Chapter 3

Dinner war simple and formal, which Diana soon learned that in Hightower terms meant everyone put on clean jeans and ate hamburgers. Afterwards, Lorraine spirited Diana away from the rest for a lengthy tour of the mansion's twenty-five rooms, all of which were in use.

When they returned to the rest of the family, all had gathered in a spacious den and were sharing the latest tales of their lives as well as a glass of wine. Watching as she entered Diana was struck by the closeness of the family. At least on the surface, there seemed to be none of the normal bickerings that would be constantly occurring in any other family of this size. All in all, they seemed to be one large group of old friends.

Michael was the first to notice their return. He rose and smiled.

"Well, how did it go?" he asked pouring two new glasses of wine and carrying it to them.

"Impressive," Diana replied in a genuine assessment of the Hightower homestead. "It's completely fantastic!"

Michael nodded as his father grinned, pleased with her reaction.

"There's a long history to this old place," the head of the Hightower family began, as Michael directed Diana to a place beside him on a cozy over-stuffed sofa. "In the anti-bellum days, this was built by a French family by the name of Duvalle and was a main base for smuggling slaves to the free states."

"You can still see the remains of some underground vaults they hid escaping slaves in until they could manage passage north," Michael interjected. "There's some out back I can show you if you're interested."

Diana nodded and listened as her father-in-law went on, once again struck by the great resemblance of the two men.

"Michael's right, this place has several quirks which make it interesting. But back to the Duvalles. It seems just prior to the Civil War, there was a family split at which time one half of the family turned in the other half for their slave-oriented activities. The locals hereabouts had a quick kangaroo trial and a mass hanging of Duvalles down at the parish courthouse. The remaining half of the family apparently moved down to New Orleans where they dropped the "e" on their name. I noticed in the papers three months back where several 'Duvalls' had been arrested by the Police for some involvement in a ritual style slaying."

"Not your basic friendly types," Diana commented as she listened to her father-in-law, amazed by the similarity between his and Michael's voice.

The elder Hightower went on and explained how the house was taken over by carpetbaggers after the war and then went through a series of owners, who left it in the state of ruin he had found it in. He explained how twenty years ago he had rebuilt the mansion.

As he continued Diana realized that had she not been looking at the older man, she would not have been able to tell his voice from that of her husband's.

With a little questioning, Diana learned that the Hightower family was not Southern but had come from New England, where they still owned partial interest in a shipping firm.

The conversation then turned to her and Michael and their plans. Not to mention several glasses of wine. By ten, the day's drive and the soothing effects of the drinks had left Diana drowsy and she excused herself. Michael remained in the den, explaining Lorraine wanted to show him some additions to the house before he retired.

Upstairs, she quickly slipped from her slacks and showered, letting the full force of the streaming water work over her naked body like tiny massaging fingers. Feeling somewhat refreshed, she stepped from her bath and toweled dry.

Deciding she wasn't as tired as she originally had thought, she pulled a paperback from her suitcase. Bouncing down into the softness of the bed, she attempted to force herself into the storyline of the novel, but a decided chill to the room kept her mind from the words.

Admitting to herself she'd have to give up the freedom of nudity in favor of warmth, she rose from the downy softness of the bed and crossed the room to retrieve a robe from the closet. Selecting a thin, suggestive nylon piece that would fire Michael's interest on his return, she pulled it from its hanger and slipped into the flimsy, but warming garment.

A soft glow of light radiating from the back of the closet caught her eyes. Shoving the hanging clothes aside, Diana studied what appeared to be a wide crack separating the large panels at the rear of the closet, the faint glow seeping through the opening. Puzzled, she reached out. As her fingertips touched the slightly disjarred panel, it swung back. Behind it was a narrow corridor, opening in both directions behind the wall.

Her father-in-law's description of the mansion "having several quirks" flashed through her mind as she stepped into the closet for a closer examination of the discovery. Ducking her head through the aperature, she peered down the passage. Only darkness met her eyes to the right, but to the left, the corridor took a sharp ninety degree turn. The glow that had first drawn her attention seemed to brighten some around the dog leg.

Secret panels and a secret passage, the whole concept intrigued her. And as she pulled a lamp from one of the end tables by the bed and plugged it into a wall socket near the closet, she realized why the heroines in all those Gothic adventures never faltered in exploring such discoveries--plain, simple curiosity.

That same curiosity now took hold of her. However, she wasn't about to make the same foolish mistakes ineptly made by the dumb broads of the late night movies. Placing the lamp on the floor of the closet, she switched it on. It would serve as a beacon to guide her return, if the glow should suddenly disappear. As an extra precaution, she firmly lodged one of Michael's shoes across the threshold of the secret doorway to act as a wedge should the panel somehow decide to close itself, or should someone else come to the same conclusion.

Then she slipped into the passage.

She tingled with the excitement of the situation as she moved down the narrow corridor. Her steps were slow and deliberate, doing her best to proceed in silence. The scenes of a thousand screen thrillers flashed through her mind with every step she took.

Her eyes darted from side to side examining her confining surroundings. If this were a secret passage, it certainly didn't fit the normal description given to one by writers, she noted as she grew closer to the turn in the corridor and the dim glow. There were no cobwebs and interspaced on the ceiling every twenty feet or so, she could detect light bulbs, although none of these were lit at the moment.

Gingerly, she felt her way down the fifty feet from the closet and rounded the corner. There she found the passage opened into a small nook. Side by side in the limited space of the cubby hole area were six folding chairs, facing the curtain-covered wall where she stood. The glow, which lit the room in a dusk-like quality, suffused out from behind the edges of the drapery. On the far side of the chair-filled room, the passage began again. However, to continue only offered darkness.

All in all she found her discovery rather anti-climatic--a conclusion that was short-lived as she tucked her fingers between the heavy drapery and parted the cloth slightly for a peek at what lay on the other side.

The other side was a huge glass window!