Murder at the Mansion

by Janet Finsilver

“Now there’s proof there was a child. You can reopen the case.”

  Lily shook her head. “I saw the pitying looks people gave my mother. They laughed her out of court . . . said she’d forged the birth certificate. Threatened to arrest her . . . the owners with all their money and fancy attorneys. It would be no different now. I watched her waste away and die a little more inside each day. Her affection for my brothers and me shriveled to nothing. Besides, it’s too late.”

  “What do you mean it’s too late?”

  “The Porter woman, if only she hadn’t been such a busybody. My brother saw her taking pictures when he met with Johnson one morning at the mansion. I tried stealing her camera.”

  The shove on the stairs.

  “I planned to make her sick so she’d leave. I brought some pills to work with me. I knew when she showed you the picture and said it was Robert Johnson, I had to do something more. He’d told us the deal wouldn’t go through if Corrigan found out he was involved. I couldn’t take a chance she’d show it to him or someone who knew of their past.”

  My eyes searched the room for anything I might be able to use as a weapon.

  “That’s why I had to silence Hensley, too. She recognized the name and would’ve remembered the connection in time. A blow to the head kept her out of commission. For Sylvia, I added a little something to her tea.” Lily smiled. “She’d wanted to try on some hats. I took one to her room. The drug I gave her worked. She could hardly stand. I helped her to the chair; I pulled out my hatpin and stabbed her. It was so easy. You see, that’s why there won’t be a new lawsuit. It’s too late.”

  She shifted her position, revealing an aluminum bat she held that had been hidden in the folds of the voluminous skirt.

  I stepped back.

  Lily glanced at her watch. “The deal would’ve been done by now.” She laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound. “Today would’ve been the day for me to take my rightful place as lady of the manor. At last, after all these years, I would’ve slept in my grandmother’s room.”

  Fear rooted me to the ground.

  “Instead of getting my rightful inheritance, I ended up emptying bedpans and administering medicine to the pathetic owners. Then later, the tours. I hated having all those strangers traipse through my house.”

  Her voice got higher pitched and louder. The folds of her skirt whispered together as she stepped toward me.

  Her harsh, vehement voice rent the dust-filled air. “First the Porter woman and then you. Messing up my plans. Sticking your nose in where it didn’t belong. I tried to scare you away with the fire. If you and those meddling seniors had stayed out of it, I would’ve been able to live here the rest of my life.” Lily raised her arms, bat overhead. “I got rid of her, and I’ll get rid of you!”

  I threw the framed pictures in Lily’s face, turned, and ran. A crash and the tinkle of breaking glass sounded.

  “There’s nowhere for you to go.” Her low, husky whisper was more chilling than her loud rant.

  And she was right. There was no place to hide, no way out.

  I spied the carriage. The dark eyes of its empty window frames stared at me. I reached it, yanked the door open, and threw myself inside. I slammed the door closed and slid the bolt in place just as Lily grabbed the door.

  The handle of the carriage door rattled as she twisted it, but the lock held. The carriage tilted as Lily stood on the step. Her face peered through the door’s window, her eyes like smoldering black coals. Her fingers curled over the sill.

  Her face disappeared. The bat hit the bottom of the window frame. Wood splinters flew, a few hitting my face. The whole carriage shuddered as another smashing blow hit the door. The thick wood remained intact.

  Lily hit the side of the window frame nearest the door. “I will get you,” she said through clenched teeth.

  The frame began to disintegrate. She was working on the area nearest the handle. If she destroyed enough of the wood panel, she’d be able to reach in and grab the bolt. I tried the door on the other side. Jammed. Probably warped.

  I peered out a window next to it. Boxes and trunks blocked the left side below. I could pull myself out through the window, but I’d have to go by Lily to escape the building. I searched around the carriage for anything I could use as a weapon. The dim light showed only the bare interior, disintegrating leather cushions, and a broken sconce.

