Kristin Ashe: Disorderly Attachments Part 32

His face was pale, and I could barely understand his swollen voice. "I told you it was a body."

"Run," I shouted.

Granted, my thoughts weren't rational-dead bodies can't do much harm-but I had to get out of there.

We sprinted to the far end of the bas.e.m.e.nt, up the stairs and into the alley.

In the blinding sunlight, I could see sweat cascading down Flax's face, and somewhere in our flight, he'd dropped the dowsing sticks. I took his hand and led him around the house, into the side yard farthest from the carriage house.

"What did it look like?" I asked after we'd plopped down on the gra.s.s in the shade of a large elm.

"Gross," he said, still quaking. "Do we have to call the cops? I don't want them to find my hideout."

"No, no. Let me think. It's your great-grandpa, Herman Middleton," I said dazedly. "Hazel killed him and left him there. They never did get along."

"No, sir. My dad went to his funeral."

"He told you about it?"

"A bunch of times. Plus, he makes me visit the grave. We go to the cemetery and put flowers next to a bunch of dumb relatives' headstones. His is there, with a s.p.a.ce for Grandma Hazel when she dies."

"That doesn't mean there's a body in the plot."

"My dad saw the body," Flax said deliberately. "In the casket. That's why he wants to be cremated, because he thinks it looks fake, like you're there when you're not."

"He shared this with you?"

"We talk about everything."

I took a deep breath, uncertain of the next move. "You're sure it was a body in the bas.e.m.e.nt?"

"Uh-huh. I saw a skull, with long hair."

"What color?"

"Gray. And a shirt and pants."

"What color?"

"White and light blue."

"You're sure about the color of the pants."

"I guess. I dunno."

"Wait here," I said, rising.

He blanched. "By myself?"

"Grandma Hazel's next door."

"But we're not supposed to be here."

"Then don't go get her unless it's an emergency. I'll be back in two minutes." I ran into the main house, up to the second floor and back into the yard in record time. I held up the light blue blazer I'd retrieved from the room where he and I had maintained our ghost stakeout. "Were the pants this color?"

His full-body trembling gave me the answer.

We now had a positive identification, more or less, of the body, but that merely raised more questions. If Constance Ferro was lying in the bas.e.m.e.nt, who had murdered her, and why had the killer moved her or left her there?

Given that Hazel Middleton had been the last person to see her in Colorado, I knew where my next line of inquiry lay.

Understandably, I had little desire to confront a potential murderess, especially in the company of her great-grandson. To spare him the glare of the sun, I tried to talk Flax into returning to his hideout for a few minutes while I chatted with Hazel, but he wouldn't budge.

I made a quick trip to 7-Eleven and returned with fortification.

He wolfed down two candy bars and swallowed the contents of a Big Gulp before a hint of color returned to his cheeks. a.s.sured of his health, I methodically put one foot in front of the other and crossed the grounds to Hazel Middleton's front door.

In minutes, however, I was back with Flax, mooching a roll of Smarties and cursing the fact that, in spite of the Lincoln Continental parked in the driveway, no one had answered the door.

Overriding Flax's strenuous protests, I took him home and stopped by the office to pick up the Fielder mansion file.

That might have been a mistake.

My casual "How's it going?" brought a storm of wrath from Fran Green, who was playing solitaire on the computer.

She sat up straight, drew attention to her T-shirt, "You Can't Fix Stupid," and exited the game. "Getting ridiculous. Last night, I found a videotape on my doorstep, compliments of Tess the Terrorizer."

"A tape of what?"

"Her shimmying up a giant rock near Estes Park this weekend. No equipment. Free-soloing. She's been threatening to do it since the day I met her. She scampered up without a helmet, ropes or bolts. Just a bag of chalk tied to her waist. I saw her climb at least two hundred feet. Shut it off after that. No interest in watching her attempt suicide."

"You think that's what it is?"

"Telling you, Kris, it's death in slow motion. That tape showed Tess one slip away from free-falling twenty stories."

