Cornucopia by Melanie Jackson Page A

risk getting closed in, and heaven forbid that I had an accident, I wanted Alex to see right away which way I had gone.
    My penlight has always seemed adequate for finding car keys and other small tasks, but that long staircase with its tiny ninety-degree landings that squeaked and groaned seemed to swallow my small beam of light. There were panels leading into other bedrooms in the tower. They were ill-fitted so rooms with the lights on were easy enough to see.
    By the time I reached what I hoped was the library my towel was black and sticky and I suspected that I looked little better. I had armed myself with a penknife in case of emergencies, but the latch at the bottom of the stairs was a straightforward affair. It was covered in webs, so I used the towel to lift it.
    This door opened with a groan and damp air rushed in. I should have been warned by the lack of light and cold that I was not in the library. I flashed my tiny light around and was dazzled by green light.
    Wine bottles. I was in some kind of cellar. I had gone too far. Though I hadn’t seen any door, it must have been somewhere up there, perhaps where it had gotten warmer because of the library fire. I needed to go back up.
    The door was already squeaking closed when I heard a strange sound, a little like a panpipe. My first thought was of ghosts, but I threw the silly idea away at once. The noise came again and while I was sure that the sound was not from human vocal chords, I could not absolutely swear to it.
    I dithered. I hated to waste the time, but what if someone was hurt and their moans were being distorted by the acoustics created by all the empty wine bottles and brick walls?
    “Damn.” I wished Blue was there. She would know if the sound was human or not.
    I promised myself to waste no more than five minutes, jammed some used Kleenex into the gap to keep the door from shutting all the way, and started off in the direction of the moaning.
    The roof was low and I could only walk upright because I am short. The smell of rain was thick in the air and I was shivery with cold and regretting that I hadn’t brought a coat. The dirt floor, while not actually mud, was damp and growing wetter. Finally I reached the source of the sound and almost fell when I tripped over what turned out to be a small pile of coins.
    I could hear rain and looking up, I could just make out the round stone structure that I was sure was the wishing well out in the garden. It was covered by a small roof but water was drizzling down the cement walls and dripping onto the pile of tarnished coins at my feet.
    Curious, I knelt and examined the coins. I found a tarnished oak-leaf penny at the edge of the pile. Alex used to collect old pennies, so I pocketed it to show him later.
    The moan came again and I realized it was only the wind. I was just getting to my feet when I heard voices over the gusty groaning. It took a moment to place them. It was Bill and Stephie Grant. Mrs. Grant was not at all happy to be out in the rain. She also sounded rather fearful and whiny. Bill must have thought so too because he began assuring her for “the tenth time” that there were no such things as ghosts.
    Unable to resist, I tilted my face up and gave my best ghost moan. It sounded pretty good to me down in the tunnel, but must have been a real winner coming out of the well because Stephie shrieked and I could hear the crashing of bushes as they ran away with Bill swearing.
    The tunnel went on further, but I decided to go back instead of exploring. I still needed to find the library and the box in it. Alex would have his silly snowmobile if he really wanted it, though I was a little bothered by the idea that we were kind of cheating. Of course, Alex had always believed we were cheating and was okay with it, otherwise he wouldn’t have used me to find the treasure in the first place.
    The corridor on the way back was less frightening since I knew it was safe and that the spider webs were gone. My