  In the upper corner I spied another wall sconce, this one intact. Maybe that could be used as a weapon. Shaped like a large shell, the glass appeared thick. I didn’t want Lily to see what I was doing, so I picked up a cushion and leaned it against the window frame she was smashing. The second seat cushion I placed against the door in case she looked in again.

  I reached up and explored the glass cover. How was it connected? The sconces had to be easily removed because they had to be refilled with oil so often. Desperately my fingers searched—shoving, twisting, pulling. I pushed upward, and the glass cover moved. I freed it from its base.

  The carriage reverberated from the blows of the bat.

  I needed to cover the glass with something to protect myself when I hit her. I cradled my precious cargo under my arm as I tried to unzip my jacket. I tugged at the zipper. It reluctantly went down a few notches. Frantically, I jerked at the zipper. It relented, and I struggled out of the thin jacket and wrapped the sconce.

  “I will end this.” Lily’s voice was low and menacing.

  I heard a large intake of breath. A quick glance out the gaping hole to the left of the door showed a twisted face framed by two uplifted arms.

  “Now!” Lily’s voice, filled with rage, fueled the bat. With strength born from years of hate, Lily smashed the window frame once again, destroying what was left of the wood panel.

  She pushed the cushion out of the way, reached in, and unlocked the door. She opened it.

  “You can’t get away from me.” She reached up and grabbed the metal handle next to the right side of the door. “I’m going to kill you.” Lily seized the left side of the door frame with her other hand, managing to hold on to the bat. She began pulling herself into the carriage, her features contorted like some primitive mask.

  I rose as high as I could and, using both hands, hit her right temple with all of my strength with the sconce. She lost her grip on the door and fell forward into the carriage. She didn’t lose her hold on the bat. She shook her head from side to side, as if to clear her mind. It was the best I could hope for. The glass had shattered from the force of the blow. The sconce had done its job. I dropped it. It was of no further use.

  I spun around and went to the window. Putting my back against the windowsill, I grasped the top of the frame with both hands and pulled myself out, my back scraping against the rough wood. I dropped among the dark shapes of trunks and boxes and turned to my right. I crouched at the back of the coach and peered around the corner. Lily was still slumped forward.

  I lunged past her as she righted herself. She reached out and grabbed my arm. I jerked it away and continued to run. I heard heavy breathing behind me. I wouldn’t make it to the door. I needed another weapon. I’d seen gardening equipment along the side wall and sprinted to that area. I snatched an iron rake and turned. Lily was almost upon me.

  I swung my rake at her bat; our equipment became our swords. We hit several times, the bat pinging when it hit the metal. I had the advantage of distance, but her bat was stronger. My grip loosened on the handle as she nailed it with a hard blow.

  I needed to do something different before I lost the rake.

  I rammed the end of it into her stomach then swung the rake tooth side out into the arm holding the bat.

  Lily screamed as the metal cut through her sleeve. Her hand went to the wound. She dropped the bat, staggered back, and stepped onto the hem of her long dress. She toppled over and then struggled to untangle herself from all the fabric.

  I didn’t wait to see if she was successful. Her fall gave me the few precious seconds I needed. I ran.


  Then I remembered the two additional wedges I’d found earlier. I grabbed them from the floor near the door, wrenched it open, and plunged outside. Slamming it shut, I shoved one wedge and then the other under the door.

  The bat smashed into the wood. Once . . . then again. It held.

  Lily shouted, “Let me out!”

  I knew only too well how effective those triangular pieces of wood were.

  Chapter 27

  I sat back on the ground and took in deep gulps of air, getting my breath back. Lily smashed the door again. I looked around for Detective Rodriguez. He was struggling to sit up, a hand to his head, by the side of the building.

  “Kelly!” I recognized Scott’s voice. I turned to see him, Detective Nelson, and Deputy Sheriff Stanton running toward me. The detective went to his partner, and Stanton pulled out his gun.

  Scott knelt beside me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Just a few scratches.”

  “What’s going on?” Stanton asked.

