Dark Places: Edge of Reason

Part Seven

The sun had not yet risen when Trixie, Mart and Dan arrived at the Reynolds house, but the sky was beginning to turn blue. They had not spoken as they walked there in the half-light, perhaps for fear of waking the others, or perhaps because the silence of the town in the pre-dawn dimness asked for silence in return.

“Ready?” Trixie asked, her voice low, but still sounding unnaturally loud.

Her companions nodded.

Trixie climbed onto an old wooden crate and in through the back window of the house. She paused on the sill for a few minutes, waiting to see if anything would happen. When everything seemed to be staying where it was, she eased her weight down onto the floor, which groaned a little, but seemed firm enough. From there, she edged her way across the room to the roll-top desk. She glanced over her shoulder to her two companions and gave them a smile before turning her attention to the task at hand.

The desk felt grimy to the touch and it took a little time to wiggle the top open, inch by inch. Its years of exposure had left it stiff, and its coating of dirt and grime caused gritty sounds as the moving parts came together. When she had raised it a third of the way, Trixie shone her flashlight through the gap and was gratified to see that there were still papers inside, neatly arranged in pigeonholes. She reached inside and pulled out a pile, rifling through the stained and crumbling sheets but not finding anything relevant to the enquiry.

Returning those to their place, she tried the next lot and the next until there was only one pile left. It was in the bottom right-hand slot, weighed down by a small, blue book. While all of the other papers had related to business matters, it was immediately obvious that these were personal. Several different handwritings were represented, including one or two that looked familiar. Opening the little book, she was thrilled to find that it was a diary. The first entry was difficult to read, but it related a juicy, if irrelevant, piece of gossip. Trixie held great hopes for the rest of it.

Setting these things aside, she went through the rest of the desk without further success. She was just about to roll down its cover once more when the growing light exposed an irregularity in the wood. A few minutes’ manipulation, and quite a bit of frustration, yielded nothing. In a fit of temper, she thumped the desk with her fist. The impact caused it to rattle against the wall and a shower of dust fell from above. The floor gave an alarming creak and she was torn between diving for the nearest doorway or standing very still. After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only half a minute, the house resettled and everything was still once more.

“What did you just do?” she heard Dan ask, his voice filled with apprehension.

She looked down at the place she had hit and her jaw dropped open. A secret drawer had opened in just the place she had expected one to be. Inside was a hand-written letter. Though the writing was difficult to decipher, she could make out some words and their unexpectedness struck her dumb. With trembling hand, she reached out and retrieved the letter and added it to the small pile of things she had already chosen to take. The top of the desk rattled down far more easily than it had risen. She retrieved her finds from the floor, making sure she had everything before preparing to leave.

Taking a deep breath, Trixie dared to move her feet slightly, waiting for the first hint of a collapse. The floor seemed steady, however, and hardly groaned at all so she took a couple of tentative steps. Nothing happened, so she took a few more, then more until she had reached the window. She climbed out and jumped down to the ground, pulling Dan and Mart with her as she put some distance between the old house and herself.

“Well?” her brother demanded. “What did you find?”

Trixie stared at the documents in her hand, the letter from the secret drawer uppermost, unable to speak. She held them out to the others, pointing to the words she had read only a few minutes before.

“Let’s get back,” Dan suggested, “before they notice that we’re not there.”

The other two agreed and they set off at a quick pace. They entered their building to find, however, that their absence had already been noted.

“Oh, there you are,” Honey greeted, as they walked in. “See, Brian: they’re just fine. I’m going back to bed.”

Brian, however, seemed to have a different idea. He glared at his sister for a moment, then at her two companions. “You’ve been up to something, Trixie.”

She gave a casual shrug and tried to walk past him. “I’ve been for a little walk.”

“At five-thirty in the morning? What’s that in your hand?”

“Who are you? My mother?” Trixie asked him in exasperation. “Seriously, Brian, there’s nothing wrong.”

Her eldest brother stood his ground as she pushed past him and turned his glare on Mart and Dan. “Where did she get those papers?” he asked.

“The Reynolds house,” Dan answered.

Trixie turned and shot him a glare of her own. “Dan! Can you not keep your big mouth shut?”

He grinned at her and shook his head. “Nope. I don’t think so.”

Brian was considering the matter with narrowed eyes. “Is that one of the houses down on Third Street?”

Dan shook his head. “Nah. It’s one of the ruins up by the school.”

