The Monarch Graveyard

by James R Nelson

  Phillip didn’t respond. He sat back down at the table. When she had gone, Allen said, “I hope Judith didn’t hear all of that. If she did, she’s probably already snuck out of the back door, and she’s in her car heading down the driveway as fast as she can get away.”

  Phillip hung his head and rubbed his temples. Judith walked in with a stack of plates and a pot of freshly brewed coffee. “Here you are.” She set them onto the table and turned toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Phillip asked.

  “I thought I’d eat in the kitchen.”

  “Nonsense. Sit down. You’ll have your lunch right here with us.”

  She looked around. “Where’s Miss Jenkins?”

  Alan smiled. “She went back to the cottage to refill her glass.”

  Phillip shot him a stern look. “That’s not funny.”

  Alan reached for a sandwich. “What are you going to do about financing now that Cyrus is laid up?”

  Phillip poured himself a cup of coffee. “I was thinking about that this morning. From what Stephen tells me, it doesn’t look like he’ll be back working anytime soon. I guess I’ll call Irving and see if I can work something out.”

  Allen gave Phillip a puzzled look. “What do you mean ‘if you can work something out’? I thought they financed most of your pictures.”

  “Cyrus did. Irving concentrated on commodities.” Phillip turned. “I’m sorry, Judith. Are we boring you to death?”

  “No. I think it’s fascinating. Us movie goers never stop to think about everything it takes to get a film made.”

  The kitchen phone rang. Phillip took a bite of his sandwich and motioned for Judith to answer it. Several minutes later she came back. “There’s a man on the phone. He said his name is Walter Mattson and he’d like to talk to you.”

  Phillip tossed down his sandwich. “Not this again. What did he say?”

  “Something about a lady who was dressed in black scaring the children at some graveyard. It sounded very strange to me. Why would he be calling you?”

  Phillip stood up. “Graveyard! What’s the matter with these people? It’s a sanctuary, dammit. A monarch butterfly sanctuary. Not a graveyard. Let me talk to that lunatic.”

  Ten minutes later, when Phillip returned, Allen asked, “How did it go? Did you convince him to stop saying graveyard?”

  “No. He was so upset about his daughter crying, I forgot to mention it.”

  Alan asked, “Why was his daughter crying?”

  “For the last few days some crazy woman’s been standing in front of Britt’s stone. She dresses in black and just stands there. She doesn’t move or talk to anyone. The guy said his daughter likes to watch the butterflies. They’re staying with his sister for a while because the little girl’s mother passed away a month ago. He’s upset because now he doesn’t have a nice place to bring her. She’s lost her happy place according to him, and he demands that I do something about it.” Phillip sighed. “I told him I’d drive over there when I had a chance, but right now we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

  Pounding footsteps echoed down the hallway. Stephen burst through the door. “It’s Barbara. Something’s wrong. She’s collapsed on the driveway!”

  Twenty

  Kitty listened as Paulie snored in the bedroom. She tip-toed to the door and peeked in. His back was toward her. He had tossed a blanket over himself. She inched herself back from the door. If there was a time to do this, it would be now.

  She walked to the kitchen and opened the pantry. Her small suitcase was hidden under several towels. She picked it up and snuck out the back door. Kitty ran over to the car and quietly opened the driver’s side door. She tossed the luggage inside and climbed behind the wheel. Once the car started, she’d have to floor it to make sure she made it to the county road before he ran outside. She had only been able to sneak out one of the guns.

  She inserted the key and turned it. Nothing. She tried again. The car was dead. Fighting back tears, she reached for her luggage.

  “Just what the hell’s going on?”

  She screamed. Paulie was standing next to the car with a revolver pointed at her head. “Paulie! You scared me. Put that down.”

  He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the car. “Sneaking off on me, were you?” He took her suitcase and tossed it in the woods. “You won’t be needing this.”

  “What did you do to the car?”

