The questioning of Iris continues, and the trio gets to check out Phyllis' house.

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Chapter 35. Not so Haunted Mansion

Iris' wariness increased. "What are you accusing me of?" she asked Cameron. "I thought you were helping me."

Cameron reached out a hand and patted hers. "Of course I am. But there are still things you haven't told me. I don't mean to pry, except something you've kept to yourself could help us, especially if we hope to find your brother."

Almost under his breath, House added, "Alive."

"What did you say?" Iris frowned. "Do you really think Ian might be dead?"

House shrugged. "He disappeared four months ago, and no one's heard from him since, not even the people who were close to him."

Iris swallowed. "Who was close to him? I only ask because Dr. Cameron never said anything about anyone specific."

Cameron glanced at House, but when he didn't reply, she said, "We understand he and Pamela Bradford were dating."

"That name sounds familiar."

"She's a big shot here in town, and she was one of your aunt's friends." Cameron watched Iris' face as she stated each fact. "She's also Rachel's grandmother."

The last seemed to confuse Iris the most. Her brow creased and she frowned.

"Why does that surprise you?" House asked.

"Because...because...Rachel was the darker girl, wasn't she?"

Cameron nodded. She had an idea what bothered Iris about that, but would wait for her to say so. No sense putting words in the woman's mouth.

But Iris was silent except to ask, "What does Pamela say? About Ian, I mean."

"She hasn't said anything. Actually, she's recovering from...an injury." House stared pointedly at Iris. "What happened to you? Dr. Cameron didn't say."

Her hand went to her cheek and touched it gently. "I...I don't suppose I told her the details. I fell."

"Fell." That one word in House's mouth was dressed in all sorts of accusations.

She couldn't seem to focus her eyes on him. Instead, she looked at her hands as if they were the most interesting in the diner. Finally, she looked up. "I looked for my brother in Baltimore, but he wasn't in any of the places he used to go. The shop he had there was closed up long ago. None of his friends had seen him." She paused as Linda placed their food on the table.

Cameron hoped the delay wouldn't give Iris a reason to stop talking.

Iris picked up half of her sandwich and studied it, then returned it to the plate. "The last place I looked was a place one of his so-called friends sent me to. It was in a bad part of the city, near abandoned warehouses. It was a hot summer day, but I felt a chill walking down an alley to the old, dilapidated building. I passed a few homeless men, but they were asleep." She took a small bite and chewed it.

House ate his own dinner, but Cameron was too intent on the story to touch hers. She wondered what lies Iris was dreaming up now.

"At first I thought the building was as empty as all the others in the area. The hinges were loose and the door creaked as I pushed it open. Inside was a disaster, peeling wallpaper, a wood floor with planks missing, overhead lights that didn't work no matter how many times I flicked the switch. The only sounds were the skittering of mice or rats or worse. I called out my brother's name, but, of course, there was no answer. At least not from him. Instead, a small woman in a torn, flowered dress appeared in a doorway. 'Whaddya want?' she asked.

"I was startled, but I was also bigger than her, so I wasn't afraid. 'I'm looking for my brother, Ian Sinclair.' But she denied seeing him, and charged at me with a kitchen knife in her hand. I knocked it to the floor." Iris demonstrated by waving her hand, the one holding her sandwich, and a slice of tomato went flying. She put the sandwich down again before continuing. "We struggled and she scratched me, but I got away and ran all the way back to where I'd left my car."

"And the bruises? The ones I treated besides the scratches on your face?" Cameron stared at her.

Iris didn't have an answer for that.

Cameron shook her head. She finally started her dinner.

House was almost finished with his. He had more questions for Iris, but they could wait. Meanwhile, he watched her body language. Her shoulders were still very tense. She ate her sandwich, with jerky chewing, wiping her mouth frequently, and taking sips of coffee every few bites.

He looked at his watch. "Better get a move on, ladies. We have to meet the locksmith in fifteen minutes."

Iris put down the rest of her sandwich. "I've had enough." She drained her coffee cup while Cameron finished her food.

Five minutes later they were on their way to the mansion. Matt Walters, the locksmith was waiting for them. "Got the letter from the owner?"he asked.

House took it out again and handed it to him.

Walters nodded, then got to work with his picks. It didn't take him long to have the front door open.

"How much do I owe you?" Iris asked, taking out her wallet. "Do you take credit cards? I'm afraid I'm short on cash."

