Succession: Sequel to Time-Trapped in the Attic

By Linda W. Millikin

Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it, and it might not be as wonderful as you thought. Freddreese Campton made a wish for more mystery because she thought her charming house in Shreveport, Louisiana, would become boring after all of the drama from Time-Trapped in the Attic. She never bargained for links between long ago narratives and present day suspense. The mysteries continue in this book as she, her best friend, her boyfriend, her neighbor, her boss, new friends, and new foes struggle to correct the past or try to steal the clues that would solve the conundrums. Can Freddreese restore order to her home and finally clear the cobwebs from her attic? Find out in Succession (Sequel to Time-Trapped in the Attic), the second of the wildly, inventive, lighthearted mystery novels that will transfix you with their otherworldly twists and spirited sense of fun.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781635757033

Book preview

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SUCCESSION

Sequel to

Time-Trapped in the Attic

Linda W. Millikin

ISBN 978-1-63575-702-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63575-703-3 (Digital)

Copyright © 2017 by Linda W. Millikin

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

296 Chestnut Street

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

This book is dedicated to:

the Holy Trinity—for the inspiration, intervention, and divine guidance.

Melvin—for the encouragement.

Keri—for reading all of the chapters as I wrote them.

the Wines and Millikin families—for listening.

Dianne—for listening, encouraging, editing, being my sounding board, and my prayer partner.

To my readers— for your support with the first book of this series Time-Trapped in the Attic, and your encouraging me to get the second one done.

Thank you to Christian Faith Publishing for publishing this work.

Chapter 1

Getting the 411,

or

Is There an Exterminator in the House?

The beam from the powerful battery-operated lantern danced across the secret space in the attic of the house at 157 Old May Street in the beautiful city of Shreveport, Louisiana, playing peek-a-boo with the darkness. Hudson Phillips could not believe his eyes as he examined each of the artifacts in succession that Freddreese Campton and Leslie Donner, the two best friends, had found there two months ago hidden behind a wall that was built for that purpose.

No wonder Freddreese kept testing his trustworthiness for the month and a half they had been dating. She would throw in a scenario about his finding money on the street that did not belong to him, or someone giving him something he knew was valuable but it was attained through ill-gotten means. Her question was always the same: What would you do?

He guessed she had forgotten that like her, he too was a Christian. Sometimes he was annoyed by her tests and questions, but Freddreese would always make him feel better by saying she was trying to see if he was boyfriend worthy. At least he knew he was in the running, and he wanted that very much.

Looking from one magnificent item to another hidden in the attic, he could see her point about telling and showing someone whom she could trust. He had to admit that he thought she was exaggerating about how luxurious the artifacts were when she did tell him about them and that they had been concealed in the garret for seventy-nine years. But here was all the splendor she had described right in front of his amazed peepers, making him an eyewitness to their glorious existence. Even the pictures she had taken and shown him did not do them justice.

Of all the artifacts he had inspected, the mirror, by far, was the most splendid. Being an exterminator, he had been exposed to many things, but nothing like this. The richness of the dark ebony wood of the frame was enough to grab a person, slap him silly, and leave him breathless. Hudson Phillips could not stop staring at the intricate hand carved flowers and those precious stone insets that graced the center of each blossom. Were they real diamonds? He did not have an expert eye, but he was inclined to believe that this was one of the most expensive things he had ever seen in his entire life. The china dishes, the two Persian rugs, the crystal chandelier, the spectacular jewelry, and the lustrous mink stole, that were also hidden away up there, all paled beside the majestic uniqueness of the reflector.

He stood there for about an hour rubbing the smoothness of the wood, which contrasted to the roughness of the carving. He was intoxicated by the beauty that was the mirror, and it was with great reluctance that he moved on to another one of the attic’s wonderful secrets.

Hudson Phillips then focused his attention on the two faded-brown suede chairs that were still stacked up seat to seat. The musty smell of being trapped in time in the attic competed with that of the 1935 clothes, shoes, and hats that were hidden in the old trunk against another wall. Like the contents of the trunk, dry rot had consumed both chairs too, because they were almost falling apart. Touching them would cause them to crumble into ruin right where they had been placed.

He ran a finger over the suede, and just as he thought, particles of the fibers broke free and started to fly away as if they had been caged birds. For a minute, he watched them bob and weave and swirl around in the light as they escaped into the air. The chairs must have been marvelous when they were first purchased and put in the space seventy-nine years earlier.

The beam of the lantern traversed the space and landed one last time on the mirror. He wondered if Freddreese had any idea of how valuable the items that had been hidden for all of those years in the attic of her house were.