  “I had a feeling you’d try something, so I pulled off a battery cable. And guess what? I was right. What was your plan? Turn me in for a big fat reward?”

  He dragged her back into the cabin and threw her onto the bed. He opened the nightstand drawer and took out the ropes he had found in the back shed. He pushed her onto the bed and pulled her arms behind her.

  “What are you doing? Stop, Paulie. That hurts. Are you crazy?”

  He leveled the gun at her head. “Should I put a bullet in you now or wait until morning?”

  “Screw you!” Kitty struggled to get her hands free.

  Paulie stuck the gun into his waistband and stomped out of the room.

  ###

  Los Angeles was finally having a clear day. Sunlight poured into the window of Johnny Stampos’ eighteenth floor office. He gripped the phone tightly as he lowered the blinds behind his chair. “What the hell’s going on, Marty? I’m not hearing any news about Barbara. What do I have to do, fly out there and bring her back myself? What’s happening?”

  “I know. It’s taking way too long. My contact in New York tells me that cops are swarming near the area Barbara’s staying at. They’re looking for the guy who’s supposed to grab her. He’s the guy who got help from a woman guard and broke out of prison. Did you see it on the news? Maybe we should send somebody else?”

  Johnny tried to remain calm. “And just who would that be? That would be the third guy we thought could get this done.”

  “I’m thinking we call Frankie Vallone.”

  “We? Who the hell is that?”

  “No, Johnny. I’d make the call. He runs the Milwaukee outfit. He’s tied in with Chicago too. Milwaukee’s not that far from where Barbara is.”

  “And why him? What’s he got that the guy up there already doesn’t have?” Johnny unwrapped a thick cigar.

  “A couple of things. First, he’s close. His man could get up there in a few hours. Second, nobody would be looking for the guy he sent up there to do the job. I think he could slip in, grab her, and get the hell out real fast.”

  Johnny slid an ashtray closer. “I don’t know. Let me think about it. Nobody knew my guy, and look how ridiculous that turned out. You already talked me into using somebody who’s already there. Now you want to send someone else. I just don’t know.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t be so happy when nothing was happening, so I called up that Al guy in New York. He finally come out and told me that his friend Paulie was a big klutz. Before he got sent away, he’d been trying to worm his way into the outfit for a few years. They thought he was a joke. I didn’t know that. Let me call Frankie. See what we can get going.”

  Johnny clutched the receiver. “A klutz? Marty, this is the guy I’m waiting on? You gotta be kidding.”

  “Like I said, I didn’t —”

  Johnny slammed down the phone. “That son-of-a-bitch.”

  Barbara opened her eyes. “Where am I?”

  Phillip took her hand. “You’re in bed. Stephen found you passed out on the lawn. I’m afraid your drinking’s gotten out of hand. It’s only three-thirty and you were smashed hours ago. I’ve told Judith to lock up all the booze. Everybody in the mansion’s going on the wagon, including you.”

  Barbara struggled to sit up. “Maybe it’s time I go back home.”

  Phillip shook his head. “I don’t think so. What about Johnny? Do you think he’s going to welcome you back with open arms?”

  “I’m going to have to face him sometime, aren’t I? I can’t be hiding out at your place for the rest of my life
.”

  “No, you can’t. But I don’t think this is the time to be making that decision. You’ve scraped your knees, and you have a cut on your hand. Let’s let those heal up a bit and then, by the week-end, we can figure out what your next step can be.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Is there any water? My mouth’s dry and my head’s throbbing.”

  Phillip picked up a glass from the nightstand. “Here. Drink this.”

  ###

  Stephen sat in the trophy room and dialed Jeanette’s sister’s number. Mary answered. “I’m sorry, Stephen. She’s not here. She ran into town to fill a prescription.”

  “Okay. Tell her I called. How’s your mother doing?”

  Mary hesitated. “She’s being heavily sedated. Did you want to leave a message for Jeanette?”

  “No. Nothing important. I just wanted to say hello.”

