 The three editors crept down to the second floor. The hallway was empty except for the single beam of light from Hadrian’s flashlight. “Put that light out,” Marcus told him. “We don’t want to look suspicious.” “We’re already looking suspicious slinking about down here,” he retorted. But he turned out the light anyway. Reine held her breath and strained her ears at the encroaching darkness. She felt no heavy pressure. She heard no laughter. She let out her breath and quickly followed the two men soundlessly down the hallway. Soon, they reached the end. Hadrian twisted the knob and the door did not budge. “I was hoping the butler forgot to lock the door,” he muttered. In the darkness, they heard a slight grinding sound as Hadrian inserted a thin metal wire into the keyhole. After a few seconds, they heard the click and the door swung upon. “Come on.” The three of them hurried inside. Marcus managed to close the door softly and the three of them turned on their flashlights to illuminate Ira’s bedroom. On the surface it looked like everything was untouched from their previous intrusion. The answering machine still laid on the table next to the door. The bed and its corresponding drawers were remarkably sparse and Ira’s desk at the other end of the room was also meticulously neat. “You don’t suppose you know where Ira’s safe is, do you?” said Hadrian. Marcus shook his head. “Knowing Ira, she probably didn’t put it in an obvious place.” “What about behind those Georgia O’Keefe paintings?” Reine suggested. “Too obvious.” “Actually, that would just be like Ira,” Hadrian said, flashing his light onto one of the strange paintings of flowers on the wall. “She knows that most people would think that she would hide things in places that aren’t obvious. After all, she is a mystery writer. And so as a result, she would hide things in obvious places because no one would think of looking there.” “So you’re saying that Ira likes to mess with people’s minds,” said Marcus. “Exactly.” He shrugged. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt if we looked behind them.” He lifted one of the paintings. “Nope. Nothing here. Just a blank wall.” Hadrian lifted the other painting. “Nothing here either. I guess that theory was a bust.” Reine quickly tried all the drawers in Ira’s desk. There was nothing but office supplies. “No locked drawer.” She shone her light onto the tabletop. “This desk is remarkably neat.” “Do you think she hid anything underneath these lamps?” inquired Hadrian. “They’re too small to hid a manuscript. Maybe we should look under the bed and in those drawers.” “Right.” She stared at the solitary red pen on the desk. Something wasn’t right. Wasn’t there another pen there before? She glanced at the computer, an inert piece of equipment that had no marking other than the company logo of the manufacturer. She noticed there was no power cord leading from the computer to the outlet on the nearby wall. “I don’t see anything under the bed. Do you, Marcus?” came Hadrian’s muffled voice. “Nope. Let’s try the mattress.” She flipped one of the switches on the computer. It shuddered to life. The LED on the monitor blinked on. “What’s that noise?” Marcus demanded. “The computer,” Reine explained. “Apparently it’s running on it’s own battery. There’s no power cord connecting it to the wall outlet.” “Nothing here,” Hadrian said. “The drawers are next. I’ll take the one near the window.” As she watched the computer run through its start routines, she noticed the CD-ROM driver blinking. She pressed the button and the tray slid open revealing an unlabeled disk. She took it out and rummaged in one of the desk drawers for an empty CD case. She finally slipped the disk into her waistband and continued to watch the computer as it booted up to its operating system. There was a loud squeak as Marcus pulled out the bottom drawer of one of the wardrobes. “There’s nothing in here.” “Of course not,” Hadrian replied. “Ira must have emptied it out before she left.” Reine quickly accessed the computer logs and the most recent files used. “Geez. Someone’s definitely been messing around with Ira’s computer.” “What do you mean?” asked Hadrian as he looked up from the drawer he was examining. Marcus continued to discretely tap the bottom of the wardrobe drawer that he had opened. “You were right about that e-mail being faked. I found the original copy here. It was mailed to us right in this house. The picture was also digitally altered. Apparently the culprit found a picture of two buff guys on the Internet and blended it with another picture of Ira.” “So Ira’s still missing and she isn’t in Cancun. The