Payne & Misery Read online

  The bang of the front door startled me. Perhaps Helen didn’t realize how much noise she made. When the light grew brighter, I retreated deeper into my hidey-hole.

  When she arrived at the garage, she paused to study the inside. Maybe she just noticed the wood stacked in her way. How will she search through that?

  I inched out so I could peek around the corner.

  Feet spread apart, a leather tool belt strapped around her hips, Helen’s tall form draped the door of the rounded refrigerator. Gripped in her hands, she wielded some type of tool with long handles— perhaps the bolt cutter I’d seen her purchase at the hardware store. She suddenly compressed the tool and with a mighty snap, the lock popped open. She grunted a profanity. “What kind of lunatic padlocks a refrigerator?”

  She jerked the door open and crouched to peer inside. Yanking out each item, she inspected it in the lantern light. I strained to see over her shoulder. The refrigerator appeared to be packed with leftover food containers.

  She slung down a Chinese take-out box whose contents might have been growing hair. It smashed on the concrete driveway. “Disgusting! Why save this?” She opened several plastic containers and cursed in disapproval before turning to the rows of wood.

  Stepping closer, Helen lifted the lantern higher until it lit the rafters. I leaned farther out to inspect the rusty fishing poles, woven fishing creel, and wooden dynamite crates with her. The wobbly pile of flattened cardboard boxes appeared as unstable as ever. The light moved to the ledge where the brown suitcase once rested.

  Helen plopped the lantern onto the floor. I pulled back without a sound.

  Helen stomped toward the house. When she returned, she dragged a ladder behind her. She propped it at the front of the wood and teetered slowly up the rungs. She could reach the box pile if she stood on tiptoe. After a moment, she dragged down a few boxes and threw them on top of the wood. These provided a smooth surface to crawl across.

  She hesitated, testing the first box. Her footing held, so she proceeded farther. By re-adjusting the boxes as she came to them, she continued until she arrived under the wooden crates. Once there, she stood tall. She tugged gently, liberating the crate from its perch. It landed on the cardboard with a puff of displaced dust.

  Following a quick glance inside the box, Helen flung it aside onto the rows of wood and turned her attention to the other box. When she pulled it down, she caught it like a circus acrobat and extracted a canvas bag. She peered inside, cursed, and tossed the second box onto the wood, producing another cloud of dust.

  Arms akimbo, she inspected the line of cabinets at the back of the garage. “How’m I gonna get into those?”

  Seemed like at least a minute passed while she pondered, looking like a colossus atop the wood. I shifted as another shiver passed over me.

  I must have made noise without realizing. Helen jerked her head around. “Who’s there?” She clambered off the woodpile and picked up the lantern. “Show yourself!”

  While she slunk toward me, I shrunk farther inside my hiding place.

  “Who’s out there?”

  My knees knocked.

  From the tool belt, she produced a revolver. Lantern light glinted off the gun barrel. “Come out, now! Or I’ll shoot.”

  The gun moved so close, I could almost grab it. With my luck, she’d shoot me anyway. Not knowing what else to do, I crept out of my lair.

  She uttered another expletive. “Who is it?” She hefted the lantern higher. “What are you doing there?”

  “It’s me. Christine Sterling.”

  “Not the meddling neighbor again. I should shoot you right now.”

  If I chose my words with extreme caution, maybe I’d have a slight chance to keep her from shooting me. Think like a negotiator. “I saw lights, that’s all, so I came to see what’s going on.”

  “You got no right to be here.” She gestured wildly with the gun, dark eyes gleaming like burning coal.

  The hair on top of my head prickled as I stared down the barrel of that gun. Could this be the gun that killed Lila? The gun no one could find? With great resolve, I held myself calm on the outside and pretended not to see it. “You don’t have any right to be here either. The sheriffs are looking for you.”

  She snorted. “Let ’em look. That’s none of your affair. You need to go home before my finger gets itchy.” She raised the gun higher, waving it in a threatening manner as if to make sure I could see it.

