it was—she described the moon as the eye of God looking down on us, judging us. She said that it blinked over the course of a month, and only the damned dared to work their evil when the eye was open. I always liked that image of the moon as the eye of God watching over us, protecting us.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
“Why can’t you? Too intangible for a woman of science?”
“Not at all,” she said. “I’ve seen deep depression cause illness and I’ve seen willpower heal the sick. That’s pretty intangible.”
“Touché,” Pratt said.
“I guess I just don’t believe there’s any kind of benevolent force behind existence. If there were, we’d be doing better—”
“Pratt!” Banning yelled.
“What’s wrong?”
“Porterhouse says he’s found something.”
Pratt turned and ran into the foyer. Caroline followed him. She could hear the tax assessor’s voice coming from deep inside the basement.
“What?” Pratt asked.
“Hold on!” Banning said. He was leaning close to the opening, listening. “Porterhouse says it looks like there’s a revolving door of some kind.”
“A what?”
“Shhhh!” Banning said. He was still listening. “A door, except it’s made of stone. He says it’s open a crack.”
Pratt looked at Caroline and motioned her away from the opening. “Your great-aunt told me there were just stairs and torches down there and water from the old ocean-access,” he whispered. “She didn’t mention anything else.”
“I wonder if she even knew,” Caroline said.
“Maybe not.” Pratt shook his head. “But we certainly don’t need this.”
“Why?”
“Because if there’s a room back there,” Pratt said, “one that’s been neglected for half a century, we may have building codes and other regulations to deal with.” Pratt walked toward the opening. “Banning, tell Porterhouse not to touch it. I’m coming down.”
Banning did as Pratt told him. “He says that that’s where the smell is coming from. He says it’s seriously nasty.”
“Great,” Pratt said. “Just great.”
As he neared the opening, Caroline felt another jolt. Only this time it wasn’t the kick of the jackhammer. It was something she hadn’t felt here until this moment.
It was fear.
FIVE
W alking slowly, Caroline followed Henry Pratt back to the basement door. She felt a chill and folded her arms across her chest as she stood to the right of the opening. From here she could smell what Porterhouse had been complaining about. It reminded Caroline of when she was a little girl and found a discarded suitcase in a field. She opened it and found a dead cat along with its rotting litter. The animal had crawled inside to have the kittens and then couldn’t get out. Caroline was literally knocked off her feet by the smell.
The smell here was almost as bad, and Caroline was still outside the basement. She watched as the attorney squeezed in.
She was annoyed by this latest turn in the desecration of her great-aunt’s home. Annoyed yet also intrigued. Did her great-aunt know about the hidden room? And if so, why did she tell no one about it?
She also felt bad for Henry Pratt. She believed what he’d said, that this intrusion into the basement bothered him as much as it did her. She empathized with the tall attorney as he struggled through the opening, especially when it seemed as if his broad hips weren’t going to make it through. Pratt had to drop to his belly, then turn on his side and wriggle in, like a worm.
On top of everything else, the hidden room vindicated the fussy Mr. Porterhouse. That had to smart.
“Watch the steps,” Porterhouse said, his voice echoing through the chamber. “They’re badly rotted.”
“Thanks,” Pratt said. “I noticed. I don’t know what smells worse—these steps or whatever’s down there.”
“Whatever’s down here,” Porterhouse said. “Trust me.”
Banning turned to Caroline. “I kin fix those steps t’morrow. Matter of
“I wish I could believe that.”
“Why can’t you? Too intangible for a woman of science?”
“Not at all,” she said. “I’ve seen deep depression cause illness and I’ve seen willpower heal the sick. That’s pretty intangible.”
“Touché,” Pratt said.
“I guess I just don’t believe there’s any kind of benevolent force behind existence. If there were, we’d be doing better—”
“Pratt!” Banning yelled.
“What’s wrong?”
“Porterhouse says he’s found something.”
Pratt turned and ran into the foyer. Caroline followed him. She could hear the tax assessor’s voice coming from deep inside the basement.
“What?” Pratt asked.
“Hold on!” Banning said. He was leaning close to the opening, listening. “Porterhouse says it looks like there’s a revolving door of some kind.”
“A what?”
“Shhhh!” Banning said. He was still listening. “A door, except it’s made of stone. He says it’s open a crack.”
Pratt looked at Caroline and motioned her away from the opening. “Your great-aunt told me there were just stairs and torches down there and water from the old ocean-access,” he whispered. “She didn’t mention anything else.”
“I wonder if she even knew,” Caroline said.
“Maybe not.” Pratt shook his head. “But we certainly don’t need this.”
“Why?”
“Because if there’s a room back there,” Pratt said, “one that’s been neglected for half a century, we may have building codes and other regulations to deal with.” Pratt walked toward the opening. “Banning, tell Porterhouse not to touch it. I’m coming down.”
Banning did as Pratt told him. “He says that that’s where the smell is coming from. He says it’s seriously nasty.”
“Great,” Pratt said. “Just great.”
As he neared the opening, Caroline felt another jolt. Only this time it wasn’t the kick of the jackhammer. It was something she hadn’t felt here until this moment.
It was fear.
FIVE
W alking slowly, Caroline followed Henry Pratt back to the basement door. She felt a chill and folded her arms across her chest as she stood to the right of the opening. From here she could smell what Porterhouse had been complaining about. It reminded Caroline of when she was a little girl and found a discarded suitcase in a field. She opened it and found a dead cat along with its rotting litter. The animal had crawled inside to have the kittens and then couldn’t get out. Caroline was literally knocked off her feet by the smell.
The smell here was almost as bad, and Caroline was still outside the basement. She watched as the attorney squeezed in.
She was annoyed by this latest turn in the desecration of her great-aunt’s home. Annoyed yet also intrigued. Did her great-aunt know about the hidden room? And if so, why did she tell no one about it?
She also felt bad for Henry Pratt. She believed what he’d said, that this intrusion into the basement bothered him as much as it did her. She empathized with the tall attorney as he struggled through the opening, especially when it seemed as if his broad hips weren’t going to make it through. Pratt had to drop to his belly, then turn on his side and wriggle in, like a worm.
On top of everything else, the hidden room vindicated the fussy Mr. Porterhouse. That had to smart.
“Watch the steps,” Porterhouse said, his voice echoing through the chamber. “They’re badly rotted.”
“Thanks,” Pratt said. “I noticed. I don’t know what smells worse—these steps or whatever’s down there.”
“Whatever’s down here,” Porterhouse said. “Trust me.”
Banning turned to Caroline. “I kin fix those steps t’morrow. Matter of
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