An Uncollected Death

by Meg Wolfe

there, maybe listen in on the conversation.”

  “Why didn’t he trust Wesley?”

  “It’s complicated. Toley Banks is the Warrens’ half-brother, and they’re into him for bailing them out when their hobby shop failed. As far as Toley’s concerned, any big-money items they come across should go into his pocket. When Bosley found that rare book, he claimed it was his to do with as he pleased, because he bought the book with his own money, not the shop’s. Toley suspected Wes was going to try the same stunt, especially since he wasn’t talking to my mother on the shop premises.”

  “I see.”

  “Anyway,” Donovan continued, “Mitch drove us to Mom’s house and stayed in the car while I went in. Mom was surprised to see me, but didn’t seem to mind I was there. Wes was surprised, too, ‘cause I think he knew I was working for Toley. The thing was, though, Mom was trying to play coy with Wes, and Wes was trying to be persuasive with Mom. She’d probably asked him about the book Bosley found, because he was in the middle of telling the story when I got there, how Bos went to a tailgate sale and bought a box of model train props he wanted, and the book was in the bottom of the box, wrapped and painted like a building. That’s when I realized it was me that sold it to him.” Donovan snorted at his own bad luck. “It was my box of train stuff, and I remembered making that building out of a book when I was a little kid.”

  Charlotte could just make out Donovan’s eyes, shiny with emotion, wide open with the disbelief he still felt. “Can you imagine what it is like to stand there, desperate for money, and suddenly realize you’d just given away a small fortune? Can you imagine how utterly stupid you’d feel at that moment? And angry at the whole world, but most of all yourself?”

  “It would be horrible,” she agreed, as sympathetically as she could. There was more movement on the floor upstairs, reminding her that their conversation could be interrupted at any moment. “So what happened then?”

  “Well, that’s when Mom and Wesley both realized what I’d done. To my surprise, she wasn’t as upset as I was, just did that rolling of her eyes that meant she thought I was dumber than a box of rocks. But Wesley burst out laughing. He was laughing at me, and he got abusive about it, probably because he suspected I was there to spy on him and he wanted to get back at me for it. Mom, though, didn’t know that, and she flipped out. She started railing on him, grabbing at a book he was holding, calling him names, telling him to get out and all. He pushed her away, and she just got madder, and went for her baseball bat. She always kept a baseball bat by the door. I tried to stop her, and she’s trying to lift the bat, but she’s so old, so—.” Donovan choked back a sob.

  “Did she hit him?”

  Donovan took a deep breath. “No, she just kind of half-swung the bat at his ankles like it was a croquet mallet. But she was cussing a blue streak at him, and he was yelling back, and then she screamed at him that she’s got another book, anyway, and he was never going to get his hands on it. I’d gotten the bat away from her, but she’s poking him in the chest, and that’s when he shoved her even harder, and she stumbled back and fell and hit her head on the coffee table. I ran over to help her, but she was completely gone. Wes came over to check on her, too, and says to me, “Good! The old bitch is dead!” That’s when I got him, I was so angry. Just one big swing, and he was down.”

  “You know you didn’t kill him?”

  “I didn’t find that out until later, when Barnes told me. I was in shock, you know, I can’t describe the noise and chaos in my head, I was in shock, and—and in a complete panic. At some point, Mitchell came in, kinda took over, and called Toley. He wanted it to look like Mom hit somebody, even asked me which hand she used. Wanted it to look like whoever hurt her had gotten away. Mitch said then I would inherit Mom’s stuff and that way I could pay off Toley. We got Wes loaded up in his car, drove it out to the pond, put him in the driver’s seat and then sent it in. I think Mitch really did think Wes was dead, and I think it was Toley who told him to run the car into the pond.”

  “But what about the blood? And you know your mom hadn’t been able to use her right arm in years?”

  “I forgot!” he hissed. “And we missed the blood! At night, you couldn’t see it on that rug like you can in the daylight. And we were in hurry. It took so long to get Wes out of there, into the car—my god, I can’t believe I helped with that, it seemed to take all night.” Donovan was wringing his hands and taking short, sharp breaths. “Mitch was going to come back and get rid of our fingerprints and bust a window, make it look more like a break-in, but by that time it was daylight, then you got there, and the police were all over the place. I found out Mom was still alive on the news. But I had to make like I didn’t know and wait until the police or Aunt Helene reached me. By then, it was too late. And then the lawyer said Mom had left everything in the house to Aunt Helene, and there were the stipulations, and—.”

