Emory paced in Blair Geister’s office as he talked on his phone to the local sheriff. “I definitely will.”
Jeff waved him over to one of the framed photos on the wall – Blair when she was young, with her parents and brother in Gatlinburg. “Bet it’s their last picture together.”
“We’ll see you then.” Emory hung up and turned to his partner. “Sheriff Flynn is out of town and won’t be back until tomorrow. He wants us to seal off the bedroom for him.”
Jeff spun the standing globe adjacent to the desk. “Where’s Eden going to sleep?”
“Oh, I haven’t told you. She kicked you out of the guest room. Your stuff is in the den.”
“Ugh. I’ve been relegated to steerage.”
Emory smirked and touched his shoulder. “You’ll survive.”
Jeff ran his fingers over the smooth, white surface of Blair Geister’s drafting table. “You know, since we have a definite murder and a long list of suspects, we need to start a murder board.”
“We can’t display a murder board in full view of potential suspects.”
“I know.” Jeff adjusted the drafting table, tilting the top to almost ninety degrees. He turned the table around to Emory, exposing the underside of the tabletop. “We’ll use this and tilt it back into place when we’re done.
Emory inspected the table. “Great idea.”
Virginia bounded into the room. “Good news, Emory. No one’s trying to kill you.”
In his excitement, Emory pushed on the drafting table, clocking Jeff in the face as it tilted up. “You know who threw the axe?”
“The neighbor. I talked to him. He was aiming for the gargoyles, not you.”
Jeff massaged his jaw, straightening himself. “I’m fine, by the way. It’s good to know your attempted murder has been plea bargained down to attempted manslaughter. Virginia, we’re starting a murder board. Would you mind—”
She anticipated his request. “Finding online pics of everyone involved in the case. No problem.”
Jeff turned to Emory. “Before we hunker down on this, let’s select an expensive sipping wine from Blair’s cellar.”
“Is it even noon yet?” Emory looked for a clock on the walls.
“It’s already happy hour in my head.”
Virginia laughed as he passed her. “When is it not?”
Emory followed Jeff out the door and down the stairs to the lower level, discussing the case along the way. “I’m glad we didn’t let Eden throw away the original mattress. Remember the outline, the way the hand was up above the head?” Emory mimicked the pose.
“I remember.”
“I think Blair Geister’s hand was touching the metal headboard. She probably died instantly.”
Jeff held the door to the wine cellar open for Emory. “Best way to go.”
“Something else odd happened last night.” Emory walked to the right of the table in the center of the cellar.
Jeff perused the wines displayed along the left wall. “Something else? I picked a bad night to leave.”
“You did.” Emory checked out the bottles racked along the wall. “There was a man in the woods, standing by that historical cedar tree.”
“He was just standing there?”
“I think he was about to dig for something. He had a shovel in his hand.”
Jeff picked up a bottle and inspected the label. “Could the Pangram Box be buried on the property?”
“Digging up the property would go against the directive in the will not to damage anything while looking for the Pangram Box.”
“Are you in the mood for a merlot?”
“I’m not picky.” Emory reached a section devoted to red blends. “The guy I saw was dressed like Zyus Drake.”
“It was Zyus?”
“No, he was dressed like Zyus.”
“Seriously? Why dress like Zyus and stand by a tree waiting for you to notice?”
“I didn’t get the impression he wanted me to see him. I think he was disguised as Zyus in case anyone did.”
“But why?”
“I have no idea.”
“It had to be Zyus. Hey, look at this.” Jeff held up a dusty wine bottle. “It’s a 1982 Chateau Petrus Bordeaux. This is worth like five grand.”
“Put it back. I’m not going to take expensive wine from a deceased woman’s collection.”
“Why not? Juniper told us to make ourselves at home.”
“It’s unseemly.”
Jeff returned the bottle to the rack. “I think it’s very seemly, but fine. I wouldn’t want to sully your morality.”