"It was quick work. How about twenty-five dollars?"

Iris handed him a card and he took it to his truck, returning a couple of minutes later to have her sign the receipt.

"Just pull the door shut when you leave. That'll lock it." The locksmith took off, and they approached the open front door.

Iris seemed reluctant to go inside, especially alone. That was fine with House and Cameron. They entered with her.

It was musty inside, as it always was in a house that hadn't been occupied for a while. But there was another odor, too. Very sweet. They followed it into the kitchen where an open jar of jam sat on the table, collecting flies.

"Is that grape?" Iris inspected it, chasing the flies away with a wave of her hand. "Aunt Phyllis couldn't abide it, but it was Ian's favorite."

"Was?"

"Is."

A knife sat next to the jar and a piece of toast stuck out of the toaster on the nearby counter with a plate waiting for it. Someone had started to prepare their breakfast, and left before it was ready. The coffee machine had turned itself off, but the liquid in the carafe looked like sludge.

They went from room to room on the first floor without finding anything else amiss. They ascended to the second level, failing to find any sign of Ian, beyond his clothes in one of the bedrooms.

"So, he planned to return," House surmised.

"But we still don't know where he went and why." Iris sat on one of the beds.

"Iris, what did you expect to find here?" Cameron asked.

Iris frowned. "It was possible we'd find his...his body."

"Was that it? What about anything he might have here that you wanted?" House demanded.

"What do you mean?" She shrank back from him.

He tilted his head. "Oh, maybe some piece of art, something from your aunt's shop or even something he brought here from Baltimore." His eyes bore into hers.

Her lips twitched, but she insisted, "I'm not after any art pieces. All I want to find is my brother. And the sweater my aunt asked for." She stood and walked around him, keeping a safe distance. "I wonder where she'd keep it."

"Probably in her bedroom." Cameron followed her into the hall, with House bringing up the rear. "It should be this one." She stuck her head into a huge bedroom with a four-post double bed covered with a frilly chintz bedspread.

Iris had walked past the room, but came back and entered. She picked up a blue sweater draped over a chair near a dressing table, then looked around. "Do you see an afghan?" There wasn't one anywhere.

"Maybe it's in the living room or wherever she watched TV," Cameron suggested.

They trooped downstairs to look for it. It didn't take much to locate it folded on a table next to a recliner in a small room off the kitchen holding a TV on a stand with book shelves lining the walls and a loveseat next to the recliner.

Iris clutched it to her together with the sweater. "I'll bring these to her tomorrow."

"Aren't you going to move in here?" House waved a hand to encompass the room but meant the whole house.

She shook her head. "I still don't have a key. Until I do, I might be better off at the motel."

"Then we'll take you there right now." Cameron glanced at House and headed for the front door.

"What about the basement?" he asked.

While he stayed in the hallway with Iris, Cameron opened the door and turned on the light. She descended a few steps and looked around, then returned to the hall. "Nothing."

They drove back to the motel, but House wasn't finished with his questions. "I'm surprised you didn't know which bedroom was your aunt's. You visited her in the past, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but it was a long time ago." Her mouth worked. She was obviously trying to come up with an explanation.

"Maybe she used a different bedroom before?" He wasn't giving her an out, only forcing her to admit the truth.

"No. No, that's always been her room. I just forgot."

"Uh-huh." House didn't sound convince. "Okay, we'll drop that for now. What are your plans? Are you going to stay in town?"

"House, stop being so nosy." Cameron said, facing forward so Iris wouldn't see the smirk on her face.

"That's alright, Dr. Cameron. I don't mind telling you both that I have no where else to go, so I might as well stay here. It seems like a nice town. Maybe my muse will return here."

"So you want to paint again?" House didn't wait for a reply. "Your galleries will be happy to learn that they'll soon have Iris Sinclair paintings to sell again."

"I've completely lost touch with them all, of course, but I suppose I can start with nearby shops."

"Speaking of shops, what are you going to do about your aunt's?"

"Do? You mean will I take it over?" Iris shook her head. "I don't know anything about running an antique store."

"Unlike your brother."

"Right." She smiled.

"Don't you even want to know whether he left something in the store that might help us find out what happened to him?" Cameron asked.

"I hadn't thought of that."

"I bet you hadn't," House mumbled only loud enough for Cameron to hear.