  The footsteps were in the kitchen, along with several voices. The men were back, and one of them was opening the basement door. Charlotte ran to hide behind the furnace, and watched as Mitchell came down the stairs and pulled on the light switch. Then Toley Banks and the man named Doc came down, as well.

  “Charlotte, dear Charlotte,” Mitchell looked around for her, calling out in a singsong voice. “We know you’re here.” He held up her tote bag, then looked down at Donovan. “Nice job on Van, too.”

  Twenty-Four

  Sunday, September 29th

   

  Everything inside Charlotte went cold: fear, panic and anger were suppressed as she faced the reality of her situation and her survival instinct kicked in. She made a conscious decision not to admit to finding the book, unless worst came to worst. The most important thing at the moment, though, was to get herself and Donovan out of there in one piece, to make Toley Banks think that they were no threat to him. She hoped that Donovan would play along.

  These thoughts flew through her mind as she walked forward. As she approached Mitchell, she held out her hand for her bag, but he pulled it out of her reach.

  “Uh, uh, uh. It’s not time for that, yet.”

  Toley Banks spotted the boxes of books and nodded for Doc to go through them.

  Mitchell flashed Charlotte his well-practiced smile. “You know what we’re here for, so why don’t you just hand it over and save yourself and Van, here, a lot of trouble?”

  She fake-smiled back. “That’s just it, Mitchell, I know you’re here for something, but I don’t know what. You know I’m here to look for Olivia’s notebooks, but I’ve never been under the impression that those are of much concern to you. I don’t have anything to hand over, even if I wanted to.”

  Mitchell moved so fast, she didn’t have time to react as he threw her bag on the floor and reached around to grab the hair at the back of her head, twisting it until she was forced down on her knees.

  The pain of having her hair pulled threw sharp white flashes across everything in the room, and more pain shot through her legs and back as she landed on the concrete floor.

  “Don’t mess with me,” Mitchell hissed, “or your face will look like his.” He pointed at Donovan with his other hand. “Bet your boyfriend wouldn’t like you so much then, would he?”

  Charlotte’s eyes were watering from the pain, and her heart was pounding, but she said nothing. Donovan, likewise, said nothing, but she could see the veins in his temples raised from stress.

  Toley Banks remained standing in the same spot, watching Mitchell and Charlotte without a trace of emotion, then looked at Doc, who had finished looking through the boxes of books. Doc shook his head.

  Banks sighed, then crouched down next to Donovan.

  “Mr. Targman. We have a situation.”

  Donovan didn’t move or look at him. Banks was not bothered, and turned to look straight at Charlotte. “I believe you do know what we are here for, Ms. Anthony, and if you co-operate, we will not only release your lovely hair, but remove ourselves from your life, Mrs. Dalmier’s life, and even M
r. Targman’s life, little as he deserves it. We know you’ve been in contact with Aldo Madiveros—we were, too. Like Mr. Targman, here, you are in serious financial straits, and we naturally understand that you’d want to find a jackpot of your own to turn things around, keep your lovely house, and perhaps even join your daughter in Paris.” He spread his hands to emphasize the world of advantages she’d have if she had the book, the only expression she’d ever seen him display.

  “Sounds lovely,” she said, her voice strained from the way Mitchell had her head tilted. If she appeared to be willing to talk, maybe Mitchell would let go of her hair.

  It worked. Banks nodded to Mitchell, and he released her. She rubbed her scalp and neck, feeling sore and bruised.

  Charlotte did not know at this point how long she’d been in the basement, but she hoped Helene was aware of what was going on, and sent for help. The worst thing would be if she walked in on them and endangered herself.

  Time to keep Toley talking. She cherry-picked the truth. “I did talk to Mr. Madiveros. Mrs. Targman’s notebooks make many references to her Aunt Sasha, and to her days in Paris at Sasha’s bookstore. It was part of my research.”

  Mitchell snorted at this. “Oh, it’s pretty clear what the old girl got up to in Paris. A little research on the ‘net showed she knew O’Dair,