to what was in the hallway and on the stairs?”

“Much less.”

The ache in her knuckles reminded her she still clutched the blueprints. Quickly, she stepped back into the hall, dropped to her knees, and spread the prints out across the hallway floor.

“What are you doing?” Gina asked.

“Looking at the blueprints and trying to figure out how someone got in here.”

“I’d like to say the windows, but they look like they haven’t been opened in a decade,” Gina said.

“There has to be a passage,” Dani said. “Unless this room has some kind of super-secret dust repellant, it’s the only explanation.”

Gina’s mouth set in a tense line. “I’m starting to think you might be right.”

“Dumbwaiter.” Dani said. “It’s on the north wall, to your right, between the closet and the western windows. Supposed to be, anyway.”

Gina crossed the room. She ran her hand along the wall. “It’s been patched up. I can see the plaster marks underneath the paint. You’re the expert, but I’d guess it’s been like this for a while. And it would take two people to get someone up here on a dumbwaiter.”

“Unless he crawled up the shaft.”

“He didn’t. This has been sealed.”

Dani went back to the blueprints. Nothing about the master bedroom stood out. “Let’s look in the closet.”

“Fine,” Gina agreed. “But don’t touch anything you don’t absolutely have to.”

The closet doors were made of the same dark wood as the rest of the interior. Dani again examined the locking mechanism. “It’s warded.”

“Meaning a skeleton key probably opens it.”

“If it weren’t busted, yes. But the mechanism that snaps the lock into place is completely rusted.” The knob turned unevenly, emitting an angry creak.

The walk-in closet wasn’t as grand as some Dani had seen, but it was impressive. Built-in compartments for shoes, drawers, a changing area, and rotting hanging rails were all original. “This room is directly over the butler’s pantry,” Dani said. “If there is a secret stair or hidden entrance to this room, it’s got to be in here.”

“Let’s start looking,” Gina said.

*     *     *

Located ten minutes
away in Natchez–another one of Mississippi’s historical hubs–the Adams County Coroner had a small set of offices on the first floor of a two-story brick building on South Wall Street. Cage bypassed the rest of the city offices and headed straight for Jeb’s modest space in the basement.

He leaned against the elevator wall fighting to keep his eyes open. He’d been up half the night thinking about Dani and Jaymee’s safety at Magnolia House. The mansion did have an alarm system, but it was ancient.

And his excitement over his growing feelings for Dani hadn’t exactly put him to sleep. He’d been so frustrated at her pseudo defense of Ben. He’d never been jealous of Jaymee like that. Not even when he believed he’d never love anyone else but her, even when his sister and parents had encouraged him to let go.

The elevator reached the basement just as the image of Dani standing, slouched and sad, in front of him last night went through his mind.

Seeing Jaymee cry had never hurt his heart like Dani had last night.

Jeb had the day off, his secretary informed him. He’d have to direct his questions at Billy, the coroner’s intern.

Of course Jeb had the day off. Same day every week. Billy was exactly who Cage wanted to see.

“Come on into Jeb’s office,” Billy said. “We’ve only got three rooms back here, and the others are full of records and training materials.”

“Nice of Jeb to let you use his office.” Tucked in the corner of the building, the office was cluttered but immaculate. Filing cabinets lined one wall, certificates another, along with county and state maps. A green plant, its tentacle-like vines stretching to the floor, hung in the window.

Billy grinned, gesturing to the small table and chair crammed under the eave near the window. “He gives me some space since I’m only here during the summers.”

“You’re studying biology?”

“Yeah, I’ll be a senior.” Billy chewed on his lower lip, crossing one long arm over his chest and scratching the back of his closely cropped, dark hair with another. “So, what can I do for you?”

“I need a favor.” Cage lowered his voice. “Gina’s playing this thing really close to the vest, you know?”

“I’m sure. With what happened with the Ballards a couple of months ago and now this, people are nervous. And I guess the mayor’s office is worried about tourism falling off. Especially since the working theory is that some psycho is grabbing travelers.” He shifted his feet, breaking eye contact. “And Jeb said you’re a suspect until they clear you. But he says that’s all a technicality,” Billy hurried to add.

“It is, but it’s a pain in my ass,” Cage said. “I’d like to get my name cleared and help this mess get solved.” He checked over his shoulder and then stepped forward to close the distance between him and Billy. “Look, I know Jeb’s in the loop, which means you’re in the loop.”

“Not really, although Jeb did tell me the medical examiner says the bones are definitely old, possibly Civil War era.”

“Any idea of the victim’s sex? Or how old the bones actually are?”

“Not that I’ve heard. Medical examiner sent the bones to the anthropology department at Ole Miss without looking at them. Pretty disrespectful if you ask me.” Billy picked up the heavy paperweight off his makeshift desk. He glared at the glass. “Probably a slave or a Natchez Indian. Buried like trash by a white racist.” He shook his head. “But that’s all I really know.”

Cage didn’t believe him for a minute. “Jeb sees a lot of potential in you, and I can’t say I blame him. And like you said the other day, this is a learning experience for you. So I’m sure he’s shared what he knows.” He hated to play the kid, but getting the information took precedent over his guilty conscience.

“Even if he has, I can’t give you the information.” Billy scratched the stubble on his chin. “You know I’m on scholarship at school, right? I mess up something like this and get in trouble with the cops, I could lose it.”

“I know I’m putting you in a shitty position,” Cage said. “But my parents are really upset. They know I’m innocent of course, but they don’t want my name to be dragged through the mud. You know my family has been through a lot the past several years. I’d be grateful for anything you might be able to tell me–for any bit of information I could use to ease their minds.”