Money, Marbles and Murder

by Mary Frances

  Dallas looked in his papers again.

  “He’s south of here. According to this, he was getting in trouble at the foster homes he was in and the state stepped in and put him in a detention center. The court report said the boy ‘may have been traumatized so much that he is merely acting out.’ Yeah, right.”

  “In what way was he acting out?” Margaret asked.

  “Kept running away. The boy ran from every home he was in and they always found him here, hiding in the house,” he said.

  “Interesting,” Margaret said as she got up from the table. As she carried her cup back into the kitchen, she muttered to anyone listening, “He is one child I would like to ‘read’, personally.”

  “Detective?” Margaret suddenly asked. Dallas looked up.

  “Now, why would a man on vacation have a full folder of information on the people of this house if he wasn’t working on a case?”

  Dallas shook his head and smiled.

  “I had a hunch there was more to this house when they dropped the price so fast, so I asked them to send me a copy of the reports and photos so I could go over them myself. I still have friends in the police department. If there is something hidden here, then I want to know what it is and why.”

  Margaret got up and headed to her room.

  “I didn’t mean to bring you into this, Margaret,” he said. She stopped in the hall.

  “I am so glad you did,” she said as she opened her bedroom door. Margaret went to her room and as the night slipped away, the rain stopped. Sandy stayed up until right before the sun came up again and when she finally lay her head down, she fell asleep before her eyes could close.

  Wilma got up early and started her routine in the kitchen. It was almost noon before anyone else came out. Margaret was first. Wilma got her a cup of coffee and as she set the cup on the table, she looked at the box of money on the floor beside the table.

  “Do we really have to give the money back?” she asked. Margaret glanced at the boxes on the floor.

  “Finders, keepers, as far as I’m concerned,” she said with a smile. Dallas came through and stopped long enough to grab a hot cup of coffee and as he walked through the sliding glass doors, he invited Margaret down on the dock to fish with him. She nodded and refreshed her cup. Dallas carried two chairs down and as he passed her on the deck to get the poles, she tossed a handful of marbles ahead of her. He shook his head and kept going into the house. They settled down on the deck and after Dallas baited her hook, she took it and waited.

  “You can’t catch fish in the air,” he told her, looking at her pole in her hand.

  “I’ve never fished before,” she said and handed the pole back. Dallas took it and cast out for her. He handed the pole back and as she played with the reel, he launched his own bait into the water.

  “What’s with the marbles?” he asked as he sat back and watched the water.

  “It gives me something to do up on the deck,” she said, then added, “plus, the first night here, I kept seeing marbles rolling into the lake. I guess the boy did that a lot with his mom when they were here alone.” Margaret leaned over the rail and looked into the water. She could see all the marbles she had rolled off the deck laying at the bottom of the lake.

  “Beside,” she added, “they’re supposed to help attract fish.” As she spoke, her line dipped in the water and her pole started to wiggle.

  Dallas looked at her from the corner of his eyes. It was hard to tell if she was telling the truth or just playing with him. She definitely had a strange sense of humor.

  “I think I have one,” she said and wiggled the pole in her hand. Margaret held the pole out and waited. Dallas started to reach out for her pole when his started to pull too.

  “Just start cranking,” he said as he worked the fish on his line. Margaret closed her fingers tighter around the handle and wiggled the pole again.

  “Turn the crank, Margaret!” Dallas said. Her pole was starting to bend as the fish headed back out into the lake. Margaret shook her pole and tried to stand up. Dallas was trying to watch her line and reel his own in at the same time. The fish pulled at the end of her line and as Dallas watched, her pole bent over the rail and she tightened her grip.

  “It’s a big one,” she said as she finally stood up. Margaret started backing up on the dock. Dallas reeled his line in as fast as he could and when his fish came closer, he reached down and grabbed it by the gills. Margaret was slowly walking up the wooden walkway toward the deck, the pole bending and jumping with the fish on the other end. As he untangled his line and secured his fish, he turned to see Margaret. The woman was still walking backwards pulling the line with the fish on it. Dallas set his pole down and ran up to her.

