Читать книгу Haunting at Remington House - Laura V. Keegan - Страница 18

“Hey, Tom,” Joe said when Tom reached the front porch. “Good news. I stopped by the city offices yesterday. I knew Mick Steven’s granddad built this house with a local contractor, so I figured the building plans should still be on file. Got lucky. The clerk was able to find the blueprints, and she’s having a set copied for us. They should be done in a day or two.” Joe followed Tom into the house. “Jimmy gone?”

“Yeah, he just left. We had quite a time exploring the house. Kind of fun. Glad you found the plans, they’ll come in handy. I’m curious about the basement. Odd layout. Didn’t take Jimmy down there. I didn’t think it was safe. Too much chance of having the lights go out. Any luck with that?”

“No. I haven’t had a chance to get down to the basement yet. I will later.” Joe picked his tool belt up off the bottom step. “Found a wiring problem at the back of the house. And a few bad switches I need to replace in the kitchen and back stairway.”

“Figures. Glad you’re making progress.” Tom was tired. The trips back and forth going to the Harrison house and climbing the beach staircases had worn him out. He wasn’t used to so much exercise. He’d probably walked five miles today. He’d be in tiptop shape if he kept this up. “Hey, Joe. Is there a sporting goods store in town where I could find some workout equipment?”

“Yeah, what do you have in mind?” Joe said.

“For now, just a set of weights. But I think I want to put a gym in the basement. Plenty of room for one.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“I’m thinking maybe a boxing ring, too. Harold, my friend Nate’s brother, used to be a small-time fighter. Won a few local bouts. Ruined any chance he had of making a name for himself though. He couldn’t keep away from the drugs. Talented kid. What a waste! All beside the point. Sorry. Anyway, Nate, who is also my accountant and my business manager, and I used to spar a bit with Harold. Having a boxing ring would be a lot of fun—and a hell of a workout.” Tom jabbed at Joe who raised his hands defensively. They exchanged a few light punches.

“Sounds like a great plan. I boxed a bit too when I was a kid—at the Boys’ Club. I wasn’t bad. Yeah, a gym and a boxing ring’d be doable. It’ll be a major job to remodel the basement, but I’m up for it. Timing’s good. So, when did you say your friend’s gonna be here?”

“Hopefully before Thanksgiving. Nate stayed in Jamestown to tie up loose ends and to close up the house.” Tom took another jab at Joe, who ducked sideways and jabbed back, hitting Tom’s chest with a thud. “Good one. I’m really out of practice. You’ll have to give me a little slack. I was sick for a long time; it took a toll on me. I’m pretty weak right now—not to mention slow!” Tom laughed. “Have time for a beer? I could use a cold drink. You can fill me in on the electrical problems you found.”

Later that afternoon, after Joe had gone back to town, Tom called his sister again. She answered on the second ring, apologizing for missing his call the day before. They made plans for the Thanksgiving holiday. Cassie and her family were coming by train early in the week, several days before Thanksgiving. They planned to stay as long as her husband, Michael, could manage to be away from work.

“I’m so happy you’re getting settled in so quickly. You sound genuinely content, Tom.” They talked for the better part of an hour, then said their good-byes, promising to talk in a few days.

After dinner, Tom fed Wiggins, then took his coffee out to the front veranda to call Nate. He watched the setting sun—oranges and reds reflected on the ocean from the twilight sky. A single gull flew gracefully across the fiery horizon on its journey to find a roost for the night.

Nate answered the phone on the first ring. “Gardner residence,” he said in his deep, resonating voice.

“How are you? How are things shaping up out there?”

“Hi, Tom. Glad you called. I have a major problem here. Harold’s gotten himself into a serious . . . ahh . . . situation.”

“What happened this time? Anything I can do to help?” Tom was worried; he heard the edge in Nate’s voice.

“Thanks. I’m not sure what anyone can do at this point. Listen, I can’t talk about it right now. I’ll call you when I know more. How about you? Is everything okay at your new place?” Nate asked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s a great house. I couldn’t be more pleased. Meeting some good people, too.”

“Glad to hear that.”

Nate sounded distracted. Tom said, “You do whatever has to be done. Let me know if I can help. God knows you’ve done enough for me. I guess you don’t have any idea when you might be wrapped up there?” Tom hoped Nate could get to Remington soon—though he was beginning to feel like he could manage everything pretty well for the time being, especially with Joe around.

“I don’t. Looks like I’ll miss Thanksgiving, though.”

“Nate, do you want me to come to Jamestown?” Tom asked, not convinced Nate could handle Harold’s situation by himself. Nate’s and Harold's sister, Rosa, had vowed she would no longer tolerate nor lend any support to Harold. She’d had enough of him. He seemed destined to follow a downward spiral, trying to pull all those who loved him down as well. Nate and his sister were constantly bailing him out of trouble. Rosa had finally drawn the line.

“No, Tom. I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about it. Hey, I’ll call you back, someone’s at the door.”

Tom didn’t like the sound of Nate’s voice. He sounded genuinely disturbed. For the rest of the evening, Tom waited for Nate’s call. When he hadn’t called by midnight, Tom was increasingly worried. Trying to distract himself, he tried reading—to no avail. He couldn’t concentrate and ended up reading and rereading the same page. He paced the floor, staring at the phone, willing it to ring. He turned on the stereo hoping music would distract him. Listening to a piano concerto, his head resting on the back of the sofa, he drifted off to sleep.