A Secret to Die For Read online

  “No thanks. It may be a large house, but I think I can take care of dusting and whatever on my own.”

  “Excellent. Oh, I knew there was something else.” Mr. Johnson opened a closet door in the entryway and pointed to the alarm box, telling Brian the code. “Obviously, always keep it armed when you’re not here.”

  “And when I’m here, too,” Brian said. “I don’t want any unexpected visitors.”

  “Very wise of you.”

  Mr. Johnson dropped Brian off at his apartment, telling him to call if he had any questions.

  “I’m sure I’ll have a million of them,” Brian replied wryly. “I’ll try to make a list, instead of bothering you every ten minutes. Oh, umm, is it okay to tell my friends at work about the house and all?”

  “Of course. To all intents and purposes it’s yours for at least the next year. After that, well it will be up to you if you want to keep it or sell it. Ah, I knew there was something more.” Mr. Johnson took out his checkbook, writing a check which he handed to Brian. “You’ll be getting this much every month, for incidental expenses.”

  Brian’s eyes widened when he saw it was for five hundred dollars. “Hell, I could quit my job. Not that I’m going to. I like it there and I’d probably go crazy with nothing to do all day.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” Mr. Johnson replied. “I’m certain Alistair would be, too. All right, as I said, call me whenever you have a question. And enjoy the house.”

  “I know I will once I get used to being there.” Brian thanked him for all his help, got out of the car, and a few moments later was in his apartment.

  As he fixed a sandwich for lunch before going to work, he thought about the morning and all that had happened.

  It’s unbelievable. I must be dreaming. Me in that house, which could be mine in a year? Why a year? Why that proviso? He laughed, imagining a scenario where he’d have to deal with ghosts or goblins that haunted it. If they scare me away, then I’m not the man Grandpa Alistair hoped I was and I lose my inheritance. Uh-huh. That only happens in movies. Still, there has to be some reason he set it up that way. Maybe he wants me to prove I’m not going to blow the money?

  He thought about the check from Mr. Johnson burning a hole in his pocket. “It goes into the bank and I don’t touch the money unless it’s an emergency. I’m fine with what I make from the coffee shop. I have been, so far, and now I won’t even have to pay rent. I can save and who knows, maybe I can go to college. Like that would be a problem if I make it through the next year.”

  Despite what he’d told Mr. Johnson, and his parents, there was something he’d always wanted to do. With the sandwich in one hand, a glass of milk in the other, he went to the desk tucked away in one corner of his tiny living room. Putting them down after taking a bite of the sandwich, he opened the sketchpad sitting on top of the desk, thumbing through it. Do I have talent, or is this just a way to kill time when I’m not working? A question he’d asked himself more often than he liked. He’d taken some art classes in high school, oh so many years ago. I did pretty well in them, according to my teachers, and even won a first prize in the school art show. But making a career of it? I could be in for a big letdown if I turned some of these into finished products and tried to sell them and no one wanted to buy them. “I’m an amateur with big dreams,” he grumbled. “But…”

  He glanced at the time and put his dreams on hold as he finished eating and got ready for work. He smiled as he left the apartment. Tomorrow I’ll be living in a much nicer place and for damned sure I’m going to make it through the year, no matter what.

  Chapter 2

  Bright and early the following morning Brian went to his bank to deposit the check, keeping out fifty dollars. From there, he went to the grocery store a block from his apartment, got as many flattened boxes as he could carry, and returned to his place to pack what he’d be taking with him. It was discouraging when he realized there was still one box left after he’d filled the others with his clothes, books, and the few other things he wanted to keep. “Doesn’t say much for my life, that I have so few possessions at my age,” he said under his breath as he waited for the cab he’d called to arrive.

  When it did, the driver helped him put the boxes in the back. “Where to?” the driver asked. When Brian gave him the address, the driver chuckled. “Moving up in the world or moving back home to the parents?”

  “Moving into what used to be my grandfather’s house, before he died,” Brian replied.