  “Here,” he said as he reached for the pole. “Let me do that.”

  Margaret turned her back toward him. “I can do it,” she said as she backed more. Dallas looked back at the dock. The fish was coming up along the rail, swinging wildly in the air. He ran back down to the fish and grabbed at it. Margaret stopped and waited. When Dallas had the fish by the gills, she set the pole down and walked again to the dock.

  “My first fish,” she said as she took her seat again. “Hurry up and get me another worm. I like fishing!”

  Dallas put her fish on the stringer off the side of the dock and went up to get her pole. As he walked back, he reeled.

  “It’s a lot easier if you turn the crank, Margaret,” he said.

  “Oh, but detective,” she said with a smile. “I could feel him right down my arms and into my back. This is fun.”

  Dallas set her pole down and looked at her. He didn’t look happy. “I am surprised you didn’t let go of the pole,” he told her as he put another worm on her hook. She had her hands out and ready for the pole as he cast it out again for her.

  “We have to take pictures of that one,” she said as she wiggled in her seat. The woman was truly excited.

  Sandy woke up to a quiet house. She got up and made herself a cup of coffee. As she walked back through the living room, she glanced down at the dock. Margaret was holding a pole in her hand and as Sandy sipped her coffee, she saw Margaret standing up. Sandy set her cup down and ran for her bedroom. In seconds, she had her video camera out and aimed at the two on the dock. With one hand, she slid the glass doors open and captured Dallas and Margaret as each struggled with the fish on their lines. She zoomed in on Dallas as he lifted the fish off the hook, and moved on to Margaret’s face as Dallas held it up. When the fishermen sat back down, Sandy turned the camera off and went into her room to dress. In minutes, she was down on the deck with her coffee.

  “We’re fishing,” Margaret said when she saw Sandy standing behind her. Dallas was baiting his hook.

  “Yeah,” he said, “We’re fishing”

  “This is fun,” Margaret told her. Dallas looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.

  “It’s fun if you bait your own hook, reel it in right and take it off the hook,” he said.

  “Now detective, don’t be a poop,” she said with a smile. “I never once asked for any help. You did what you did because you wanted to.”

  “You would have flopped over the rail if I hadn’t helped you,” he said. He cast his line out and as he sat back down, Margaret’s line started to dance again.

  “Ooh look! I got another one!” she yelled. Dallas handed his pole to Sandy and started to get up to help Margaret. He stopped and watched her instead. The line dipped and turned. The fish at the end jumped and then tried to swim away. Margaret held the pole against her side and tried to reel it in. Her hands wouldn’t let her. She looked around and then at Dallas. He smiled.

  “It’s your fish, Margaret. Catch it if you can,” he said and backed up. Margaret lost her smile and looked at her pole. The tip was bouncing and jumping with the fish on the end of her line. She thought for a second and then got up again. The woman walked smartly up the wooden walkway and toward the deck. Her line followed her. Every few steps, she would
turn and look at the water. When the fish finally came up and out, she stopped. Dallas yelled up at her.

  “Now what are you going to do?” he asked. Sandy started to get up but Dallas put his hand on hers and stopped her.

  “I’ll get it,” Margaret said. She looked around her and when she couldn’t find an idea floating in the air, she looked at the ground. For a few seconds, she stared at the growth beside the decking.

  “Detective,” she said quietly. “Would you please come here?”

  Dallas got up and as he headed up the path he smirked. “Now, you need my help, huh?”

  Margaret looked up at him as he reached for the pole in her hand. “Not with the pole, detective,” she said. She looked down at the ground. “With that.”

  Dallas followed her gaze and saw what she saw. Nestled in the weeds and ground cover, he saw a hammer. The fish, forgotten for a minute, dangled at the end of the line. Dallas picked up the hammer and set it on the boards. Margaret looked at it as he rolled it over.

