Hidden Talents

stuff from a dead man's house.” Caleb went back up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and quickly closed the basement door. Then he returned to the bottom of the steps, reached out, caught hold of Serenity's arm and urged her toward the wall.
    “What in the world are you doing?” she gasped.
    “Quiet.” Caleb flipped the second light switch, which was located at the bottom of the steps. The basement was instantly plunged into total darkness. “Maybe if we get real lucky, whoever it is will simply go away.”
    “I'm sure it's someone I know,” she grumbled.
    “Not another word,” Caleb breathed in her ear.
    Serenity was genuinely nervous now, in spite of her brave assertion that there was nothing to worry about. She listened as the cabin door was opened in the room above. Footsteps quickly crossed the floor. Whoever it was seemed to know his or her way around, she thought. A friend of Ambrose's, then. Jessie, perhaps .
    She was about to voice her conclusion to Caleb and tell him that there was no cause for alarm when she heard the footsteps move directly overhead, heading toward the basement door. She groaned silently and nudged Caleb with her elbow. She hoped he realized that there was no place to hide if someone opened the door at the top of the stairs.
    “Hell,” Caleb muttered. “Guess we'll have to play this by ear. Try for the casual touch. Just an old friend tidying things up or something.”
    “Honestly, Caleb, you worry too much.”
    “All of us big-time consultants worry. It's why we're so highly paid.”
    “I wish you'd stop bringing up the subject of your outrageous fees.”
    “It's a subject that's very dear to my heart. Here, let me have that.” He whisked the envelope she had been holding out from under her arm.
    “Caleb, that's mine.”
    “I'll give it back later.” He snapped the wall switch again. The overhead bulb lit up the windowless room. “All right, we're going to take the offensive. Act like we have every reason to be here.”
    “We do. Sort of.”
    The door opened at the top of the stairs. A man appeared. “What the hell? Who's down there?”
    “Who are you?” Caleb demanded with the sort of natural arrogance that one tended to associate with cops and other authority figures. “This is private property.”
    The stranger at the top of the stairs gave a visible start. He gazed uncertainly down into the basement.
    He appeared to be in his late fifties, thin and wiry, with a narrow, smoker's face and sunken eyes. Dressed in an old sweater and a pair of slacks, he had the restless, twitchy look of someone who ran largely on nervous energy. He was clearly alarmed to see that the basement was occupied. His mouth opened and closed and then opened again.
    “Now just a damned minute,” he finally said forcefully. “I've got a right to be here.”
    “Hello,” Serenity said brightly. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that the envelope containing her photos had disappeared inside Caleb's jacket. “Didn't mean to startle you. Are you a member of the family?”
    “Family?” The man stared at her. “What family?”
    “Ambrose's family,” Serenity explained gently. “Sorry if we're intruding. We didn't think he had any close kin. He never mentioned his relations.”
    “I'm not a relative, I'm a friend.” The man hesitated. “I mean, I was a friend. My name's Gallagher Firebrace. I'm a photographer from Seattle. I've known—I mean I knew Ambrose for a long time. Last night a photographer I know in Bullington called me. He told me he'd heard that there'd been an accident. I drove up here to see if there was anything I could do.”
    “Caleb Ventress,” Caleb said easily, as if he was accustomed to being discovered skulking around other people's basements. “This is Serenity Makepeace. She was a friend of Asterley's, too. We just came by to straighten things up a bit.”
    “I see.” Gallagher glanced down at Serenity. “You're right. Ambrose doesn't have any family.”
    “I wonder who will inherit all this stuff?” Serenity said.
    “I have no idea.” Gallagher's eyes swept the array of expensive equipment stored in the basement. “He owed me a lot of money.”
    “Is that right?” Caleb watched him.
    “Probably owed money to a lot of people.” Gallagher sighed heavily. “He was a hell of a photographer. Too bad he couldn't get his personal life under control. It was the drinking that ruined his business.”
    “The drinking seems to have ruined