Drop Dead

Twenty-three

Wes waited for Nadine to set her phone up to her liking, then pushed the button on the edge of the dumbwaiter at her nod. It gave a pleasant click, and the box began to drop. They pressed close to peer down as it descended, before Nadine pointed out this could get their heads chopped off if something came from above. They took a swift step back.

“This is going to be great,” Nadine enthused. “Anything could be down there.”

“Or nothing,” said Wes. He liked the idea of a hidden space in theory, but if it was as full as the attic, he would simply curl up and die.

“It could house a crypt,” said Nadine.

“Or be empty.”

“A kiss of vampires in their undead sleep.”

“I’d prefer that to more boxes.”

It felt like a year until the dumbwaiter came back up. Nadine snatched her phone, and they sat on the couch to review the footage. At first, it was difficult to make out any details as the screen went from darkness to slightly grayer darkness, which was compounded by the distracting fact that Nadine was sitting near enough that her thigh was firmly against him. The house was hot, and he should hate the extra heat she generated. But he wanted to shift closer.

On the screen, the video gave a small jolt as the dumbwaiter reached the bottom. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be a door blocking their view.

“It’s empty,” said Wes with satisfaction. “Thank God we don’t have another warehouse worth of papers and old clothes to sift through.”

“I still want to see it for myself.”

He nodded. That was a given. Its mere existence was cool enough to merit further exploration.

“Hold on.” Nadine turned the screen around as if that would adjust the camera angle to allow her to see more. She zoomed in and pointed to the center. “There’s something along that wall.”

Wes didn’t want to agree, but he had no choice. “Damn. Boxes.”

“Boxes.” She checked the screen again. “We need to go through them.”

“This is the beginning of a horror story,” he warned.

“As long as we stay out of the forest, we’ll be fine.” Nadine was halfway out of the library. “There’s a flashlight in the kitchen. Let’s go.”

At least the heavy-duty flashlight that was stuck to the side of the wall was big enough to be used as a weapon if there were basement vampires lying in wait.

Nadine grabbed it and handed it to him. “Lead the way,” she said.

“What, so I get killed first?”

She gave him an exasperated look and pushed back the lock of hair that had fallen out of her high bun. “No, because I don’t know where the stairs to the basement are.”

“Me neither.” He shrugged. “They can’t be hard to find.”

Wes was wrong. An hour later, they were back in the kitchen, having checked every room for a door. He leaned against the huge island counter and rubbed his neck in frustration. “This house is wild,” he said. “How could we not find it? We looked everywhere. It’s a door .”

Nadine came out from checking the pantry for the second time and put the flashlight on the table. “Could it be outside?”

An outside basement entrance seemed unlikely, but it wasn’t like they were having any success here. “Or the conservatory?” he said. “We didn’t look there.”

“I’ll check the conservatory, and you check the exterior.” Nadine made the decision for them in her usual confident way.

“What did we say about staying out of the forest?” he asked.

“Dot’s herb garden is hardly a haunted realm,” she said.

“If I get Freddy Krueger’d out there, let it be on your head.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Despite his teasing, Wes didn’t mind stepping out for some fresh air. He took the flashlight, and they split up at the kitchen side door, a shortcut they’d found into the back garden. The backyard—no, the outdoor part of the estate—was a mix of vegetables for the kitchen, flowers in ornate beds with walkways, and a patio space with a firepit. Wes circled the house, looking for anything that could be an entrance. Nothing. No root cellars. No trapdoors.

There had to be one. Had to be something. He retraced his steps, mentally mapping out the interior of the house as he went. This would be Nadine’s room at the end of the east wing, mirroring where Dot’s was on the west. He lingered, comparing what he saw to what he recalled from inside. He could have sworn Nadine’s Marie Antoinette room was smaller than what the exterior of the house indicated.

Wes rushed back in to pass Nadine.

“I didn’t find anything,” she said. “Did you? You did. You’re running. Was it ghosts after all? Wes, wait for me.”

He slowed for her to catch up and led the way to the Marie Antoinette room. The en suite was to the south of the room, and the canopied bed, with two sleeping cats nestled in the multitude of pillows, was set against the wall to the north.

That was where the extra space would be.

“You think the basement door is in my room?” Nadine looked around in confusion.

“Let’s find out,” he said. “Give me a hand.”

To her credit, Nadine simply grabbed the end of the bed instead of peppering him with more questions. In seconds, they’d discovered the bed was on wheels, and once they pushed up the locks, it was easy to move away from the wall. The cats jumped off with offended trills.

