Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
I an and I waited outside the church after the last Sunday mass hoping to catch Reverend Herbert and have a brief word with him.
Millie Robertson spotted us and stared for a moment, then shook her head and left her husband talking with a couple to join us.
“I thought I was seeing your Aunt Effie when I spotted you, Pepper. You are the spitting image of her.”
“That is quite a compliment, Millie, thank you,” I said and since she had been at the church longer than the reverend and probably knew its history better than him, I decided to see what I might learn. “By any chance do you know if there are any documents or information about the original section of the church, the one that would have existed when the Willow Mausoleum was built?”
Her nose and mouth scrunched in annoyance. “I have been after the powers that be for years to scan the old documents and save them to the computer before they disintegrate from age. No money to do that is all I am ever told. I finally took it upon myself to at least see that they were stored properly so we wouldn’t lose any of them. I even asked that the documents be donated to the Willow Lake Historical Society for preservation. I was told they would consider it. I discussed it with Melvin Waters, but he died, rest his soul, and I haven’t heard anything from the society since.”
When opportunity strikes take it, and I did. “I just joined the historical society, and my mom suggested that I should apply to be president.”
“Following in your aunt’s footsteps. That would be wonderful. Why don’t we set an appointment for you to come look over the documents, then you can report back to the society about the offer.”
“I’d love to do that, Millie. The society should make sure it keeps Willow Lake history properly kept and displayed for future generations.” I was already sounding like the president of Willow Lake Historical Society.
“I am delighted to hear that. Your Aunt Effie would be proud of you and that you and Ian are a couple would greatly please his Uncle Max since he was such a dear friend of your aunt’s. I will check my calendar tomorrow when I get to work and call you to arrange a date, Pepper.”
“I look forward to your call.”
“Enjoy the beautiful spring day.” Millie returned to her husband to walk off with the couple he had been talking with.
“Dear friend,” Ian whispered, “if she only knew the truth. Not that I’d ever reveal what your aunt and my uncle meant to each other. They kept the secret for years and I’ll continue to do so. It looks like you have no choice now but to apply to be president of the Willow Lake Historical Society.”
“I didn’t say I was going to. I said my mom suggested it,” I clarified.
He chuckled. “That sounds like an anointing of the position to me.”
“I’m familiar with anointing,” Reverend Herbert said with a chuckle of his own as he approached us. “Maybe I can help.”
“Pep joined the Willow Lake Historical Society, and her mom suggested she apply to be president, following in her Aunt Effie’s footsteps,” Ian explained.
“I didn’t know your aunt. She was far before my time here, but I have heard wonderful things about her and her generosity to so many. Hard shoes to fill. But from what I hear many say, you are much like her, so your mother is correct in encouraging you to seek the position. The historical society needs someone who has a history with it. Not speaking ill of the dead but providing you with information that might help you in the position, Pepper. Melvin Waters complained to me several times about how he could not wait to retire and pursue his hobby in earnest. Nothing else seemed to matter to him.”
“What was his hobby?” Ian asked.
“Treasure hunting.”
“From what I’m hearing your mom is a shoo-in to win the mayor’s race. She’s revealed how badly Barrett messed up the town’s finances and how he gave contracts to friends, not to mention how he and his cronies had their streets and driveways cleared of snow before anyone in the town, even the police building,” Amy said as she watched my mom talk to people in the Star Diner the next day.
My mom, Amy, and I met regularly at the diner for breakfast. It gives us a chance to catch up on things.
My mom’s voice rang clear from a few booths away.
“We have planters donated from the Madison Garden Center. They will be situated along both sides of Main Street at an appropriate distance and will burst with seasonal flowers. Benches will sit beside a few of the planters for whoever needs a rest and store doors will be painted a variety of bright colors to attract attention. All that work will start next week. There is also a new store that will open soon, Sadie’s Bakery & Café. It will boast an outdoor seating area. Oh, and many have been asking about Bud’s Sporting Goods closing since Bud is retiring, his children having no interest in the store and having moved away. I spoke with Bud, and he tells me he is in negotiations with someone now and the fellow is looking to expand the size of the store.”
“Bud must be ancient by now,” Amy whispered. “I recall him being old when we were young.”
“Most everyone looks old when you’re young,” I reminded her.
“Sally, lunch is ready,” Lara called out as she placed our plates on the table.
“I meant to ask you, Mom,” I said when she joined us in the booth. “Do you know where Aunt Effie’s search for history on the Willow family took her in Ireland?”
“I believe she started with the name and went from there.”
“That’s what I did, but it was a dead end,” Amy said. “The only reference I found for Ignatius and Claire Willow was their boarding document.”
“I do recall Effie saying something similar. But the Willows proved to be a decent and generous couple. Whatever brought them here doesn’t really matter anymore. They built a town, helped people, left a legacy that will be long remembered. That’s what matters now.”
“But there is the question of the treasure or dowry or whatever,” I said. “That is an expensive diamond and pearl necklace Claire Willow is wearing in that portrait. How did she come by it?”