  “You inherited it? Must be nice.”

  Rather than go into details, since it was none of the man’s business, Brian said “Yes, it is,” and left it at that.

  When they pulled up in front of the house and began putting the boxes on the front porch, a woman walking by with her dog eyed Brian with suspicion. He smiled at her, waving the keys, which seemed to mollify her. Thankfully, as far as he was concerned, she didn’t stop to ask who he was and why he was there.

  After paying the cabbie, with a decent tip for all his help, Brian unlocked the front door, remembering at the last second to turn off the alarm, and began carrying the boxes inside. He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a loud shriek, followed by several more. Then he realized it was Sir Kenith.

  He finished bringing in the boxes, locked the door, and hurried up to the solarium. The minute Brian was inside; the macaw flew down from a high branch, landing on his shoulder. “Hello, hello, missed you,” the bird said.

  “Umm, hello to you,” Brian replied in surprise, figuring that was something the bird picked up from his grandfather. “Are you hungry?”

  “Hungry,” the macaw replied, mimicking Brian’s voice.

  With a laugh, the bird still on his shoulder, Brian went to the cabinet holding its food. At first he wondered where he was supposed to put it, until he looked around and saw cups attached to the lower branches of some of the trees. He filled a couple of them and Sir Kenith jumped off his shoulder to eat.

  With that taken care of, Brian went down the hallway, checking out the bedrooms. He didn’t want to take over what he knew had to be the one his grandfather had used. It was too big and imposing, in his opinion. There was a smaller one next to it, painted beige, with a queen-sized bed, a fireplace, and windows on two of the walls which let in the sunlight, making it seem homey and…’friendly’ was the best word he could think of. The bed was already made up, with a blue comforter that matched the armchair in front of one of the windows.

  As he unpacked his clothes and put them away in the closet and the dresser, he wondered where fresh linens were stored. He found them in a cupboard in the hallway and added the few clean towels and sheets he owned to the piles. Not that my sheets will fit the bed, but oh, well.

  That brought up the question of whether there was a washer and dryer somewhere in the house. He found them in the basement, along with the furnace, hot-water heater, and a workbench with enough tools to fix anything that might need it.

  Back on the first floor, he wondered which bookcase he could use for his books. They were all full—in the living room, the study, and even in the small parlor, he guessed it was called, which had large windows and glass French doors overlooking a patio behind the house. The shelves held mostly books, although there were some knickknacks on them as well.

  “If I rearrange some of the books and move the knickknacks, will it mess up whatever it is the guy, Conley, is doing?” he asked himself. He decided he didn’t care. For the next year this is my house. If I want to rearrange things, I will.

  He found places in the living room for some of the small statues his grandfather had collected, wondering as he did if they had any value. Not that he cared. They’d belonged to Alistair, so as far as he was concerned they stayed in the house, even if they were worth thousands of dollars. When he finished, he moved some of his grandfather’s books to clear two shelves in the study for his small collection. Standing back when he’d finished, he shook his head. His stood out like a sore thumb
. It is what it is he decided. At least mine aren’t trash. Just more up-to-date than it looks like his are.

  By then, it was time to fix something to eat and head to the coffee shop. When he checked the fridge, he was happily surprised to find it stocked with fresh food. Mr. Johnson’s doing, he figured. Either he made it happen yesterday afternoon, or he knew I couldn’t turn down living here and prepared ahead of time. He made a sandwich, eating it as he changed out of his grubby jeans and T-shirt into his work clothes. Then he took off after checking on Sir Kenith. The bird was asleep when he walked into the solarium, or so he thought until the macaw opened an eye and immediately flew down to land on his shoulder, saying “Hello, hello. Kiss me.”

  Laughing, Brian kissed his beak. “I’ll be back after work.”

  “Work, work, work. Bad,” the macaw replied in what Brian surmised was a close imitation of his grandfather’s voice and words.

  “Not if you want food, Sir K,” Brian told him. He’d decided to shorten the bird’s name for convenience sake.