She had told him that she was waiting for divine intervention because she wanted to donate everything anonymously to a museum, and she wanted to be sure that was the right thing to do. Hudson Phillips could understand why she wanted to get rid of the artifacts because he would do the same if he had found them in his own house. Each individual article had been dipped in the blood of the original owners of the house back in 1936. Who could live with these kinds of reminders from time past in their attic? It would be like the wailing ghosts of strangers occupying the space because their lives were brought to such a tragic end. He shuddered at the thought of dying the way that Douglas Fairchild III had done.

***

Freddreese crawled through the small door into the hidden room with her lantern and shined the beam on a motionless Hudson Phillips. He had been alone in there for two hours as he went from piece to piece, investigating each one.

Hudson? Freddreese whispered as if the artifacts were going to be listening to what she was about to say. You okay?

He spun around, startled by her sudden appearance behind him. Being engrossed in his deep thoughts, he had not noticed the light from her lantern shining around him. It was not easy for him to dissimulate all of the information that she had given him and what he had just seen.

Yeah, I’m okay. Just having a hard time wrapping my mind round this. Ya know, if my business goes to the dogs and I get into big gambling trouble with some mean dudes, this stuff would pay alla my debts. All I would need is about seven other guys and a big truck, Hudson Phillips said with an evil laugh.

Freddreese was not amused. You sure the eight of you would be enough to get the job done? Now, stop playing. Don’t you even joke with me about that. I’ve been living with this stuff for over two months now, and I’m just so conflicted about it all. Like I told you, I’ve prayed to God for an answer to what I’m supposed to do, and I’m still waiting for it to come.

Hudson Phillips took her hand and led her out of the room by way of the small door, that he had a little trouble squeezing his man-sized body through earlier, into the outer part of the attic. They climbed down the ladder and walked hand in hand into the kitchen. She poured two cups of fresh-brewed coffee and handed him a cup.

I kinda owe ya a big apology, and I hope ya don’t get mad at me when I fess up, he said, taking the cup of coffee that she offered him. It’s not that I didn’t believe ya about the hidden things. I mean, I read those old newspaper articles, that letter, and saw the pictures that were taken, but I was just not prepared at all. I kinda thought ya were exaggerating. He covered his head with his arms in an attempt to protect himself from being hit on the noggin with the rolled-up newspaper on the counter in front of her.

You mean you thought I was lying?

No, I didn’t think ya were lying, I just didn’t grasp the magnitude of what ya were saying. After seeing all those things in your attic, I got a new appreciation of everything. He removed his arms from his head, grabbed the rolled-up newspaper, and sat on it, thus taking away the weapon close at hand.

What is that besides just another way of saying you believed I was lying? Freddreese asked, rolling her eyes.

Wow! Leslie told me about the eye-rolling thing. Now I’ve seen it for myself. Lemme apologize again. I didn’t think ya weren’t telling the whole truth. I mean, hearing about that stuff up there and seeing those lame pictures didn’t do them justice. Gimme credit for at least being honest.

I wouldn’t lie to you about anything, not even through exaggerations or embellishments. We’ve been dating for over a month now, and everything that I’ve said to you about this house has been the truth. I’m mad at you for even thinking any other way.

Okay, lady, I deserve that. How can I make it up to ya?

You can start by trusting me when I tell you something or this budding relationship is gonna be nipped in the bud by me.

Hudson Phillips smiled at her, grabbed her hands, and kissed each open palm. I promise I won’t make that mistake again, but gimme thumbs-up for saying what was on my mind. And no matter how it came out, I didn’t think ya were lying.

Yeah, she said, staring at him. You just thought I was some sort of crazy maniac spouting stuff I couldn’t back up. You gotta lot of learning to do about Freddreese Campton, and one thing is that kissing my hands don’t make it better. She smiled and winked at him.

Hey, my mama always kissed the booboo and made it better.

I’m not you, and you ain’t your mama. They both burst into laughter.

Ya better be glad I like ya because nobody in their right mind would say that to me otherwise. Hmm, I think we just had our first fight, Hudson Phillips said, reaching for her hands again and squeezing them.

In the next second, his face turned serious. Ya know those are some very expensive things up there, right?

"Yep, I know, but I don’t care about that. I just wanna get this stuff outta my house. In the 1930s, Sam Tottle stole money from the Floral National Bank (where he was the president) to buy them just to try and frame Douglas Fairchild, the original owner of this house. I mean, Sam fell head over heels in love with Mary Esther Fairchild, Douglas’s wife, and wanted to get Douglas outta the way.

To top it all off, in 1935, old Sam accused Douglas of stealing money he had stolen himself, she said through clenched teeth,