  “Lily’s the one who killed Sylvia.” It had gotten quiet. “She’s in the carriage house with an aluminum bat.”

  Stanton nodded and went to the door.

  “I have it jammed,” I told him.

  He bent down, removed the wedges, and said, “Lily Wilson, Deputy Sheriff Stanton here. Come out with your hands up.”

  Silence.

  He repeated his request.

  Detective Nelson joined him. “Paramedics are on the way.”

  Stanton opened the door and entered cautiously. Scott and I stood at the doorway as the men searched behind trunks and covered furniture.

  I had a hunch I knew where she was. “Deputy Stanton, try the carriage.”

  The men walked over to it, and I heard Stanton say, “Lily, come out with your hands in sight.”

  “I’m sitting where my grandmother sat,” Lily replied. “I can almost feel her presence.”

  “Lily, we’ve known each other for a long time. You’ve done some good things in the community and helped others. Don’t make this difficult.”

  Lily stepped out and turned to look at the carriage. She traced the coat of arms with a finger. “It was finally going to be mine, all mine, to live in the rest of my life,” she crooned. Dust covered her once-pristine black dress, and it was ripped in several places. The hat had vanished, and her hair fell in twisted strands around her shoulders.

  In a swift movement, Stanton grabbed her arms, pulled them behind her back, and cuffed her.

  The officers escorted her out. Scott and I stared at the demolished panel between the window and the door—jagged edges of wood like shark’s teeth protruding from the frame.

  “A lot of rage behind those blows,” I said. “It gave her super strength.”

  “I’m glad none of them landed on you.” He paused and stared at me. “They didn’t, did they? You’re not keeping something from me, are you?”

  “No. I was able to keep away from her.”

  “I’m so glad.” He nodded his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Outside, the paramedics were talking to a now-standing Detective Rodriguez, telling him he needed to go to the hospital to be checked out.

  “I will,” he assured them. He spotted me. “Ms. Jackson, are you okay?”

  “Yes. How are you?”

  “Lucky,” replied one of the EMTs.

  “That I am,” the detective said. “I began to get suspicious about the call. The person put me on hold. I heard a noise and turned. She got me, but not as bad as she could’ve.”

  His partner joined him. “Nah, it was your hard head that saved you.”

  Scott and I walked back together, and I told him what had happened. As we arrived at the mansion, Deputy Sheriff Stanton drove out with Lily in the back of his cruiser. Her back was ramrod straight—a proud Brandon.

  “What brought you and the others up to the carriage house?” I asked.

  “Detective Nelson said it was very unusual for his partner to be late. When he called him, Rodriguez didn’t answer. With all that’s been happening, we decided to come up and check.”

  I stopped by my truck. “It’s over. What a relief.”

  And it meant my life could get back to my new normal.

  Scott took out his phone. “I’m going to call Corrigan.”

  “And I’m going home to wash up and change.”

  “Okay.”

  I saw Stevie and his four-legged kids in the distance walking the perimeter of a building and waved. I went over and told him the news and that Gertie was now safe. He took out his phone to call her, and I asked him to have her notify the others of the turn of events.

  When I got home, I decided to go in the side door, wanting some time to myself. I walked into my place and stopped to take in the sparkling ocean, the gulls swooping by the window, uttering their distinctive cries, and the lush garden dotted with a myriad of colorful flowers. Peace settled on me like a soft cloak.

  I checked my face in the bathroom mirror and found a few minute scratches where splinters had grazed the skin. My fingers were a little worse than they had been earlier after my last visit to the carriage house, and my back had some red lines. That was it. I was lucky, too.

  Scott called and said Corrigan and the officers wanted to meet at three thirty in the interview room at the mansion and asked me to invite the Silver Sentinels.

  I called the Professor. “It’s over. We know who killed Sylvia.”

  “So I heard,” he said. “We were assembling so we could come over and remove the murder investigation charts and set up for the original task you assigned us . . . if you still want us to do that.”

