Murder on the Cape Fear Read Online Free Page B

frames and mullions were being rehabbed. It was dreary inside but we got the work lights on and were able to scrutinize the front reception hall.
    Missing was an ornate stair rail and banister that we’d removed so that they could be stripped of paint and refinished. That left an open staircase which was not in bad shape. Stairs have a way of holding up better than other sections of a house although there were a few loose risers and worn treads on this staircase that we’d have to repair.
    The reception hall had a fireplace, just as my own house did, and this one had been covered over with wallboard but it had been easy to spot the ghost marks of the hearth and that led us to the discovery of the fireplace. A new hearth and firebox were being constructed and the mantelpiece had been sent to a cabinet maker for refinishing. The tile surround was intact and needed only a good cleaning to reveal its beauty - a job I planned to do myself.
    Jon led the way down a narrow hallway to the parlor at the rear of the house and I followed. “Lots of water damage back here,” he said, shaking his head. “You’d think people would take better care of their homes.”
    “ I know,” I agreed, “but Laura told me the repairs were simply too costly for her and her father while she was growing up and then in medical school. After her father was forced to move out and the house was empty, one of the sashes rotted out which caused the window panes to loosen and fall into the garden and the gaping holes let in rain.”
    Sections of rotten wood flooring under the windows at the rear wall had been ripped up. “The millworks said they’d have floor boards for us next week,” I reported.
    “ That’s good news,” Jon said as he walked to the center of the room. Instantly, there was a loud crashing noise as the floor under his feet cracked and caved inward. He was vanishing before my eyes! My resounding Noooooooooo! echoed throughout the house. The man I loved was falling to his death!
    Then I saw that he had caught hold of a sound floor joist. “Help! Get help!” he panted, out of breath.
    I pulled my cell phone off my waist band and started to dial when Jon shouted, “I can’t hold on. I’m going to fall. Do something, Ashley!”
    I had to think of a way to save him. I wasn’t strong enough to pull him up. Frantically I scanned the room for something to throw to him, for him to hang on to. Behind me, just inside the doorway, stood a heap of odd items, things we had found around the house but had not yet cleared out. One item was a coil of rope that we were saving because of its age, thinking it might have some historic value. Would it even hold, I wondered as I raced to grab it up. It might be so frayed and brittle it would break. But it was my only hope.
    In a flash I uncoiled the rope as I gingerly stepped to the edge of flooring where Jon hung. I did not want the floor to break under me too. We’d both be goners. I got down on my hands and knees, then stretched out full length on the floor. I dangled my upper body over the edge.
    “ I’m going to tie this rope around you,” I told Jon. His face was mere inches from mine. Sweat was pouring off him, his skin was red, and his expression was strained. How long could he hold on?
    I managed to loop the rope around his torso directly under his arms. My daddy had taught me to sail at an early age so tying a sturdy knot is something I know how to do.
    “ Hurry, hurry,” he gasped. “My hands are slipping. Oh, Ashley,” he groaned.
    I forced myself to focus not on his words or the hopelessness of our situation but on the job of tying a strong knot. Then I slithered backward to safer flooring, jumped up and dragged the rope to an exposed stud and wound it around the stud and tied it tight.
    “ OK, I’ve got you,” I hollered to Jon. “You’re tied, but don’t let go. I don’t know how strong that old rope is.” Oh, Lord, please let the rope hold, I prayed as I dialed