Page 7 of Breathe Me: Smith & Belle

3

Smith

My wine cellar now sported a line of police tape, a half finished floor, and no hope of being finished by the end of the month. I’d sent Belle up for a nap hours ago in what was likely a futile attempt to keep her from getting upset. She’d handled the sight of a pile of remains found in her new home remarkably well. I wasn’t sure that would hold with time.

“Mr. Price,” Detective Longborn, a stump of a man with a handlebar mustache better suited to a different century, ambled toward me, scratching his head. “Someone will be by tomorrow to collect the bones. I’m sorry we can’t get anyone out here sooner.”

“I don’t think they’ll mind waiting a little longer,” I said dryly.

“Looks to have been there for some time. These things happen with these old estates,” he said thoughtfully. “Although there are stories about Thornham Park…”

I wasn’t sure I wanted him to finish that sentence.

“Stories?”

“Superstitious nonsense they whisper about in the village. Ghosts and tragic stories,” he said.

“Is that all?” I said, relieved. I didn’t believe in ghosts. Not the ones that came with haunted houses, anyway. Real ghosts only exist in our memories as punishment for those we’ve wronged. I had those ghosts once, and Belle’s love had driven them away. I wasn’t scared of this house or its past after surviving that. “If there’s anything we can do to speed up the investigation. My wife is due this week, and we’re already cutting things close with our crews.”

“Oh, I imagine there’s nothing to it. We’ll send them over to the London lab and I’ll be in touch. Hopefully, you won’t dig up any more secrets.” Longborn winked at me, and I forced a grim smile.

I had plenty of secrets of mine I’d rather stay buried. I couldn’t help wondering if someday, decades from now, maybe centuries, some poor bastard would dig mine up.

I waved the detectives off from the front entrance, glad to see them climbing back into their cars. It had been a long time since I’d been under the scrutiny of the authorities. It wasn’t as if I was now. In fact, they’d hardly seemed phased by the discovery. I guess you get used to disturbing finds when you live somewhere with this much past.

Benjamin waited until they pulled away to deliver more bad news. “We won’t be able to get back down there for a month. That crew has a new job next week and I can’t pull them.”

“What can we do?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, wondering if my headache was from all the racket constantly buzzing in the background or my general stress level. It wasn’t that we needed the wine cellar. I wished now we hadn't even bothered to start construction on it. It had all been a pipe dream of mine to have the entire house finished before the baby made her debut. The closer we got the more anxious I felt about the situation. Maybe Belle was right and we should just stay in London rather than a half-gutted house.

I snapped my fingers. “What about this weekend?”

“We could try,” Benjamin said thoughtfully, “but it would probably be an around the clock job, and I’m not certain the Mrs. will appreciate having us around all hours.”

“You have a point. That’s why we’re going back to London,” I decided, knowing I didn’t need to run it by Belle. She would be thrilled, the fucking wine cellar would get done, the bones would be removed, and life might finally stand a chance of being normal for a minute or two. “I’ll be reachable if there’s any more problems.”

“As long as we don’t find a whole graveyard down there, I think I can handle it,” Benjamin reassured me as I began texting the change of plans to anyone else it affected. “The men are getting ready to pack up for the night. I’ll let them know we’re going to be working overtime.”

He said the last word with a pointed significance that didn’t escape my notice. “Tell them that they’ll be well-compensated if they get it done.”

I’d known bribery would come into play sooner or later. I hadn’t expected it to involve a body count.

Once the last of the crew cleared out, I locked the doors and headed into the kitchen. It was nearly complete, save for finishing touches. We’d removed the old marred cabinetry and put in sleek, polished cabinets, an oversized farmhouse sink, and a large island with a butcher block counter. Someday, there would be a small breakfast table in the corner where we could sit with coffee, watching our little girl eat her breakfast. Someday, life would be about simple joys. Someday would come. I just had to get through now.

There wasn’t much in the fridge, given that no one had been cooking, but I managed to scrounge up some fruit and cheese as well as a bit of prosciutto that Belle had been craving lately. Piling them into my arms, I ascended the stairs to the first floor. Peeking my head into our darkened bedroom, I was greeted by a sleepy smile.

Belle lay curled on her side, a blanket half wrapped around her legs. “Did they solve the case?”

“I think it’s likely going to prove to be a cold case,” I said, striding over as she reached to turn on a lamp on the nightstand.

She pushed up in bed, crossing her legs under her and pulled the blanket up to her neck, shivering. “I guess a house this old has history.”

“I wish the history wasn’t in our wine cellar,” I grumbled, opening the package of cheese for her. “We can pop into the village for a bite. I’m sure the pub’s open.”

“This is fine,” she said, picking a grape from its stem. “I’m not that hungry.”

“You’re not that hungry?” I repeated, sure I’d heard her wrong.

She threw a grape at me, and it bounced off my nose. “You make me sound like a pig.”