LAST ASSAULT ON OAK ISLAND 19
Chapter 19
If you’re just joining this story, you may want to start from the beginning.
Lauren frowned, touching Carlos' neck, then Rudy's. Both were sleeping. She hurriedly checked the rest of the rooms in the house, the gun in her trembling hands, finding no one. She went back down to the parlor.
"Carlos," she said loudly. She put the gun on the lamp table and shook his arm gently.
He looked up, turned his head and closed his eyes again. "Sign it in, dear."
"No, wake up. Carlos." She shook him harder.
"I'll get to it," was all he would say, head drooping to one side in sleep.
She gave up and approached Rudy. She called his name a few times. His only response was to scratch himself. She decided to leave him alone. She looked suspiciously at the cup of tea on the table by the couch, then to the one near Carlos on the lamp stand. She picked up Rudy's cup and smelled the tiny bit of liquid inside. It was sweet.
In the kitchen, the back door rattled vigorously and was thrown open.
Lauren set the cup down and grabbed the gun and raised it, trying to steady it in her shaking hands.
Maruso entered the parlor, surprised. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Lauren."
"Oh, it's you." She lowered the gun.
"What happened to you? You're soaked." He was grim-faced and wet. He crossed the room and took the gun from her, setting it down carefully on the coffee table. He took her bandaged hand. "You're bleeding."
She tried to calm her racing heart. "Why are you so wet?"
"I walked the last half mile. Jeep's somehow out of gas. What happened here?" He began taking the torn sleeve off her palm, but she clenched her hand.
"Something's wrong with Carlos and Rudy. I think they drank something." She briefly told him about the fire and what she thought was foul play.
She held up Carlos' cup and gave it a cautious sniff. "Smell it. Sweet. He doesn't take sugar in his tea. Rudy's is the same, and the whole house smells sweet. I'm calling Dr. Geiger."
"Do that." Maruso took a deep breath, following her into the kitchen. "It's strongest in here." He looked around warily while she rifled through the worn address book and made a call. As she spoke on the phone, he paused at the stove and felt the water kettle. He flicked open the spout and smelled it.
"Lewis!" She waved frantically as he put a finger in the spout to the water inside.
He stuck his finger in his mouth, frowning at the flavor. "It tastes sweet."
"Yes," she said back into the phone, frowning at Maruso. "Okay." She hung up and shook her head at Maruso. "Don't drink it."
"I'm not." He poured a small amount of the water into a teacup. "It's clear and sweet, but not like sugar." He looked to the wastebasket by the stove. "Mountain Gardens Blueberry Cup. Flavored tea."
"Rudy's favorite. Dr. Geiger is on his way over."
He caught her arm as she started back into the parlor. "It can't be too serious, Lauren. You said they moved; Carlos spoke. Let's see your hand."
They sat on the settee across from the snoring Rudy in the parlor. Maruso carefully removed the dark-stained bandage from her hand, pulling gently at the spots that stuck. Her palm was slit between the thumb and finger to nearly the other side, following a crease in her had. It was torn further near the thumb from her attack on the door.
He glanced at the squeamish look covering her face. "Been quite a night. You're sure you're all right?"
"Yes." She looked away as a paleness blanched her unease. She glanced at Carlos. "I think he's waking up."
"Stay here," Maruso said.
She remained. Her hand had stopped bleeding, but the cut had stretched wide. He set her hand palm-up on her knee and stood up. "Stay here."
He poured her a drink and set it to her good hand and went into the kitchen. "At least it's not you're writing hand."
She took a nervous drink of the strong smelling liquid. She muted a cough at the whiskey. "Where's the gun?"
"In the drawer." He returned with a wet cloth and sat down beside her again. He wiped the bloodstains from her wrist and arm.
"Hold it a minute." She stood up and took a key from off the top of the secretary and unlocked the second drawer. She nodded at its contents and closed the drawer. "Good." She sighed. "I didn't even think to look for the diary. Carlos must have put it away."
"Let's go in here," he said, catching her good hand. "The light's better."
They sat at the kitchen table, both listening for any strange sounds in the house or from outside.
"I saw that tree against the lighthouse door when I came in." He waited for her to settle at the table before reaching for her hand clutching the torn sleeve. He removed the cloth again and dabbed at the red still on her hand with the wet cloth. "It didn't fall by itself."
"Ouch."
"Sorry." Her palm was now clean of blood, but still open and raw. He rewrapped it loosely with paper towels. "I'd say something ran into it."
"It wasn't a big tree, but it would have damaged a car," she said, picturing the small elm that was near the lighthouse.
"Yeah, but a bigger truck could get away with less damage. Also," he continued when she opened her mouth to protest, "it couldn't naturally lodge against the door that well. It isn't heavy enough. It was wedged there." The lights in the room flickered, but remained on. "The storm's getting bad."
"The light should be on."
He nodded, pushing the bottle of whisky at his side closer to her. "When Doc Geiger gets here I'll see if I can get it going."
"Don't try, Lewis. The whole place could burn down." She took a stunted drink from her glass and decided she did not want any more.
He looked over her wet clothes. "You couldn't get through the broken window?"
