And neither her apartment nor the museum had trophy heads anywhere on the walls.
The apartment had been recently remodeled and refurbished. The master bedroom held two antique dressers, a washstand with a pitcher and bowl and an antique bed frame that held a very modern and comfortable queen-sized mattress.
Scarlet loved her job here and was enjoying the emphasis on the Civil War, Reconstruction and westward expansion. It was so different from her work in Florida, which had focused on the Seminole Wars.
She walked into the kitchen and decided to brew tea while debating whether to go into town for dinner. She hadn’t actually left the property in a few days, so getting out and about was probably a good thing to do. She could become reclusive all too easily, she knew.
She was mulling over the strange pictures on the camera and pouring hot water over a tea bag when she heard a thump.
It was a loud thump. Loud enough to make her nearly spill scalding water over her hand.
She quickly set down the kettle and frowned. The sound had come from downstairs, where there shouldn’t have been anyone. She was certain she’d locked the door behind her.
Unease filled her. There wasn’t even a door between her and the downstairs, something she’d never thought about before.
She dug in her pocket quickly for her cell phone. After the camera incident, she didn’t want to sound like a paranoid idiot, but she didn’t want to take any chances, either.
She dialed the main house. “Hey,” she said when Ben picked up, “I’m just checking. Is anyone supposed to be downstairs in the museum? I just heard...something down there.”
“Not to worry, I’ll be right there,” he told her.
“I hate to bother you.”
“It’s a bother of about thirty steps. I’ll see you in two minutes.”
As soon as Scarlet heard Ben’s key in the door she ran down the steps to meet him.
He hit the switch that turned on all the overhead lights. “Let’s see what’s up, okay?” he asked.
“Thanks. I didn’t know—I thought maybe someone was supposed to be in here.”
He shook his head. “You, Trisha and I have keys. No one else. So what did you hear?”
“A thump.”
“A thump. Hmm. Well, let’s look around.”
The museum consisted of a single large room, with the platform holding Teddy Roosevelt and John Muir right in the middle.
They began to walk from one end to the other and found one of the frontiersmen on the floor.
“I’ll be darned. My great-great-whatever fell down,” Ben said.
“Poor Nathan Kendall,” Scarlet murmured. The mannequin was a handsome one; Nathan’s father-in-law had commissioned it—along with one of his daughter, which had disappeared at some time over the years—because he’d wanted them for his grandchild. Scarlet had never been sure whether she’d thought that was nice or creepy.
He grinned and hunkered down by the fallen figure. “I guess he wants to be sure we remember him. Well, we should. We’re both his descendants, after all. Give me a hand, will you?”
Scarlet helped him lift the mannequin. It was heavy, which made sense, since it had been carved from solid wood, then painted with care and dressed in period clothing. She assessed the handsome features for damage, thinking the nose might have been broken in the fall, but it was unharmed.
“Why would a statue just fall over?” she ventured.
“Who knows? So much mining went on around here, the earth is always adjusting. You okay?”
“Of course. The noise just startled me, that’s all.”
“I should probably install a security system out here. I never really thought that much about it. Locks on the doors. I didn’t even buy a gun and learn how to shoot until a few months ago. They frown on stockbrokers packing heat on the streets of New York.”
“I know how to shoot,” Scarlet said quietly. “But I don’t own a gun.”
“That’s right, I forgot. Your ex-husband was a cop.”
“Agent,” Scarlet said. “Federal agent.”
“I remember meeting him in New York one time, before you took that job in Florida. He seemed like a nice guy. But...none of my business. His loss is our gain, I say.”
“He is a nice guy,” Scarlet said. “Sometimes things just don’t work. Anyway, yes, he taught me how to use a gun.”
“Well, there you go—you’ve got a room full of guns right here,” Ben said. “Of course, half of these are older than the war between the States.”
“But most of them are in good working order,” she said. “Anyway, I’m fine. I think I’m going to head into town, but I’ll make sure I lock up when I go and when I get back.”