Behind the Walls

BEHIND THE WALLS, excerpt Merry Jones October 1989

The crate was small, simply marked, “Utah.” No dates, like the others. No specific dig sites either. Odd; Professor Langston was obsessive about labeling his collection. Maybe the labels were inside, taped to the lid? Or maybe they’d been lost. Clara Prentiss sighed, glanced at her watch. Almost four. Without a list, there probably wouldn’t be time to identify and catalogue the contents before sunset, and she didn’t want to be caught there after dark. The professor’s rambling old Victorian mansion was spooky enough in daylight. The place had been built in the early twentieth century by some hermetic silent movie star whose name she couldn’t remember but who, in his paranoia, had designed the place with secret passages and hidden vaults, setting it deep in the woods outside Ithaca where, even now, it had no near neighbors. When he’d offered her the assistantship, Professor Langston had told her with some pride that his house was probably haunted. “Haunted?” she’d parroted. “Its inhabitants have led, shall we say…uncommon lives,” he’d smiled, wheezing heavily as air forced its way through his dense nose hairs. “In the Twenties, a young woman—a starlet named Chloe Manning simply disappeared during a visit. Some say she’s still in the house, wandering the passages in the walls.” Carla had blinked at the walls of the study. Wondered if the bookshelves concealed secret doors. And bodies. Under his white, unruly brows, Langston’s eyes had twinkled, amused. He’d lowered his voice to a gravelly whisper. “Some years later, a maid suddenly fell or jumped—or was pushed over the balcony. Broke her neck. And then, in the Fifties, well…” His eyes had narrowed, drifted across his study. “What?” she’d pressed him. “What happened in the Fifties?” He’d drawn a dramatic breath. “Well, these things happen, even today.” What things? She’d waited for him to explain. “Sometimes men run amok. They snap and release pent up aggressions onto their family members.” “Professor, what happened?” He’d cleared his throat, reached for a pipe. “The man of the house—Fredericks. One night, he simply hacked his wife and three children to death. Damaged the walls a bit, too.” Carla had felt a chill, held her breath. “But it worked out well for me; I was able to acquire the place for a very reasonable price afterwards.” Professor Langston had smiled slyly. Pleased with himself.

Merry Jones is the author of the Harper Jennings thrillers, SUMMER SESSION and BEHIND THE WALLS. She has also written the Zoe Hayes mysteries (THE NANNY MURDERS, THE RIVER KILLINGS, THE DEADLY NEIGHBORS, THE BORROWED AND BLUE MURDERS), humor (including I LOVE HIM, BUT…) and non-fiction (including BIRTHMOTHERS, WOMEN WHO RELINQUISED BABIES FOR ADOPTION TELL THEIR STORIES.) Visit her at MerryJones.com In this second Harper Jennings thriller, Iraq war veteran and archeology graduate student Harper Jennings takes over the job of cataloging a valuable collection of pre-Columbian artifacts. Zina Salim, who'd previously had the job, has been murdered; in fact, Harper found Zina with her heart cut out the day after she'd insisted to Harper than she'd been chased by a Nahual, a pre-Columbian shape-shifter. Believing that Zina was spooked by the creepy old house where the collection is stored and that her murder was an honor killing committed by Zina's own family, Harper goes to work. Soon afterward, members of her old army team start dying. Her husband grows withdrawn and depressed. Her Post Traumatic Stress Disorder returns with a vengeance. And Harper is sure she's being stalked. The more involved she gets with the artifacts, the more danger she and those close to her face. Harper refuses to give up; she knows the artifacts can't be cursed. Or can they? In this second Harper Jennings thriller, Iraq war veteran and archeology graduate student Harper Jennings takes over the job of cataloging a valuable collection of pre-Columbian artifacts. Zina Salim, who'd previously had the job, has been murdered; in fact, Harper found Zina with her heart cut out the day after she'd insisted to Harper than she'd been chased by a Nahual, a pre-Columbian shape-shifter. Believing that Zina was spooked by the creepy old house where the collection is stored and that her murder was an honor killing committed by Zina's own family, Harper goes to work. Soon afterward, members of her old army team start dying. Her husband grows withdrawn and depressed. Her Post Traumatic Stress Disorder returns with a vengeance. And Harper is sure she's being stalked. The more involved she gets with the artifacts, the more danger she and those close to her face. Harper refuses to give up; she knows the artifacts can't be cursed. Or can they?