Chapter Six
While Trixie and Dean checked out the cellar, Honey and Sam hunted through the living room, or parlor, as it would have been called back then.
Sam sighed and stepped away from the wall. “Nothing here.”
“The floors are solid. Nothing hiding here,” Honey said, disappointed. She stood facing the large fireplace.
“Maybe the fortune is gone,” Sam suggested. “Maybe she really did lose it.”
Honey looked thoughtful. “I’m sure it’s not. Something just tells me there’s a fortune here.”
“Mattress?” Sam asked.
Honey shook her head. “Trixie already checked. That was our first thought.”
“So where would a crazy old woman keep her money?” Sam asked.
Honey closed her eyes for a minute. “Somewhere close by. We already checked that little room. Jim’s great uncle didn’t trust banks. So he kept his money in his mattress,” she muttered to herself.
“Who’s Jim?” Sam couldn’t resist asking. She hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend.
“My brother,” she replied absently. “My parents adopted him when I was thirteen. His great uncle was a bit eccentric and loaded with money. He kept a huge stash in his mattress, out in plain sight.”
Her hazel eyes opened and she stared at the painting over the mantle. It was an oil of the house itself, painted in the grander days of the mansion, minus the tree out front. “Do you think—behind that painting—a safe, maybe?”
Sam was already moving towards it. She watched in admiration as the strong young man reached up and lifted down the heavy frame. He had really nice shoulders and arms, she thought, distracted. There was no safe, but the bricks were a distinctly different shade of gray. And almost shiny.
Honey’s eyes narrowed and Sam frowned as they stared at it. Setting the portrait down, he leaned it forward and ran his hands over the back.
“There’s something on the back, like…paint?” He stared at the substance on his fingers.
Honey leaned over. “Why would there be paint? Hang on,” she muttered, stepping over to the fireplace. Stepping up on the base, she ran her fingers over the bricks that had been hidden behind the painting. “This is definitely paint of some sort. Sam, hand me that sheet off the chair.”
Sam did so, watching her in admiration.
“I’m going to open the windows,” he said. “The paint probably has lead in it, so don’t breathe deeply.”
“Good idea,” Honey answered, digging in her jacket. She produced a white handkerchief that she delicately held over her mouth. Sam had to smile. Not too many women ran around with handkerchiefs in their pockets.
She took the sheet and began to rub the bricks. Within in minutes the gray had come off, revealing gold.
“She did have it plain sight,” she said excitedly. “Sam, look!”
“She made the fireplace out of gold bars?” Sam demanded.
“Surely not all of it,” she answered, rubbing vigorously with the sheet. Sam took the other end and began to rub at another spot. “Didn’t you read that the last construction was in the forties, when they added the fireplace?”
“Yep. She must have made part of this out of the bricks, painted them over, and then hung the portrait. If anyone looked for a safe, there wouldn’t be one, just brick.” He answered.
“And note how the texture is definitely smoother,” Honey studied it. “But no one would look twice, most likely. I don’t know what kind of paint that is though, to come off so easily.”
“You’re pretty good at figuring this stuff out,” Sam said.
She laughed. “I’m a private investigator, it’s my job.”
“I think these are real brick,” Sam said. He ran his hands over some of the other bricks, and Honey couldn’t help but notice what big, capable looking hands he had.
“There’s still got to be a fortune here,” Honey reflected. “Gold is running close to $700 an ounce right now. A typical gold bar weighs over twenty seven pounds.”
“That’s a lot of money,” Sam said softly, doing the mental calculations.
Honey nodded. “But where did she get it? The Belden family never had any money. Where did she get it, and how did she get it in bar form? No one runs around with those in their pockets!”
“Maybe she melted it down,” Sam thought out loud. “But then it goes back to the question of how she got it in the first place.”
“Sam.” Honey turned to him her eyes wide. “This house was large by standard when it was built. That would have required money. I think we need to find out what Grislan, Sr. was doing.”
***
After rolling around on the ground making out for several minutes with Dean, Trixie pushed him away and declared it was time to get back to the cellar. The way he set her on fire, she was going to end up ripping his clothes off right there in the grass, and she refused to completely give in to his charms and appeal. After they descended the cellar stairs, Sam and Honey appeared at the top to tell them they needed to head back to town and check on a lead.
Flashlights on, Dean and Trixie explored. The smell had dissipated somewhat, but it still stunk. It was also very cold, and Trixie shivered.
“We find a corpse, I’m not touching it,” Trixie warned him.
He smirked. “I’ve got something else for you touch later,” he answered.
She smacked his arm as he laughed and then said, “You go that way, I’ll go this way. Holler if you find something interesting.”
Trixie wasn’t keen on the idea of splitting up, but didn’t say anything. Dean might be cocky and arrogant, but she could see how protective he really was, and she was surprised to find herself with no fear at all when he was next to her. She stepped to the right, raising both gun and lantern.
Dean went to the left, stepping cautiously, shining the light down, up, and around.
