This was confusing. Better to keep my head and find Jake. Poor guy must be starving by now. I would have been. I inched along the patio that ran by the kitchen, keeping the LED trained on the ground, and eyed the door. The storm door was glass top to bottom. It was closed, but the entry door stood open. I tried the storm door. It wasn’t locked. The partiers must have forgotten to lock up. Maybe that is how the stash of silver ended up in the hedge. A drunken foray by a relative stealing the family heirlooms.

With the stealth of a world class burglar, I eased in the door and shut it behind me. I waited, listening. The quiet hum of appliances was the only sound in the room lit by their red and green lights. Glasses and unwashed dishes sat about. How unlike Hudson to let the place go. Maybe he hadn’t hired cleanup help to take his place. Had he left?

I headed for the door Jake said I’d find that led to the lower level. Moving the interior kitchen door, there it was, just like he said. I tried the knob. Locked. Damnation. My luck hadn’t held. I searched the wall by the door for hanging keys. Nothing. I guess that would be too obvious. I opened the overhead cabinet. Nothing but dishes. I pulled open the lower cabinet drawers. More dishes. Where were those keys? Probably on a ring on Hudson’s belt. As if conjured up like a genie, the overhead lights came on, and I yelped. There stood Hudson in the doorway of the other entrance to the kitchen, staring at me with a look of surprise.

“Miss Marlowe, may I help you? Have you lost something? It is good of you to pay a visit. Isn’t it a bit early in the morning? Have you misplaced something? Your cell phone again?”

“Hudson, you startled me.” I acted like it was perfectly normal for me to be snooping around the kitchen in the middle of the night. “Jake is locked in the wine cellar. I was searching for the key so I can let him out.”

Hudson moved across the room to come face-to-face with me. He was attired in full butler uniform and looked like he had just come from the shower with wet hair slicked back from his forehead, replete with spicy aftershave. I hadn’t noticed before how broad his shoulders were. Maybe he seconded as a bodyguard for Albert.

He cocked his head and did a rapid eye blink, like he was trying to understand what I had said. “That’s odd, Miss Marlowe. Why would he be locked in the wine cellar?”

“Opal tricked him into going in to see some rare wines. She left and locked the door on him.”

“I should have known,” he said like this was a normal occurrence. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to lock him in. Her mind hasn’t been good lately. Here, let me open that door for you. Might I assist you in releasing him?”

Out of his pocket he extracted an impressive ring of keys and opened the door.

“I have a key to the wine cellar on this ring. Shall I lead the way? We will secure Mr. Manyhorses’ release in no time.”

He was about to descend the steps when I said, “Let me congratulate you on your upcoming marriage.” That was a showstopper. Obviously, I was fishing for information as well as checking to see if Opal was a loony as I suspected.

He looked at me like I was sprouting horns and tail.

“I beg your pardon. Marriage?”

Just as I thought. “Yes, Opal told me the two of you are to be married.”

“Married? To Opal?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry Miss Marlowe, but I am quite unaware of such plans.”

In the quiet, humming kitchen, we seemed to come to an understanding. I voiced our understanding. “Opal isn’t in her right mind, is she?”

“No,” Hudson said without the least hint of hesitation in his voice, “she is not, I am sad to say. Some nights she wanders the halls in search of I know not what.”

I could see the tired circles under Hudson’s eyes, but I pressed on with my questions unable to stop. “Forgive me for asking but did you inherit this house?”

His mouth opened and worked but no sound came out.

I said, “Opal said you inherited the house as payment for your service to Albert as a spook.”

“Spook, Miss Marlowe?”

“Spy.”

He started to chuckle, then had trouble stopping. His eyes filled with tears and the chuckles turned to hearty laughs. “Wooo, hooo,” he finally ended, pulling out his ironed, creased, white handkerchief and wiping his eyes.

“I say, she has quite the imagination, doesn’t she? I’m afraid those are stories Miss Opal invented.”

“Probably this is another of Opal’s stories but it’s been bothering me. Did she ever mention to you that while Albert was married to Olivia, he had an affair with a woman he worked with? That she probably murdered Albert using some creative spy technique?”

Hudson didn’t meet my eyes but looked over my shoulder at something I knew he would not share. I read defeat in those eyes but I could have been wrong.