“She was determined to go in there, so we thought we’d better keep an eye on her,” Mart admitted, “in case something went wrong.”

“You knew she was going in there and you let her?” Brian demanded. “Are you out of your minds? She could have been killed. You could have been killed. We all might get killed, if Mr. Wheeler finds out.”

“Relax, Brian. Nobody got killed.” Trixie was too excited about her finds to care about such trivialities as mortal danger. “And none of us is going to tell Mr. Wheeler, so he won’t find out, will he?”

“He can deduce just as well as you can, and if he deduces, then it’s as good as his having been told,” Brian warned. “What happened to all of those assurances that we’d keep out of the really dangerous places? Mr. Wheeler has a right to expect that we’ll keep our word on something as important as this.”

His sister huffed in exasperation. “Then we won’t give him any deducing space, okay? Forget that part for the moment and take a look at what I found in there.”

She spread out her finds, carefully smoothing out the letter from the secret compartment. “Read this,” she urged him, “and tell me it wasn’t worth the risk.”

Brian leaned over and read the letter. “It wasn’t worth the risk.”

Trixie scowled. “Brian!”

“It wasn’t,” he insisted. “I wouldn’t care what it said, or if it was written on a golden tablet and studded with diamonds. It still wouldn’t be worth that risk.”

“Here, let me see that,” Honey asked. Her eyes widened as she read. “Oh! But this answers so many questions. It’s worth a little bit of risk, don’t you think? And Trixie wasn’t hurt at all, and there wasn’t really any sign that she would be.”

“Well, that’s because she has more lives than a cat,” Dan put in. “She risks life and limb, day in, day out.”

“What’s all the fuss about?” Mart asked, shouldering into the group. He began to read aloud, “‘My dear…’ does it say Isaiah?”

“Give me that,” Trixie demanded, taking the letter from his hand. “It says, ‘My dear Isabel, I couldn’t leave without explaining things to you, but please keep this letter in the strictest confidence. I am in such a terrible jam. John has been behaving so strangely lately and I haven’t known what to do about him. I really need to go home and see to things there, but I wanted to make sure that someone could deal with this problem if it arises. I simply cannot marry John. I am sorry I ever said that I would. I don’t want to face him with this, though, since he has gotten so angry every time I have tried to break it off. I am leaving the ring hidden in my room, in the place where we hid your brother’s watch the time that we broke it. I’m sure you remember where that is. If it turns out that I need to stay back home, I’ll write and tell you and I ask that you will return the ring to John. If I can come back for a visit, I will do it myself and I hope that he will have calmed down by then. I hope to see you again before long, but will write soon in any case. With love, Sarah.’”

“It explains why the ring was hidden and who hid it and we now know that Sarah didn’t want to marry John. But did this happen before or after the safe disappeared?” Honey wondered.

“I’m hoping this diary will help me solve that,” Trixie answered. “And, if not, we can probably piece together some more of the story from other sources.”

At that, the group began to discuss their plans for the day. As some of the excitement of the secret drawer’s contents wore off, the others went out and left Trixie to work on the little diary. It was heavy going, as the book was not in good condition and the handwriting difficult, to say the least. To make matters worse, none of the entries were dated and for some it was unclear where one ended and the next began. As she read, however, she began to get used to the script and to catch onto the writer’s way of putting things.

About ten pages in, she started seeing references to Sarah Belden and evidence of a budding friendship. Almost half-way through the book she found a series of entries that related to Sarah’s family tragedy. They all ran together, but Trixie thought that she could separate them out.

My poor friend Sarah received terrible news today. Her brother has been killed when he came off his horse. She is so upset to be so far away and not able to go to his funeral. It must be terrible to hear something like that and not be able to do anything.

Sarah got a letter from her sister. She’s asking her to come home and Sarah thinks she’s going to go. I’m going to miss her so much. I know that we haven’t known each other all that long, but it’s so dull around here and we have so much in common. I’m a little worried about what John Nancarrow will do if Sarah leaves. He is so attached to her, so much more than she is to him. I don’t think it’s healthy.

I got a letter from Sarah this morning, just as she was leaving for home. She slipped it into my hand when no one was looking. I was right about her and John Nancarrow. She doesn’t want to marry him.

Another interesting entry caught her eye a couple of pages later and she wondered if it could give a clue to the case.

