Chapter Sixteen #2
Ezekiel studied the remains of her trap to discern what she’d done.
A long string was tied to the door’s handle at one end, and at the other end, a wooden dowel lay on the floor.
The pitcher in Miss Davis’s hands dangled from a thicker rope looped around a hook in the ceiling.
Farther back and high on the wall, a block attached to a hinge hung down.
If he had to guess, the dowel held the block up to keep the pitcher in a swing-ready position until the door opening jerked the dowel free.
That was some ingenuity. No intruder sneaking through the front door would ever expect a pitcher to come flying at their head.
After closing the door, Miss Davis slid a nearby ladder beneath the ceiling hook and climbed it with the pitcher held at her hip.
Ezekiel stepped forward to steady her should she lose her balance. “I can do whatever you need. Climbing a ladder in skirts is dangerous.” Especially one-handed.
“Nonsense, I do this all the time.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“If you’re so concerned, hold this.” She passed him the pitcher, then unhooked the rope loop from the fixture.
Ezekiel stayed tense with anticipation of her fall until she had both feet on the floor.
She collected the items and placed them into a corner basket like this was a common practice.
“You feel so unsafe that you’ve installed permanent fixtures for your trap?”
She shrugged. “When we tested the setup for Lydia’s story, we realized if the hooks weren’t anchored into a stud, the weight of the pitcher and wood would pull the hooks free of the plaster.”
Ezekiel turned toward Detective Hall to see if he was similarly disconcerted.
“I told you. Soda mint tablets.” Detective Hall grinned, then addressed Miss Davis. “I see you widened the nail board beneath the window since the last time I saw it.”
“I wanted to be certain someone with long legs couldn’t stretch their way over it. Father wouldn’t allow me to put spikes in the windowsill, as it would cause permanent damage to the framing and might be unsettling to visitors.”
Unsettling indeed. Ezekiel had envisioned Miss Davis as a lady in need of protection, but her home was better defended than a fort. If she really had a gun in addition to all these deterrents, he wasn’t sure what additional help he could provide to make her feel safer.
“How do you leave the house after it’s set?” Maybe her point of exit would need reinforced.
“Through the back.” She led them past the stairs and down a narrow hallway.
Each room followed another in a straight line, separated by walls and pocket doors, ending in the small kitchen with a back door. Bright curtains and neatly displayed teacups and porcelain plates spoke of Miss Davis’s feminine touch.
“Other than the bolt and the lock, I have nothing extra, but it’s safe enough.” She unlocked the door and stepped outside so they could follow. “We have a shared courtyard that is closed off by gates. Each resident has a key to enter and exit.”
Ezekiel looked over the decently sized rectangle.
The perimeter housed a dozen buildings with two tall gates at opposing sides of the courtyard.
It wouldn’t be easy to climb over them, but neither was it impossible.
The courtyard itself was pleasant. Rows of once-churned ground indicated residents kept a small garden, but everything was a winter-dead brown now.
A community water pump stood at the center with a blanket draped over to prevent it from freezing.
Four chickens roosted in a little hut across the way, a fifth one on the roof. A rooster, maybe?
“Are you not afraid of your neighbors, then?” he asked.
“No. I know most of them, and we look out for one another.” Her gaze roamed the perimeter. “In fact, Mr. Gallagher is watching us through his kitchen window now. He’s nearly deaf, but he always knows what’s going on in this little space.” She lifted a hand in greeting.
A window slid open, followed by a gruff “Fred was hiding in your bushes again.”
Ezekiel shot a glance to the low bushes on either side of her steps. They weren’t large enough to conceal a person, but someone with ill intentions still might try.
“Thank you, Mr. Gallagher,” Miss Davis shouted. “If she laid any eggs, I’ll bring them to you.”
The window slid shut with a thud.
Ezekiel faced Miss Davis. “Fred is a chicken?”
“A hen, yes. One of the children named her. Fred doesn’t seem to mind.
” She rummaged through the bushes and retrieved a green egg.
“I’ll take this over to him while you examine the steps.
Lydia, do you want to come? I’m sure he’ll hold me captive to share all the details of what I’ve missed over the last few days.