  “Food. Hungry.”

  “Good lord, I just fed you.” Despite saying that, Brian refilled two of the cups—one with grain, the other with fresh fruit. Then, after the bird began eating, he left.

  * * * *

  “You will never guess what happened,” Brian said to Janice, one of his co-workers, while they were on a break Wednesday afternoon.

  “Tell me,” she replied. “And it better be good. I’m not in the mood for bad news.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” he asked. A logical question since she and her boyfriend of the moment were in an on-again, off-again relationship.

  “Eh, the usual. So what’s your news?”

  “I’ve moved, and you’ll never guess where or why.” When she rolled her eyes, he laughed and told her.

  “Way to go!” she exclaimed when he finished. “So you never knew about him until yesterday? That is too weird.”

  “I know. I wish I had. I think he was probably a good man. From what the lawyer told me, he didn’t want to mess up my father’s new life. He still doesn’t, since he made it clear in his will I’m not supposed to tell Dad about him.”

  “So you won’t?”

  “Nope. If he’d wanted him to know, he would have done it himself, I guess.”

  “That’s kind of sad, but yeah, it was his choice.”

  He nodded, then asked her not to tell the others why he was living there. “I probably shouldn’t have told you,” he admitted. “It’s not mine until the year is over.”

  “I promise I won’t.” She crossed her heart. “So what’s the house like? Are you allowed to have visitors? You should throw a housewarming party or something. I hear macaws are really noisy. Does he drive you batty?”

  Brian shook his head. “Slow down with the questions. Okay? Yes, he can be noisy but he’s friendly, too. Hopefully he sleeps through the night instead of screaming for attention at three in the morning. I’ll find out tonight, I guess.” He went on to describe the house, getting oohs and ahhs from her. By then it was time to get back to work.

  He told a couple of other people he worked with, as well. They were suitably congratulatory—and jealous, they said.

  “I need a rich relative to do something like that for me,” Nate said ruefully. “I’d love to get out of my dumpy apartment.”

  Brian almost told him the house wasn’t his yet, but as with everyone else except Janice, he’d decided the details about why he was living there were none of their business. He’d implied, and it was the truth as far as it went, that he had been asked to stay there while his grandfather was gone. He just didn’t say gone meant dead.

  By nine, Brian was more than ready for the coffee shop to close so he could leave. For once the idea of going home was something to look forward to—especially since the next day was one of his days off. He was out the door the second clean-up chores were finished, racing to catch the bus he needed. It dropped him off three blocks from the house. The night was balmy, so he strolled slowly down the street. As he did, he checked out the other homes along the way, and decided his grandfather’s house was by far the best of the lot.

  The moment he opened the front door, he was greeted by screams from Sir K. “I’m coming,” Brian called out as he disarmed the alarm box, immediately rearming it once he’d closed and locked the door.

  When he got to the solarium, Sir K greeted him with more screeches as he landed on Brian’s shoulder. Given what Mr. Johnson had told him, Brian let him remain there when he went downstairs to fix a late supper. The macaw watched but didn’t ask for food. A blessing as far as Brian was concerned. He had the feeling ‘people’ food, other than fruit, wasn’t good for birds.

  He went into the study to get the book he’d been reading before the move. That was when he discovered the note. It was sitting in the center of the desk and said, If you’re going to move the books around, check with me first. It was signed, C. Finnegan.

  “Damn. Yeah, okay, Mr. Finnegan, will do,” Brian muttered under his breath. He was aware the guy had keys to the house, but he hadn’t really expected Conley show up while he was gone. I thought he wasn’t supposed to come by until I gave my say-so. I’ll have to have a word or two with him tomorrow, if he puts in an appearance. I don’t like someone I haven’t even met coming in without my permission and trying to order me around on top of that.

  Taking his book, he returned to the kitchen, sitting at the island to eat his supper. “And don’t you dare shit on me,” he cautioned Sir. K.

  “Bad boy,” the macaw said. “Good boy.”