The most shocking thing happened this morning. Mr. West went to open his office this morning and found that there was a huge hole knocked through the back wall and that big old safe of his has disappeared! Nancy King claims that her “dear” departed mother-in-law’s ring was inside. If you ask me, the silly old woman sold it years ago and Nancy just wants to get the money out of someone. Old Mr. King was such a tyrant that his wife rejoiced when he died and why should she keep his ring when he’s dead and gone and not missed? Mr. West will probably give the money to her, too, poor man.

Trixie raised her eyebrows at the entry and considered for a moment whether that explained the matter of the fake stone. She read on, soon finding another item of interest.

I haven’t written for weeks. I’ve had the most terrible dose of flu that I think they wondered for a while if I might die of it. They didn’t tell me while I was sick, but two people I know did die of it – old Mrs. Hensler and Mr. Gray, who was Sarah’s brother-in-law and left his poor wife with three little children. After that, I took a while to recover, staying with my aunt. When I came back home, I found a letter waiting for me from Sarah. She’s not coming back, which is terrible, and she wants me to return something to John Nancarrow, which is worse, because he’s gone. Sometime while I was away, he just packed his bags one night and left and no one knows where he is.

For a long time after that, the entries bore no relation to the matters that concerned Trixie, but she did learn a lot of town gossip. The next entry of interest concerned John Nancarrow’s death.

What am I going to do now? Sarah entrusted me to give something back to John Nancarrow and now he’s dead. He stole back into town in the night and a wall fell on him and crushed him flat. They’re saying that they don’t know who his next of kin might be, unless it’s his cousin’s widow. If they can find someone, I’ll give it to them, I suppose, but what do I do if they never find anyone? Some people just don’t have relatives. I’m feeling a terrible burden over this. Maybe I’ll write to Sarah and let her know what has happened. She needs to know the news, at least.

A few pages later, an entry indicated that Sarah thought the item could stay where it was, since no other relations had been found and the item was actually in her sister’s house. Trixie turned over the last page, on which the writer described her upcoming wedding and indicated that she was finished with writing in diaries. Her reading done, Trixie sat back to try to sort it all out in her mind.

Thoughts of the things she had found haunted Trixie for the rest of the day and, no matter what she was doing, her mind dwelt on them. The desk had been such a goldmine of information that she could not escape the thought that perhaps there was more to be found. The others returned for lunch, but she could not keep up with the conversation.

Despite the fact that she had searched the desk thoroughly earlier in the day, Trixie felt compelled to go back to the Reynolds house that afternoon and have another look, if only a peek through all of the windows. Taking a chance that she would not be missed, she went for a walk in that direction, only to find that the house had collapsed since she was last there.

“Oh, no!” she whispered, aloud. Running the last dozen yards, she came up to the pile of broken boards and roofing that had once been a house and stared in dismay. Any hope of re-entering the building was lost, and most of the hope she had of finding more clues had disappeared, too. Still, she decided to circumnavigate the ruin in the hope that something of use might have somehow fallen out, or otherwise become visible. She was still looking, fifteen minutes later, when she heard footsteps approaching.

“Looks like someone had a lucky escape,” Dan commented, giving a pile of broken boards a kick. “Could have been you in there.”

Trixie shrugged. “The letter would have still been in there if I hadn’t gone in.”

He shook his head. “I would have thought you were more important than some dusty old bit of paper, but it’s your call.”

“I wasn’t hurt,” she answered, frowning. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you.” He sounded as if he enjoyed the thought.

She bristled, as he had expected. “I don’t need anyone checking up on me.”

“I think you do.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” She gave a nearby heap of broken boards a kick, making them clatter to the ground. “I can look after myself.”

Dan nodded, smirking. “Sure.” He grabbed her shoulder and turned her back towards the centre of town. “There’s nothing for you here. Come on; let’s get back.”

She nodded and let him take her back the way she had come, frustrated at this set-back and apprehensive of what would happen when the others found out. She hoped that she could get away with keeping this a secret for the moment, at least.

“The Reynolds house has fallen down since we were there this morning,” Dan announced, as they rejoined the group.

Trixie scowled at him, as the others all exclaimed at once. “Way to go, Dan,” she muttered, so only he could hear.

“I hope you’ll remember this, the next time you think of going inside a derelict building,” Brian scolded.

“Yes, Moms,” Trixie answered, rolling her eyes.

He frowned at her. “This is really serious, Trixie. I want you to promise me that you won’t try anything like that again.”

