“What a great front porch,” Nick said, seeming to try to lighten the now-somber mood. “I can see y’all sitting there on a summer evening.”
“We did when my mother was alive.”
“I feel like I’m walking on glass whenever I mention your family,” Nick said, sounding frustrated as he followed her. “Do you haveanyhappy memories after she died?”
“Not many.”
Nick gave a soft grunt. “I hope the inside of the house isn’t as cold as it is out here.”
“We have our coats. We’ll do fine. This is the window to my father’s office.” Frances pointed to the closed, faded curtains visible through the glass. “That’s where we’ll check first.”
“But wouldn’t your uncle have already searched there?”
“He wouldn’t know what he was looking for though. And he obviously hasn’t found it yet, or he wouldn’t keep coming after us.” They’d reached the back of the house, and she pointed to two dining-room windows. “It’s the one on the left that’s loose.”
She reached into the specially made sheath inside her boot that held the knife Nick had given her for her nineteenth birthday. He watched in fascination at how quickly she used the blade to shift the lock.
“Remind me to buy a different kind of window lock.” Nick reached over to help her lift the window. “I wonder if it’s safe to use any of the fireplaces.”
“Father was quite progressive. We have fireplaces, but the house is heated with gas.”
Nick cupped his gloved hands and bent over like he did when helping her to mount a horse. Frances stepped into it, and he gave her a good heft. She slid into the room. He came in behind her and closed the window. She glanced around the room, grateful for the shrouded furniture to keep the memories at bay.
Stomping her feet to get off the snow as she left the room, she refused to look at the other end where Father had sat at meals. Where he’d—
No.
“The house is warm,” she said. “Does that mean Uncle William’s been spending a lot of time here and didn’t want to be cold?”
“Could be. At least we won’t freeze our tails off while we search.” Nick followed her into the hallway.
“We can hang our coats in there.” Frances led him into the small antechamber and turned on the little radiator that warmed the vestibule. Once they’d hung up their coats, she said, “Let’s do this. We need to be methodical about it.”
“And thorough, like Holmes.” Nick nodded. “Let’s turn on all the lights so we can see everything.”
They entered her father’s office and found a faint residue of cigar smoke in the room. Since her father had given up smoking because it made her mother sick, it was a sure sign her uncle had spent time there. They carefully searched all the furniture. Nick even flipped the paintings over to see if something could be hidden behind those. Frances hadn’t expected them to find anything in her father’s old office, but they gave the room a thorough examination anyway and proceeded to do the same for every room on the floor.
“Should we do the bedrooms next,” Nick asked when they finished that level, “or does the house have a basement?”
“The basement is where the kitchen, pantry, laundry room, coal room, and Father’s wine cellar are.” With her emotions so close to the surface, she knew the bedrooms with all their personal items would be the hardest. “Let’s do the basement next.”
Frances led the way down the stairs. Standing in the middle of the large kitchen, she was struck by how different the room was from the kitchen at Luke’s house. This was definitely a room for servants, while her brother’s kitchen was simply part of his home.
“Does your mother’s kitchen look like my brother’s or like this,” Frances asked stepping toward the cupboards.
“Like your brother’s.”
“After living in Wyoming, it’s odd to come back here. So much has changed and yet—” Frances had removed a box from the cupboard. “Eww!” She dropped it and jumped back.
“What is it?” Nick was at her side in an instant, his sharp gaze scanning for danger.
“Arsenic.” Her voice sounded little girlish, so she coughed and stepped back, trying to hide the trembling in her hands. “Do you think this is what they used to kill my father?”
“It could be, but I wouldn’t dwell on it. It’s a common enough poison for rats, so it’s not unusual to find it here.” Nick reached as though to touch her arm but pulled it back. “Let me check the kitchen while you check another room.”
When they’d finished searching the basement and nothing had triggered Frances’s memory, she started to get frustrated.
“There’s no way Father would have hidden it someplace as obvious as his bedroom,” she grumbled as they climbed the stairs again. “Uncle William would have searched it, I’m sure.”
