Page 20 of Gumbo, Ghosts, and Deadly Deception
I studied the sketch more carefully. The room marked F.D. was positioned exactly where the pantry wall was now. The wall that Beau had mentioned was added sometime in the 1920s, sealing off the old passage to the summer kitchen.
"Maggie," I said slowly. "I think you’re right. This isn’t about food. What if it's a map?"
Before she could answer, Teddy suddenly sat up and made a sound that meant he'd heard something interesting. He waddled over to the pantry door and began scratching at the baseboard with unusual determination.
"Either he's developed a sudden interest in interior decorating," I said, "or he's trying to tell us something. I swear, he understands what we’re saying."
“Teddy is a genius,” Maggie declared.
After me, she was definitely Teddy’s biggest fan.
We knelt down beside him. The baseboard was old and slightly warped, and when I pressed on it, it moved. Not much, but enough to suggest it wasn't actually attached to anything solid.
"Get me a butter knife," I told Maggie.
She handed me one from the drawer, and I carefully pried at the edge of the baseboard. It came away easily, revealing a gap behind it just wide enough for a hand to reach through.
"Please tell me you're not about to stick your arm into a mysterious hole in the wall," Maggie said. “Because you know there’s probably a dead rat or something equally gross in there.”
Rodents. I shuddered. "I'm not. Teddy is."
I lifted my skunk and gently guided his head toward the opening. He immediately became excited, chittering and pawing at something inside. I had expected some resistance but Teddy was all in on the amateur sleuthing. When I pulled him back, he had a small brass key clutched in his teeth.
"Good boy," I said, taking the key. It was old and tarnished, with an ornate head that looked hand-forged. "Now we just need to figure out what it opens."
"Probably the door to the room that doesn't exist on any blueprint," Maggie said. "The one marked F.D. on your aunt's map."
I stood up and studied the pantry wall more carefully. It was definitely newer than the rest of the kitchen. It was different wood, different paint, different construction techniques. And now that I was looking for it, I could see the faint outline of where a door frame had been filled in and painted over.
"There's definitely something behind this wall," I said. "The question is, how do we get to it without tearing down half my kitchen?"
“Time for a sledgehammer,” Maggie declared.
“Absolutely not. Who knows what kind of electrical or plumbing is in this wall?”
“It’s a doorway.” Maggie shrugged. “What could go wrong?”
“You’re a little too casual with my property.” I turned, picked up a beignet and bit it. I chewed morosely, hoping word didn’t get out about Delia’s death.
We’ve. Got. Ghosts.
And. Dead. Bodies.
It wasn’t a good marketing slogan.
Then again, death attracted intrigue.
But that wasn’t the kind of notoriety I wanted.
“Well, I know one thing,” Maggie declared.
“What’s that?”
“We need to research Francine’s disappearance. That’s what we do for the podcast. Go back to the beginning.”
“Technically, the beginning is 1869, but we can start with 1984.”
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