Sarah Graves - Mallets Aforethought (Home Repair Is Homicide Mysteries)

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PDB Name: Sarah Graves - 07 - Mallets Afo

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Creation Date: 5/17/2008

Modification Date: 5/17/2008

Last Backup Date: 1/1/1970

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Synopsis:

Jacobia Jake Tiptree left her high-powered career for a dilapidated fixer-upper and the dream of a quiet existence in the quaint town of Eastport, Maine. But she found that no matter how carefully you remodel your life, murder can take up residence anywhere.

Its Eastports most notorious landmark: the old Harlequin House. Named for the disgraced physician Chester Harlequin, it was used as a hideout for gunshot gangsters and their molls during Prohibitions heyday. Now fixer-upper enthusiast Jake Tiptree and Harlequins only living descendant, Ellie White, are refurbishing the mansard-roofed mansion to host the local Historical Societys upcoming gala. But when stripping down old wallpaper reveals a secret door to a room containing not one but two corpses, Jake and Ellie once again find home repair leading to homicide.

One of the bodies is a skeleton dressed in 1920s flapper chic. But the other is that of real-estate mogul Hector Gosling, and in his pocket is a paper bearing the single word Guilty. The less-than-scrupulous tycoon has been poisoned, and when its learned that the offending substance is the poison that Ellies husband George has been using to kill red ants, he is immediately taken into custody. Then it develops that George had recently accused Gosling of a scheme to scam Georges vulnerable old aunt out of her life savings and George out of his inheritance.

With George held for murder, Jake and a pregnant Ellie swing into action. In between Ellies Lamaze sessions, baby showers, and CPR classes taught by Jakes ex-husband Victor, the two amateur sleuths must sift their way through a trail of seemingly contradictory clues. Then another corpse surfaces and suddenly Jake and Ellie realize they must find this killer fast. A clever culprit is not only building an airtight case against Ellies husband. He or she is planning to nail everyone who stands in the way.

Mallets Aforethought

By

Sarah Graves

The seventh book in the Home Repair is Homicide Mysteries series

Copyright a 2004 by Sarah Graves

Chapter 1

The body was all withered sinews and leathery skin, seated on a low wooden chair in the tiny room whose door my friend Ellie White and I had just forced open. Slumped over a table, one arm outstretched, the body wore a sequined chemise whose silver hem-fringe crossed its mummified thigh.

Masses of bangles circled the knobby wrists and rings hung loosely on the long bony fingers. From beneath black bobbed hair the hollow eye sockets peeked coyly at us, the mouth a toothy rictus of mischief.

Or malice. A candle burnt down to a puddled stub stood in an ornate holder by the bodys arm. A tiaralike headpiece with a glass jewel in its bezel had fallen to the floor.

Ellie and I stood frozen for a moment, neither of us able to speak for the horridness of the surprise. Then:

Oh, breathed Ellie, sinking heavily into the window seat of the dilapidated parlor wed been working on. It was Saturday morning and around us the aging timbers of Eastports most decrepit old mansion, Harlequin House, creaked uneasily.

Only the wind, I told myself. Outside it was blowing a gale. But the fact brought little comfort, since after a century or so without maintenance, the old mansions skeleton was probably less sturdy than the body we were staring at. Being sealed in the room had apparently preserved it like some denizen of King Tuts tomb.

A woman, Ellie added, her voice still faint with shock.

Yes, I responded, sniffing the air curiously. Thinking... something. I just didnt know exactly what, yet.

The parlor was lit by a couple of lamps wed brought from home, the power in the house having been turned on only the day before. This morning was meant to be a work party but it seemed the storm had discouraged all but the two of us. Around us lay damp swathes of stripped wallpaper and the scrapers and putty knives wed been using to pull down chunks of cracked plaster.

It was behind one of those cracks wed first found the faint outlines of a hidden aperture, and of course a secret door had been irresistible. Who wouldnt want to learn what lay behind it, where it might lead?

But now I reentered the chamber cautiously. Its air smelled of the dust to which its occupant had partially returned, and of something else, the faint whiff Id caught earlier: not dusty.

Not in the slightest. The lamplight barely reached the back of the little room. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom there, I made out the shape in the corner.

And identified it, wishing I hadnt.

Lets get out of here, I said, exiting hurriedly.

Dont worry, Im fine, said Ellie, misunderstanding me. I just felt strange for a minute.

Her speedy recovery was little more than I expected. Ellie wasnt usually much daunted by dead bodies, antique or otherwise. Her shaky reaction to this one I put down to the fact that at the moment she was as pregnant as a person could be without actually wheeling into the delivery room.

Help me... oof!... up. Gripping my hand, she struggled to her feet. I swear this isnt a kid, its a Volkswagen.

Only a little longer, I comforted her distractedly, still staring into the hidden room.

Itd better be, she retorted. If this baby doesnt come soon Im going to start charging it rent.

There were two bodies in there.

Lots, she emphasized, of rent.

One old body. And a new one. Ellie, have you ever heard any stories about another door into this room?

She could have, if one existed. An ancestor on Ellies mothers side, Chester Harlequin, had owned the house in its heyday.

No. She peered puzzledly at me. With her red hair softly framing a heart-shaped face, green eyes above freckles the color of gold dust, and a long slim body blooming out at the middle like some enchanted flower, Ellie resembled a storybook princess and was as tough as Maine granite.

But she was in trouble now and she didnt even know it.

Yet.

Id never even heard of this one, she added. I have seen photographs of this parlor, though, back when

Her gesture took in the ramshackle interior wall where the door had been concealed, its trim removed and panels smoothed over by a coat of plaster topped with the same fusty vines-and-grape-leaves pattern as the rest of the ornate old chamber.

the wallpaper was new, she said. Last time this room was redone was sometime back in the twenties.

Although when it was hung, that paper had probably looked ultramodern. In its time Harlequin House had been a showplace, with parquet floors, marble mantels, and chandeliers so grand and numerous that the house for a while was dubbed the crystal palace.

Why someone had also walled a body up in it was a question I supposed might never be answerednot after more than eighty years. Which I guessed was truly how long the woman had been dead; the state of the plaster, the wallpaper, and the bodys own costume all testified to it pretty convincingly.

Yet there were no additional obvious entrances to the room, and the inner walls were all of unplastered boards. Any break in them, however well repaired, would have been clearly visible. In short it appeared that the room had been sealed since the first body was entombed. So howd the second one gotten in there?

I know her, Ellie said suddenly. Ive seen old pictures of her wearing the dress and the tiara. Its Eva Thane, the woman my Uncle Chester was... So thats what happened to her.

Ellie, wait. Shed gotten her wind back and was about to reenter the room, her shock giving way to the curiosity that was among her most prominent character traits.