“Oh, we know,” Jake said, glancing at me. “We know.”

Rex shrugged off his heavy work jacket and stood on the toes of his work boots to hang it on the coat rack. He was a short, compact man with coppery colored hair and a mustache that was big enough to sweep the kitchen floor. And I’d never seen him without coffee.

“They tell you anything about the guy they found?” Rex asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

Jake shook his head. “Nothing, really. I think they were just as stumped as we were.”

Rex glanced in my direction. I thought he was going to say something, but he seemed to bite off his words. Maybe it was because of the death glare I shot at him. I don’t know.

“Can’t wait to take a look at that chute,” he said, downing another mouthful of coffee. “It’s a chute, right? That’s what I heard.”

Jake nodded. “Yep.”

Rex’s mouth twisted. “Can’t believe I missed that.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Me, either,” I mumbled.

“It was hard to see,” Jake said, cutting his eyes in my direction, a silent signal to tell me to behave.

“How big is it?” Rex asked.

Jake described it for him.

Rex’s mouth twisted a little more and his mustache quivered. “I just normally look for areas that might be a problem and that crawl space…I remember shining my light in there, but there was no electrical or anything to be concerned about. If I’d seen anything like that or moisture from the outside wall, I’d have gone up in there.”

I wanted to ask about the pipe located up there, the one that had frozen and been the catalyst for finding the coal chute and the body stuffed inside of it. Why hadn’t he looked at that? He’d been pretty thorough in the other areas of the house. Or at least I thought he had, considering the length of the inspection report.

“Anyway, I was more worried about your attic, which is why I went up there.” He shook his head. “I’m real sorry about that.”

And now I felt bad for my comment. He’d heard some squeaking noises on the day of the inspection and had lifted the access panel to the attic to investigate. He’d hoisted himself up there and had found a massive squirrel’s nest tucked in the corner of the eaves. But he’d also put his foot through the ceiling, raining down a mess of plaster and dust into the girls’ bedroom and spraining his ankle. Jake had practically carried him to his truck afterward.

“Don’t sweat it,” Jake said, shrugging. “We didn’t know it was there, either. But I am worried about the pipes down there. Can we take a look?”

Rex nodded and followed Jake down the narrow stairs into the basement. I thought for a moment about following them, but decided against it. I needed to get my mind off Olaf, the coal chute and all of the havoc it had brought to our lives over the last few days.

So I roused the kids from bed, made them a quick breakfast and sent them back upstairs to make their beds and get dressed when Jake and Rex returned to the kitchen.

“And what do we know now?” I asked, sticking the dishes in the sink.

“Well, it’s gonna be hard to get heat in that space,” Rex said, scratching his head. “And that’s what you need to keep those pipes from freezing. That outside wall?” He let out a low whistle. “Cold as ice. Told your husband, about the only way to keep that area warm is to install some ductwork.”

“Okay,” I said.

Jake sighed. “Which is expensive.”

“Like college-for-all-four-kids expensive?”

“Not quite,” he said, a small smile forming on his lips. “But close.”

“Ah.”

Rex nodded in agreement. “It is. Unfortunately, it would probably mean some structural work, too. Would be fairly involved. But I’m not sure how else to warm that space. Other fixes are only gonna be temporary.”

I turned the tap on and adjusted it so the water ran hot. “So I guess the hairdryer is out?”

Rex laughed. “Well, it’ll work in a pinch, but, no, I’m afraid you might need to do something else to permanently fix it.” He set his coffee down and pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. “Told Jake I’d give you the name of an HVAC guy I know who can help you out if you decide to go that route. He and I work together quite a bit.” He tapped the screen on his phone. “Text it to you?”

Jake nodded. “Sure.”

Rex tapped a couple more times, then nodded and put the phone back in his pocket. “Sent. Sorry I don’t have better news. And maybe he’ll tell you something different or have a better idea.”

Jake waved a hand in the air. “Not your fault. I appreciate you coming out.”

“Anytime,” he said. He reached for his coat and shrugged it on to his shoulders. “And I just want to apologize again about the chute. I should’ve spotted that the first time I was here. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jake said, offering his hand.

“Just feel like maybe I could’ve saved you some of this trouble,” he said, shaking Jake’s hand.

I wanted to ask how. Like, if we’d known about the chute, maybe a dead body wouldn’t have mysteriously appeared in it?

We said goodbye and I watched him trudge out into the snow.

“It’s not his fault,” Jake said. He grabbed his travel mug out of the cupboard and poured creamer into it.

“What part? The not knowing about the coal chute or the dead body?”

“Both.”

“Jake, he was supposed to inspect the house. How does a home inspector miss the fact that we have an 8x15 foot coal chute in our basement?”

His eyebrows were raised as he poured coffee into his mug. “8x15? You know the exact measurements?”

I positioned the strainer in the sink and filled it with hot water. “You know what I mean.”

“I know, I know. Maybe his inspection was limited to fifty pages or something. Like we’d reached our maximum with everything else he’d already found. Or maybe after he nearly died in the attic, he just decided to call it quits for the day.”

“He sprained his ankle, Jake.” I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t like he got electrocuted or something.”

“Oh, right,” he said, nodding. “That’s what happened to me when I changed a lightbulb.”

I squirted dish soap in the sink. “You did not get electrocuted. You got…shocked.”

His mouth twisted into a frown. “I couldn’t feel my arm for a week.”

“Shocked,” I repeated.

He sighed. “I gotta get to work.”

“I was hoping you might stay home until lunch.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. I need to work. So we can put some heating ducts downstairs.” He set his coffee down and reached for his boots. “Into our murder pit.”

“I thought we weren’t going to call it that.”

He grabbed his jacket and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. “I call it like I see it. Our money pit is a murder pit. No doubt about either one.”

SIXTEEN

“How long are we gonna be here, Mom?” Grace asked as she ripped off her seat belt.

“Probably an hour or so,” I said. “Make sure you get your name on three classes. All of you.”

All three of them mumbled something about agreeing to do so as they climbed out of the car.

We were back at the 4-H church but not for a meeting and not for church. It was sign-up day for the newest session of our homeschool co-op. We didn’t do traditional school, but for the previous couple of years, we’d participated in a once a week co-op, where parents offered up different classes for the kids in a half-day, semi school-like environment. The church was kind enough to let us use the Sunday school classrooms tucked away in their basement and this was the day where families perused the course offerings and signed up for classes they were interested in.

And I was teaching again. Which I liked. It could be a pain at times, but for the most part, I liked teaching things that I thought were of interest to the kids. Not rote subjects like math and history, but fun things like Medieval Times and How To Visit All 50 States Before You Turn 21. We all tried to make the classes relevant and fun. Some parents succeeded and some failed. I was pretty sure I fell in the success camp since my classes were usually wait-listed by the end of the sign-up period.