place look like?” she asked after a quiet few minutes.
I gave her the map. “I Googled it, got an aerial view. We’ll drive down the hill on the right, park behind the huge waterfront garage, depart via the hill on the left, and in between we’ll see what we can find.”
“Trouble. We’re gonna find trouble.”
“Day’s cars,” she said. “Didn’t you say he was gonna hide the stuff with Day’s cars? That’s nuts.”
Dante had told me that Day meant dad in that family, which helped. I just had to look in the garage. It sounded so easy. Too easy.
When we arrived, the house looked totally dark. So I turned off the car lights and coasted down the drive and around back behind the extra-wide quad garage.
It was nearly as big as my shop; probably a carriage house at one time as well.
Peeking in the window on the bottom level revealed some amazing vintage cars. “We’re in the right place. Go peek around the side to see if there are any lights in the house on this side,” I asked.
Eve did, while I fetched the key.
When she returned, I was standing in the open basement door at the bottom of a set of cement stairs. “It was open,” I said. “Any lights?”
“No. What is it, opera night?”
“Friday is buffet night at the country club. If we’re lucky, they go to a movie after.”
“Hey, whaddaya know?”
I knew nothing. “That the basement is pristine and the stairs to the garage are dark,” I whispered.
They squeaked and groaned something horrific.
“Heart attack stairs,” Eve said.
“Tell me about it.”
It took some hunting and walking around quite the collection of vintage cars to find a piece of pipe, because I believed that the young man was a follower. He’d wanted to hide it in a pipe, in this garage.
I prayed that he’d stuck to his plans despite the warning of his older friend to find a better hiding place than the garage.
In the work area—where no cars were parked, except a turquoise Corvette that seemed to need bodywork—tools reigned supreme. We found an extra-deep shelf—like maybefifteen, twenty feet deep—built up near the ceiling, for items like lengths of wood, floorboards, shelving, two-by-fours, drainpipes, studs, drywall; that kind of thing. And in the midst of them, I saw the edge of the stored ladder.
“Fat lot of good that’ll do,” Eve whispered, eyeing the ladder.
I found a power lift, but no key. We were forced to build a tower out of crates, trunks, toolboxes, anything square and at least semi-sturdy, and we set them up in a way that they could be climbed, like stairs, to get to the shelf.
By the time I got to maybe the fourth step, and the drainpipe still looked as far up as the top of the Mystic Bridge open for shipping traffic, the whole stack wobbled, and I yipped.
“Down, Mad,” Eve ordered. “Right this minute.”
“But I have to get the—”
“I’m the tomboy, remember? I saved your ascot when you jumped ship, remember?”
“Well, that’s a matter of—”
“Get down, brat. You shine designing clothes. Me, I climb like a monkey.”
“You’d be dressing like one, too, if it weren’t for me.”
“I know. To thank me, can you get down, please?”
Climbing down was scarier than going up.
“You’re right,” I said, watching Eve. “You climb like a monkey.”
Making monkey noises, she kept going.
The piece of drainpipe I asked her to pull out measured about three feet. She aimed it toward me and looked through it like a telescope. “Bad news, Mad. I can see you. There’s nothing in it.”
I gave a hard, involuntary shiver and turned more hot than cold. “It’s got to be there.”
“Wait,” Eve said. “I see a small piece that I can almost reach. Oh, wait, I’ll knock it closer with this piece of molding.” As she did, she made a few banging noises.
“Eve, shush.”
“You shush. I’m doing the best I can.”
“They’ll hear us.”
“They’re at the country club. And we’re a mile from the
I gave her the map. “I Googled it, got an aerial view. We’ll drive down the hill on the right, park behind the huge waterfront garage, depart via the hill on the left, and in between we’ll see what we can find.”
“Trouble. We’re gonna find trouble.”
“Day’s cars,” she said. “Didn’t you say he was gonna hide the stuff with Day’s cars? That’s nuts.”
Dante had told me that Day meant dad in that family, which helped. I just had to look in the garage. It sounded so easy. Too easy.
When we arrived, the house looked totally dark. So I turned off the car lights and coasted down the drive and around back behind the extra-wide quad garage.
It was nearly as big as my shop; probably a carriage house at one time as well.
Peeking in the window on the bottom level revealed some amazing vintage cars. “We’re in the right place. Go peek around the side to see if there are any lights in the house on this side,” I asked.
Eve did, while I fetched the key.
When she returned, I was standing in the open basement door at the bottom of a set of cement stairs. “It was open,” I said. “Any lights?”
“No. What is it, opera night?”
“Friday is buffet night at the country club. If we’re lucky, they go to a movie after.”
“Hey, whaddaya know?”
I knew nothing. “That the basement is pristine and the stairs to the garage are dark,” I whispered.
They squeaked and groaned something horrific.
“Heart attack stairs,” Eve said.
“Tell me about it.”
It took some hunting and walking around quite the collection of vintage cars to find a piece of pipe, because I believed that the young man was a follower. He’d wanted to hide it in a pipe, in this garage.
I prayed that he’d stuck to his plans despite the warning of his older friend to find a better hiding place than the garage.
In the work area—where no cars were parked, except a turquoise Corvette that seemed to need bodywork—tools reigned supreme. We found an extra-deep shelf—like maybefifteen, twenty feet deep—built up near the ceiling, for items like lengths of wood, floorboards, shelving, two-by-fours, drainpipes, studs, drywall; that kind of thing. And in the midst of them, I saw the edge of the stored ladder.
“Fat lot of good that’ll do,” Eve whispered, eyeing the ladder.
I found a power lift, but no key. We were forced to build a tower out of crates, trunks, toolboxes, anything square and at least semi-sturdy, and we set them up in a way that they could be climbed, like stairs, to get to the shelf.
By the time I got to maybe the fourth step, and the drainpipe still looked as far up as the top of the Mystic Bridge open for shipping traffic, the whole stack wobbled, and I yipped.
“Down, Mad,” Eve ordered. “Right this minute.”
“But I have to get the—”
“I’m the tomboy, remember? I saved your ascot when you jumped ship, remember?”
“Well, that’s a matter of—”
“Get down, brat. You shine designing clothes. Me, I climb like a monkey.”
“You’d be dressing like one, too, if it weren’t for me.”
“I know. To thank me, can you get down, please?”
Climbing down was scarier than going up.
“You’re right,” I said, watching Eve. “You climb like a monkey.”
Making monkey noises, she kept going.
The piece of drainpipe I asked her to pull out measured about three feet. She aimed it toward me and looked through it like a telescope. “Bad news, Mad. I can see you. There’s nothing in it.”
I gave a hard, involuntary shiver and turned more hot than cold. “It’s got to be there.”
“Wait,” Eve said. “I see a small piece that I can almost reach. Oh, wait, I’ll knock it closer with this piece of molding.” As she did, she made a few banging noises.
“Eve, shush.”
“You shush. I’m doing the best I can.”
“They’ll hear us.”
“They’re at the country club. And we’re a mile from the
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