It had definitely been used for storage. Tools, mostly rusted now, and containers that might have held food or grain at one point lined one wall. Dean wasn’t about to open them to find out. Jars lined a shelf. Probably jellies or something, Dean thought, from looking at them. He wasn’t going to open those, either.
There was a small pile of bones that Dean figured must have once been a rat. He shone the light into the back corner. The smell grew stronger and he covered his mouth as he saw the rotting animal corpse. He didn’t look closely to see what sort of animal it might have been.
“Hello, Endora,” he muttered, squatting down by what appeared to be a big, black cauldron. Cast iron, he knew it would weigh a ton. Next to it was a cast iron ladle and an odd, rectangular shaped mold.
“Dean?” Trixie was calling him.
“Yeah,” he called as he stood and hurried towards her voice. “Find something?”
“Maybe. Come look at this.”
He joined her and followed the beam of light.
“It’s a sack, Trixie.”
“Look at the shape,” she answered. “Ever seen a sack like that that didn’t have a body in it?”
Dean frowned. “No. Step back.”
“Don’t give me orders!” she growled.
Dean sighed “Fine. Step back, please?”
Trixie did so reluctantly.
Dean knelt over the sack, grimacing as he pulled out his pocket knife and cut into it. The odor hit him and he reeled back. Trixie covered her mouth. Dean waved at her to go, so she did, hurrying for the stairs.
For the second time, they waited outside.
“Definitely a corpse,” Dean inhaled the fresh air.
“But who? And how? And why hasn’t it decomposed fully? And when was it there?” she asked.
“Slow down there, Curly. The smell could be just from being in there so long, or the animal I found. Probably a large rodent of some sort. I’m no forensics expert, but it might be the housekeeper that went missing, Ella someone. And her being down here, well, looks like we have another murder on our hands.”
Trixie sat back looking morose. “I can’t believe my great aunt could be involved in all this. And now another body…”
Dean reached over and put one arm around her. He wasn’t good with distressed women, but he needed to keep Trixie calm. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ve all got crazies in the family, not to mention skeletons in the closet. Or cellar,” he chuckled. Trixie smiled a bit.
“You know, I’m thinking it’s cold enough down there that the body was preserved, or at least, the decomposition was slowed down. Did you get a good look at it? Maybe we should call the sheriff.”
Dean winced. “Um, maybe later. I’m not real keen on the cops.”
“Well, we can’t leave a body there, Dean,” Trixie reasoned. “We have to call someone. Especially if there’s been a murder!”
“Let’s just hold off until Sam and Honey get back. Besides, I did get a good look. It’s mostly bones and clothes. I think the stench is just from the rotting smell being trapped in there. Cops probably can’t determine much without sending it off to a lab, and since they didn’t bother with the first body, they might not with this either, unless they have reason to suspect it’s that Ella woman.”
Trixie’s eyes narrowed and she put her hands on her hips. “What aren’t you telling me?” she demanded. He had changed the subject from the police too smoothly.
Dean gave her a charming smile and tried to slip his arms around her, but she swatted them away. “You know, while we’re waiting—”
“Spill it, Winchester,” she ordered. “This is more than a dislike of cops.”
Dean bit his lip. “Look, Trix, I can’t give you all the details. But I can’t be found by the cops, okay? I need you to believe me when I say I was framed. It’s a bizarre tale, even for us Hunters.”
Trixie crossed her arms over her chest. “No. You tell me right now.”
Dean ran his hand over his cropped hair. “You won’t believe me.”
“Last week I never would have believed I’d own a ramshackle house, complete with haunting and malevolent spirits.”
“Good point,” he mused. “I guess it depends on how far you’re willing to stretch your reality.”
“Try me.”
Trixie stood waiting as the story came out, her eyes widening more than once and her jaw dropping.
When he was done, she walked around for a moment.
“You gonna say something?” he asked.
“Wow,” she answered. “Just wow. And this is for real?”
“Completely,” he answered.
Her blue eyes stared into his green as she processed it all. He was totally serious now.
“So the FBI thinks you faked your own death, after you beat and murdered a couple of people?”
“Pretty much,” he answered. “But I didn’t do any of that, I swear.”
Trixie studied him for a minute. He was cocky and arrogant and a con man. But something in his expression told her he was being honest. “I believe you.”
Dean smiled, relieved. “I’m glad. Now you know why I don’t want the cops around. At least wait until we’re at the hotel. Because more than likely they’re going to search the place. And they can’t find our fingerprints.”
Trixie winced. “Great. They’re everywhere.”
“I know,” Dean ran over hand through his hair. “We’ve got some cleanup work to do.”
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Author Notes:
- A "Bring me some pie!" to my editors, Mary Dana! Quote by Dean, ep 2.20 All Hell Breaks Loose.
- The shapeshifter that set Dean up in St. Louis is the episode “Skin”, from Season 1. Dean ended up on the FBI’s Most Wanted list in “The Usual Suspects” from Season 2. The cops were played by Linda Blair and Jason Gedrick. Sam does not have his own listing, but is listed as an accomplice to Dean.
- Honey references "The Secret of the Mansion" when talking about Jim and his great uncle.
- Word Count, 1,920
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