Climate Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries Book 7) Read Online Free PDF Page A

the gate?”
    “I have a key.”
    “Well, maybe you better––”
    The words ‘use it’ did not follow, though, for there was no need of them.
    A figure was making its way through the undergrowth.
    “That’s Ben Danielson, the caretaker/handyman.”
    It could have been Ben Danielson, Nina found herself thinking, or it could have been The Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz , so gangly was it, so loose of joint, so ragged and hay infested.
    And so worried looking.
    The Scarecrow reached the gate, leaned over it, watched handfuls of straw and other vegetation fall out of its war surplus clothing, and rasped:
    “We didn’t know how to get you, Ms. Gavin!”
    “I was down in Bay St. Lucy! I told that to Mildred! I thought I told it to you, too, Ben! I thought I told everybody!”
    “Yes, Ma’am. I remember hearing you say that. But we didn’t know how to get in touch with you.”
    “What’s going on? We stopped at Obid’s in Abbeyport. Lizzy and Maybelle said to get out here as fast as possible!”
    “Yes, ma’am! Yes, ma’am!”
    “So what’s happening? Has there been an accident?”
    Two blackbirds flew low over Ben Danielson’s big black shapeless hat, were frightened of it, and fluttered on.
    “Not really an accident, no ma’am. We could have dealt with that all right.”
    “A fire?”
    “No ma’am. Wiring’s all safe, I done told you that.”
    “Then what?”
    “We couldn’t get a hold of you.”
    “Yes, I know. My cell phone is––well, not operating right.”
    “Because you don’t charge it,” said Nina, quietly.
    “Be quiet,” said Margot, not so quietly.
    “We knew you was down on the coast. But we couldn’t––”
    “I know, I know. Just open the gate, Ben. We’ll drive on up to the house.”
    Ben did open the gate, which was a marvelous feat, Nina remarked, for a creature devoid of tissue and dependent on the stalky remains of harvested grain.
    Margot drove through.
    “They’ll be waitin’ for you once you get up there. They been tryin’ all morning to get you but––”
    “I know I know”, shouted Margot at the rear view mirror, accelerating slightly and cursing not so slightly.
    “Well,” said Nina, “at least we know they tried to get in touch with you.”
    “Yes. And we’re going to know why, too. We’re almost there.”
    And they were.
    Forest forest forest––
    Sharp turn to the right––
    ––and there it was.
    The Candles.
    All they had to do was cross a perilous little wooden bridge which spanned a fast-moving creek about ten feet wide.
    “Is that bridge safe?” asked Nina.
    “It is now.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means it wasn’t always so safe. We had to have it worked on.”
    “When?”
    “Just after it collapsed with one of the limousines. Thankfully the water in the stream isn’t too deep. The ladies––”
    “Ladies?”
    “Yes, a group from the D.O.C.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Daughters of the Confederacy. Anyway, they got pretty wet. But we managed to get the thing settled without a lawsuit. The bridge is fine now.”
    “I want to go home.”
    “Nonsense, you worry too much. Come on, just close your eyes and we’ll be on the other side before you know it.”
    Nina closed her eyes as tightly as possible, and gripped the arm rest beside her.
    In no more than six hours they had crossed the rattling-timbered bridge.
    “Thank God,” she whispered.
    She opened her eyes.
    And there was the main building of the plantation, all spread out before them.
    As Margot pulled into the driveway and parked the car, Nina found herself struck again by the non-magnificence of the structure that surrounded her. She remembered the Robinson Mansion from Bay St. Lucy. This was the exact opposite. The Robinson Mansion, both in its original state, its run-down state, and its now resurrected state, had been built to intimidate. Its arches, windows, balconies, trellises, canopies, chandeliers, gutters, shutters, and butteries—all looked