  I retreated—inching backward so I wouldn’t have to turn my back on a madwoman carrying a weapon—and kept my voice calm. “I just came to see who was here. Now I’ve seen and I’ll be on my way.”

  She followed. “Hold on, Missy. You know I really can’t let you go, don’t you? You’ll just go home and call the sheriff.” She frowned. “This does complicate things. If I shoot you, they’ll know I did it unless I can make it look accidental. Maybe like you were breaking into the house.”

  Dear God, what now? Give me the right words.

  Could I keep her talking until I figured how to get away? I straightened to my full height and faced her, fighting off a wave of gun-induced nausea. “It looks like you’re hunting for something.” Many words were running through my brain just then, but not those words. God, are you speaking from my lips?

  Helen leaned toward me, her glare spreading across her face. “How do you know that?”

  I forced the tremor from my voice, ignoring the horrific thumping in my chest. “Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?”

  She scowled over the gun. “Who told you?”

  “You don’t, do you?”

  The gun shook, but she didn’t answer.

  Nerves and guns—not a good combination. I sidestepped two paces. The gun shadowed me. My knees nearly buckled. The power to speak with a gun pointed in my direction must’ve come by divine intervention. “Let me help you.”

  “Help me? How?”

  I backed away another step. “What do you think it is?”

  She shrugged.

  “Why do you think something’s hidden?”

  She waved the gun wildly. “Alan told me.”

  I stopped moving and blinked at her.

  “Will hid something valuable. Lila watched. She told Alan.” She used the gun as a pointer to emphasize her words.

  I held up both hands to stall while I considered how to convince her she needed my help. Just keep babbling. “But you have no idea what it is.”

  “Right.”

  “Where have you looked?”

  She cocked her head. “Alan looked through the garage. The one that’s locked.”

  A drop of perspiration trickled down my back. I opened my mouth and babbled more. “My dad hid his stash in his bedroom. He wanted it close so he could get it fast.” Inch by inch, shifting from one foot to another, I put more distance between us while I shuffled through memories of my father’s intense paranoia over valuables.

  The gun wobbled and lowered an inch. “I already looked everywhere.”

  “Are you sure?”

  This time when she cocked her head to consider, she lowered the gun another notch.

  Way to go, Christine. Distraction. It’s your best weapon.

  I continued my slow backward slide. “My dad didn’t want to get trapped in the house with no defense in case the Communists attacked. So he kept cash in his bedroom—guns and ammunition too. I bet it’s in his bedroom.”

  When I’d cleared the garage sufficiently, I spun on my heel, racing toward the front of the house.

  Helen advanced faster than I would’ve believed a woman her size could move, waving her weapon like a Zulu warrior. “Oh, no, you don’t!” Her long-legged strides closed the gap between us in a couple of seconds. She grabbed my hair roughly, knocking me off balance. “You want to help so bad? Fine. I could use an assistant.” She dragged me toward the front door. “Come right in, Missy. I can always shoot you later.”

  I braced my feet, trying to skid to a stop. I couldn’t go i
nto that house. I might never get out again.

  But she had height and strength on her side, not to mention a loaded weapon. She shoved me through the door. “Okay, genius, let’s see what you can find.”

  40

  CHAPTER FORTY

  The force of her thrust sent me slumping to the floor. She pressed the gun to my back, grabbing my arm to pull me upright. I moved sluggishly, almost paralyzed by fear. She handed me the lantern. I shuffled ahead through the darkened house, pausing in the doorway of Will’s bedroom. Might as well start there. I found the light switch.

  The maple dresser lay upturned on the carpet, its drawers scattered haphazardly. The small bedside table languished under a large rocking chair tipped on one side.

  Helen pointed at the mess. “I already looked through here.”

  “You looked under the bed?”

  “Of course.”

  “Between the mattresses?”

  Sarcasm edged her tone. “Naturally.”

  I surveyed the room again. “How about the closet?”

