Page 2 of Lost Cause
Creepy was the only fitting word that came to mind, but she had to continue on even if her heart rate shot higher.
She aimed her flashlight to her right and made her way to the lighted room. Pushing open the door, she found a large library with overflowing bookshelves covering every wall. Peeling paint chipped from the woodwork, and torn, faded wallpaper covered the exposed walls. An odor of old, maybe decaying air clung to the room. But no Victor Lemoine in sight.
Rumor had it he hadn’t left Ravenhook Island for decades, having all services brought to him along with supplies and food. She was beginning to believe it.
The large marble fireplace, once opulent, was cold. A ring of soot marked the hearth, the lack of ashes suggesting it had just been cleaned.
She backed into the foyer. “Mr. Lemoine? Mr. Lemoine? It’s Abby Day. Where are you?”
No answer.
She was technically trespassing, so did she move ahead or leave?
Call him.She dug her cell out and tapped her most recent call. A landline phone’s shrill ring reverberating from cracked plaster walls had her spinning toward a table less than three feet away.
The rotary phone continued to ring. Two. Three. Four times.
She ignored it and eased closer to the sweeping staircase. The sharp trill sounded from above too. His bedroom? The ringing stopped, and her call went to an old-fashioned answering machine.
She pocketed her phone, the urge to leave nearly overwhelming her. But she couldn’t. If Victor wasn’t answering the phone, it could mean he was hurt and needed help.
She waited, listening to the hall clock ticking down in the musty air. This was pointless. She couldn’t just stand there.She crossed a worn Persian runner, muffling the sound of her tactical boots hitting the floor. Her flashlight illuminated portraits of stoic ancestors with pale eyes hanging on the walls. Several frames were missing, leaving hooks and picture outlines on faded brocade wallpaper.
Around the first corner, a stone stairway descended into darkness. Carefully finding her footing, she traversed the stairs and located an antique push-button switch. She held her breath and pressed it down. Light flickered from the underpowered ceiling fixture.
Wow! Oh wow!
A time capsule greeted her of heavy stone walls and iron pots hanging from blackened hooks above a soot-stained hearth. She eased carefully over rough, uneven flagstones to take a better look. A butcher’s table stood in the center, covered in knife marks and stains from years of use. She caught the scent of rosemary. Not just the pungent herb. Something older—earthy and metallic permeated the air too. But what?
Footsteps echoed behind her.
She spun.
“What are you doing here?” a male voice challenged from the stairway, hidden in shadows beyond her light beam.
She caught a deep breath. “I’m Abby Day with the Lost Lake Locators. You contacted me and asked me to come right out. I drove down here and took the first ferry to get here as soon as I could.”
An older man stepped into the light. Despite his age, his eyes were sharp and unwavering. His hand rested on an ornate cane. His seventy-plus years on this earth had hollowed his cheeks and stooped his frame, but he seemed far from frail. Had to be Victor Lemoine.
“I wasn’t sure you would come.” He spoke with a raspy, measured voice.
“Is that the reason you didn’t answer the door?”
“I apologize. My afternoon rest time ran longer than I expected.” His liver-spotted free hand clutched a once-elegant velvet smoking robe. “How did you get in?”
“The door was open.”
He frowned. “I was certain I’d locked it.”
“I’ll check the lock to see if it’s been tampered with,” she offered, though he’d likely had a senior moment and failed to secure the door. Could be another way the burglar had gotten into his home.
“We can discuss the theft in the library.” He pivoted, his posture stiff like a precision soldier.
She trailed him up the stairs and down the hallway. He had a slight limp, his cane thumping on the wooden floor. He didn’t bother to turn on a light, something she would expect a man who likely had the poor eyesight of his advanced age might do.
He pushed the front door closed, then turned. “You can inspect the door later. After I provide details on the theft. Then I assume you’ll want to check all the entrance points for the house.”
“That’s fine by me.”
