Read Online The Dead Room by Heather Graham - Free Book Online

door on the left, and behind it was the one accommodation to the twenty-first century; the kitchen and huge back pantry were attached to the house by an arched passageway.
    â€œAre you really all right?” Robert asked, coming alongside Leslie as they headed toward the dining room.
    She squeezed his arm. “Really,” she assured him.
    Really, she repeated in her mind. I just want you all to get out of my house.
    Her house?
    It wasn’t her house at all.
    It was simply the house where Matt had died.
    â€œSo, Hank,” Brad said as they filed into the dining room. “Your company made another historical discovery, huh? Must be hard. All that time and money invested—and now you have to stop work and wait for us to prowl around.”
    â€œThankfully,” Professor Laymon said, before Hank could reply, “the company doesn’t try to hide what it comes across, Brad.”
    But Hank was grinning. “Do I mind losing money, Brad? Sure. But we get more promotional bucks out of this than you could begin to imagine.”
    As she took a chair at the period reproduction dining table, Leslie ignored the men and flashed a smile at Greta. They were eating on reproduction Dutch porcelain dishes, and fresh flowers graced the table. The minute she’d entered the house, she’d smelled the aroma of beef cooking, so she assumed they would be having a traditional old English pub roast.
    â€œSo, Hank, tell us more about the find,” Brad said.
    Hank looked a little surprised. “Professor Laymon has been given all the specifics.”
    â€œHe’s told us what he knows, but I’m curious. Why do you think you’ve discovered a working-class burial?”
    Hank shrugged, taking his seat just as the caterers made their appearance, bringing the meal from the kitchen. A roast, whipped potatoes, greens, a tomato salad. Red wine. A very nice and very traditional meal.
    â€œNo one has turned vegetarian on me lately, have they?” Greta asked worriedly.
    They all shook their heads as Hank started to answer Brad’s question.
    â€œWell, we haven’t come across any coffins or bones—we’re leaving that to you,” he said, helping himself to the potatoes. “Gravy?” he asked. Ken Dryer passed over the gravy boat.
    â€œWhat our first worker came across was a set of wooden teeth,” Hank explained.
    â€œWooden teeth?” Leslie echoed.
    â€œJust like the pair of George Washington’s in the Smithsonian,” Hank said.
    â€œPoor people didn’t generally have false teeth,” Leslie said.
    â€œThey’re very rough, and only preserved because they happened to have been wrapped in a scrap of tarp, like something a soldier might have had,” Hank said. “I don’t really know anything about this stuff, but that’s what the first guy on the site, someone from the museum, said. Anyway, there was more. A few pieces of jewelry, costume stuff, and poor costume stuff at that. And a couple of tiny crosses—those were actually real silver. We stopped work right away, of course.”
    â€œOf course,” Brad agreed. Leslie thought he sounded skeptical, but Brad de facto disliked anyone who worked for a development company.
    â€œThen,” Greta reminded Hank, “there were the records we found at the Morgan Library. Records that indicated a church had stood on the spot before it burned to the ground. At the time, this area was heavily populated with immigrant families, struggling to get by. Up the street, there was once a Catholic church. Down this way, there was another Episcopal church, not to mention Trinity and St. Paul’s. Remember, everyone went to church in those days.”
    â€œRight, Greta. Anyway,” Hank said, flashing a grin at Professor Laymon, “the decision was made that our good friend here should head the project, and all work has been stopped, the areas where the finds were made have been