"Who shot the footage?"

"Good question. Probably some other knucklehead climber. Don't own one brain between 'em."

"Why do you think Tess brought you the tape?"

"The note on the box claimed she wanted me to share in her amazing grace. I already knew she had vise-like fingers. Anyone who shakes her hand gets that message. Seen every muscle in her body flexed. What's she trying to prove?"

"That she's crazy?"

"Did a straight-up job of that. Cloudburst could make the rock slick. Handhold could give way. Loose stones could bonk her on the head. Any moment, she's a fraction of a second away from two hundred and six bones crushing."

"No one has that many bones," I said mildly.

"Bet me? Twenty-seven in the hand alone, fourteen in the face. Saw it last week on the Discovery Channel."

"You weren't impressed with Tess's athleticism?"

"If I go stand in the freeway, middle lane at rush hour, you gonna give me credit for good posture?"

I shrugged.

"h.e.l.l, no. You'd put me on a suicide watch at Denver Health. That girl needs help. Drugs might be in order, and you know how I feel about meds."

"That they're worthless."

"Most cases."

"What are you going to do?"

"Same as any decent human being-call her batty mom. Tell her to get out of the cave she's been living in."

"That's not very nice."

"Not joking, she's living in a cavern near Taos." Fran cleared her throat. "How'd I get into this stew?"

"Maybe you shouldn't answer any more personal ads."

"Done."

"Or have s.e.x five times on the first date."

"Can't promise that," Fran said with a lecherous look. "Enough about me, though. What're your plans for the p.m."

"I have to go tell Hazel Middleton that Flax and I found a body in her bas.e.m.e.nt, but I suspect she already knows that," I said conversationally.

"Get out!" Fran shouted.

After she recovered from the shock, I told her about Flax's dowsing and Constance's outfit.

She didn't bother to mask her delight. "Let me in on the fireworks. Love to come with you to visit Hazel."

Somehow, I didn't find as much merriment in the situation, and I suspected Hazel Middleton wouldn't either. "I'd better talk to her alone."

Fran's face fell. "Suit yourself, but give me a holler. Can't wait to hear how the lady explains away a corpse."

Hazel Middleton didn't try to explain away anything.

As soon as I confronted her with the news of Flax's discovery, she shrugged aimlessly, as if she'd been waiting years to confide in someone.

We spoke for several minutes before I confirmed, "There's no ghost in the mansion, is there?"

She smiled faintly. "None that I've seen or heard."

"You broke the windows?"

Hazel nodded, her smile still present.

"And made up the story about the lights in the attic window?"

"I told my daughter what she wanted to hear."

"Because you didn't want anyone to discover Constance?"

"I couldn't bear to be apart from her."

"How did she die?"

"From a weak heart, I presume. She collapsed and stopped breathing. It all happened quickly."

"Why were you in the bas.e.m.e.nt?"

"I was walking her home. We spent almost every evening together, in her apartment or in the carriage house."

"When it was time to go home, one of you would cut through the tunnel?"

"In bad weather, yes. It saved us the trouble of bundling up. Constance didn't feel comfortable walking in the bas.e.m.e.nt alone at night, but I never had such compunction. I'd escort her home and return to my place."

"Did she die in the room she's in now?"

"In the hall outside. I scooted her into the room. It wasn't difficult. She was a slip of a thing. She'd been having digestive troubles and had lost weight her last year. Truly, she was skin and bones."

"You wrapped her in the plastic?"

"I did. After a few days, when the smell became too much."

"And dug the grave?"

"Yes. Her final resting place. A few feet down, no more. I worked at it a little bit at a time, so as not to put undue stress on myself. It was difficult work."

"You held vigil with the candles?"

"Every night until I no longer could safely use the stairs."

"You never considered burying her in a cemetery?"

"Not for a moment. Constance had no family, except for an estranged niece, and I felt it was my right to decide. I couldn't have made it out to the cemetery every day, and this was more natural. We could still be together."

"You weren't worried someone would discover her?"