“Ignatius Willow adored his wife and was a hardworking man. Doesn’t it seem remotely possible that he wanted to lavish her with a gift?” my mom said, but then she always looked for the good in people.
“What about the ruby that was found during the renovation of the mansion?” Amy asked.
“Women often sewed jewels into the hem of their garments to protect from thieves when traveling especially on long journeys. The ruby could have been part of Claire’s dowry but was never needed,” my mom suggested.
My phone rang and when I saw it was the church calling, I answered it.
“If you have time in about an hour, Pepper, I’d be only too glad to have you take a look at the documents,” Millie said after hellos were exchanged.
“I’ll be there,” I said and explained to my mom and Amy about the documents I thought would be good for the historical society to have and possibly display in the society’s museum that sat just off Main Street. A light bulb went off in my head. “I’ve been so focused on the Willow Mansion that I didn’t think about the Willow Lake Historical Society’s Museum. There could be relevant documents stored there.”
“I believe all the historical society documents are housed at the Willow Mansion since it is the main office of the society. The key to it is with the key for the mansion. We rarely open it to visitors since it needs work,” my mom said.
“Another thing that needs changing,” Amy chimed in.
“I wholeheartedly agree, Amy,” my mom said. “It was once the Mercantile, the heart of the town with everyone going there to get what they needed. It was also the social hub of the town, people gathering around to hear news from travelers.”
“It should be restored,” Amy said, her eyes gleaming which meant ideas were already crowding her head. “Local artisans could display some of their wares there and the historical society could sell sweatshirts, shirts, hats, totes with the name of the town sprawled across them. Framed pictures and documents of the town could be displayed on the walls. Oh, the possibilities are endless.”
“I love that idea,” my mom said. “It will bring more people to our many festivals and more revenue to the businesses. The only problem is that it will take money.”
“An incentive for me to keep digging and find that money Melvin stole from the historical society,” Amy said, determined. “I can meet you at the museum after you’re done at the church, Pepper. Text me when you’re headed there.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said.
“I was impressed with the great job Millie did in storing the old documents,” I said, having called Ian as soon as I left the church. “She has them in folders in archival boxes and keeps them out of any sunlight. She told me she couldn’t let the town’s history turn to dust.”
“So, that foiled your plans to take photos,” Ian said.
“I couldn’t take the chance of the flash harming the documents. There is a treasure trove of information in the documents, names, dates, building materials. Ignatius was meticulous in keeping records. The historical society will be lucky to acquire them.”
“You’re going to need some expert advice on how to safely transport and display them.” Ian pointed out.
“And a legal document from the church donating them to the society.”
Ian laughed. “I can hear you smiling.”
“Millie volunteered to see to that, and she wants to join the historical society and handle the preservation and display of the documents. I couldn’t be more thrilled about that. She has fabulous organizational skills, and the historical society can use her expertise.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Pep, but why do I hear a bit of disappointment?”
“I asked if I could take some photos of the old section of the church, starting at the bottom, explaining that I wanted to document everything thoroughly.”
“From the disappointment I hear I take it she said no.”
“Not exactly. She told me that the basement steps are stone, and it’s damp down there and drafty leaving the steps slippery at times and lighting is bad so she feels it would be better that you were with me.”
“Impatient, are we?” Ian laughed again.
“See, you understand perfectly. It isn’t that I have to wait for you?—”
Ian cut in. “It’s that you have to wait.”
“It’s scary that you know me so well.”
“I’ll call Millie and arrange a time since your schedule is more fluid than mine.”
“That would be great. I’ll make anytime work. One other thing, the Gibbons Mausoleum. Millie told me it was built not long after the Willow Mausoleum and that Ignatius Willow had it built for the family out of appreciation for all their dedication and hard work they did for the Willow family.”
“Or to secure a clear path to the church and a private entrance to his daughter’s tomb,” Ian suggested.
“I’m just pulling into the Willow Lake Historical Society’s Museum’s parking lot. Amy will be here soon. She’s just finishing up with a frantic phone call from one of her clients. I’ll call you when we’re done.”
I made sure to have my phone on me in case I came across any more bodies.
Stepping into the Willow Lake Historical Society Museum, I couldn’t help but feel a slight chill, the kind that whispers of long-forgotten stories and secrets. The building surely had endless stories to tell, having started life as the Mercantile back when Willow Lake wasn’t even a budding dot on the map. Now, it was a museum dedicated to preserving the town’s history. Unfortunately, it wasn’t doing a very good job at it since dust and cobwebs occupied the space rather than visitors.
The door creaked shut behind me, and I stood for a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light filtering through the tall windows that cried out for a washing. The place smelled of aged wood, a mix of history and mildew, with a faint undercurrent of lemon polish that had clearly seen better days. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, swirling as I moved farther inside.
The museum was a mix of displays and remnants from a simpler time. Wooden shelves lined the walls, holding everything from old kitchen tools to jars of mysterious powders and dried herbs. Framed photographs hung slightly askew, showcasing stiff-faced settlers and the town’s early years. A mannequin in an outdated prairie dress and bonnet stood in one corner, looking eerily lifelike in the shadows. The place definitely needed updating and Amy was going to go crazy with ideas when she got here.