He’s sure to have some good story ideas for you. ”
Ezekiel watched as both women crossed the lawn, Miss Davis clearly at ease in her small community. He turned his attention to the steps and brushed some of the crumbling cement off the landing as he spoke. “It’s good to know someone is watching out for her while her father is away.”
Detective Hall crouched on the other side of the steps.
“If Lydia were concerned, she, another, or all of the Guardians would be staying with her. They’re closer than sisters, and there isn’t a one of them who wouldn’t risk her life for the others.
From the stories I’ve heard, they made a habit of risking their lives before I came around.
Things appear to be calmer and more reasonable now, but if ever one of them is in trouble, heaven help us all. ”
By the time Miss Davis and Miss Pelton returned, Ezekiel had a good idea of what he’d need to do to fix the steps, but he’d have to check with the stagehands who had more experience with concrete and building things.
To his surprise, Miss Davis invited him and the others to warm up with coffee and leftover apple custard.
If Miss Pelton intended to be subtle about her matchmaking, she miserably failed.
She immediately spoke of the house for rent that Mr. Gallagher had mentioned and suggested it would make a lovely home for a man looking toward marriage.
“As lovely as this neighborhood is, I already own a home on the other side of town.” Ezekiel wrapped his hands around his mug, debating whether to share the story behind it.
He hadn’t done his good deed for recognition, but it couldn’t hurt in his attempt to prove his character to Miss Davis.
“Actually, it belonged to my parents first. When Pa grew ill, I moved back home and discovered they’d fallen behind on the taxes and were in danger of losing it.
I didn’t want either of them to worry about being homeless, so I used most of my savings to get them back in good standing.
When Pa passed, he left me the house so I could care for Ma and as a gift to the future daughter-in-law and grandchildren he’d never meet.
” He coughed to disguise the emotion that always thickened his throat when reminded of all Pa would miss.
Heaven was wonderful, but Ezekiel wished Pa had lived a lot longer.
Miss Pelton dabbed at her eyes and released a dreamy sigh. “What a wonderful thing to do for your parents.”
“It was I who benefited the most, I assure you.”
“Did you expect to inherit the house?” Miss Davis asked.
“No.”
“I thought not.” The high praise communicated through those three words, accompanied by her small smile, made every minute of lost sleep worth it.
If Detective Hall hadn’t been so candid in his suggestion it was time to leave an hour later, Ezekiel would have stayed until Miss Davis kicked him out herself.
“Would you give something to Tristan for me?” Miss Davis asked as she reached into the cabinet.
Ezekiel reluctantly shrugged on his coat. “I know it’s tempting, but I cannot give him laudanum.”
She shook her head with the hint of a smile she’d grown prone to this afternoon and removed a can of sardines. “My intention is to make him a friend to both of us.”
A friend to both sounded promising. “I could bring him by during one of my breaks this week so you can give it to him yourself.”
Behind him Detective Hall leaned over to Miss Pelton and whispered loud enough for Ezekiel to hear. “Was I this bad when pursuing you?”
“As I recall you were more direct with an all-or-nothing view.” Miss Pelton tugged him toward the front. “Come on, give them a minute before you become overbearing.”
By Miss Davis’s unamused expression, she’d heard them. Once they departed, Miss Davis handed him the can. “I suppose I won’t be opposed to Tristan visiting, so long as his master promises to behave himself and not play the charmer.”
“Tristan has no master. He’s a cat. I’m pretty sure he’s the master of me. But I promise to be a humble and behaving servant.”
“I have my doubts about that, but bring him anyway.”
“Tristan and I will see you tomorrow, then. I can’t promise a specific time, as it depends on how long the rehearsal runs, but it will be sometime after one.”
“I’ll keep a pot of soup warm, so you don’t have to risk skipping your lunch.”
“A visit and a meal? I am beyond honored. Thank you.”
Miss Davis gave him a regal nod of acknowledgment, then walked him to the door. “Good evening, Mr. Beaumont.”
Good evening indeed. It sounded like he might have a good week as well.
The only challenge before him now was determining how to transport the demon-cat without injury to himself or Tristan escaping.
Well, that and remembering those note combinations she’d inspired earlier.
Whether he wanted to or not, it was time to sit at the piano and see if the music would finally come to him.