Off the Wild Coast of Brittany by Juliet Blackwell

Author:Juliet Blackwell [Blackwell, Juliet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-03-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Alex

Looks okay so far,” said Nat, sounding relieved.

“The rain only started in earnest a little while ago,” said Alex, straightening one of the tarps and angling a pot directly below what looked to be a trouble spot in the ceiling. “Sometimes it takes a while to build up. You know what they say: Water will find a way.”

“Yeah, great, thanks,” said Nat. “You’re not helping my anxiety, Al.”

“Wait—do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Alex held up a hand and listened intently. She heard the wind and the roar of crashing waves in the harbor, but also something else. A steady tapping.

“That’s a drip,” Christine said.

Alex nodded and cast the flashlight beam around the attic ceiling, squinting as she peered into the corners formed by the steep angles of the roof. “Where is it coming from, can anybody tell?”

“It’s not from over here,” Christine said from her position near the stairs.

“I don’t see anything,” said Nat, flashing her own light this way and that. “I don’t hear it, either.”

“I do,” said Alex. The beam of her flashlight came to rest on the seam where one wall met the floor, next to the built-in bookcase. She crouched down and touched her fingers to it. “Yep. Wet. It’s coming from behind here. Hold on.”

With one fist Alex started knocking on the wall surrounding the bookcase. Nat and Christine came over to watch.

“What are you looking for?” asked Nat.

“Yes, what are you doing, Alex?” Christine asked. “That is not the way to find a drip.”

“Already found the drip,” Alex said, feeling around the paneling. “But this looks like . . . Yep, here, see? This old bookcase is covering something up.”

“Covering something up . . . ? Like what?” Nat asked.

“Probably just a crawl space, or a void in the eaves,” said Alex, taking the boxes off the bookshelves and setting them to one side on the floor. “I’m worried the water will continue down through the walls to the third-floor bedrooms. You don’t want to get dry rot. If I can just get in there . . .”

“That bookcase is built in, Alex,” said Nat. “We can’t pull it away from the wall.”

“I know that. I just want to see . . .” Alex crouched down and shone her beam on the bottom shelf. “Aha!”

“What?”

“There’s a keyhole.”

“A . . . keyhole?” Christine asked.

“I love these!” Alex said.

“These what?” demanded Natalie.

“Hidden stuff. There was a bookcase like this at the ranch—it opened onto a little storage area. A lot of older homes have them. . . . I think there’s something behind this bookcase.” Alex felt like a kid discovering a secret cave. “Nat, do you have that key ring I dug up the other day?”

“In my room,” she said with a nod, heading toward the stairs. “Be right back.”

After Nat left, Christine turned to Alex and asked in a soft voice: “Your sister, she is okay? Ça va?”

Alex nodded. “Of course. Why?”

“I just wonder. She was here all alone until you come. François-Xavier is taking his time in Paris, it seems.

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