culprit apparently doesn’t want the police to know about this since the e-mail told us not to contact them. Too bad the phone is out.” “Yes, it does seem like a bad coincidence, doesn’t it?” Reine shut down the computer and stood up, her eye still on the single red pen lying on the desk. “Yes, somebody was in here. I distinctly remember there being two pens on this desk and not one.” “Ah hah!” Marcus was busy rummaging in the empty wardrobe. “What is it? You found something?” Hadrian demanded. “There’s a false bottom in this drawer. I figured it out since the wood seemed to slope at a strange angle. Ah, here it is.” Marcus took out a piece of board and laid it on the floor. “I need some light.” Reine obligingly shone her flashlight into the wardrobe drawer. At the bottom was a small door locked by an old fashioned tumbler. Marcus spun the dial to the specified numbers and the lock clicked open. He withdrew a sheaf of papers from the bottom compartment and briefly flipped through it. “Well, whoever e-mailed us knew about Ira’s secret safe and her manuscript but didn’t bother to steal it and submit it on their own.” At that moment, the door to Ira’s room rattled. They froze. “Who the hell is it, Palwick?” whispered Hadrian. Marcus hastily placed the board back into the wardrobe and shoved it closed. “We’ve got to get out of here.” “Get out of here? Are you nuts? There’s no place to hide except the bathroom, but that’s too risky!” Hadrian hissed. “The window,” Reine said quickly. “Remember? There’s a balcony between our rooms on the third floor and there’s another one for this room. Come on!” Marcus unlatched the window and quickly slipped out, followed by Hadrian and then Reine. The snow outside blasted them in cold fury, but she left the window open a crack and tilted her head to listen. She heard the door rattling again and then she heard it swing open. “Who…” Marcus slapped a hand on Hadrian’s mouth. “I know it’s here somewhere,” a masculine voice drifted from the interior of the room. Reine recognized the voice as that of Vicker Friesner, the South African entrepreneur. “What did she say in her e-mail?” The feminine voice was that of Vicker’s wife, Esther. “She said that she knew that Ira liked to hide things in strange places. But she knew specifically that this was in a drawer somewhere. It has the map.” “Fantastic. I’ll help you look, it’ll go faster.” Reine shivered outside in the balcony. She could see nothing in the darkness and the blinding snow. Her ears were already numb and her face and hands were becoming icicles. She hoped fervently that the slamming of drawers would go faster. “It’s cold in here,” she heard Esther complain. “Look the window is open a crack. No wonder.” The window slammed closed. Reine cursed under her breath. Hadrian touched her shoulder. “Look what Marcus found.” There was a trap door on the balcony that Marcus had opened. When he opened it, a staircase for fire escape swung down from its hiding place beneath the balcony and landed with a thump to the icy ground. “What was that noise?” demanded Esther from within the house. “Just the house settling dear. Old houses tend to be like that.” The three of them hastily climbed down. At the end, Marcus and Hadrian managed to swing the ladder back up to its place underneath the balcony. It locked itself with a clang, but it could hardly be heard over the winter wind’s howling. They trudged back to the sliding doors that led into the den and with a few seconds of Hadrian’s locksmith skills, they slipped back into the lingering warmth of the darkened interior. A flashlight suddenly shined in their faces. “What have you three been doing?” Mary demanded. “Hadrian! What on earth happened to you?” He dusted the snow off his clothes. “We’ve been taking a walk out in the snowstorm.” “A what?” “You don’t want to know,” said Reine. “Well, what have you been doing?” Hadrian asked her. The housekeeper sighed. “I’ve been working with Palwick in an attempt to get the emergency generator working but no luck. I heard a noise in here and thought I’d investigate.” “We’ve been doing a bit of investigating ourselves,” Hadrian replied. “Hmph.” She touched his hands. “You’re cold.” “They’ll warm up pretty quickly if you help me,” he said lasciviously. Reine coughed. “Uh, Hadrian, would you mind if I borrow your laptop?” “Sure, but the battery only lasts a couple of hours and there’s no phone connection so you can’t send e-mail for help if you’re wondering.” “I only need it for an hour, maybe.” She turned to whisper to Marcus, “Do you still have that manuscript?” “Yeah, I hope it’s still dry.” © 2002, S. Y. Affolee |