I deduced from the conversation I’d overheard that those two were the only ones in
the house – or at least the only ones officially in the house. All the same, I kept an ear tuned
as I crossed the room and entered the next hall.
A large staircase rose before me. I ran lightly up.
When I got to the top level, I hesitated, trying to figure which direction to go. I started
to the left, then remembered that now that I was upstairs, there was strong possibility my
footsteps could be heard from below. I tiptoed into the first room, wincing at each creak of
the floor.
In the failing light I could barely discern that the room was carpeted in cream-beige
tones and empty of furnishings. A large window overlooked the pool. I peered down at
Betty, who was still arguing with Wilmer. He stood out of my line of vision.
Thatta girl. Don’t give up without a fight .
I proceeded through a lavishly appointed bath – as the real estate guides say – into the
next room, also empty. It was getting too dark to see. Another reason to hurry.
There were six bedrooms and four baths in all, each of them empty. By the time I’d
finished my search, Betty and her companion had disappeared from the garden.
I crept to the head of the staircase and looked down. Nothing to see. I listened. Hello
darkness, my old friend…
Damn. Where were they?
How much time did I have? I peered at my watch in the gloom. I’d used up thirty
minutes already.
I needed to search the downstairs floor, but I was out of time. The longer I spent
prowling these rooms, the higher the odds that I would be discovered. Besides, I couldn’t
believe that they would stash a prisoner on the ground floor with caterers and cleaners on
the premises. Even the upstairs had been a stretch.
I’d been wrong. Again.
I crept down the main staircase, tiptoed along the hall that led back to the kitchen. I
made my way across the slick tile floor like I was treading a mine field. Every second, I
expected to hear someone raise the alarm.
At the door leading onto the garden I hesitated, listening. I didn’t want to stroll outside
and run into Betty or Wilmer. My gaze fell on an unobtrusive door to the left of the pantry. I
had assumed it was a broom closet. Now I wondered.
I left my post at the door and sneaked back, easing open the door, expecting a wall of
brooms and pails and mops to come crashing out like in the cartoons.
But the closet was empty. In fact, it felt too big for a closet. I felt around for a light
switch. The dull overhead light came on, and I was staring down a flight of steps to what was
most likely the basement.
Just like that, I knew I’d been right.
I tiptoed down the stairs and found myself on the outside of a door with an old-
fashioned handle. Very cautiously, I turned the knob. It was locked. Big surprise.
I rattled the knob. Someone spoke on the other side. I couldn’t make out what he said,
but he wasn’t yelling for reinforcements, which was probably a good sign.
With an uneasy glance over my shoulder, I pulled out my pocket knife and undid the
screws holding the old-fashioned escutcheon in place. I didn’t have time to be subtle. The
door knob fell out.
I opened the door.
The room was a store room. Junk was piled from floor to ceiling. Enough space had
been cleared in the center of the room for a cot. A man lay on the cot. He was talking to the
ceiling.
It was Gabriel Savant.
“Hey,” I whispered.
He continued to hold forth with the shapes in the plaster ceiling.
I walked over to the cot and stared down. He stopped talking and gazed up at me with
bloodshot, dilated eyes.
“Savant,” I said. “Can you walk?”
“I know you,” he said. “I remember you.” He began to hum the melody to the old
Johnny Mercer song, “I Remember You.” Off key.
“Shhhhhhhh!” I squatted for a closer look at him. One look at his eyes told me all I
needed to know. He was drugged out of his skull. No way could I waltz him out of there on
my own.
Savant smiled at me.
“You’re the bookseller. Avery. Avery…I’ve forgotten your last name.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. I flicked open my cell phone, relieved to see I had a signal. I
rang Guy.
“Where are you?” he answered. “There’s a catering truck pulling into the gates.”
Keeping my voice low, I said, “They’ve got Savant locked in the basement. He’s totally
stoned.”
“You need to get out of there,” Guy said vehemently. “Now.”
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah. I’ll call the police. Get out of there now. Go!”
“I’m going to try to –”
“No!”
His panic silenced me.
“…a distant bell…” crooned Savant.
Fiercely, Guy said, “If they find you, they won’t let you leave. They can’t. Don’t you
realize what today is?”
“Friday?” Then it hit me. “December twenty-first.” Winter Solstice.
“Yule,” agreed Guy.
“Is the blue sedan still parked out front?”
“What? Yes! GO!”
“I’m on my way. Call the cops,” I said and rang off. So I still had both Betty and Wilmer
to contend with. The arrival of the caterers wouldn’t help, if we got ourselves locked up in
this soundproof basement – or taken to another location before the cops arrived. I smacked
Savant’s gaunt cheek lightly. “Savant? Gabe, wake up!”
He stopped singing. Peered at me. “Wah…wha?”
“We’ve got to get out of here. Can you walk?”
“Wha – where?”
“Not far.” I wasn’t sure I could get him up the stairs, and I was damn sure I couldn’t get
him across the yard without being seen. Frankly, I doubted I could get him across the yard at
all, but maybe I could stash him somewhere safe on the grounds. Just until the cops arrived. I
was afraid to leave him in the basement in case someone decided practicality was preferable
to ritual and dispatched him when they heard the sirens.
I draped his arm around my neck, levered him to his feet. He hugged me.
“Always liked you,” he said.