Emory ignored his comment because the label on a particular bottle caught his eye. La Fleur’s Winery. California. Coyote Red. Under the words was a water color of a red coyote. He glanced at the painting on the wall, past the gaunt figure of Hugo Hickory to Waya’ha, the red coyote watching the murderous soldier from behind a tree. He looked back at the painting of the red coyote on the wine label. “It’s uncanny.”
“What is?” asked Jeff.
“The coyote on the wine label looks so much like Waya’ha in that painting.” He picked up the bottle to show Jeff, and he felt something click. He looked at the cradle that had held the bottle and saw a black trigger inside it. “Huh. Do they all have that?” He picked up the bottle next to it and saw no such trigger, nor did he find one in two other cradles. “Hey, Jeff, come look at this.”
Jeff cleared his throat. “No, you look at this.”
Emory turned around to see his partner now standing by the painting, but it wasn’t where it had been when he last looked. Instead of being flat against the wall, the frame now protruded from the wall at ninety degrees, with the left side of the frame still touching the wall. “What did you do?”
Jeff threw a hand to his chest. “It wasn’t me. It must’ve been something you did.”
Emory pushed down the trigger in the wine cradle. The painting started returning to the wall. He released the trigger, and the painting again protruded. He looked at the coyote on the wine label. “You are Waya’ha.”
“That’s not all.” Jeff beckoned Emory with his index finger.
Emory placed the wine bottle on the table and walked up to the front of the painting.
“This side.”
He joined Jeff behind the painting and followed his gaze. Built into the wall, behind where the painting hung, was a steel box about the size of the artwork, minus the frame. “A safe.”
“Notice anything strange about it?”
Emory focused on the safe’s most prominent feature – the standard safe handle to turn after inputting the combination. That’s when it hit him. “There’s no lock.”
“Exactly. What kind of safe has no lock?”
“No such thing.” Emory gasped. “It’s the Pangram Box!”
“It has to be, right?”
“Do we open it?”
“Don’t be stupid.” Jeff turned the handle and opened the safe door.
Emory caught a glimpse of something inside the safe before it disappeared. “Did you see that?”
“I did. What the hell?”
“It was the Box, right? I couldn’t tell what it was made of, but I think I saw writing on it.”
Jeff felt around the inside of the empty safe, which was about large enough to store a carry-on bag. “I feel something.” He pushed on the bottom, and it opened down, inside the wall. “The bottom is a flap. It must’ve released when I opened the safe door. But why?”
Emory heard a continuous whooshing sound that began when Jeff pushed the bottom down. “What’s that noise?”
“It feels like a fan blowing. When Jeff drew his hand out of the safe, the bottom flapped back into place, and the whooshing stopped.
Emory stepped forward and pushed the bottom down again. He could feel the air blowing on his fingertips. “It’s not a fan. It’s one of those pneumatic tube systems.”
“A what?”
“Juniper told us this room was a pharmacy when the house was a convalescent home. I worked one summer in a hospital pharmacy. They used a pneumatic tube system to send pill bottles up to the floors. They probably used it here for the same reason. Blair Geister must’ve modified it.”
“The Box was sent somewhere else in this house?”
“Well, I don’t think the safe was rigged to just drop it behind the wall, where no one could reach it without damaging the room.”
“But why?”
Emory tried to think of a reason. “I don’t know.”
A voice behind them said, “You found it!”
Emory and Jeff jerked around to see Zyus Drake entering the room. He was wearing the same mask as before, with jeans and a maroon pullover that accentuated his massive frame. “The Pangram Box. Is that it?” Zyus walked around the table to stand before them. “It’s empty. Did you take what was inside?”
Emory heard the knuckles cracking in Zyus’ clenching fists. “We didn’t take anything.”
Jeff interceded. “This is how we found it. Completely empty. What were you expecting to find?”
Zyus pounded a fist on the table. “How the hell should I know? You guys were there. I don’t know nothing more than what was said.”
Emory raised a hand. “Wait a minute. Do you know this is the Pangram Box, or were you assuming it was?”
“Assuming, I guess. That’s not it?”