  He put down the phone. He was hoping he could arrange for them to have dinner. It was difficult balancing his time between the mansion and her, especially with her mother’s condition, and also with Allen Moul there.

  The phone rang. Stephen waited for Judith to answer it. When that didn’t happen after several rings, he picked it up. “Hello, Phillip Kahle’s residence.” A familiar voice greeted him, but he couldn’t place who it was.

  “I’d like to speak to Phillip, please.”

  “May I take a message? Mr. Kahle’s not available.”

  “Is this Stephen?”

  Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, yes. May I ask whose calling?”

  “It’s Irving Plotnick.”

  “Oh, Mr. Plotnick. Your voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I’m sorry. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m in Chicago on business. I flew in from Florida where I stopped to see how Cyrus was doing. Rumor has it that Phillip’s working on a new script. I wanted to talk to him about financing his next project. We both know that Cyrus won’t be up to it, so I thought maybe I could work with Phillip in his absence. And Cyrus has told me so much about the place. Since I’m so close, I’d love to see it.”

  Stephen grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper. “He’s not available right now. I’ll tell him you called. Do you have a number where he can reach you?”

  “I’m at the Allerton Hotel. Here’s the number.”

  Stephen scribbled down the information and hung up.

  The front door opened. Phillip called out his name. Stephen stepped into the hallway. “I’m in the Trophy room.

  Phillip’s footsteps echoed down the hallway. When he entered the room, Stephen asked, “How’s she doing?”

  “She’ll be okay. She just needs to dry out.”

  Stephen handed him the message.

  “What’s this?”

  “Mr. Plotnick called. He’s in Chicago. He’d like to stop by and talk about financing your next project.”

  Phillip’s eyebrows shot up. “Stop by here? That doesn’t make sense. How does he know there’s a new project? Cyrus said Irving always thought pictures were way too speculative. Why would he be interested in a movie now?” He looked down at the note again. “He’s staying at the Allerton Hotel?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  Phillip stuffed the paper into his shirt pocket. “I’ll call him during our next break. Does he know it’s about a seven hour drive from Chicago to here? Can you get Allen? I’d like you here as we go over the script.” He looked around. “Where’s Judith?”

  “I don’t know. Probably in her room. I’ll round them up. You want coffee in here, too?”

  “Yes. We’re going to need it.”

  Ten minutes later they all were sitting in plush leather chairs and Stephen was pouring everyone coffee.

  Judith held out her cup. “Thank you, Stephen. I’m the one that should be doing that.”

  He smiled. “You’re welcome. Don’t worry about it. You have plenty to do.”

  Phillip flipped open his script. “Okay. Where were we?”

  Paulie paced the living room. That sneaky bitch. Should he shoot her? No way could he let her go. So she was just going to sneak off and leave him stranded in the middle of the woods, was she? Make him some kind of sitting duck. He could just sit there and twiddle his fingers while she sent the cops after him. That must have been her plan. Give him up and plead for a light sentence. He could just hear her now. Oh, Judge, that mean man threatened me and my family. I had to help him escape or he was going to kill us all. All I want to do is go back to work and be with my wonderful husband again. Please Judge! You’ve got to believe me.

  Paulie kicked the coffee table. Four empty beer bottles rolled off onto the green shag carpeting. That sneaky bitch. Well, good riddance. To hell with her. Should he shoot her or let her rot on that bed all tied up? Did it even matter?

  He walked into the kitchen and grabbed another beer.

  Twenty One

  The next morning, Judith stepped in the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

  Stephen turned from the stove. “I thought I’d make some scrambled eggs for everyone this morning. I’ll fry up some bacon and make some toast. Cora left quite a few jars of homemade strawberry jam. We can use those too.”

  “I thought that was my job until Mr. Kahle found a cook?”

  “It is, but I was in a cooking mood. And you can call him Phillip. He won’t mind. You know, a little less formal.”

  She stepped closer to him. “What can I do to help?”

  “Nothing. Just sit down and relax. Coffee’s ready if you’d like some.”

