1 The Ghost in the Basement Page 17

  After Donovan finished his phone call, Hannah wanted to see if she could get some answers from Charity. Since they couldn’t have a normal, face to face conversation, she sat on her bed holding the diary and closed her eyes. “Charity, why are there hiding places in the house?”

  She opened her eyes and the diary pages fluttered and stopped. Hannah read the page to Donovan, who stood in the doorway.

  “Andrew said he’d build in some hiding places, so I could hide money and valuables. He said if things get too bad, Sonny and I should grab something and run away. He wants us to go now, but I’m so afraid. If we run away and Cal finds us, he’ll kill us both.

  Donovan walked into the room and sat on the bed beside her. “We know Andrew built the house and built the hidden staircase for Charity. Does she say anything else about those hiding places?”

  Hannah read the facing page, but it was about some society luncheon Charity had attended. “No, that’s it.” She glanced at Donovan. “What did Perkins say?”

  “Cordelli thinks Sonny killed Andrew.”

  “That’s nonsense.”

  “I set Perkins straight. From the way Charity talked about her husband, I suspect he was the killer. Andrew was helping her in the only way he knew how. He gave her places to hide and a way to get out of the house when Cal was on a rampage, and he encouraged her to run away. I doubt there was much more he could have done aside from killing Cal, and he would have been tried and convicted of murder himself. I don’t imagine wife beating was considered a serious crime in those days unless the man took it too far and killed her.”

  Hannah nodded slowly as her brain wrapped around the idea that her father died trying to protect a woman like Charity, a woman who was abused by her husband. Her family had come full circle, from abuser to protector.

  “I’ve been wondering if Cal didn’t kill Andrew. Who else could have killed him, buried him in the basement, and bricked in that wall unless it was someone who lived here? I know Charity didn’t do it, and Grandpa was a little boy when Andrew was murdered. That leaves my great-grandfather, Cal Taylor, Mr. Mean and Nasty himself.”

  She heard a deep sigh and the air felt cold. The spirits were right here in the room, listening. She rubbed her cold arms. “If you guys are going to hang around, I’ll have to start dressing warmer.” The cold disappeared.

  Two months ago, if someone had told her she’d be talking to ghosts, finding bodies in the basement, or discovering hidden treasures in this house, she would have laughed at them. She never thought she’d see Trevor again, and she never thought she’d be living in Grandpa’s house with the Kane family.

  The doorbell rang and Pop called up the stairs, “Donovan, Perkins is here.”

  Donovan and Hannah sat in the living room with Perkins and Pop. He gave Perkins the plastic bag with the clothes they’d found in the fireplace. “I didn’t touch the bloody spots.”

  “Cordelli asked me to bring the diaries,” said Perkins.

  Hannah shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

  Pop asked, “What good would it do to put them in evidence when nobody else can read them but Hannah?”

  “None. Cordelli is throwing his weight around. He’ll be captain soon, or he thinks he’ll be captain soon, so he’s invincible. He’s bossing people around and jerking Donovan’s people from case to case and not giving them time to do anything right.”

  Pop shook his head. “Cordelli is the most worthless cop I ever knew.”

  Perkins handed Donovan a satchel. “Put this in a safe place. It’s backups of everything we’ve collected as evidence against Cordelli. Whatever we do, we have to do it before the end of the year, because once Cordelli takes over, there won’t be anyone left.”

  No, there wouldn’t be anyone left, because Cordelli would either fire them or they’d quit in protest. The two teams of detectives were well-trained, hard-working men who did their best to protect the citizens of River Valley. With the exception of Cordelli, every one of those men had earned a position as detective, with rigorous training, education, and experience. Every one of them would be a credit to any police department. But Cordelli would replace trained detectives with people of his own choosing, unqualified people who would do as they were told without any consideration for the truth or what was right.

  Perkins pointed to the satchel. “There’s an envelope from Peterson in there. It’s right on top.”