“What good is that going to do, Brian?” his brother asked. “She promised Mr. Wheeler, and see where that got her.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to do anything like that again anyway,” Trixie interrupted, as Brian began to speak, “so I might as well promise. I won’t do it again, okay? Now, can you all get off my back, please?”

Feeling ill-tempered, Trixie left them to argue the matter out by themselves and went outside to brood. She had a feeling that there were few, if any, clues left to be found in town and that her time here was drawing to a close. Not wanting to leave without coming to some kind of resolution, she went for a walk, soon finding herself standing outside the one-time lawyer’s office.

For a long moment, Trixie stared at the building from which the safe had disappeared. She thought that she held all of the pieces of the puzzle now, but somehow they did not quite fit. She thought that she knew who had hidden the safe and why, she thought that she knew where the ring had travelled. She even thought she knew what had prompted the second attempt at a break-in. Sometime in the last few hours, a connection had been made in her mind between the date of Sarah’s wedding and the date of John Nancarrow’s death; they had occurred only a few weeks apart.

So, John Nancarrow comes to town, she mused, still staring at the place he had once worked. He falls for Sarah Belden, but she’s not so keen on him. He steals a big diamond ring that his boss has been minding to give to her. Then, the owner of the ring dies and the ring is going to be given to an heir. John’s in a tight spot. He needs to get the ring and put it back, but Sarah has rushed home to Sleepyside. Sarah leaves the ring where her friend can find it to give it back, but she gets sick and misses the opportunity. John doesn’t want to get caught for stealing the ring – and he probably thinks he’ll be the prime suspect – so he fakes the burglary. By the time Sarah’s friend is better, John has fled. Then, later, he hears that Sarah has married someone else. He thinks he can get the ring back and starts working on getting access to the safe, but the wall falls and kills him. But why did he want to break in to the place where the safe was?

Trixie frowned. This, she was sure, was the part of the puzzle that she had not solved. She could explain the timing and she had reasons for everything else that had happened, but that one detail was still bothering her.

“What are you doing out here, Trixie?” Mart asked.

She jumped, having not seen him approach. “Just trying to figure out the one last thing we haven’t got yet – why did John Nancarrow try to break back in?”

He moved closer to her, a meditative look on his face. “Maybe he wanted to put things right,” he answered. “He might have felt bad about what he’d done, but not wanted to pay the consequences.”

She sighed. “I think it must be something like that. I’m not sure I can ever know for sure, though. Men don’t really write those things down and, even if he did, no one knows where he’d been living those last few years.”

“Well, I think you’ll just have to think of it as one of life’s mysteries,” he answered, smiling. “The kind you can’t solve, I mean.”

“I’m not sure I like those,” she answered.

“Trixie! Good news!” Matthew Wheeler’s voice came to her over the telephone, eager to hear her final progress report before leaving for home. “I’ve got a buyer for the town. He’s a business associate of mine, who grew up in North Dakota and wants to go home to retire. He’s planning a quiet little restoration project – a country retreat for himself, a few hand-picked business ventures to bring some money into the community and a place for some support services. He’s already chosen tenants for the old high school and the post office.”

“That’s great, Mr. Wheeler,” she replied, though a part of her felt sad at the same time.

“There’ll be a new bridge out of town, in a better location than the old one,” he continued. “Most of the houses in the area near the old bridge will be demolished and the area allowed to return to a natural state, so there won’t be any trouble with ghosts.”

She smiled. “I’m not so sure that there ever were ghosts – but it was a good story. I’ve solved the mystery now. Do you have time to hear what happened?”

“Can you give me the short version?” he asked. “You can tell me the whole thing when you get back.”

For the next few minutes, Trixie outlined what she had found and the two decided together on what she would do next to finish up the case. When she had finished the call, Trixie went down to the church and sat in one of the pews, looking up at the arch of the ceiling. She had enjoyed her time in Eastedge. She was glad that it would have a new life, but she was sorry, in a way, because it would take away some of the mystery of the place. She drew a breath and went back outside into the bright daylight, pushing the melancholy thoughts aside.

For her last task before going home, Trixie needed to return the ring to its rightful owner. During her discussion with Matthew Wheeler, they had decided that since Nathaniel West had paid out for it, he was the one to whom it would belong. Mr. Wheeler’s assistant had accessed the records needed to discover his heir, and had obtained an address and telephone number for the man, Nathaniel West’s son. Since it was not far from Eastedge, he’d suggested that Trixie could drive over and deliver it, so she called Mr. West and set a time to meet him. She set off on her second-last morning in North Dakota, and soon found herself knocking on the man’s door. When he answered, she found him to be a pleasant-looking elderly gentleman, with kind eyes.