  Judith poured herself a cup and took a chair at the kitchen table. “I feel weird having you do this.”

  “Please. Don’t worry about it. Let’s just hope I don’t screw up the eggs. I know it’s only been a short time, but how do you like working here?”

  She smiled. “Oh, I love it. It’s so exciting. Whoever would think you could live up here in the Upper Peninsula and be taking notes about movies that aren’t even being made yet. It’s very interesting. I mean, I got to call the RKO studio yesterday, and they actually accepted my call.”

  “Did Phillip tell you we’ll be having a guest for dinner?”

  “No. Who’s coming?”

  “A man named Irving Plotnick.”

  “I’m glad you said something. I planned on having a beef roast with mashed potatoes and whole kernel corn.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “I’ll peel a few more potatoes now that I know a guest will be here.”

  Stephen popped two pieces of bread in the toaster. “Can you round up everyone. Breakfast is almost ready.”

  Judith got up from the table. “Sure. And thank you again for doing all this. Oh, will Ms. Jenkins be joining us for breakfast?”

  “I think so. Don’t bother going over to her cottage, I’ll call her from here.”

  She put her hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “Thanks again for cooking this morning.”

  Everyone had started eating by the time Barbara joined them. She sat down next to Phillip and whispered, “I’m missing some money. Someone’s rummaged around in my room and stolen some cash I had on the nightstand.”

  Phillip sighed. “Barbara, please. Not this again. Remember when you accused Cora of stealing your earrings? And where did we find them? They fell off the nightstand and were under your bed. Please. Nobody’s been sneaking around your place stealing money.”

  She scooped some eggs onto her plate. “I knew that’s what you’d say. I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find it. Someone’s been in there.”

  “We’ll talk about it later.”

  After breakfast, Barbara threw her napkin down onto the chair. She didn’t say a word to anyone as she quickly got up and left the dining room.

  Judith asked, “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” Phillip replied. “Barbara’s in another one of her moods.”

  Stephen started gathering up the plates. “Let’s clear the table. We’ve got work to do.” He helped Judith stack the dishes
in the sink and then everyone retreated to Phillip’s office where they spent most of the day going over the script. Stephen enjoyed watching his uncle work with Allen. They had collaborated on so many projects, at times it seemed they could read each other’s minds.

  Around four o’clock, Phillip stood up and stretched. Stephen had been taking notes for almost an hour since Judith needed to be in the kitchen preparing dinner.

  Phillip said, “Oh, thanks for making breakfast this morning. That was nice of you to take some of the burden off her.”

  “I didn’t mind.” He smiled. “And nobody got sick.”

  A bell chimed in the hallway. Phillip looked at his watch. “That must be Irving. He’s at the gate.” He walked over to the speaker and pressed a button which automatically swung open the iron barrier. “I still don’t know what his visit’s all about. Can you get some drinks ready? I’ll bring him back here once he parks his car.”

  “Wait a minute. You locked up all the liquor, remember.”

  Phillip stopped. “Damn, you’re right. Barbara’s not here. Go ahead and get a bottle of whiskey. We’ll keep it here in the trophy room. But no booze after dinner. That should work.”

  A few minutes later, Phillip escorted Irving into the room. “You’ve met my nephew Stephen. I’d like you to meet Allen Moul. Allen’s my head writer. We’ve worked together on almost all of my movies.”

  Irving said hello to Stephen and then shook Allen’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” He glanced down at the boot on Phillip’s foot. “What happened to you?”

  “Sprained my ankle. Seems to be feeling better. Sit down. How about a drink? You must be exhausted. You’d have to leave Chicago by eight in the morning to make it here when you did. That’s a long drive.”

  Irving took a seat. “I really had no idea it would take so long. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Once I left Green Bay, there was nothing but woods and water forever. The last two hours before I pulled in your driveway, I never saw one car…coming or going. I must say, you’ve done a good job of isolating yourself from Hollywood.”