  She wiggled the gun at me. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  Shivering, I opened the closet door. The search tornado had already spun through there as well. Piles of clothing littered the floor.

  Where would Will put something he didn’t want anyone to find? Dear Lord, help me. With nowhere else to look, I gazed upward for divine inspiration.

  Helen’s eyes followed mine to the cutout attic door I’d noticed on my first visit. Like most houses of that era, a rope hung from the ceiling by which a folded ladder could be pulled down to gain access to the attic. She grabbed the rope and the ladder unfolded.

  Helen motioned with the tip of the gun. Knees shaking as if afflicted with palsy, I climbed the unsteady ladder. At the top, I pushed on the trap door. It held tight. I pushed again, harder.

  She snorted. “Put your weight into it.”

  Even in my terrified state, I stopped to stare at her. Was that a wisecrack about my weight? She waggled the gun at me with her skinny-minny arm.

  I stomped up another rung, put my shoulder against the door, and shoved. The door popped open with a resounding crack.

  Standing on tiptoes, I peered into the darkness.

  Helen lifted the lantern. “Take this.”

  I could throw it. But if I missed, she’d shoot me right here.

  Not willing to take the chance, I pushed the lantern through the opening, setting it on a nearby rafter. Then I hesitated. Helen climbed a few rungs and wiggled the gun at me again, so I pulled through the opening and sat on the ledge to rest, panting like a dog from the exertion.

  It must be true, what Jesse said. I wasn’t as young as I used to be.

  The lantern illuminated a dusty space. The air smelled stale enough to be well past expiration date. Mouse droppings made my skin crawl, but I didn’t hear skittering creatures. My eyes scanned the attic for windows or exits. No way out.

  With my limited experience, I judged this attic as typical— except for a small rectangular platform about the size of half a card table just a few paces from the opening.

  Helen bellowed from below. “What’s up there?”

  “Nothing really. It’s just … I don’t know why a platform would be here.” I straddled the rafters with care. I didn’t want to fall between them and get my leg stuck in the ceiling. She would leave me to die. Why didn’t I send word to someone before coming down here?

  After I reached the platform, I set the lantern on a rafter and crouched to inspect the boards.

  Helen stuck her head through the opening. “What platform?”

  Around the perimeter, the boards sat snugly, nailed in place like a frame. The center section wobbled when I stepped on it. “I think this part comes out.”

  She shifted the gun to her other hand and waved it. “Well, get it out.”

  I pushed my finger over the crack, but it wouldn’t go in. “I need something to pry it out.”

  She produced a long screwdriver from her tool belt.

  I jammed the screwdriver under the center section. Maybe I could jab her in the eye with the screwdriver. If I didn’t do it just right, though, she’d shoot me. With gentle coaxing, I lifted the wood out in one piece. Beneath, three flat strongboxes had been wedged into the space, each secured by a heavy-duty padlock.

  Helen leaned closer. “Pull them out.”

  I tugged. The boxes didn’t budge. “They’re stuck.”

  “Don’t be such a lightweight.” Helen grabbed the screwdriver from my hand and climbed all the way into the attic, positioning herself between the opening and me, careful to place the gun out of my reach.

  Again, I contemplated using the lantern as a weapon but couldn’t reach it without going around her. Instead, over the next couple of minutes, I assisted her.

  Soon, the exertion had both of us panting.

  Helen sat back on her haunches. “We’ll just pop them open right where they sit.”

  She disappeared down the hole with the gun and the lantern, slamming the attic door shut. Sudden thick darkness filled the attic space—so dense, I couldn’t tell where the access door had been. How would Jesse ever find me here? I imagined the headlines: Remains of Grass Valley Woman Discovered in Attic Fifty Years after Disappearance. My groan echoed in the empty space. I’d have to jump between every rafter in this attic to find that little door. Surely, she wouldn’t leave me forever. Not with these boxes unopened.

