Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
“A secret door!” Theo exclaimed with wonder. “This is so cool!”
Livy shrank back until she was almost behind Theo’s wheelchair. “It looks scary. What’s in there?”
“Only one way to find out.” Theo’s eyes gleamed with excitement.
I tugged my phone free from my pocket and switched on the flashlight app. Then I directed the light into the darkness beyond the secret door.
“There’s a staircase,” I told the others. “A short one. Then another door.”
Wary of potential spiders and cobwebs, I stepped through the opening and onto the top stair.
“Don’t go, Auntie Em,” Livy pleaded.
I turned back. “I’m just going to have a peek,” I said. “You wait here with Theo.”
“I’ll come with you,” Wyatt said, stepping into the phone booth.
I led the way down the short staircase, shining my light around, noting that the dust on the stairs had been recently disturbed.
I half expected the door at the bottom of the staircase to be locked, but it opened easily when I put my hand on the knob.
The door let out an ominous creak as it opened into a long, low-ceilinged room.
The beam from my flashlight app danced over a light switch on the wall to my left.
I flicked it on, not knowing if it would work, but sconces on the wall flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the room. I shut off the light on my phone.
“Don’t leave us in suspense!” Theo called from out in the corridor.
I glanced at Wyatt, and he nodded. We retraced our steps to find Livy and Theo peering into the phone booth.
“Well?” Theo demanded as soon as Wyatt and I came into view.
“You’ve got to see what’s down there,” I said, unable to keep a note of excitement out of my voice. “It’s a secret room.”
“Is it scary?” Livy asked.
“Not at all,” I assured her.
Theo frowned at the entrance to the phone booth. “My chair won’t fit. Then there’s the stairs.” Her frown transformed into a smile as she looked up at Wyatt. “You look strong.”
It took only a few seconds for Theo to get on Wyatt’s back, with her arms around his neck and his arms looped under her legs. Livy took my hand, and we led the way down the short stairway and into the long room.
As soon as we crossed the threshold, Livy slipped her hand out of mine and wandered away, curiosity apparently replacing her apprehension.
“Whoa,” Theo said as she and Wyatt entered the room.
I was just as awestruck. Before finding the light switch, I’d thought maybe we’d stumbled upon a dirty old cellar, the kind where no one but serial killers would hang out. I most definitely hadn’t expected this.
Three of the room’s four walls were exposed brick.
Red-and-black damask wallpaper covered the fourth wall.
In the corner to the right of the door was a small platform, which I suspected had been used as a stage.
At the far end of the room, rickety-looking wooden stools lined a bar.
The shelves on the brick wall behind the bar held dusty bottles in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors.
As I walked slowly toward the bar, I took in the sight of photographs hanging crooked on the papered wall.
Several showed dancers in this very room in 1920s outfits, and one depicted a three-piece band playing on the stage in the corner.
The female singer wore a dazzling flapper dress and headband, with her hair styled in finger waves.
“Is this what I think it is?” I asked as I turned around.
Theo’s eyes were wide behind her glasses as she gazed around from her vantage point on Wyatt’s back.
“A speakeasy.” She said the words almost reverently.
Livy climbed up onto one of the creaky barstools. “What’s a speakeasy?”
“It’s a place where people would go to drink alcohol and dance back when alcohol wasn’t allowed,” I explained.
“Alcohol? Like beer?”
“Beer and other drinks.”
Livy wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like the smell of beer.”
“You can set me down,” Theo said to Wyatt when they reached the bar.
“On one of the stools?” he asked.
“Maybe the chair.” She indicated one of two chairs tucked beneath the nearest of a half dozen small round tables.
He carefully lowered her to the floor and then guided her into the chair.
“Do you think Freddie knew about this place?” she asked.
“Someone’s been here recently,” I said. “There were footprints on the stairs before we came down.”
Wyatt let out a low whistle. He was behind the bar now, facing the bottles on the shelves, his back to the rest of us.
“What is it?” Theo asked eagerly.
“Someone might have been here recently, but this place must have been forgotten for a long time,” he said.
I joined him behind the bar. “Why do you say that?”
“These bottles. They date back to the 1920s. Some even earlier.”
“Maybe someone knew about them but didn’t bother to get rid of them,” Theo said.
“Maybe, if they didn’t know what they were looking at,” Wyatt conceded. “But some of these would be worth a lot of money these days.” He tapped a brown bottle. “Like this whiskey. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone would pay a few thousand dollars for it.”
“Seriously?” I said with surprise.
Livy popped up between me and the shelves. “Look at this, Auntie Em.”
She held up a small wicker basket. Inside was a vintage fountain pen, a lone pearl earring, and a single elbow-length glove.
“Where’d you find that?” I asked her.
She pointed to the lowest shelf. “Right there.”
“The speakeasy’s lost and found maybe?” I speculated.
“Can I see?” Theo called from the other side of the bar.
Livy scurried around to share her finds.
When I turned my attention back to the shelves of booze, I noticed something that gave me pause. I put a hand to Wyatt’s arm, but when the warmth of his body reached my fingertips through the fabric of his jacket, I snatched my hand away again.
“Check this out.” I pointed at a spot on the lowest shelf.
“What is it?” Theo asked.
“Circles,” Wyatt answered, as he studied what I’d pointed out. “Six of them. Without dust.”
“Somebody took six of the bottles!” Theo exclaimed.
“And not very long ago,” I added.
I turned around and met Theo’s gleaming eyes.
“You know what this means, right?” she asked.
I glanced at Livy, who was at the other end of the room now, looking at the photos on the wall.
I lowered my voice so my niece wouldn’t hear me. “We might have found a motive for murder.”