proved to be a vast, dark, dusty emptiness. Miss Groloch refused to go up.
"Up there Tom gets sometimes," she said. "Filthy he comes back. I maybe should get one of those vacuum sweepers…"
"Don't you go climbing around up there," Cash told her. "If you fell over a joist and broke a leg, who'd come help you?"
She smiled, but didn't reply.
Cash was satisfied. He did not bother going into the attic. As Carstairs had noted so long ago, she was too smart to leave any evidence. If ever there had been any.
But Harald asked to see the basement. He seemed determined to push till he found the limit of her cooperation.
The basement had to be entered through the kitchen. Miss Groloch did have a refrigerator, Cash noted. It was so ancient that it had the round radiator stack on top. Ammonia coolant? he wondered.
To Cash the basement looked as innocuous as the rest of the house. Already certain they would find nothing, he remained at the foot of the steps taunting himself with Miss Groloch's accent while Harald prowled. What little looking he did was for his own curiosity's sake.
As he had suspected, the furnace was a conversion, coal to gas, probably with fuel oil as an intermediate step. The electrical wiring was the old exposed single strand, heavy guage copper wire. He noticed several places where the insulating fabric had become frayed.
"You see where the cloth on the wires is getting ragged? That could cause a fire someday. And this floor joist. You see where the insulator goes through? By the knot. It's cracked. You should have a carpenter scab on a sister beam before it settles and ruins your floor."
"This house and I, we are alike," Miss Groloch responded. "Getting old. Coming apart. Nothing lasts forever."
It was odd, the way she said that. Her wistfulness caused Cash to examine her expression. For a moment she wore a faraway look, then gave him that ghostly smile. Once again he had the feeling he was being manipulated.
"Tear it down they will when I'm gone, I expect. A pity that would be. It is a good house. Love and attention it needs, is all. Houses, they are like people, that way."
Before she could pursue this unexpected line, Harald said, "Well, sorry to take up so much of your time." He seemed disappointed. "We appreciate your cooperation." He made it sound as though he would have appreciated a confession a good deal more.
"I am happy to help, any time. You will be back, yes?"
That had the ring of accusation. Harald shrugged.
"You are always welcome. To being alone one never grows accustomed."
John grunted, took a last look around.
Loneliness. Cash wondered why she had never taken another friend after Jack O'Brien. Or had she? He would have to double-check with Annie.
Back in the car, after another round of tea and cookies, Harald asked, "What do you think?"
"What's to think? It's perfect. We've got to find another goddamned angle."
"Something's out of kilter. Something's not straight."
"How so? I didn't see anything."
"I don't know. Petty shit, I guess. Maybe it was the basement. You notice anything queer?"
Cash tried to visualize. "No."
"Probably nothing, but there were a couple things I noticed. Like, it wasn't a full basement."
"So?"
"So the end that would've gone under the rest of the house had a wall that looked like it was built a long time after the other three. The stone was different. And it was laid on top of the floor. And the floor was poured a long time after the basement was dug. It looked like it was done in sections. Like somebody mixed and poured it by hand."
"So? What can we do about it? Never mind the buried men and the secret rooms. You think Carstairs wouldn't have found them? Think we should cite her for not getting a building permit? Even then you'd have to
prove
she violated the building codes. They probably did it before there were any."
"You're no help,
"Up there Tom gets sometimes," she said. "Filthy he comes back. I maybe should get one of those vacuum sweepers…"
"Don't you go climbing around up there," Cash told her. "If you fell over a joist and broke a leg, who'd come help you?"
She smiled, but didn't reply.
Cash was satisfied. He did not bother going into the attic. As Carstairs had noted so long ago, she was too smart to leave any evidence. If ever there had been any.
But Harald asked to see the basement. He seemed determined to push till he found the limit of her cooperation.
The basement had to be entered through the kitchen. Miss Groloch did have a refrigerator, Cash noted. It was so ancient that it had the round radiator stack on top. Ammonia coolant? he wondered.
To Cash the basement looked as innocuous as the rest of the house. Already certain they would find nothing, he remained at the foot of the steps taunting himself with Miss Groloch's accent while Harald prowled. What little looking he did was for his own curiosity's sake.
As he had suspected, the furnace was a conversion, coal to gas, probably with fuel oil as an intermediate step. The electrical wiring was the old exposed single strand, heavy guage copper wire. He noticed several places where the insulating fabric had become frayed.
"You see where the cloth on the wires is getting ragged? That could cause a fire someday. And this floor joist. You see where the insulator goes through? By the knot. It's cracked. You should have a carpenter scab on a sister beam before it settles and ruins your floor."
"This house and I, we are alike," Miss Groloch responded. "Getting old. Coming apart. Nothing lasts forever."
It was odd, the way she said that. Her wistfulness caused Cash to examine her expression. For a moment she wore a faraway look, then gave him that ghostly smile. Once again he had the feeling he was being manipulated.
"Tear it down they will when I'm gone, I expect. A pity that would be. It is a good house. Love and attention it needs, is all. Houses, they are like people, that way."
Before she could pursue this unexpected line, Harald said, "Well, sorry to take up so much of your time." He seemed disappointed. "We appreciate your cooperation." He made it sound as though he would have appreciated a confession a good deal more.
"I am happy to help, any time. You will be back, yes?"
That had the ring of accusation. Harald shrugged.
"You are always welcome. To being alone one never grows accustomed."
John grunted, took a last look around.
Loneliness. Cash wondered why she had never taken another friend after Jack O'Brien. Or had she? He would have to double-check with Annie.
Back in the car, after another round of tea and cookies, Harald asked, "What do you think?"
"What's to think? It's perfect. We've got to find another goddamned angle."
"Something's out of kilter. Something's not straight."
"How so? I didn't see anything."
"I don't know. Petty shit, I guess. Maybe it was the basement. You notice anything queer?"
Cash tried to visualize. "No."
"Probably nothing, but there were a couple things I noticed. Like, it wasn't a full basement."
"So?"
"So the end that would've gone under the rest of the house had a wall that looked like it was built a long time after the other three. The stone was different. And it was laid on top of the floor. And the floor was poured a long time after the basement was dug. It looked like it was done in sections. Like somebody mixed and poured it by hand."
"So? What can we do about it? Never mind the buried men and the secret rooms. You think Carstairs wouldn't have found them? Think we should cite her for not getting a building permit? Even then you'd have to
prove
she violated the building codes. They probably did it before there were any."
"You're no help,
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