I pulled the skeleton key out of my pocket and wondered if it would fit a lock here and reveal secrets. Maybe it opened a chest or drawer now forgotten in a dusty corner. I wasn’t sure, but I was determined to find out.
Starting with the closest cabinet, I began my search. The key didn’t fit the ornate lock though I gave it an extra jiggle just in case. The glass case holding what appeared to be personal items of the town’s residents—combs, pocket watches, cloth dolls, and such—was padlocked, but the skeleton key didn’t match that either.
As I moved from one display to another, the weight of history seemed to settle around me. Each object told a story: an old ledger with faded ink entries, a child’s worn leather shoes, and a map of the original town layout, framed and hanging on the wall. It was fascinating, in its own way, even if it wasn’t helping me solve the mystery of the key.
I finally paused in front of a small wooden chest under one of the windows. If anything screamed “hidden treasure,” it was this chest. But once again, the key didn’t fit.
After trying a few more spots and coming up empty-handed, I stood in the middle of the room, the skeleton key dangling uselessly in my hand and feeling the weight of failure.
I turned quickly hearing a knock on the door, realizing I had locked it behind me to make sure I didn’t get any unwanted visitors.
“It’s me,” Amy called out after rapping on the door again.
I hurried to let her in and locked the door after her.
Amy did something I had failed to do. She hit the switch on the wall and flooded the room with light.
“This place really needs updating, but the possibilities are endless,” Amy said, grabbing her phone from her purse and snapping photos.
I could almost see the list formulating in her head, growing by leaps and bounds.
“Find anything to fit that key?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said clearly disappointed until I spotted the wood door that I hadn’t spotted though I would have if I had turned the light on. But it almost felt sacrilegious to do so as if electricity was out of place here.
The door was too modern, as was the lock, but no key was necessary since it opened easily. It looked to be a storage room with space for a small office since an old desk sat against one wall. An enclosed curving staircase in the corner led up to the second floor and what would have been the living space of whoever ran the Mercantile.
Amy peeked up the curving stairs while I went to open the door on the opposite wall. A cavern of darkness greeted me along with a pungent odor that told me the door hadn’t been opened in a while.
“Don’t dare tell me that you’re thinking of going down there,” Amy said, coming up behind me.
“A quick look,” I said and grabbed my phone out of my pocket and turned on the flashlight.
The steps were stone and the cobwebs heavy.
“I’m not going down there,” Amy said with fear and a worry that she didn’t believe her own words. “The last time we went in an old basement a crazy guy with a knife came after us.”
“Did I not save us?” I asked proudly.
“You did but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t terrifying.”
She got me there. It was terrifying. “You stay here, and I’ll go have a quick look.”
“Let me call your mom first and see if she knows what’s down there,” Amy said, already dialing.
I didn’t want to lose another chance to investigate an old basement and see what secrets it held, so I started down the stairs. The walls were stone just like the stairs and there was a slight dampness to them, so I kept my hands off them. I felt the darkness close in around me the further down I went. I wasn’t far from the last step when I decided to remain there while I shined my flashlight around the room just in case, I needed to make a quick exit up the stairs.
Old barrels, some broken, some intact, rotting wood benches, then a squeak from the opposite side of the room. Mice or rats?
I quickly turned and the light hit a rat sitting atop a barrel. He quickly jumped off and disappeared behind it. I hurried down the remaining stairs, wanting to get done with my search since the rat might return with some friends.
It was a mistake. My feet flew out from under me so fast that I had no time to try and catch or brace myself. I went flying down the last few steps, the last step lurching me forward. I landed on something, and it didn’t take me long to figure out it was a body, and it spoke.
“Help me.”
I recognized the gravelly voice even though it was only a whisper. It was one of the guys from the bookstore.
“Hold on. I’ll get you help,” I said as I hurried off him then yelled to Amy. “Get down here. It’s pitch black and I dropped my phone and can’t find it.”
Okay, so I omitted the part about the body, but she would have never come down if I told her there was a body down here, and a live one at that.
“Do I have to?”
“Amy, if you don’t hurry the rats are going to get me.” A bit of an elaboration, though the rat that ran had probably been eyeing up the guy on the ground for lunch. Not that Amy needed to know that.
“Rats!” she screamed.
“Amy, I need you!” I yelled and spotted a faint light that began to grow brighter. “Watch your steps, the stones are slippery.”
“I am not taking one step off the stairs,” she called out.
“That’s fine. Your light will allow me to find my phone.”
She almost blinded me when she nearly reached the bottom, the light from her phone hitting me.
“Oh my, God, Pepper, you’re bleeding!” she cried out.
I looked down to see blood covering the light blue knit shirt I wore. “Don’t panic. It’s not my blood.” I pointed to the ground.
Amy shined the light there and paled.
When I looked down, I saw the guy’s chest was soaked with blood. “We’ve got to get him help.”
The guy groaned, a rat squeaked, and Amy turned to run up the stairs and slipped, hitting her head on the step and knocking herself out.