“Mr. West?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “You’ll be Miss Belden? Come in, come in,” he offered, holding the door wide. “Please, take a seat. What can I do for you?”

“Actually, it’s what I can do for you,” she answered. “Some years ago, your father had some trouble with a missing safe.”

The man’s expression darkened. “That he did. What does that have to do with anything?”

Trixie smiled, trying to put him at his ease. “The property has recently changed hands and I was asked by the new owner to take a look at the place. And I’ve found the safe.”

The elderly man’s eyebrows rose. “You have? Empty, I suppose.”

Trixie shook her head. “Everything that was supposed to be in there was still there, with one exception. There was supposed to be a valuable diamond ring. Its box was there, but it was not.”

He nodded. “Figures. That was the one item that caused my father the most trouble. I don’t suppose any of the other things were of any worth.”

“It doesn’t seem that way. It was mostly papers and it seems like most of them are worthless now. I’ve had them shipped back to New York for the legal department to look at, but I don’t think there’s really anything there that you’ll want.” She reached into her pocket and took hold of the ring. “It just so happens, though, that I know what happened to the ring. It was stolen before the safe ever disappeared and has been lying hidden in the town almost this whole time.”

“Why are you telling me this, Miss Belden?” he asked, frowning.

She held out the ring to him, now restored to its original box. “Because this is yours. Your father paid for it when he couldn’t produce it to its rightful owners, and since you are his heir, it’s now yours. I’m sorry to tell you, though, that’s it’s not worth very much. My research has uncovered rumours from the town at the time that suggest the stone was not real, and I’m afraid they’re true. You might get a little bit of money for the gold, though.”

He looked up at her, obviously touched. “Why are you doing this, Miss Belden? Why not just keep the ring?”

She smiled. “I’m giving it to you because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Thank you,” he answered, taking it into his hand.

“If you’re interested,” she offered, “I could tell you the whole story.”

“I’d like that very much,” he replied, with a smile.

Trixie was sorry to see the last of Eastedge. It gave her some comfort to know that the town would soon be inhabited once more, but the melancholy feeling remained. The mystery was solved, however, and her purpose for visiting was fulfilled. On her last day in town, she took the time to wander the streets and say goodbye in her mind to the places she had become fond of during her stay.

First, she used her keys to open the house Honey had picked out for her brother. The bare rooms seemed friendly, somehow, as if they were ready and waiting for their next occupants. Ascending the stairs, she looked out through the windows of the small tower, glimpsing several other buildings through the trees.

Ten or fifteen minutes later found her in the grounds of the old high school, but she did not venture inside. She passed through and went on to another few houses that had interested her – though she avoided the Reynolds house, which gave her the shivers. Finishing her tour in the main street, she stood for a long time, looking up at the old Post Office. The memory of the pig-like tendencies of the intruders who had stayed there kept her on the street, but there was something very elegant in the square lines of its profile, which pleased her and held her attention.

Passing on, she briefly visited the bank, and one or two other places, before stopping at a brick building that stood by itself at the end of the street. She gazed at it for a long time before venturing inside. Its interior was dim, sunlight poking holes in the darkness through gaps in the boarded-over windows. Dust motes swirled in those rays of light, so thick that Trixie sneezed.

She let the door rest in a closed position, simply absorbing the atmosphere of the place. The stillness returned, and the motes began to fall, rather than swirl. As Trixie stood unmoving, ears tuned to every sound, she began to hear evidence of the building adjusting to her added weight. Floorboards creaked and the walls made little clicking noises as she waited.

Perhaps she had been thinking of the last investigation she had done for Mr. Wheeler, when she thought she had felt a presence in the room with her. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking that something like that might happen again. Trixie waited, but in vain. The house was peaceful and quiet, but there was no ghostly presence here to tell her whether she had done a good job.

With one last look around the room, Trixie gave up on the half-formed idea that had brought her there. She was just turning to go when a glint of light caught her eye. She bent down to retrieve the small article from the dust, finding it to be a brooch.

“Funny,” she mused, aloud. “How did I miss this the other times I was here?”

She rubbed a thumb over the surface of the metal and saw that it was engraved with the name Sarah. Trixie stared at the name for a moment, and then smiled. When she left the house, she did not look back.

The End