pleasure. This is just too Agatha Christie-ish.
Handling the flashlight, the key and the lock proved a little tricky, but eventually, she got the job done. This time, the padlock opened after two hard pulls. The hinges screeched loudly as she forced the door open just wide enough to look inside.
The light disclosed a shorter passageway and a second door, this one without a padlock. With images of Chinese puzzle boxes inspiring her, she turned the knob. It grated, held for a moment and finally rotated. She directed the light ahead of her but instead of being able to step through the doorway, she came smack against a wooden panel.
Had the entrance been boarded up to keep people out? Frustrated, she pushed against the panel, expecting to meet resistance. Instead, it rocked gently beneath her palm. She rapped her knuckles lightly against it. "Hollow," she muttered.
Trailing the light around the sides revealed that the panel formed the back of a cabinet. Carefully, she maneuvered it away from the opening and stepped around it into a room she could make out in disjointed fashion as the flashlight's beam moved from spot to spot. Excitement set her heart beating erratically, threatening to burst forth as an adolescent giggle. In the center of the room, she yanked on a light cord dangling from the ceiling fixture and laughed in delight as her own basement emerged from the darkness.
Chapter Six
Callie turned slowly, surveying the cellar and the equipment being used to repair the sagging joists. Why was everything strewn about so haphazardly? She expected better work habits from Nick's men. She examined the scarred old utility cabinet hiding the door. Had anyone wondered about it? Or seen the door on the blueprints? Did anyone know about the passage?
Who had built the tunnel? Had the handcar been used for convenience or to mask clandestine activities? Should she do something to conceal her discovery?
Deciding to simply put everything back as she'd found it, she pulled the cabinet into place and shut the door. Although inspection had shown that the padlock could be used on either side she decided to leave it in its original position to avoid detection.
She made her way back to where she’d started. A faint sound of hammering became louder the closer she got. Hugging the wall, she watched Luc put the final touches to a wooden door fitted to the head frame of the mine entrance. With her way in and out barred, she had no choice but to retrace her steps to The Mansion’s basement.
Curious about the disorder and the silence, she stepped onto the veranda. Two men were helping a third into a mud spattered pickup. The tires ground into the dirt as the vehicle spun out and sped toward the road.
Callie approached Nick Forrest. "What happened?"
The contractor thumbed the air over his shoulder. "Scaffolding collapsed on one side of the building."
"Sheriff Moreno's down by the old mine,” she said. “Should I get him?"
"Yeah," Nick replied absently. "Okay. Maybe he oughta take a look at things."
"How'd this happen?" Luc asked when he returned with Callie.
"Don't know yet," Nick said in a voice so controlled it seemed strangled. "Been so busy takin' care of my men, I haven't had a chance to check it out."
"How many were hurt?" the sheriff asked.
"Two. One's more scared than anything, 'cept for scratches and some bruises. He managed to grab onto a neighboring frame. Other one separated a shoulder, I think."
The two men knelt to inspect the pile of metal uprights and cross braces that resembled a bunch of pickup sticks strewn at odd angles by an impatient child.
"Here's the problem," Luc said, pointing to two pieces of aluminum piping. "The pin's been sheared off where the sections of frame join."
Nick inspected the scaffolding on the other side. "Same here. Looks like the only thing holding this together were the cross braces."
"The sections probably tore loose when they shifted
Handling the flashlight, the key and the lock proved a little tricky, but eventually, she got the job done. This time, the padlock opened after two hard pulls. The hinges screeched loudly as she forced the door open just wide enough to look inside.
The light disclosed a shorter passageway and a second door, this one without a padlock. With images of Chinese puzzle boxes inspiring her, she turned the knob. It grated, held for a moment and finally rotated. She directed the light ahead of her but instead of being able to step through the doorway, she came smack against a wooden panel.
Had the entrance been boarded up to keep people out? Frustrated, she pushed against the panel, expecting to meet resistance. Instead, it rocked gently beneath her palm. She rapped her knuckles lightly against it. "Hollow," she muttered.
Trailing the light around the sides revealed that the panel formed the back of a cabinet. Carefully, she maneuvered it away from the opening and stepped around it into a room she could make out in disjointed fashion as the flashlight's beam moved from spot to spot. Excitement set her heart beating erratically, threatening to burst forth as an adolescent giggle. In the center of the room, she yanked on a light cord dangling from the ceiling fixture and laughed in delight as her own basement emerged from the darkness.
Chapter Six
Callie turned slowly, surveying the cellar and the equipment being used to repair the sagging joists. Why was everything strewn about so haphazardly? She expected better work habits from Nick's men. She examined the scarred old utility cabinet hiding the door. Had anyone wondered about it? Or seen the door on the blueprints? Did anyone know about the passage?
Who had built the tunnel? Had the handcar been used for convenience or to mask clandestine activities? Should she do something to conceal her discovery?
Deciding to simply put everything back as she'd found it, she pulled the cabinet into place and shut the door. Although inspection had shown that the padlock could be used on either side she decided to leave it in its original position to avoid detection.
She made her way back to where she’d started. A faint sound of hammering became louder the closer she got. Hugging the wall, she watched Luc put the final touches to a wooden door fitted to the head frame of the mine entrance. With her way in and out barred, she had no choice but to retrace her steps to The Mansion’s basement.
Curious about the disorder and the silence, she stepped onto the veranda. Two men were helping a third into a mud spattered pickup. The tires ground into the dirt as the vehicle spun out and sped toward the road.
Callie approached Nick Forrest. "What happened?"
The contractor thumbed the air over his shoulder. "Scaffolding collapsed on one side of the building."
"Sheriff Moreno's down by the old mine,” she said. “Should I get him?"
"Yeah," Nick replied absently. "Okay. Maybe he oughta take a look at things."
"How'd this happen?" Luc asked when he returned with Callie.
"Don't know yet," Nick said in a voice so controlled it seemed strangled. "Been so busy takin' care of my men, I haven't had a chance to check it out."
"How many were hurt?" the sheriff asked.
"Two. One's more scared than anything, 'cept for scratches and some bruises. He managed to grab onto a neighboring frame. Other one separated a shoulder, I think."
The two men knelt to inspect the pile of metal uprights and cross braces that resembled a bunch of pickup sticks strewn at odd angles by an impatient child.
"Here's the problem," Luc said, pointing to two pieces of aluminum piping. "The pin's been sheared off where the sections of frame join."
Nick inspected the scaffolding on the other side. "Same here. Looks like the only thing holding this together were the cross braces."
"The sections probably tore loose when they shifted
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