Lee put his hand against the exposed wall and immediately felt air from
the outside coming through the cracks. He was startled for a moment
when he saw a slender line of light coming from the top of the wall.
Then he realized it was the moonlight coming through a gap where wall
was supposed to meet roof.
Lee carefully nudged open the closet door. It still let out a
prolonged squeak that made him catch a breath. No clothes, not even a
single hanger. He shook his head and went into the small connecting
bathroom. Here, there was a more modern, drop-down ceiling, linoleum
floor with a pebble design and plasterboard walls covered with peeling
flower-patterned wallpaper. The shower was a one-piece fiberglass
unit. However, there were no towels, toilet paper or soap. No way to
shower or even freshen up.
He went through into the other, adjoining bedroom. Here, the smell of
mildew on the bed covers was so strong he almost had to hold his nose.
The closet here was empty as well.
None of this was making sense. He stood in the pool of moonlight
coming through the window, felt his neck tickled by the drafts of air
pushing through the cracks in the walls and shook his head. What was
Faith Lockhart doing here if not using it as some kind of love nest?
That was what his initial conclusion had been, even though he had only
seen her with the tall woman. People swung lots of ways. But not even
with cement up their noses could they have been having sex on these
sheets.
Returning downstairs, he went across the hallway and into the other
front space, which Lee assumed was the living room. The windows here
had been boarded over as well. There was a bookshelf notched into one
of the walls, although no books were on it. As in the kitchen, the
ceiling was unfinished. As Lee swung his light upward, he spied the
short pieces of wood tacked between the joists at forty-five-degree
angles, forming a line of X’s across the ceiling. The wood was clearly
different from that used for the original construction; it was lighter
and of a different grain. Additional support? Why had that been
necessary?
He shook his head in the manner of a man resigned to his fate. Now
added to Lee’s list of worries was the possibility that the damn second
floor would collapse at any minute on his head. He envisioned his obit
headlined something like: LUCKLESS PI FELLED BY BATHTUB SHOWER COMBO,
WEALTHY Ex-wife REFUSES COMMENT.
As Lee shone his light around, he froze. Set into one wall was a door.
A closet, most likely. Nothing unusual about that, except that this
door was secured by a deadbolt. He went over and examined the lock
more closely, glancing at the small pile of wood dust on the floor
directly under the lock. Lee knew it had been left over when the
person installing the lock had drilled the hole through the wooden
door. Exterior deadbolts. A security system. A deadbolt recently
installed on an interior closet door in a crappy rental in the boonies.
What could be so valuable here to go to all this trouble?
“Shit,” Lee said again. He wanted to leave this place, but he could
not take his eyes off the lock. If Lee Adams had one fault-and it
could hardly be considered a fault for someone in his line of work-it
was that he was a very curious man. Secrets plagued him. People
attempting to hide things came close to infuriating him. As a “lunch
pail” kind of guy utterly convinced that great monied forces stalked
the earth creating all kinds of havoc for ordinary folk like him, Lee
believed in the principle of full and fair disclosure with all his
substantial heart. Putting action to that belief, he wedged the
flashlight under his armpit, holstered his gun and pulled out his
lock-pick kit. His fingers worked nimbly as he slipped a fresh pick
into the lock-pick gun. He took a deep breath, inserted the pick in
the lock and turned on the machine.
When the deadbolt slid back, Lee took another deep breath, pulled his