The evening came on with a wash of warm, humid air and the threat of another thunderstorm at some point. We ate out on the front porch because the house was too hot except on that semiunderground floor. The builders knew what they were about, but I wanted to be able to see around the lawns and that broad sweep of grass leading down to the river.
I talked to Carol about what might happen, which ranged from absolutely nothing to a pitched gun battle inside the house. "The idea is to make him come to us," I said. "Assuming he's coming at all."
"Then I should move my vehicle," she said. "Park it over at the cottage or back in one of those barns. It might be useful if he thinks it's just you and him."
I looked out at the lovely vista of fields, lawns, and acres of trees, changing shape and color as the sun went down and that hot, humid breeze stirred all the greenery. Then I had a thought.
"Let's move inside now," I said, getting up and picking up the remains of supper.
"Why? It's so nice-oh," she said.
"I'm guessing he's been watching us for a while," I said, "and possibly right now. If he's doing it through a rifle scope, he has a problem, because there are two targets. One will not survive the first shot."
"The other might live to tell the tale," she said.
"Yeah. Something like that."
She shivered at the thought that someone might have crosshairs on us. We tried to keep it casual but almost collided at the front door trying to get through it. She laughed nervously as I pushed her gently through and into the house. The mutts came with us, still hoping for table scraps. They say dogs can't count, but mine sure can.
"Hester was appalled at the thought of our tearing this house down," she said, sitting on one of the beds, which I'd set up in the same drawing room in which the old lady had lived. "Spitting mad. Seriously high dudgeon. The appropriate authorities will be notified. Lawyers will be unleashed in angry battalions."
"How about Valeria?"
"Happily spaced out on some kind of prescription joy juice," she said. "Very much on her side these days. I could see one of the wounds, and it looked painful."
"What in the world could be hidden here that would inspire Hester to have somebody murdered?"
"You think she ordered Callendar to shoot the dog trainer?"
"No, I think that's just how this crew goes through life: Do what I say, and do it now. If you do it poorly, I'll have your ass for it. It's also very convenient if you live a hundred fifty years back in time; what crimes against the 'slaves' you do don't count against you."
The light in the western sky died as a dark curtain of thunderclouds rose up over the foothills. "So what brought him back?"
"I think she told him to make me go away, and then left it up to him as to how and when. I think he'll up the ante now, because the will's probably useless."
"If that's true, why would he come at all?"
"Because Hester's pissed, and also scared of something. So far, Callendar has failed. We know what happens to Lees who fail."
"Oh," she said. "Should we make sure the house is secure?"
I'd already done that, but it wouldn't hurt to do it again. "Let's start with the basement," I said. I took Kitty with us and left Frick in the kitchen and Frack on the main floor. That put a dog on every level with access to the outside.
I'd secured the basement door with the same rig Callendar had used against me, after first pulling that iron bar into the basement. He couldn't get in, but we could get out. We checked the rest of the basement to make sure we hadn't missed anything, and I made Carol step into the tunnel so I could test the restraints. She seemed glad to get back in. I knew the feeling.
The lowest, partially underground floor had windows, and there wasn't much we could do about them. They were smaller than the big ones on the main floor but still large enough to admit a determined human. I'd wired up the camera we had used over in the cottage to survey the stairway coming up from the kitchen to the main floor, which was the best I could do. I'd have loved to have a few hundred feet of black fishing line and some tin cans to lay out a web on the floor, but we were fresh out.
In the kitchen we checked the access to the springhouse and secured that door from our side. We set up some pots and pans under the two windows so that anyone sliding through should drop one on the floor. I showed her the word CALLENDAR chiseled into the mantel rock. She ran her fingers over it and wondered what it meant.
"Cubby said it was important, but I can't figure out why. It is old, if that plaster's any indication."
"You'd think it would have been centered," she said.
I looked at it. She was right. The name had been carved left of center on the long stone.
I found the hammer Cubby had used and began to whack gently on the blackened plaster to the right of the name while Carol held a flashlight on it. Sure enough, as the plaster bits fell into the hearth, more letters appeared. When we were done, though, we still had a mystery.
CALLENDAR KILLED THEM ALL, it read.
"Killed who?" Carol asked.
"Beats me," I said as I became aware of the rising wind outside. "Storm's coming in. We should probably get upstairs."
"You going to leave a dog down here?" she asked, pointing to Frick.
"That would be a smart move," I said, "but they're scared of thunder and lightning. No way will she stay down here if I'm upstairs."
As if to make my point, the first drumroll of thunder echoed across the river bottoms, and Frick immediately plastered herself to my leg.
"You are a useless mutt," I told her.
Her expression said, Take me upstairs. Don't make me bite you.
The storm lasted an hour this time, ending with the skies drained and one tremendous, crack-of-doom thunder boom that announced its departure from the county. I'd watched the monitor throughout the storm, but I'd forgotten what a lightning flash could do to an IR camera. If Callendar had approached the house, I'd have never seen him in all the blank white screens. The good news was that the spring storm had also washed out all of the heat, and now a cool, clear breeze came through the windows. I hated the thought of closing them, but there were no screens, and there would be bugs galore if we didn't.
Carol went into the bathroom and reappeared ten minutes later in a sweatshirt tracksuit. Practical, decidedly unenticing, and warm enough for the night temps in this old house. She'd planned ahead. I hadn't, so I would have to sleep in my clothes.
"Shall we keep watch together, take shifts, or what?" she asked, sitting down on the bed she'd appropriated.
"I'm going to sit up for a while," I said. "Have a Scotch and try to figure out what his possibilities are."
"I'll join you in a Scotch," she said, "but then I'm used to early bedtime."
We sat out on the front porch again, but back against the front wall of the house behind one of the columns so as to be less conspicuous. We talked about not much, and finally she brought the conversation around to the night in the alley that had ended her police career.
"Such as it was," she said. "Four years street, then a shield. Then the shooting, and I was out."
"You did better than most," I said. "Lotta guys never leave the street."
"A fair number don't want to," she said. "You know, the politics, dealing directly with bosses. Most of my friends on the force preferred to chase bad guys."
"The sheriff warned me not to let you stay here tonight," I said. Then I told her what he'd said. I figured it might come easier if I said it instead of her. She smiled in the dark.