Neither of them paid attention because they were looking at a door. A door in the wall behind the bed that had been hidden by the canopy.

“What the fuck.” Nadine’s voice was flat. “I sleep here.”

“Whoa, creepy. Have you heard sounds at night? Rustling? Voices? Chanting?”

“ Wes .”

“Sorry, I got carried away.” He gave her an apologetic look. He wouldn’t have been thrilled to find a secret door behind his bed either. “Let’s look inside. I’m sure it’s nothing too disturbing.”

She grabbed the flashlight and lifted it as if to check the weight before settling into a boxing stance. “I’m ready.”

He supposed it didn’t hurt to be cautious. “Southpaw, huh?”

“With a wicked hook, so be ready to open that door on the count of three.”

Wes gave her a thumbs-up, and she counted down.

“One, two, three.”

He threw the door open and leapt out of the way of Nadine’s swinging arm, ready to jump in as backup. Nothing happened. Peeking in, he saw a lamp near the door and flicked the switch.

Wes wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this. There was no cinder-block tunnel leading to the depths of the house. No stale air and torches. Instead, a sturdy leather armchair sat in the far corner, and the bare walls of the small room were painted a pleasant coral. A record player, still plugged in, sat near the chair with a rack filled with old albums. It was both a letdown and unbelievably confusing.

“This is weird,” he said.

“There must be something else here.”

“Like what?” He looked up to see a regular ceiling. It was simply a room. A secret room carpeted with ivory shag behind Nadine’s bed.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” Nadine began knocking on every wall, searching for another way in or out, and Wes went to sort through the records. A thick layer of dust lay on the surfaces.

“Oh my God.” He snatched his hand away.

It only took Nadine three strides for her to cross the room, no doubt dying to see what he’d found so shocking. “Let me see.”

“No.” He put it behind his back and thanked God the lamplight was dim so she couldn’t see how red his face was getting.

She peered around him to see what he was hiding, and he weaved back-and-forth to block her. “I am sleeping in a sex room with a secret door,” she said. “Trust me, it can’t be that bad.”

“It’s not a sex room,” Wes said. “Those kinds of images were common in ancient Rome.”

“But not in twenty-first-century Canada, so let me see.” She held her hands out and waited, then rolled her eyes when he didn’t move. “Wes. Hand. It. Over.”

He bit his lip. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Nadine grabbed the record out of his hands. “ Songs for Stripping ,” she read. “‘Turn your lover on with these classics of the stripping arts. Instruction manual included.’” Wes looked at the album cover, which had a woman with platinum bouffant hair posing with a naughty grin and hands over her breasts. There were a lot of feathers. And garters. Nadine shook the album and peered inside. “The instruction manual is missing.”

“Too bad.”

She checked the back cover. “What are songs for stripping anyway?”

He knew what she was planning before she moved to the record player. “Don’t do it,” he warned. “Some things are better left unknown, and that includes Dot’s preferred nookie tunes.”

“Sounds like a dare.” She fiddled with the record player and put down the arm.

They stared at each other as the music started. “That’s more flute than I thought there’d be for stripping,” said Wes finally.

“And trumpet.” She shook her head. “My grade school band didn’t sound like this.”

“Is that a cowbell?” he asked.

They listened closer. “It is,” she said. “Sexy. I can see the tassel-covered pasties.”

“It reminds me of the burlesque show at Dilly’s,” Wes said.

“You go to drag brunch?”

“Of course,” he said, insulted. “They have bottomless mimosas, and Lady Kiki sings ABBA.”

Nadine laughed. “I’m sure they love you, all neat and tidy.” She cast him a wicked glance. “Ready to be unwrapped like a present.”

Was she flirting with him? He ran his finger around his collar, wondering if the room had gotten warmer. The saxophone played from the corner, and Nadine walked over to turn it off before he could think of a good reply.

“I don’t think there’s anything else here,” she said, stomping on the floor to check for trapdoors. They backed out and put the bed in place, clicking the locks firmly. Wes stared at the wall, and Nadine leaned against the canopy.

“You know,” she said. “I could use a drink.”

So could he. They headed to the kitchen as Murasaki and Octavia settled back on the bed.

***

Nadine bypassed the beer and wine they’d stocked in the kitchen to head straight to the drinks trolley in the salon. She took the crystal decanter and poured a hefty amount into an old-fashioned glass etched with an image of Balmoral Castle, then watched Wes do the same with Holyrood.

“Good bourbon,” he said, refilling his glass.

