Free Killing Her Softly by Freda Vasilopoulos

the rooms. “These locks are pretty old,” he said. “But it looks like they do the job. That business of the roses bothers me."
    "The door was standing open, remember."
    "Yeah, but still ... If I were you, I'd have a locksmith change the locks on the front and back doors."
    "I'll see to it in the morning,” Leslie said. “Okay.” He unhooked the kitchen key ring. “Just let me check the basement."
    He walked into the pantry next to the kitchen and unlocked the heavy wooden door set into the far wall. The door swung smoothly on oiled hinges, as it had yesterday when Leslie had tried it. The stairwell had looked merely uninviting then. Now it was as if an icy wave of musty air rushed up from a dark abyss.
    Leslie's heart slammed against her ribs and she recoiled, cold sweat breaking out on her skin. The cat, who had been supervising their tour of the house, hissed and fell into a defensive crouch, his thick fur bristling.
    Leslie stared at him. He felt it, too. That indefinable aura from the basement, almost as if it were warning them to stay away. She edged closer, chiding herself for her runaway imagination. Aura, indeed. It was ridiculous.
    "I'll bet no one's been down there since Jason died.” Simon took a step toward the stairs.
    A shudder ran up Leslie's spine. Without thinking, she grabbed his arm. “No, don't go down there."
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Chapter Five
    "What?” Turning his head, Simon stared at her. Leslie looked down at her hand clutching his forearm, and let it slide away, retaining only the impression of soft hairs and hard muscle.
    "I'm sorry.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I don't know why I did that. Heebie-jeebies, I guess.” She stared down the dark stairwell, inhaling the odor of lichen and damp stone. The cold apprehension she'd felt before didn't return.
    She shook herself, feeling foolish. She'd always been guilty of having an overactive imagination.
    "I want to see what made that thud we heard when we came into the house,” Simon said, flipping the switch next to him. Light flooded the stairs, banishing the void below them. “There might be a broken window or something and an animal's gotten in."
    They started down. Behind them, the cat meowed plaintively, his demeanor more anxious now than defensive. He didn't follow.
    The basement was a cavern formed out of solid stone, Leslie saw as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Only the square corners and straight walls showed that it was man-made, not natural, blasted out of the rocky bluff the house stood on. Wooden partitions divided the huge space into storage rooms and closets.
    "Well, you don't have to worry about the foundations collapsing,” Simon said wryly. “That stone could withstand any earthquake."
    "I see that.” Their voices echoed eerily around the room. A rustling sound drew Leslie's attention to a bank of shelves almost hidden in the shadows. Several boxes lay on the stone floor beneath them. One of the sturdy cardboard cartons had split open, spilling greasy machine parts. “That must have been the thud I heard.” Leslie frowned. “But what made them fall?"
    As if to answer her, a small gray creature scurried away. She jumped back, letting out a little squeal.
    "Only a mouse.” Simon's mouth curved as he hid a smile. “Nothing to be afraid of."
    "A mouse couldn't knock down those boxes."
    "Who knows how precariously they were balanced on the shelf? Any little motion could have toppled them."
    Moving away from the shelves, he opened a door set into a wooden wall beside them. A light bulb, suspended from a cord in the middle of the ceiling, flared to life. Leslie peered over Simon's shoulder. A great conglomeration of machinery filled the small room, machinery she assumed to be the boiler system that heated bath water and, in winter, the entire house. He disappeared behind the machinery to check the valves.
    The light bulb swayed, making Leslie's shadow waver and loom over her. She glanced around