  Probably the information he’d requested on Monique. He’d read it later, in private. He didn’t want Hannah to know he was checking on her mother’s criminal history, and he knew she had one. A woman who lied, used other people, and moved around a lot was suspect. She’d tried to pull a con on Rupert Bosch right here in this house. And then there were those credit cards she had in her purse at Rainbow’s party.

  Donovan didn’t trust Monique and didn’t want her around Billy. His son was better off with Sonny’s wandering spirits than with Hannah’s mother.

  He carried the satchel into Sonny’s room, opened it, and removed the manila envelope on top, the one with his name on the front. Hannah followed and pointed to the envelope. “What’s that?”

  “Information about a woman.”

  Hannah leaned in close and bumped her shoulder against his. “Are you thinking about replacing me?”

  “Honey, I couldn’t replace you.” Not a chance. He followed the words with a kiss.

  A minute later, he put the envelope in his dresser drawer and then stowed the satchel in the false ceiling.

  After Hannah went into her room to read more of Charity’s diary, Donovan closed his bedroom door to read Monique’s file in private.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Donovan sat on his bed and opened the envelope from Peterson. There were several pages, including wants and warrants. Monique was wanted in California, Oregon, and Washington. She’d been arrested for fraud, prostitution, grand theft, and a whole list of minor offenses. She was still wanted for grand theft, fraud, and attempted murder, for a scam where the victim fought back. No wonder she and Hannah moved so often. She didn’t want to get caught.

  His heart went out to Hannah for growing up the way she had. Sonny and Virginia loved her and would have given her a good home here in River Valley. When she lived with her mother, Hannah had no home, no stability, and probably very few friends. How could a kid with that background ever make it through high school and college? Yet she had.

  Cordelli had made sure Monique wasn’t charged with prostitution for Rainbow’s party, and she didn’t have to explain how she got possession of those credit cards. He could kick himself for not taking her in instead of letting her leave here. Hannah would understand if he arrested her mother, wouldn’t she?

  If Monique got picked up again, she’d be extradited to Oregon, where she’d stand trial for attempted murder. That was the most serious of the ten outstanding charges, and it should buy her some time in prison. If she was still here at the house, he’d make a quick phone call and end it now.

  How much did Hannah know about Monique’s criminal history? He couldn’t bring himself to talk to her about it.

  Later that evening, Donovan found Hannah standing in Billy’s bedroom doorway, watching him sleep. He leaned down and kissed her neck, wondering what her kids would’ve looked like, if she and Trevor had decided to have some. She turned slightly and smiled. He stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and nuzzled into her hair, loving the way she felt in his arms. Where Maggie was nearly a foot shorter than him, Hannah’s forehead was chin level. Hannah was more woman in a lot of ways. She reached up and rubbed his arm, a simple, affectionate gesture, and leaned back into him. Billy should have had a mother like Hannah. Instead of marrying Maggie, he should have waited for this woman.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked quietly.

  “You.”

  “What about me?”

  He tightened his arms and whispered in her ear. She laughed, a soft, sexy sound that seeped into his body li
ke butter on a hot biscuit. Turning her so he could see her face, he gazed deeply into her eyes and saw undisguised love. Hannah wasn’t the kind of woman a man had an affair with and forgot. She was the kind you settled down with and loved forever. Pop was right. He’d be a fool to let this woman get away.

  They moved into Hannah’s room and sat on the side of the bed. She said, “Something is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I’m crazy about you, Hannah, but I’m in a hole.”

  “So fill it with water and turn it into a swimming pool.”

  “With my luck, I’d drown in it.” Hannah made it sound easy. If only it was.

  “What happened to Maggie wasn’t your fault, Donovan. It wasn’t your fault she wasn’t happy, and it wasn’t your fault she got cancer. Some women aren’t cut out to be wives and mothers. She was a grown woman who knew what you did for a living. She knew how much you wanted a family, and she married you anyway. Stop beating yourself up over it. You’re a dynamite father, and that’s what really counts.”