  I’d forgotten about the boxes of newspaper clippings and photos. “Absolutely, Professor.”

  Nice. That would keep my friends close by. I told him about the meeting.

  “Delighted to join in. See you then,” he responded. “I’ll alert the others.”

  I went to the multipurpose room and found Helen making a grocery list. I filled her in on the parts of the story she didn’t know. She was as relieved as the rest of us. She shared that Tommy and Allie were working in the cottage next door and would be over later.

  “That is, if it’s okay with you, Kelly. I don’t know how you feel about them feeling free to come and go in here.”

  Helen and I hadn’t had much time to talk about my new status or the operation of the inn.

  “I love having them here. We’re a family—the Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast family.”

  Helen appeared relieved. “I’m glad you feel that way. I know they really like you.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  I spent the afternoon reviewing office paperwork and putting finishing touches on settling into my quarters. The Sentinels came by and cleaned up their notes, all smiles and happy chatter.

  At the appointed time, I drove to the mansion and parked next to Daniel’s truck. People were seated around the large table. Tina and Cindy were each placing a tray of appetizers on it. I saw a pitcher of iced tea and one of water on the sideboard along with glasses. After pouring some tea, I sat next to Gertie.

  Deputy Sheriff Stanton and the detectives were there. Detective Rodriguez’s hand strayed to the back of his head every so often, probably to check the lump that was surely there.

  Another person entered the room: Robert Johnson. I shot a glance at Corrigan, but his face showed no sign of emotion. The newcomer sat at the far end of the table.

  Corrigan cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming. As a result of the hard work you all put into this investigation, we have a resolution. Deputy Sheriff Stanton, Detective Nelson, Detective Rodriguez, and I have a few pieces of information you should know to bring closure . . . and I want to make you aware of a decision I’ve made.”

  I wondered what he meant by that.

  Detective Nelson shuffled some papers in front of him. “Lily’s brother, the CEO Mark Benton, had no idea what Lily had done. At least that’s wha
t he says, and we have no reason to doubt him.”

  “Henry said his name was Cash. Did she make a mistake?” I asked.

  “No. He’d had problems with the law and decided to change his name when he moved out here,” Deputy Stanton replied.

  Detective Rodriguez rubbed his neck. “We found a number of prescription bottles belonging to other people at Lily’s place. Some of them were from the owners who recently died and made up the final piece of property Mr. Johnson wanted.”

  Deputy Sheriff Stanton chimed in. “One was supposedly a suicide and the other an accidental overdose. We’re going to check into those deaths more closely in case Lily had a hand in them.”

  “We found the two boxes taken from your vehicle,” Detective Nelson said. “Lily heard you mention what you’d found. She didn’t think it would impact her but figured it wouldn’t hurt to try to get them just in case.”

  “Sylvia’s camera, purse, and necklace were there as well,” Detective Rodriguez added.

  “Why was the hatpin there when I found Sylvia and then gone later?” I asked.

  Deputy Sheriff Stanton said, “I can answer that one. Lily seemed proud of what she’d done, almost bragged about all she’d accomplished, and told us everything.”

  I shook my head at the thought of how twisted a mind could become.

  Stanton continued, “Lily had been wearing the pin that morning and realized it might implicate her. During one of the breaks in the tour, she went back and got it, using the hidden passageway. It was a gamble, but one she won.”

  “Turns out Lily made good use of the sporting equipment for the guests.” Rodriguez looked at me. “That’s where the bat came from as well as the croquet mallet she used on Margaret Hensley.”

  “Why the attack on Gertie?” asked the Professor.

  Stanton answered. “Her brother had seen her taking pictures with her phone when he was meeting with Robert Johnson. She was photographing Allie’s lunch celebration, and they were in the background. He mentioned it to Lily. She was concerned it might create a problem for her plans . . . which it did, thanks to your excellent sleuthing.”

  It was nice to hear the deputy give the Sentinels a compliment.