Page 73

The stonemason had, for the sake of his livelihood, accepted a job in a village he’d never heard of, though he’d lived in the area all his life. It was called Three Pines.

The job was small, but he was desperate. He’d accepted it, but with growing unease.

He did not meet his employer. They only communicated through written instructions, and part of the payment was left at a public house in the nearby village of Sweetsburg.

He was to build a wall. Just that. It would seal off an attic room in a newly made building. The materials and tools were already on-site in the attic. He was to arrive after dark and finish the job in one night, leaving before dawn. He was not, under any circumstances, to go into the room.

Just seal it off and leave.

Talk to no one. Take his own food and drink. Leave no evidence behind.

Pierre Stone wrote that he’d been told never to visit the village again. To forget it even existed. He regretted taking the commission but couldn’t see any way out now. Besides, he needed the money. He ended the letter wondering what else he’d do for money. For family.

“‘The Cask of Amontillado,’” said Myrna, quietly. Saying what they were all thinking. Well, almost all.

“What?” said Harriet and Gabri at the same time.

“An Edgar Allan Poe story,” said Ruth.

Seeing Gabri’s eyes widen in dread, Olivier said, “It’s about happy puppies.”

“Yeah,” said Myrna. “Like ‘The Raven’ is about happy birds.”

“What do you think?” Billy asked.

Armand’s eyes narrowed as he recalled “The Cask of Amontillado.” He stared into the fire for a few moments, then looked over his left shoulder toward the door that connected the bistro to the bookstore.

All eyes followed.

“You say you think the room is there?” he finally said.

“Yes,” said Harriet. “We could see it from up at the church. The roofline.”

“How do you feel about breaking through that wall?” Armand asked Olivier.

“Sure. I’m as curious as anyone else.”

Olivier kept his tone light, but Gabri heard the strain. While he didn’t know what the “Amontillado” thing meant, Gabri was pretty sure whatever was up there wasn’t happy puppies.

While Billy got his tools, Olivier took the plans over to the long wooden bar of the bistro and unrolled them, using the candy jars to hold down the corners.

“Looks like the room would be here,” said Harriet, placing her finger on one of the walls in her aunt’s loft. “You agree?”

Fiona leaned in and nodded.

Olivier had taken photographs when they were at the church, and he brought one up on his phone. They gathered around. Now that they could see it, it seemed so obvious. And yet, for a hundred and sixty years, that room had remained hidden.

“The caretaker said we would’ve found it eventually,” said Myrna. “Once you replace the roof.”

“What? There’s no—” began Olivier.

“Breathe, honey,” said Gabri. “You don’t have to do it tomorrow.”

“Roof’s fine,” he muttered as they climbed up to Myrna’s loft.

Once there, they lined up, staring at where the room would be, should be. Probably was.

“Still a bit of a risk,” said Myrna. “We might knock a hole right through into thin air.”