  Billy’s words echoed in Donovan’s mind. Hannah wouldn’t cost much. No, Hannah wouldn’t cost a lot of money. She’d want more important things, like commitment and devotion, children, and a lifetime of love.

  He closed the door while she turned down the bed, and then they undressed each other. He gazed at her naked body. “You’re beautiful.”

  “You’re the one who’s beautiful, Donovan. You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever known, and I don’t mean just on the outside.” Her hands cupped his face and she gazed deeply into his eyes. “You’re beautiful on the inside, too.”

  His hands moved from her waist up to her breasts to brush over the hard little nubs. Her hand rubbed over his erection and her eyes sparkled in the dim light from her nightlight. “This part of you seems to like me tonight.”

  With a growl, he rolled her down on the bed under him, and the first kiss, deep and invasive, released the passion he’d been holding in since the last night they’d spent together. Hannah was generous with her body and her heart, and he’d never felt more satisfied or more loved.

  Hannah realized the second he pushed inside her he’d forgotten to wear a condom, but it was too late now. It felt so much nicer this way, with his skin rubbing against hers.

  He groaned. “I forgot the—”

  “Don’t stop, Donovan. Please don’t stop.”

  His response was to plunge deeper and harder, over and over again, until she tightened around him in a strong spasm. As his warm spurts filled her, she knew she could get pregnant, and she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to have his child, a baby to love, a brother or sister for Billy.

  Donovan pulled her body tightly against the length of his, as if claiming her and making her a part of him. “I’m crazy about you, Hannah.”

  She knew he meant the words, because she felt the same way, but memories of his wife still ate at his spirit, and until he dealt with those issues, he wouldn’t truly belong to her. When he did, she’d tell him she loved him. Because she did.

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  They ate Thanksgiving dinner in the dining room, the first meal they’d eaten in the formal room. Hannah had hung the new drapes and bought a window seat cushion to match. She’d pressed Grandma’s favorite tablecloth and washed the good china and crystal. Everything sparkled and glowed. She loved the room, except the light fixture. It had to be replaced. The crystal chandelier she remembered as a child was in the basement, the wiring shot. Somewhere in River Valley there must be a lighting store with something similar.

  The lower half of the dining room walls was paneled, and a chair rail crowned the paneling. Hannah had polished it, and it was in good shape, but the wallpaper on the upper half needed to be replaced. All the wallpaper in this house needed to be replaced.

  Everyone helped put dinner on the table. Grandpa’s chair and Grandma’s chair remained empty. While Donovan carved the turkey, Hannah glanced around the table at their family. Grandpa and Grandma were here, and so were Andrew and Charity. She couldn’t see them, but she felt their energy in the room.

  “I feel like I should have set four more places. Do ghosts eat?”

  Pop chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t think so, Hannah.”

  After everyone filled their plates, Hannah asked, “Pop, what are you thankful for this year?”

  “That’s an easy one. I’m thankful Sonny sent us here to share this house with you, Hannah. This old house is a real home, the first home we’ve had since Connie died, and it’s all because of you and Sonny.”

  “I agree with Pop,” said Donovan. “I’m thankful to Sonny and to you, Hannah. You had to let us live here to keep the house, but you didn’t have to give so much of yourself.”

  “I’m thankful for the ghosts,” said Billy. “None of my friends have ghosts in their houses. And I’m thankful for the Halloween party. It was so cool. I don’t ever want to live anywhere else.”

  Hannah and Donovan shared a long, poignant look. Had no one told Billy their stay here was temporary? They were giving a vulnerable kid a taste of a better life, when everyone else knew it couldn’t last. That wasn’t fair to Billy, but she wouldn’t tell him. That was a job for his father.

  Trevor said, “I’m thankful for a place to stay and work to do.”

  He was thankful for work? That was a first. Had Trevor grown up at last? Living on his own had probably scared him. Trevor was no more equipped to live on his own than Billy was.