  After a few minutes, she re-appeared carrying her heavy-duty bolt cutters. Strength renewed, she cut through one padlock with a loud snap. I imagined drool dripping from her mouth as she pulled back the lid. “Get the light.”

  I wanted to grab the bolt cutters out of her hand and bash her head for leaving me in the scary darkness, but I couldn’t do it fast enough without her noticing. So, I moved to her other side and picked up the lantern as she directed.

  Rows of tubes lined the box—tubes filled with gold coins.

  The sight dazzled me. I’d never seen so much gold before. “That’s a lot of gold.”

  She mumbled to herself. “That’s why Will was always so interested in the price of gold.”

  “What did you think you would find?”

  She settled on a rafter where she positioned the gun out of my reach. “Money, you know—bills. Will didn’t trust banks.” After opening a tube, she poured the contents into her lap. I’d guess the coins were one ounce each—the kind packaged ten to a tube. They jingled musically. She cupped them in her hands and let them slip through her fingers like water.

  An inner voice commanded me to run, although I didn’t know how I’d get around her and through the opening. The gun rested close to her right hand. No matter how fast I moved, I’d be dead before I got to the ladder. While the gold held her attention, maybe I could probe for answers, just in case I survived this ordeal.

  My heart pounded wildly, but I kept the fear out of my voice. “This is Will’s gold. Why did Lila tell Alan about it?”

  She turned her head toward me as if she’d just noticed my presence. “What?”

  “I don’t get this whole thing.”

  She grunted and shook her head. “Lila thought someone wanted to kill Will for his treasure. That’s what she told Alan. He offered to split it with me if we found it.” After restacking the coins in the tube, she sat back in the small space. Rocking on her feet, she picked up tube after tube to examine it in the lantern light. Her eyes glimmered, reflecting the gold.

  I slid toward the opening, pretending to shift weight to a more comfortable position. “Did Will know about this?”

  Her voice remained as calm as the eye of a hurricane, and her eyes never left the pile of gold. “Of course not. He never met Alan. I never told him anything.”

  “So Alan hunted for the gold in the afternoon while Will went to your house?”

  She continued to fondle the gold, dropping a few coins in her lap. “Of course, I never would have split it. Will isn’t strong. I had
to protect him. Same as I always have.”

  The chills returned. “But Lila was in the way. Alan couldn’t search the house with her here. That’s why you had to kill her, right?”

  Helen’s eyes were glued to the gold, but she expelled a long sigh. “She just wouldn’t go away, no matter what I did.”

  I moved a little farther. “So … you shot her. And then you convinced Will to burn her body with the trash.”

  In the semi-darkness, I couldn’t tell whether she nodded again. Where is that gun? Both hands held gold, so it seemed safe to keep moving. I maneuvered to a position directly behind her. She took no notice. “One thing has always bothered me. The first time I saw Will, he was throwing away Lila’s clothes. Why did he throw out her clothes before she died?”

  She laughed dryly. “That witch was crazy. He filled the garage with stuff she didn’t want in the house. I cleaned out her belongings and packed them in boxes—told him it was trash and he should burn it.”

  I shook my head. “How clever. You made the plan, and Will carried it out.”

  “Will thought Lila was starving to death. I told him I’d get help for her. That’s what he thought I meant to do that night—take her for help.”

  In slow motion, I reached out to brace my arms on the sides of the opening where I could lower myself onto the ladder below. “But you shot her instead.”

  “Stupid cow ran from me.” Her voice became flat again. “Will believes she shot herself.”

  My stomach lurched. “One other thing. The hit-and-run. That four-year-old in Nevada City. You killed him too.”

  “That was an accident,” she whispered.

  I’d almost gotten my feet through the opening, but I leaned back to catch her words. “Right. But why were you in Nevada City that night?”

  She snorted. “Stupid! That’s why. I didn’t use the main highway for fear of being seen. I went the long way around Grass Valley and Nevada City.” She shook her head with vehemence. “I never get a break.”