Cam - 04 - Nightwalkers by P. T. Deutermann
Authors: P. T. Deutermann
Tags: Fiction, General, Action & Adventure, Mystery & Detective, Private Investigators, north carolina, stalkers, Plantations, Plantation Owners, Richter; Cam (Fictitious Character)
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mounted on the walls, complete with candles. The floors were of polished pine with ancient oriental rugs here and there. I asked about heat and air-conditioning.
"There's no need for air-conditioning in the stone cottage, Mr. Richter," she replied. "These walls are solid stone, as the name implies. They are almost two feet thick, and the temperature in high summer is as it is now. Heat can be had from the fireplaces. The wood stores are out back on the porch. Unfortunately there is no telephone service, since we have not found a use for one here at Laurel Grove. There is a washing machine set in the alcove behind the kitchen."
I remembered the carriage driver's cell phone. "The lights: Are they electric?" I asked.
The barest hint of a smile crossed her face. "Yes, there is electricity. The cottage has its own well, as does the main house." She hesitated. "You must understand, Mr. Richter. We are not Luddites or ignorant of modern facilities. It's just that these buildings were built to be lived in long before electricity, telephones, and central heat and air. We choose to take advantage of that fact."
"This all suits me just fine," I said. "I'll be spending most of my time across the road, and these days, the nighttime seems best suited for sleeping. It's okay to have the shepherds?"
"Oh, certainly, Mr. Richter. We have two ancient dogs up at the house, and they keep us excellent company. A loyal dog is better company than many humans, in my experience."
I was suddenly curious. "Do you have significant experience of humans, Valeria? Out there in the big bad world?"
"It's Ms. Valeria, at least for now, if you please," she said, "and beingboth a Lee and a Marion, my family history is replete with experiences of all manner, past and present. Shall we go back now?"
Suitably chastised, I decided once again to be quiet. We walked back to my Suburban and I put the dogs on board. She said she and her mother would instruct Mr. Oatley to draw up a lease. She nodded graciously, looked forward to seeing me again, and then went up the stairs and back into the nineteenth century in a swish of voluminous skirts. I got into my ride and withdrew to the real world, wondering what the hell I'd gotten myself into this time. I had visions of the carriage man clopping into town with the draft lease, a piece of rolled parchment sealed in red wax that was still warm. Maybe that was why so many of the older buildings in town still had hitching posts out front.
Just for the heck of it, I pulled across the main road into the driveway of Glory's End--and got a surprise. There were now two tall iron gates suspended on those stone pillars, and a big bright lock and chain securing them.
Not knowing what else to do, I called Carol Pollard.
"Hey, there," she said. "Seen your surprise yet?"
"I believe I have--I'm parked outside the gates and was wondering how to get in."
"Come by and I'll get you the keys. Believe it or not, those are the original gates. I did some snooping in town and found this old boy who had them, and got them for three hundred bucks. They're wrought iron, and they're worth more than that, but he thought they should go home."
"Well, I'm delighted, Carol," I said. "Great job. FYI, I've rented the stone cottage across the way at Laurel Grove. Something's come up over in Summerfield, and I need to escape to the country. That seemed the perfect place."
"Well done yourself, Lieutenant. Those two won't let that place to just anybody."
"I had Sheriff Walker make a call," I said, "and I'd already met Valeria. Excuse me, Ms. Valeria."
"Don't you forget it, either," she said with a laugh.
"As she pointedly reminded me," I said. "How are we coming with contractors and other undesirables?"
"In a word, nowhere yet, but that's about par for the course. I always need to sweet-talk the good ones, and I'm working on that. I may have to go buy some flashier clothes."
"Last time I checked, you looked pretty good in what you've got,
"There's no need for air-conditioning in the stone cottage, Mr. Richter," she replied. "These walls are solid stone, as the name implies. They are almost two feet thick, and the temperature in high summer is as it is now. Heat can be had from the fireplaces. The wood stores are out back on the porch. Unfortunately there is no telephone service, since we have not found a use for one here at Laurel Grove. There is a washing machine set in the alcove behind the kitchen."
I remembered the carriage driver's cell phone. "The lights: Are they electric?" I asked.
The barest hint of a smile crossed her face. "Yes, there is electricity. The cottage has its own well, as does the main house." She hesitated. "You must understand, Mr. Richter. We are not Luddites or ignorant of modern facilities. It's just that these buildings were built to be lived in long before electricity, telephones, and central heat and air. We choose to take advantage of that fact."
"This all suits me just fine," I said. "I'll be spending most of my time across the road, and these days, the nighttime seems best suited for sleeping. It's okay to have the shepherds?"
"Oh, certainly, Mr. Richter. We have two ancient dogs up at the house, and they keep us excellent company. A loyal dog is better company than many humans, in my experience."
I was suddenly curious. "Do you have significant experience of humans, Valeria? Out there in the big bad world?"
"It's Ms. Valeria, at least for now, if you please," she said, "and beingboth a Lee and a Marion, my family history is replete with experiences of all manner, past and present. Shall we go back now?"
Suitably chastised, I decided once again to be quiet. We walked back to my Suburban and I put the dogs on board. She said she and her mother would instruct Mr. Oatley to draw up a lease. She nodded graciously, looked forward to seeing me again, and then went up the stairs and back into the nineteenth century in a swish of voluminous skirts. I got into my ride and withdrew to the real world, wondering what the hell I'd gotten myself into this time. I had visions of the carriage man clopping into town with the draft lease, a piece of rolled parchment sealed in red wax that was still warm. Maybe that was why so many of the older buildings in town still had hitching posts out front.
Just for the heck of it, I pulled across the main road into the driveway of Glory's End--and got a surprise. There were now two tall iron gates suspended on those stone pillars, and a big bright lock and chain securing them.
Not knowing what else to do, I called Carol Pollard.
"Hey, there," she said. "Seen your surprise yet?"
"I believe I have--I'm parked outside the gates and was wondering how to get in."
"Come by and I'll get you the keys. Believe it or not, those are the original gates. I did some snooping in town and found this old boy who had them, and got them for three hundred bucks. They're wrought iron, and they're worth more than that, but he thought they should go home."
"Well, I'm delighted, Carol," I said. "Great job. FYI, I've rented the stone cottage across the way at Laurel Grove. Something's come up over in Summerfield, and I need to escape to the country. That seemed the perfect place."
"Well done yourself, Lieutenant. Those two won't let that place to just anybody."
"I had Sheriff Walker make a call," I said, "and I'd already met Valeria. Excuse me, Ms. Valeria."
"Don't you forget it, either," she said with a laugh.
"As she pointedly reminded me," I said. "How are we coming with contractors and other undesirables?"
"In a word, nowhere yet, but that's about par for the course. I always need to sweet-talk the good ones, and I'm working on that. I may have to go buy some flashier clothes."
"Last time I checked, you looked pretty good in what you've got,
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