Women.
Nothing but trouble.
“Tell me, darlin’, what’s that thing out in the field? It looks like a Greek temple.”
She stepped to the window and gestured for the others to join her. He caught a whiff of her perfume. Not much. Just a tad, the way he liked it. She stood close, inside his space, and seemed not to mind.
Neither did he.
“That was built by Madison. Below is a thirty-foot-deep pit where he kept ice year-round. We’d call it a gazebo today, albeit an elaborate one. He intended it to become his summer study, where he could work and think in peace, with the cool from the ice below refreshing him, but it never happened.”
“Anybody ever been into the pit?” he asked.
“Not since I’ve been around. It’s sealed up.”
She moved away from the window and led the group through the dining room and into Madison’s library. The escorted tour only extended to the ground floor, the upper floor self-guided. He checked his watch. Maybe another three hours of daylight left. But he’d have to wait until much later to return. He decided to bypass the rest of the house and left out the front door, following a graveled path to the garden entrance. He passed through a portal in a long brick wall, guarded by hydrangeas, and walked toward a low knoll among the trees in the north yard.
Eight white columns held up the temple’s domed roof. No walls, the fifteen-foot circle open to the elements. Katie had been right. Just a fancy gazebo. He stepped onto the concrete floor and tested one of the columns. Solid. He stared down at the flooring and stamped his foot. Rock-hard. The concrete was gray-aged but at its center lay a separate square-shaped piece, outlined by a one-inch grout line. Surely a way to get below, if need be.
He glanced back out at the grounds.
Black walnut, cedar, fir, redwood, and evergreens dominated, all old growth. A few appeared as if they could have even been around when Madison himself lived. He noticed little to no security, though the house interior was equipped with motion sensors. No problem. He wasn’t going anywhere near there. No fence encased the property. But with 2,700 acres he could understand why not. He’d already checked Google Earth and learned that a road cut close to the temple, through the woods to his left. Maybe three hundred yards, he estimated. An easy way in and out. He’d brought some rope and a flashlight.
But what the hell was he looking for?
Like he’d told Stephanie, during the last two hundred years, that pit had surely been picked through.
But she’d also been right.
Not a single image of the inside existed anywhere online. Before entering the house, after buying his ticket, he’d thumbed through every book in the visitor center. Not a photo there, either.
So what was down there?
Probably not a damn thing. But he had his orders.
“You enjoying the view?”
He turned to see Katie standing beyond the columns.
“You need a bell on or somethin’,” he said. “You can creep up on a guy.”
“I saw you leave.”
“I wanted to check this out,” he said. “It’s a beautiful spot. Real peaceful.”
She stepped beneath the dome. “You don’t look like a history buff.”
“Really? What do I look like?”
She apprized him with a soft glare, through eyes that were a lovely shade of blue. A crop of short strawberry-blond hair hung in sexy, layered bangs that flattered her freckled face.
“I think you’re military. Home on leave.”
He rubbed his jaw, which like his neck was dusted with a two-day stubble. “Guilty. Just back from two tours overseas. Had some time, so I thought I’d visit a few presidents’ houses and see what I was fighting for.”
“You got a name?”
“Luke.”
“As in the evangelist?”
He chuckled. “That was the idea.”
Confidence fueled her forwardness and he liked it. He’d never cared for the Melanie Wilkeses of the world. Give him the Scarlett O’Haras. The tougher the better. Nothing excited him more than a challenge. Besides, he needed to learn about this place, and what better way than from an employee.
“Tell me, Katie, where do you get somethin’ good to eat around here?”
She smiled. “Depends. You eat alone?”
“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.”
“I’m off in twenty minutes. I’ll show you.”
THIRTY-SIX
SALZBURG
CASSIOPEIA NEVER ENTERED THE GOLDENER HIRSCH. INSTEAD she’d waited until Josepe had turned a corner fifty meters away, then rushed after him, following, hoping not to be noticed. Thankfully, she’d worn low-heeled shoes to the auction, which helped on the street’s uneven stones. Dusk had deepened to night. Josepe remained fifty meters ahead, darkness providing plenty of cover.