Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 124, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 757 & 758, September/October 2004

The second floor was a rabbit warren of small rooms, dusty, dimly lit. Apparently they’d been used for storage during the dime store’s heyday. The wallpaper was faded, but the partitions looked solid, even the doors still hung true.

Puck and I were more interested in the outer walls. No staining or bowing; they looked as solid as the day they were put up. Our eyes met; Puck nodded.

I glanced down the long corridor, frowning. “What was this place? Originally, I mean?”

“It was a combination lumberman’s hotel and mercantile building, built by my late husband’s great-grandfather. There were shops and a general store on the ground floor, hotel rooms above. In a sense, we’ll be restoring it to what it once was.”

“Only better, I hope,” I said. “Let’s see the rest of it.”

“Actually, this is as far as we can go. The building hasn’t been occupied for more than twenty years and the stairways to the upper floors were sealed off even then. I haven’t been able to find a way up, but according to the original plans, the floors above are more of the same.”

“We’ll need to see the roof,” Puck said.

“There’s a fire escape out back. Will that do?”

It did. The rear of the building faced a parking lot, with a loading dock probably used by wagons when it was built. Still, the fire escape seemed as sound as the rest of it, heavy wrought iron that barely vibrated as Puck and I made our way up to the roof, leaving Mrs. Belknap pacing impatiently below.

A long climb, but worth it. One hell of a view. Across the parking lot, an old factory as vacant as the Belknap Building. Beyond it to the west, Lake Michigan rolled away into the glittering distance. Ashore, the town spread out around us, quaint as an Amish quilt draped over the foothills. Higher up, multistory mansions stood like sentries overlooking the village.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“Definitely a fine-lookin’ woman. And a rich widow to boot? Wish to hell I was twenty years younger.”

“So do I, Puck. What about the job?”

“I’d say it’s doable, Danny. Roof’s sound, no sign of termites or water damage below, which is the big worry in a box this old. Walls look solid, almost perfect, in fact. Five stories of brickwork, not a crack or a bulge. They don’t build ’em like this no more.”

“It’s outdated, though. The wiring will have to be completely replaced.”

“That won’t be so tough. Electricity was still new at the turn of the century when this sucker went up, so they ran the wiring in exposed conduits alongside the plumbing. It’ll be easy to get at.”

“How do you know it was built at the turn of the century?”

“See that big water tank at the corner of the roof? Before nineteen ten, water pressure in small towns couldn’t climb above two stories. Taller buildings like this one had to have their own tanks. I’d guess this one went up in, say... eighteen ninety-six.”

“Wow, you’re exactly right,” I said, surprised. “The date was on the plans she sent me. I’m impressed. How could you guess that from a water tank?”

“Because the date’s stamped on the side, you young punk.” Puck grinned. “We gonna take this job or not?”

“Looks workable to me and the lady can afford it. The Belknaps own half of this town and then some. Old money.”

“New, old, just so it spends. We’ll have to add some crew, a couple gofers, and at least one finish carpenter for the interior work.”

“We’re only forty miles north of Grand Rapids here. Should be able to pick ’em up locally. Let’s nail this deal down before the lady changes her mind.”

Ten days later, we invaded. Rolled into Malverne after dark, a caravan of work vans and pickup trucks. A gypsy construction crew, eight men plus Puck and me. North-country boys from up around Valhalla. Wild and woolly and rough around the edges. Hard workers who knew their trades.

We ripped into the Belknap Building like a wrecking crew, gutting the old storefront, tearing out counters, ripping up the tile floor. Filled three dumpsters with debris the first day, another three on the second. By then we were working in the glare of generator lights as the electricians ran new power lines in from the street to the basement.

Pia Belknap checked in every day to see how we were doing, but she didn’t kibitz and didn’t hang around long. Which was good. Pretty women and construction sites are a risky mix. They can break your heart. Or make you saw off your hand.

Work on the first floor went quicker than expected. But as we began moving up to the second floor we hit major problems.

Puck guessed right, the building’s original wiring was neatly boxed in with the plumbing. But nothing else was where it was supposed to be.

Walls didn’t line up. Stairways were missing, apparently torn out or walled over. Crazy as it sounds, we couldn’t find access to the upper floors anywhere in the building. Even the power lines ended at the second floor.

“I don’t understand,” Pia Belknap said, frowning over the blueprints I had spread out on a table in an empty second-floor office. “These are the plans registered with the zoning board.”