  “Rogan called and asked what we were doing for Christmas,” said Pop. “He said they had her folks for Thanksgiving dinner or they would have invited us.”

  Hannah glanced from Pop to Donovan. “Would you like to invite your family here for Christmas?”

  Donovan shook his head. “You don’t have to—”

  “I want to, Donovan. Grandpa used to love Christmas, and this house is big enough for a big gathering.”

  “Connie used to have everyone at our house for Christmas,” said Pop. “As the family grew, it got kind of tight in our little house, but it was nice. Everyone brought something, so she didn’t have to do all the cooking.”

  “We should be able to get those new bathrooms finished before Christmas,” said Trevor.

  The first Christmas in this house without Grandpa and Grandma. The last one she remembered spending here, Dad was here, too. Celebrating the holiday wouldn’t bring Grandpa and Grandma back, but it would bring Donovan’s family together. Maybe that was what Grandpa had in mind.

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  Donovan knew the only way to pare down the bills that controlled his life was to face the mother-in-law from hell and ask for her help. He didn’t have much hope of her paying anything, but he had to try. For Billy’s sake.

  Saturday afternoon, after Hannah left for the grocery store, he called Eleanor and asked if he could stop by to talk with her.

  “What about?” she asked.

  “Maggie,” he replied. What else?

  “When?”

  “I can be there in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll open the gate.” The line clicked dead. Three years had passed since Maggie died. The funeral was held a week after Thanksgiving, three days before Billy’s seventh birthday, and no one in his family had spoken to Eleanor since then. Why would they, after she stood in a church filled with his family and friends and accused him of killing her daughter.

  He drove through the gate and down the driveway to Eleanor’s mansion. It was a cold, imposing structure of dark gray stone. The house belonged in a gothic movie, with a dungeon in the basement and a fully-equipped torture chamber. The front door looked like a draw bridge for a moat, and huge tapestries of bloody hunting scenes hung in the entry hall. Although a murder had been committed in the house on Livingston Avenue and spirits prowled the house, Eleanor’s house was the one that gave him the creeps. It always had.

  He parked in the circle drive in front of the house and rang the bell. The living room drapes were closed and the
house quiet. He rang the bell again and stood back. Finally, Eleanor opened the door. Her eyes were black and accusing, as always, and she looked ten years older than the last time he’d seen her. Without a word, she stepped back and opened the door wider.

  He walked into the house and she pointed to the formal living room, a room he’d always hated. It was decorated in pale blue, Maggie’s favorite color, and the heavy brocade drapes were closed. Pictures sat on every surface and hung on every wall. Maggie in the backyard pool, Maggie in her first beauty contest, Maggie wearing the crown in her third beauty contest, and Maggie in her wedding gown. Donovan had been cut out of the wedding picture. Not one of the pictures in the room was of Eleanor’s husband. They were all of her precious Maggie, her perfect daughter, the one Donovan killed by making her have a baby she didn’t want.

  Donovan looked for the school pictures of Billy he sent Eleanor every year, but there were none in sight.

  Eleanor didn’t invite him to sit down, so he didn’t. This wasn’t a social visit. He jammed his hands in his pockets. “No matter what you think about me, I didn’t want her to die.”

  Before she could dispute what he’d said, he changed the subject. “I came to ask for pictures. I’d like to give Billy a few of her as a child. As you know, he has a birthday next week. He’ll be ten.”

  “Does he ask about me?”

  “He did at first, and I told him you were still sad about losing Maggie. He’s a great kid. I’d like to think Maggie would be proud of him.”

  Uncomfortable with the mostly one-sided conversation, Donovan plowed on. “We’re living not far from here now, on Livingston Avenue.” If she’d been watching the news, she already knew that.

  “Pop is living with us. He takes care of Billy while I work. Mom died last year. You’re welcome to come and visit Billy, but I’d appreciate a phone call first.” He reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a card. “This is the phone number and address.”