Jeff waved to the empty safe. “If it is, it isn’t much of an inheritance.”
Zyus looked at Emory. “Sorry about scaring you last night. This mask isn’t the most comfortable, so I only wear it when I know I’m going to run into people. I try to stay out of sight.”
“You don’t need to apologize, and you didn’t scare me.”
“I scared Eden.”
Emory gave a polite laugh. “Well, she had a lot going on at that moment.”
Jeff stepped between them. “Zyus, what do you think Blair Geister would’ve left you in the Box?”
Zyus shrugged his massive shoulders. “I couldn’t begin to guess. I was surprised I was even in the will.”
“Why the hoops?” asked Jeff. “Why not just give it to you, whatever it is?”
Zyus sighed. “I guess she wanted to challenge me.”
“Uh-uh. That’s bull.”
Emory grabbed his partner’s arm. “Jeff—”
“No, I’m not going to pussyfoot around.” Jeff held a finger to Zyus’ chest, just a breath shy of touching him. “She said in the will that you like to play games. What did she mean by that?”
Zyus crossed his arms and filled his chest with the palpable air of disdain. For a moment, Emory feared the masked man was going to headbutt his partner. “Our relationship’s none of your business.”
Emory wedged a shoulder between them. “Mr. Drake, Blair Geister alluded to a feeling of guilt. Is she responsible for… uh… the mask?”
Zyus bore into Emory with his light brown, almost golden, eyes. He turned away and took a seat at the table. “Blair invited me to one of her parties – something she hadn’t done before.”
Emory and Jeff sat at the table across from him.
“I don’t know why, but I was nervous. I started going through the drinks pretty good. I guess I was embarrassing Blair. She wanted to get me away from the party. She made her assistant give up her room so I could sleep it off.”
“Not Blair’s room?” asked Jeff.
“We didn’t have that kind of relationship. Anyway, I could tell that Juniper wasn’t thrilled about having to give up her room. I don’t remember exactly, but I guess I wasn’t happy about it either. Apparently, I left and went upstairs, probably looking for Blair’s room. I ended up crashing in the guest room, even though it was under construction at the time and didn’t have any furniture.”
“You slept on the floor?” asked Emory.
“I had a pillow. Must’ve taken Juniper’s.” He inhaled a nervous breath. “I… uh…” He clenched a fist on the table. He started to speak again, but his voice carried a different, much more vulnerable tone. “The drywall had been torn out, so there was nothing but old exposed wood all around.”
Zyus lowered his head. “While I was passed out on the floor, spi… spiders… brown recluses came out of the wall.” He choked up and couldn’t speak for several seconds. “I woke up. I had three, four… I don’t know how many spiders on my face. I freaked out, and they started biting me.”
Jeff gasped. “Oh shit.”
“Their venom kills the skin. Necrosis. I lost half my face!”
Emory asked, “Is that why you sued her?”
“Of course, I sued her!” Zyus ripped off his mask. “This happened here, at her place! I got drunk at a party. I didn’t deserve this!”
Emory steeled himself when he realized what Zyus was about to do, but he couldn’t suppress micro-expressions of horror.
Jeff, who was seeing Zyus’ face for the first time, winced but maintained eye contact. “I’ll bet she blamed you. Said it was your fault for not staying in Juniper’s room.”
Tears ran down Zyus’ good cheek but dripped into his mouth on the other side. “That guest room door should’ve been locked. No one should’ve been allowed in there.” He buried his head in his hands and sobbed.
Jeff looked at Emory. “We should go.”
As the PIs scooted their chairs back, Zyus growled, “Wait! I need your help.”
Emory asked, “What do you need?”
“You guys are private investigators. I want to hire you to help me find what Blair left me. The Pangram Box.”
Emory sighed. “We’re already working for Ms. Crane. Working for you too might pose some ethical issues.”
“Then just help me find it because it’s the right thing to do. Look, you don’t have to do anything, really. If you find it, you could maybe point it out to me.”
Emory looked at Jeff, who replied, “We’ll think about it.”