  “Were there any pictures of the doctors head wound?” she asked. Dallas took her pole from her hands and started to reel it in. As he did, he walked down to the dock.

  “I’ll find out as soon as we’re done fishing.”

  Margaret followed him back to the water and waited until he had her fish safely on the stringer.

  “What did he pick up, up there?” Sandy asked as Margaret sat back down. Margaret told her and when the fish was safely on the stringer, she leaned over to look at the marbles in the water.

  “I need to put more down there,” she said and pulled the bag out of her pocket. She spilled a few into her hand and let them roll again off into the water. Dallas took his pole and cast again.

  “Are you thinking what I am thinking?” Dallas asked as he set his line. Margaret dropped a blue marble into the water.

  “I saw something in one of the bundles yesterday morning,” she said. Sandy and Dallas looked at her.

  “Yesterday?” Sandy asked. “We didn’t touch the money until after dinner.”

  “I know but I did. I used the detectives bathroom after and when I came out, I touched one of the bundles.” Margaret was staring at the ripples in the water from the marble. “It didn’t make sense until now, that’s why I didn’t say anything.”

  Dallas set the fishing poles down and turned his chair. “What did you see?” he asked.

  “William. He was swinging a hammer at the trees,” she said and got up. Margaret looked at the trees around her and then walked back up the path. Half way up to the house, she stopped and looked into the woods.

  “I’ll go for a walk later and check the trees,” Sandy said as she went back in for more coffee. Dallas brought the fish up to the house and around to the back. Wilma followed him when she saw him walking up with fresh fish hanging by his side. Margaret took a seat on the deck and waited for Sandy to come back out. The sun was a perfect amber color and as it sent its warming rays through the trees, squirrel played overhead. Margaret lay her head back and stared up at the canopy of leaves as Sandy took the seat across from her.

  “This is the most relaxing vacation I have ever had,” Margaret said, her eyes closing.

  “This is the first one for me,” Sandy answered.

  “You’ve never had a vacation?” Margaret asked, her eyes still closed.

  “If you call visiting at my sister’s house a vacation, I guess I have.”

  “You have a long way to go yet,” Margaret told her. “There will be plenty of time for vacations.”

  Sandy drank her coffee and looked at the trees around her. The island was filled with oak, pine, maple and birch trees. The floor of the woods had a low ground cover and leaves. Small purple flowers peaked through the leaves here and there and waxy wintergreen hid white blossoms beneath their green. This is the first woods Sandy had ever been in and she wanted to remember it in case she never got the chance to come back.

  Chapter Six

  Dallas had the fish cleaned and on the grill while Wilma set the table inside. She busied herself in the kitchen and as Sandy and Margaret soaked up the afternoon sun, the smell of the barbecue slipped around the house. By the time lunch was prepared, everyone was ready for the feast.

  Sandy took out her camera again and filmed Margaret as her fish was laid on her plate. Dallas had removed the head before serving it, although he protested. Margaret had told him she couldn’t even begin to try it if it ‘looked’ at her. Wilma stayed away from the table, fish not to her liking. As they ate, a silence came over the people at the table. Their minds were still on the money and the murder. As quickly as they had let themselves enjoy the vacation, it was taken away again by reality.

  “What do you think we should do with the money?” Margaret asked. Dallas looked up and as he sipped his water, his eyebrows went up. Sandy spoke first.

  “I think we should let the authorities know we found it,” she said. Margaret pointed a bent finger at her. “The parents are dead. The money belongs to?” she asked.

  “The estate,” Sandy answered.

  “The trust,” Dallas joined in.

  “Exactly,” Margaret said. “It would go to the trust.” She thought for a second. Sandy picked at her fish again, pulling off a nice slab of meat. “I still think we should tell the authorities,” she said as she slid the meat into her mouth. Dallas pulled the tail on his fish and held it up. With his other hand, he picked the head up and with a downward motion, slid the head, along with the spine clear of the meat. He lay it on the side of his plate and smiled.

