The Inn by William Patterson Page A

reason, and then tossed aside? The chief stepped away from the corpse, walking through the dead leaves, trying to see if he could discover the arm. But the leaves weren’t disturbed for several yards around the body. There was no sign of any more blood.
    He and Adam would do a more thorough search, and the state forensics team would likely be called in. But at the moment, Richard suspected that Roger’s arm had been cut off and then his killer had taken it away.
    But why?

25
    â€œW ell, Miz Wish,” Zeke was telling her, “what can I say? It’s an old house. There have been many people who’ve lived and stayed here over the many decades. And maybe one of them had some rather unique reading interests.”
    Annabel had told him about the books she had found behind the panel. “Well, they really disturbed me,” she said, shivering.
    â€œI hope you threw them away,” the caretaker told her.
    â€œNo,” Annabel admitted. “The others I left inside the panel. The one that I took out and examined, I placed outside, on the wood box. Would you take it down to the library and donate it, Zeke? It’s so old that I thought maybe some historian would want it.”
    â€œSuch blasphemy ought to be burned,” Zeke said. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
    â€œGood. I just want it out of the house.” She rolled out the diagrams she had drawn up onto the parlor table. “And maybe nail shut that panel for me, too?”
    â€œHappy to oblige, Miz Wish.” Zeke smiled, looking down at the plans Annabel was showing him. “What do we have here?”
    â€œSome ideas I have about redesigning this room,” Annabel said. “I’ve spoken with a contractor. He’s coming by in the morning to help me get started. His name is Chad Appleby. His father is Charlie Appleby.”
    The old caretaker lifted his bushy white eyebrows. “I’ve known Charlie since he was a boy riding his tricycle. Can’t believe he’s got a kid old enough to do contracting work.”
    Annabel smiled. “He assured me that Chad is very good, that he thought he could give me a hand doing a few small jobs. When we move into the next stage, which will involve more intensive renovation, Charlie said he would come over to do the work.”
    â€œI see,” said Zeke.
    Annabel’s smile changed into a smirk. “Charlie added that he only hoped he wouldn’t find any bodies stuffed inside the walls when he starts tearing them down,” she said.
    The caretaker shrugged. “Well, those are the risks you take when you start moving things around.”
    â€œLook, Zeke,” Annabel said, “I need to know that I’ll be able to count on you. I know Cordelia is worried that we’ll destroy the historical character of the house. But trust me, that’s the last thing I want to do. In New York, I helped redesign many old buildings. Staying true to the character and the integrity of the place was always one of the most important motivations.”
    â€œWhat exactly do you plan to do to the house?” Zeke asked.
    â€œFor now, we’re just going to start with this room,” Annabel told him, gesturing around the parlor. “It’s the first thing guests see when they walk into the house. I want to clean it up and give it a good polish. We’re going to paint the walls, replace the windows, and sandblast the floor. Eventually get some new windows, and take out that wall over there.”
    She walked over to the fireplace.
    â€œAnd we’re going to open up the fireplace again,” she added.
    Zeke just looked at her.
    â€œI have a mason coming by as well tomorrow,” Annabel said, stooping down and examining the bricks that had been mortared over the fireplace opening. “I’ll want to make sure the chimney is still sound. And I suspect we have mice or rats or squirrels living in there. I’ve