She shook her head, tried to laugh, half at the size of the window and half hoping to relieve the ache building in her head.
"Good thing you didn't try; there'd be more to stitch up than your hand."
"Captain," Carlos said thickly, putting a hand to his head. He looked their way through the kitchen opening to the parlor. He blinked, squinting at them.
Lauren went to his side. "How do you feel?" She looked around for his glasses.
"Lauren. . . Where's Rudy? Oh." He shook his head, licking his lips and scowling. "The blueberry is much too sweet."
"Carlos, Dr. Geiger is on his way over. Just rest. Rudy's fine, right here sleeping." She adjusted the small pillow behind his head, a nagging ebb in her mind. "Where are your glasses?"
"Here. No . . ." He looked at the lamp table, then past her to Maruso. "We were at the table, not here. Rudy was dizzy . . ." He felt his temple. "I remember falling, and the Captain helping me to this chair."
She looked to Maruso, who was shaking his head. "It wasn't me."
"Well, I didn't have my glasses on. I know it wasn't you," he said to Lauren. "And it wasn't Rudy." He frowned. "I thought it was you coming in the kitchen door."
Maruso stood up and joined them, reading the growing realization on Lauren's face.
"We'll get it sorted out," he said. "Just take it easy, Carlos."
Lauren answered the door for Dr. Geiger a few moments later. He examined Rudy first, then Carlos. Rudy immediately dismissed himself to go to bed, grumbling at having been poked and prodded. Maruso went out to see about the chances of making the light functional. Carlos struggled to stay awake as he sat with Lauren and the doctor in the kitchen.
"No," he told the physician. "I'm fine. Do you know what it is?"
Dr. Geiger stood at the stove. He held the water kettle up with a knowing nod. "Offhand I'd say Doxanil. An over-the-counter antihistamine here in Canada." He sat down with Carlos at the table and motioned Lauren over from her vigil at the window.
She sent a last look to the dark lighthouse outside and then took a chair at the table.
Dr. Geiger had already given her hand a preliminary look, but now he opened his small medical kit to stitch up the laceration. "A doctors group tried to get the drug banned a few years back because it's easy to abuse. When you can smell it, it's strong." He looked to the curator. "I'd have the Captain here stay the night, just in case. It's a hell of a night to be out on the water anyway."
Carlos nodded. "Perhaps you should stay, too."
"The roads aren't too bad. No trees down, yet." He worked for a few moments, first anesthetizing Lauren's palm and then closing it with stitches. He snipped off the last knot. "I've got grandchildren up for the week. I won't say anything about this," he assured quietly, with a nod to Carlos. "But I don't know who would go through this much trouble to make Rudy look bad. Some of those miscreants from town are pretty rough. I saw what they did to Country Island last summer. Protests, they called 'em."
Dr. Geiger did not elaborate on what had happened at Country Island, nor did he linger. With a final check on Rudy, he left as the wind began to die down.
Carlos and Lauren were left to stare at each other. He touched the back of her bandaged hand, sighing heavily.
"I suppose you'll want a raise in per diem for this." He shook his head humor failing despite her small smile. "I'm sorry, Lauren. This is getting too dangerous. You could've been burned alive in there. I'll get you a ticket home."
"I'm not going home," she said hopefully, urgently. "Not in the middle of the play."
He stood up from the table. "Damn the appearances."
She stood. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Lewis will be in soon, and the storm is about spent. The worst is over. Dr. Geiger said for you to rest tonight. Or are you hungry? We didn't have supper."
"I'm not hungry. And no tea, either, thank you."
He was haggard and weary-looking, as if the drug would at any time win over and put him back to sleep.
"You should rest, Carlos," she said. "Dr. Geiger said it's safe to go to sleep."
"Maybe you're right." He let her escort him to the bottom of the stairs. "I'll be all right, dear."
"Goodnight, Carlos."
She waited at the stair as he ascended, and then heard the floorboards creak above on the upper level when he found his room. The clock struck midnight and the yellow felt covered bird jerked in and out of the Swiss chalet face a dozen times.
Maruso stepped in the back door from the abating rain.
Lauren went into the kitchen. "No luck?"
He shook his head, drying his hair off with a dish towel stuck in the refrigerator door handle. "Doc Geiger leave already?"
"Yes."
"There goes my ride to the dock."
"You won't need one." She took the dish towel and went to the small main floor bathroom and found a larger towel. She brought it back to the kitchen and handed it to him. "Carlos wants you to stay tonight."
"He did, did he?" He turned her hand over, mopping his hair with the towel. "How many stitches?"
"I stopped counting at twenty." Lauren debated asking the next question, watching him dry his dark hair.
A crack of lightning lit up the outside, followed by a booming thunder.
He probably won't know, she thought. She asked anyway. "Was the fire deliberate, Lewis?"
LAST FLAG ON OAK ISLAND audio production, Part 1!
Watch your inbox for more chapters, moving our treasure hunters ever closer to . . . possible treasure? Or failure?
Subscribe below to get alerts for future chapters in the search for Oak Island treasure!
#treasure #treasurehunt #OakIsland #MoneyPit #mystery #history
 | A guest post by
|