  “That’s the way you do it,” he said and looked at Margaret. “That’s why I leave the heads on.”

  He pointed at the large fish, minus the head on his plate. “All meat, no bones,” he said proudly.

  Margaret wrinkled her nose and looked down at her plate. Her own fish, minus the head lay in front of her.

  Dallas smiled, reached across and exchanged plates with her. “If I remember correctly, you caught that one,” he said as he took her plate from her and replaced it with his. With a smile, she chased the meat with a fork and managed to slide some toward the rim where her mouth lay in wait.

  “Let’s lay the cards on the table, shall we?” Dallas said. “We have two people dead, a son in an institution and a million dollars.” He looked up for a second and when no one added to his conversation, he went on.

  “There is something wrong with this whole thing. Margaret feels it and so do I. I think after lunch, I will have another look at the photos and maybe I’ll see something that’ll help. But, until we figure this out, I think we should just let the money sit here. No authorities. Agreed?”

  Margaret looked up from her dish. “Detective, are we thinking of keeping the money?”

  “Well, I’m certainly not going to give it away until I am sure it is going to go where it should.”

  “Well,” she said, wiping her chin with a napkin, “I’ll sit with Sandy and go through the money while you work on the pictures. Maybe one of us will have something new to bring to the dinner table.”

  When lunch was over, Margaret and Sandy took the box of money to the deck and sat down. The air had warmed the woods and as Dallas sat at the table with the pictures in front of him, the women went through the money. As they had done with the many boxes in Margaret’s house, Sandy handed her the bundles, one at a time and wrote whatever she said. Two hours later, Margaret was exhausted and they had finished all but three bundles. From the notes Sandy had taken, there was nothing new to ‘read’ in the money. Dallas came out onto the deck with a picture in his hand.

  “Would you look at this and tell me if you can see what is wrong with the picture,” he said and handed the photo to Sandy. She set her pad down and held the picture. It was taken from the edge of the dock the morning the doctor was found. It showed the blue and white boat half up in the air and a body, although covered, on the dock beside it. Sandy scrutinized the picture carefully and couldn’t see anything out of place. She handed
the picture to Margaret. Margaret did the same and after a few minutes, she too, handed the picture back, shaking her head as she did.

  Dallas took a seat and stared into the picture. “Aha!” he said finally. He held the picture out to the women and smiled a big smile.

  “Look right there,” he said and pointed at the hoist in the background. Sandy leaned closer to look. Margaret leaned but didn’t see what he meant.

  “Look at the controls of the hoist,” he said, giving it away. “They’re in the ‘off’ position. How can a dead man turn it off? It’s way out of his reach.”

  Sandy took the picture. “Maybe the kid turned it off when he went down there and found his dad.”

  Dallas didn’t wait. He got up and went into the house. In seconds, he was on the phone and as the women waited, they studied the picture again. After a few minutes, Dallas came back out with a file in his hands. As he sat down again, he opened the file and started to read from it.

  “The son called at 7: 35 a.m. The 911 tape said he was crying that his dad’s down on the dock with blood all over.” He flipped through a few pages and read out loud. “911-what is your emergency?”

  “My dad! My dad! (crying) He’s got blood on his head. He’s laying by the dock! (crying) He didn’t come in last night! Someone…can someone come?”

  “Calm down. Calm down. What is your name?”

  “Billy. (not audible) (crying) My name is Billy. William Shelton. My dad is a doctor and he’s laying on the dock.”

  “Billy, calm down a moment and tell me, where is your father?”

  “On the dock. (moans-crying) He’s got blood all over. I think he’s dead. Can someone come?”

  “Billy, how old are you?”

  “I’m almost eight. Is someone coming? My dad is dead.”

  “I am sending someone Billy. Is your address out on Silver Bend Road? 1428 Silver Bend Road?”

  “Yes. That’s my house. (background noises-not audible) I live on the island.”

  “Is there anyone home with you, Billy?”