“No,” he said. “I have never heard of her.”

Was this a true story or a figment of Opal’s imagination? Did Hudson know and wouldn’t tell? And why not?

I went in another direction. “Are you having as tough a time as I am trying to figure what is going on in this family?”

“I gave that up long ago, Miss Marlowe. I do my job and try not to look surprised at the odd behavior that transpires under this roof.”

“Has anyone thought of locking dear Opal up in a nice high end retirement home?”

“I don’t know. I am not privy to those decisions. I know what I overheard in Mr. Lodge’s conversations. I don’t believe he was aware of the extent of her illness.”

“Do you know she hired Jake to investigate Albert’s murder?”

He frowned. “Was Mr. Lodge murdered?”

“She seemed to think so. That’s why Jake is here. I’ve been helping him, sort of.”

Hudson was back in control of his butler face. “Miss Marlowe, I catch snatches of conversation. People often think a butler is a piece of furniture so they ignore the fact that I’m in the room, or coming and going or busying myself with something.”

I nodded.

“I don’t share what those snatches are. I don’t even speculate in a family like this one. This is what, I believe, psychologists call a dysfunctional family.”

“That is putting it mildly,” I said.

He turned to the basement stairs. “Shall we liberate Mr. Manyhorses?”

“Do you realize you are a suspect?” I couldn’t stop. I had to know.

He looked back and stared straight into my eyes. “What would be my motive?”

“You don’t seem to have anything to gain except the house, if in fact you’ve inherited it.”

“Precisely so. Do I look like I’ve inherited this house? If I may say, Miss Marlowe, the end of my employment and my move to Cornwall to my comfortable retirement cottage cannot come too soon.”

“I get the picture,” I said. “We better liberate Jake.”

He hadn’t exactly answered the inheritance question, and I now wanted to know if the mysterious spy woman was real. He hadn’t met my eyes when he answered the question. That’s the first time I felt he was lying.

* * * * *

Jake’s prison cell in the wine cellar was comfy, not at all what I imagined. He sat on a loveseat with end tables and lamps. A pint sized frig hummed in a kitchenette. He was surrounded with, and I’m not kidding, thousands of bottles of wine, arranged neatly around the walls of the room. The air was chilly, resulting from the automatically controlled room temperature that fine wines appreciate.

“Hi, Jake,” I said.

He looked from me to Hudson. “I see you found the easy way in.”

I smiled. “Taste any fine wines?”

“I’ll take whiskey any day.”

Hudson said, “If you will excuse me, I have the kitchen to clean and breakfast to arrange. Might there be anything else?”

It was clear Hudson did not want to involve himself anymore than necessary. I couldn’t blame him. The cottage in Cornwall beckoned.

“Thank you, Hudson. We appreciate your help,” I said. “By the way, when will your service end?”

“In two weeks. I have given notice. You’ll excuse me.” He removed himself from the room with his usual studied dignity.

“What now,” I said to Jake, “that I won your freedom?”

He scrubbed his face with both hands. “I need a shower and a decent meal. Wine just doesn’t do it for me. I need steak and eggs.”

“Right. Do you think the wine keeper hides out here?”

“Somebody must. The frig is stocked with chocolate and cheese.”

“Maybe that’s what they eat with wine tastings. This is a crazy house.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Let’s explore the underground while we’re here.”

“What for? I’m not working private investigation anymore.”

“No? Did Opal fire you?”

“Nope, gave my notice. That’s probably why she locked me up.”

“Have you noticed Opal is doing some strange stuff?”

“Yup. In my opinion, she needs to be institutionalized, sorry to say.”

“Agreed. Let’s look around. Aren’t you even curious?”

He shook his head. “I know too much about this family already.”

“Okay, then who inherited the money and the house?”

“Fiona, I can’t put a straight story together. I’ve followed lead after lead, and they all come to the same dead end. Albert died a natural death as far as I’m concerned. I’m headed back to Oregon.”

“What about Albert’s spy bimbo doing him in, and Opal wants us to exact revenge? Do you know who the bimbo is?”

“No. Opal’s story is the first I heard of her which leads me to believe it’s just a story.”

“I wonder,” I said, and let it go at that. What I really wondered was how I could find this woman. I put that on my to-do list. “We should look around. It won’t hurt.”