• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

After allowing several minutes for Phillips to leave the room, I left my hiding place and tried the knobs again. I didn’t expect the doors to open but I had to be sure. When I had confirmed that they were locked tight I searched for another way in.

Moving around the house, I tried all the windows and doors. Some of the windows were too high to reach but everything else was locked tight. By the time I had once again reached the patio, the task of breaking into Maitland House seemed impossible.

That was the moment Casper chose to appear.

I glared at him. “So you haven’t deserted me.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” he said, ignoring my snippy tone.

“Well it doesn’t matter anyway, because I won’t be getting into Maitland House tonight. Everything is locked tight. I wish you could…”

I stopped. I couldn’t use the H word. What was the point? Casper wouldn’t help me by disappearing, reappearing inside, and unlocking the door. Even though he could do it really easily.

“What I need,” I murmured to myself, “is something to cut the glass with so I can reach in and unlock the door.” I wondered whether there were any glass-cutting tools in Furness.

Casper leaned against the wall. I couldn’t see his expression clearly but when he spoke, the tone of his voice was casual. “Sir Alastair has some beautiful paintings. I wouldn’t mind taking a closer look at them.”

“What the—? This is no time for fun, Casper.”

“There’s always time for fun.” He disappeared.

Throwing up my hands in disgust, I turned away from Maitland House. I wasn’t going to be here when Casper reappeared.

As I crossed the patio I heard the French doors open. Casper came outside, stretched and took a deep breath. Then, leaving the doors open, he took a little stroll along the patio.

I fell into step beside him. “Casper, are you helping me?”

“Of course not. I was looking at Sir Alastair’s paintings. The room was very stuffy so I came out here for a breath of fresh air.”

I didn’t think the Powers-That-Be would be fooled by his little charade any more than I was, but who knew? Maybe they had more important things to do than checking up on a guardian angel’s little infractions.

To tease Casper I said, “How did the paintings look in the dark?” Then I sprinted inside before he could change his mind about helping me.

When he had joined me inside, I closed the doors—leaving them unlocked for a quick getaway—and went in search of the wine cellar.

“It’s probably near the kitchen,” I whispered. We headed in that direction.

Tucked away in a little hall we found two doors that seemed likely candidates for the entrance to the wine cellar. I tried the first. It opened easily. Shining my flashlight inside, I discovered it was a broom cupboard. I turned to the second door. This one was locked.

“Maybe the key is in the kitchen,” I whispered, thinking of the little key-laden hooks in my apartment at home.

We crept along the hall and into the kitchen. Once again I risked turning on my flashlight. The room was spotless. You could eat off the floor. The pretty canisters were all neatly aligned and the gleaming keys hung from individual hooks. Unfortunately, they weren’t labeled. I guess Francois had them memorized. Grabbing all the keys, I headed back into the hall.

The first key didn’t fit. Neither did the second or third. My heart sank. I tried the fourth. Anxiety made me clumsy. I fumbled and dropped it. Quickly I scooped it up, but my hands were sweating so much I couldn’t put it in the lock. I wiped my hands and tried again. This time the key slid into the lock and turned.

Yes!

Easing the door open, I shone my flashlight down a flight of stairs. At the bottom were racks of gleaming bottles.

“Come on,” I whispered, already moving down the stairs. “Let’s see if she’s here.”

Casper eased the door shut and followed me down the stairs. It was like walking into the depths of hell, if hell had been ice cold, pitch black and stank of old things. I didn’t want to stay here any longer than I had to.

When I reached the bottom