Nadine didn’t care what it was or about the quality, as long as it had the desired effect of soothing her fired-up nerves. Her initial shock of finding a hidden room behind her bed had transformed into a deep and unyielding curiosity about what other mysteries the house contained.

“You would think that would be something for Brent to mention in his handoff notes,” she said.

“He might not know,” said Wes as he paced the salon, drink in hand. “That room looked like it hadn’t been opened in years. God, what else could we find? A house with a hidden stripping room could have anything.” He sounded thrilled and began to look behind the paintings on the wall.

Nadine’s eyes fell on the copy of Miss Marple’s short stories. Dot had put the newspaper obit about the woman with the best buns in town between the pages, and she picked it up to read again. Wait. She recognized the story Dot had marked. “Wes. Wes .”

Wes turned from looking under a chair. “What’s up?”

“Dot’s not done playing games with us.” She handed him the book. “She bookmarked ‘Strange Jest.’ Do you know the story? Agatha Christie.”

“I don’t think so.” He skimmed the pages to see the end. “No. Are you kidding?”

“I am not. Miss Marple helps a young couple find their uncle’s hidden treasure in his mansion.” A thought occurred to her. “Dot started planning for us to look for clues before she died. She marked this page on our last visit and told me to remember.”

Wes tossed down his drink. “Normally I would say this is too incredible to believe, but after our recent discoveries, I’m feeling very open-minded.”

“We should give Brent a call,” said Nadine. “See what he says.”

They were in luck, and Brent picked up the phone. Nadine put it on speaker and gave him a quick summary.

Brent laughed heartily. “That would be just like her,” he said with an admiration Nadine shared. Dot was something else. “It makes sense. Maria had been complaining about my aunt reorganizing over the last month when she should have been resting.”

“Then we’re not imagining things?” asked Wes.

“No, you might be onto something,” said Brent. “She’d always wanted to write a mystery.”

“She mentioned that,” said Nadine. “Did she say anything about what we should be looking for?”

“Sorry,” he said. “Nothing that I remember. Too bad you can’t talk to Maria, but she’s visiting her parents in Portugal on some remote island without email or cell service for a month.”

Figures. Wes leaned over Nadine, and she looked up to see that perfect bone structure softened in the lamplight. “By the way, Brent, do you know where the door to the basement is?” he asked.

Brent paused. “There’s a basement in that house? I had no idea. God, the Realtor is going to have a fit.”

“There is, but we can’t find the door,” said Wes.

Brent couldn’t help but promised to try to find some floor plans and wished them luck.

Wes sprawled out on the couch, Erma perched on the back behind him. “I have to admit, this is a new situation for me,” he said. “I’m more used to investigations that are a little less adventurous.”

Nadine laughed. “Beats looking at court documents for hours.”

Wes folded his arms and looked at the ceiling, gifting Nadine with a view of a jaw that could cut glass. “What do we do next?”

“Are you asking, or is that rhetorical? Because I’m going to play her game.” Nadine might suck at mysteries, but she still loved them. “We assumed we only had to search the attic because that’s what she told Brent to show us. We were wrong. I think she was planning to do this for us, but she died before she could finish setting it up.”

Both of them instinctively looked around. It was a big house, and Dot had not been a fan of minimalist design. “We have three weeks,” said Wes.

“Two,” corrected Nadine.

“Right, thank you.” Wes sat up and fixed Nadine with a narrow look. “I have an idea.”

Nadine wasn’t sure why that made her heart hammer. His voice had gone low and challenging. “What?”

“I work better under pressure, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” She wasn’t going to commit until she knew where this was going.

“I have a proposal.”

“I’m open to listening.”

“What if we make this into a competition? When one of us finds something, a clue, they get a point.”

Nadine put a considering expression on her face so he didn’t know how much she loved this opportunity to smash him into the ground. They may have put their past grievances to bed, but that didn’t mean Nadine’s competitive spirit was asleep. “What does the winner get?”

“I would be happy with the sweet satisfaction of victory, but we can figure something less refined for you.”

She wouldn’t let him get to her. “We don’t know what we’re looking for. What counts as finding something?”

He tapped his knee. “How about we both have to agree it matters.”

That was fair, and beating Wes would give her more of an incentive. “I’m in and claim my Miss Marple book discovery as my first point.” Already one ahead. She liked this game.

“The room behind your bed is mine.”

Damn, but she couldn’t think of a reason to say no. “Fine.”

They went to the kitchen, where Wes set up tallies on the whiteboard. He put a single line under their names. “It’s a tie so far.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

Then they dashed off in two different directions.