«Find it, and we can ask Sir Rudy where we can get a ladder,» Maggie said, more excited than cold all of a sudden. «You're thinking the plan of the house will show another staircase somewhere? Maybe one that used to lead straight up to Uncle Willis's room before some descendant did some renovating? You English were always renovating. Is that what you're looking for? Or maybe a secret passageway? A priest's hole, maybe? I think I'm thinking the wrong century, but it's a possiblity?»
«Anything is possible, yes, and might serve to explain the lack of footprints in the dust. Ah, what have we here?»
«You found the second plan?»
«No, not yet. But look at this, Maggie,» Alex said, taking hold of her hand so she could join him on the same stair. «Now, this is interesting.»
«A drawing of the house and grounds. Boy, how'd they do that? Go up in a hot air balloon and sketch it that way? This is really pretty good.»
«Ingenuity and talent did not begin with Americans, remember, or with the twentieth century. Why, consider the pyramids.»
«You consider them. I'm looking at the grounds. Alex? There's the stream—see it? Goes almost all the way around the house. It's darn near a moat. And there's the drive we came down, the one that leads to the front door down there. See how it continues around to the back of the house, then splits to go to the stables? Probably the stables, anyway, although they're probably the garages now. Isn't that where the chauffeur said he was going—around to the back, to drop off our luggage? This is neat, I mean, this is really neat . Hold the light steady.»
«Your wish is my command, as always. What do you see? Because I believe I also see it.»
«Wait, I think I've got it. A marking that seems to indicate that there's a back road leading somewhere, right from the area of the kitchens? You think that's the area of the kitchens?»
«I do, yes.»
Maggie, who'd been standing on her tiptoes, eased back down, moved her head from side to side, trying to release the cramp in her neck, the one she'd gotten peering up at the mural. «So what is it, Alex? Why is it there?»
«Tradesman's entrance would be my guess. It appears to hug the outer edge of the gardens before disappearing into that stand of trees. Why hadn't I thought of that earlier? Certainly drays and farm wagons weren't allowed to approach this grand pile on the front drive. I imagine it's still in existence and used by the household staff for their daily comings and goings. Do you suppose it's under water, too? After all, none of the staff was able to come here today.»
Maggie rubbed the back of her neck. «Only one way to find out.»
«True. Unless we ask Sir Rudy.»
«Unless Sir Rudy forgot about it. He forgot about the roof leaking, remember? I don't think he pays much attention to anything except that he's now the owner. Oh, and Marylou, but let's not think about that. Come on, we've been looking at this mural forever and I'm bored with it. Let's go see. Maybe the two of us can walk out of here, go for help somewhere.»
«Tramp on foot at least a mile to the village, in the dark of night, through the rain and wind, yes.»
«Gee, you make it all sound so appealing.» Maggie stopped on the landing and trained the flashlight back down on Alex. «What? What's the matter? You're afraid the local cops will upstage you before you figure out who killed Sam?»
Holding the oil lantern in front of him, he joined her on the first-floor landing. «That remark, madam, is beneath contempt.»
«And right on target,» Maggie said, grinning at him. «Come on, admit it. We weren't looking at that mural to find a way out of here. We were looking for a—oooouuul — a secret passage . A hidden staircase. Oooouuul You want to play the hero, Alex, and now maybe you can't.»
«Bite me.»
Maggie's eyes went wide. Then she giggled. «Bite me? That's all you can think of to say back at me? Bite me ? That's my line, Alex.» Then she slipped her arm through his. «Come on, think positive. Maybe the path is underwater.»
«You can be the most annoying female,» he said just as Nikki came down the stairs toward them, dressed once more in a skintight exercise outfit. She actually had a headband with a small miner's light stuck on the front of it, along with a flashlight in her right hand. Her face was sheened with perspiration; even her hair was wet. Leave it to the woman to be the only one who could work up a sweat in this mausoleum.
«Great, little Miss Perky,» Maggie groused. «And I'm not just talking about the boobs.»
«Hi, all,» Nikki said, waving to them before jogging across the landing to the level of stairs Saint Just and Maggie had just climbed, and starting down them. «Gotta keep the leg muscles working. See ya on the way back!»
«She must have run up and down every staircase in this pile, twice, and there's bunches of them. I hate energetic people. Besides, I thought she was shacking up with the nephew,» Maggie said, then looked at her watch. «Wow, we've actually been fooling around with that mural for over an hour, Alex. Still, I guess Byrd is a fast worker. Alex? Now what's your problem?»
«They all could have scattered everywhere, couldn't they?» he asked, frowning. «I hesitate to suggest we count noses yet again. After all, one or more of them is a murderer, not a potential victim, and none of them can actually escape.»
«Unless the path at the back of the house is passable,» Maggie reminded him, giving his arm a tug. «Come on. We can't just keep counting noses. Let's go do what we can do. There's a staircase leading down to the kitchens back past the study. I used it earlier.»
«Yes, you're right,» Saint Just agreed. «Undercuffler is the victim, and there's no reason to believe there might be another one. And yet, as we've not uncovered a motive, merely the manner of death? Yes. It is time to call in the local authorities. I shouldn't have delayed at all.»
«Like any of us had a choice?»
Alex paused outside the closed door to the main saloon, then reached into his pocket and pulled out—a cell phone!
»You've got a —»
He clamped his hand over her mouth and pulled her to the far side of the hallway, away from the closed doors. «Quietly, my dear. I'm going to take my hand off your mouth now, and you're going to be quiet, correct?»
Maggie nodded, her eyes boring into him until he removed his hand, at which time, whispering , she said accusingly, «You've got a cell phone. How could you have a cell phone and not—oh, Alex. Alex, Alex, Alex. You just can't resist trying to play the hero. Solve the crime.»
«I am the hero, remember?» he pointed out, smiling that infuriating smile of his. The one she'd imagined for her perfect hero. Intelligent. Arrogant. Knee-melting. That smile. «In any event, unless this service entrance is passable, we're still effectively cut off from civilization, remember?»
«Yeah? Well maybe the locals have a rowboat. Did you think of that?»
«Actually, no. You're very good at this, Maggie.»
«I made you, remember?» she said, then swore under her breath as the doors to the main saloon opened and Troy walked out to join them.
«I thought I heard someone out here. We're back inside, most of us,» Troy told them, then looked down at the open notebook he carried. «Let's see. Arnaud—we patched things up—Sir Rudy, Marylou, your two friends, Dennis. The Sterlings. Evan says he's staying in his room unless the place catches fire.»
«I'm beginning to believe I really misjudged that man,» Saint Just said, smiling.
«Uh-huh,» Troy said, running his fingertip down the page. «Who else? Nikki's not here. Probably doing sit-ups somewhere, or her nails. She doesn't have any talent, you know, just the body. That goes and she's done, and she knows it. Paris Hilton without daddy's money behind her. She's thirty already, probably more than that, so she's almost gone now. I mean, really? Boffo Transmissions? Tabloid covers? Oh, here she comes.»