  Brian laughed. “Bad if you do, good if you don’t.”

  Sir K hopped off Brian’s shoulder, walking back and forth across the island. He picked up the fork, chewed on it, then dropped it with a clang. Brian got another one to use and returned to his reading. There were two more clangs, followed by “Kenith, stop that,” from the bird, which had Brian chuckling.

  “Yeah. It’s annoying.”

  “Annoying,” Sir K, mimicked, much to Brian’s amusement.

  When he finished eating and had done the dishes, Brian held out his arm. Sir K immediately hopped on and climbed to Brian’s shoulder. He was a lot slower getting off when they returned to the solarium, but he did.

  “Night, Sir K,” Brian said.

  “Night, night. Sleep tight,” the bird replied.

  “You too.” Brian left, with the macaw’s loud “You too,” ringing in his ears.

  As he got ready for bed, Brian decided his first day in the house, or what part of it he’d spent there, had been great. Well, except for the note from Conley Finnegan. I hope he’s not that imperious in person. If so, he’s gone. I don’t care what Mr. Johnson says, this is my house for the time being and I don’t need someone like him around. Well, at least while I’m home. He can do what he needs to while I’m at work—without the nasty notes. I’ll ask Mr. Johnson to let him know, since he didn’t bother to get in touch with me.

  * * * *

  At eight-thirty the following morning, which was Thursday and Brian’s day off, the doorbell rang. He was glad he was up and almost dressed as he raced down the stairs to see who was there. He opened the door to find a man of about forty, he guessed, standing on the porch. He was carrying two buckets, and an assortment of mops. “You must be the guy the lawyer’s secretary told me about,” the man said. “I’m Jack and I’m here to clean the solarium.”

  “I’m Brian. You know, I could probably handle it myself.”

  Jack snorted. “You ever cleaned up after a bird? Especially one his size that has the whole room to himself?”

  “Well…no.”

  “Figured as much. If you want to learn…” Jack eyed him with amusement.

  Brian thought about the droppings he’d seen on the trees and the floor, plus the layer of grain husks under the cups. “I’m fine with you doing it.”

  “Figured as much.” Jack picked up his gear, came inside, and headed upstairs. Sir K must have
known his footsteps because Brian heard his shout “Jackie here, Jackie here,” even before Jack reached the landing. Damn, he’s smart.

  An hour and a lot of squawking later, Brian heard Jack come downstairs and cross through the living and dining rooms to join him in the kitchen. One advantage of uncarpeted floors, I guess. He can’t surprise me by appearing behind me without my knowing he’s there.

  “All finished,” Jack said. “I usually came three times a week. Is that okay with you?”

  “You bet. I’ll try to sweep up under his bowls in between times.”

  “Your call. Your lawyer said to send my bills to him.”

  “Okay.” Brian took out his wallet, intending to tip Jack.

  Jack waved him off with a grin. “For what I charge…”

  Brian laughed. “Got it.”

  Brian let him out by the front door, watching as he walked down the path to his van. For a man his age, he’s still got a fine ass. He shook his head, telling himself to get his mind out of the gutter, and went back to what he’d been doing, which was rearranging things in the kitchen cupboards to his satisfaction.

  * * * *

  Brian ate lunch, with Sir K keeping him company. It was a nice day, and he felt at loose ends, so he decided to sit out on the patio and read. He almost walked outside with the macaw on his shoulder, realizing at the last second he was there.

  “Not what I want to do. Chase you all over the neighborhood because you decide to explore while you can,” he told he bird while taking him up to the solarium. Sir K squawked his dismay, almost deafening Brian in the process. “Enough,” Brian said firmly.

  “No.” The bird shook his head. “Kenith talk.”

  “Fine, but whisper, please.” Brian was certain the bird wouldn’t understand but it was worth a try.

  Whether he did or not, Sir K went quiet for a second. “Whisper,” he mimicked loudly.

  “Umm…whisper,” Brian said very softly.

  “Whisper.” The bird mimicked him again, almost as softly.