4 - Stranger Room: Ike Schwartz Mystery 4 Read Online Free

Lydells, then and now?”
    “I don’t know. Somebody must, because he’s published the books.”
    “He paid to get them books printed up. See that shed up there?” Henry gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “It’s loaded with cases of his books. He’s sent copies to all his buddies and the local libraries and he still has himself a passel of them tucked away in there.”
    Karl hitched himself around to look at the house wall. “This house is old, Ike says.”
    “Old and creepy. I don’t get what people see in these old dumps. Folks from up north pile into the valley and pay big bucks for them. Me? I wouldn’t give you a dollar and a half for any of them. They’re all broke down and need somebody working on them twenty-four seven.”
    “Lydell’s family has owned this house for a long time, that right?”
    “Yeah, that’s what he says. He’s taken to restoring it like it was back in the day.”
    “How so?”
    “Oh, you know, like, putting those old-time doors and locks on things. He’s rebuilding the slave quarters out back. Do you believe that? Buys old log cabins in Tennessee and ships them up here. He’s got three of them out back.”
    “Slave quarters?”
    “Yep.”
    “You did say slave ?”
    “Yeah, come on, I’ll show you.”
    ***
    Ike expected the basement to be draped in cobwebs. It was remarkably clean and tidy with only the faintest hint of antique basement damp. He supposed Lydell’s reference to mouse droppings was a bit of hyperbole. The two of them made their way to the rear. A small window set high on the wall allowed sunlight to filter in from the back garden. Its slanted rays lighted a workbench covered with tools in various states of disrepair. Miscellaneous hardware, some rusted, some relatively new, sat on shelves and cabinets, in old mayonnaise jars filled with an olio of screws and bolts, in boxes, and piles. In the center of the bench sat a wooden container filled, as Lydell had predicted, with lock parts and keys.
    “You have quite a collection here, sir.”
    “We Lydell’s have always been packrats, I’m afraid. Family trait. There are the items you wanted to inspect.” Lydell waved in the direction of the box. “I must say, it would be convenient if you would complete your inspection of my keys as soon as possible. When I can, I want to repair my door and I will need a key.”
    “We’ll do what we can. How is your daughter taking this? We’ll need her statement.”
    “She may not be aware of the circumstances. She is as I said, indisposed. I will inform her of your request. Perhaps this afternoon would do.”
    Ike picked a few rusty keys and tarnished lock parts from the box and inspected them. “I’d say you had enough bits and pieces here to make half a dozen locks if you wanted to.”
    “Yes, well, perhaps. I am not particularly mechanical, but I expect a locksmith could. I was looking for a key to that old trunk up in the stranger room.”
    “It’s a family heirloom?”
    Lydell hesitated, frowned, and scratched his temple. “I’ve no idea. As I said, we are a family of packrats.”
    Ike turned his attention back to the box and rummaged some more. Lydell shuffled his feet, from annoyance or anxiety, Ike couldn’t be sure. Agitated is what Ike guessed, but agitated about what? He gathered up the odd bits he’d placed on the table and stopped. “What’s this thing?” He held up a device that looked like a small crank.
    “Oh, if I’m not mistaken, that is a very old clock winder. It works like a clock key only it’s constructed like a crank, instead. That configuration allows it to create enough mechanical advantage so winding a heavy spring or lifting weights could be done easily.”
    Ike dropped it back in the box. Not mechanically inclined my foot! “A clock winder. Odd place for it—mixed up with all these keys and locks.”
    “Yes, well, I haven’t had a chance to sort through all this yet. I will take that and put it in a separate