The Driving Passion Murders

by Gene Epstein

  Before long they arrived at Mrs. Moore’s. There was an impressive Art Deco wrought iron double gate that was attached to a pair of eight-foot-high stone pillars. On the face of each pillar recessed in the stonework were raised letters with a gold finish on black metal background spelling out ‘Hampton Court.’ Bill had the remote gate opener but, as always, called Mrs. Moore on the intercom phone inset in a stainless-steel box within the stone pillar or, depending on where he was, would use the car telephone set in the center console.

  “My dear. It is Bill with the person that I spoke to you about. I am coming in now,” he said as he then depressed the remote and the gates opened inwardly welcoming them.

  “Come in,” she replied as they drove down the cobblestone driveway to park at the carriage house. The carriage house itself was very impressive with eight wood garage doors that were stained a handsome mahogany, each with two rows of glass windows about 10 by 12 inches separated by thick mullions and above eye level to let natural light enter. The building was in fieldstone with grey slate roof. It was two stories tall with a full apartment above the garage area. To the right of the carriage house down a serpentine flagstone path barely one hundred feet was Hampton Court’s main house. To each side of the path were manicured flower beds and security lights to light the path in darkness. Upon reaching the main entrance was a wide handsome mahogany door with raised panels, an antique from a historic English manor.

  Before Bill could raise the heavy iron lion’s head door knocker, Mrs. Moore opened the door. She was leaning a bit on a cane. Mrs. J.P. Moore didn’t look her 80 years of age. She was dressed as if she were going to dinner at a fine restaurant. She was made up and looked as though she was ready for a good time. Her hair was brushed back and up in a French bun. Aside from the cane and an obvious difficulty walking this woman looked the very bright and cheerful and greeted them both very warmly giving Bill a hug and a kiss on each cheek.

  “Mrs. Moore, this is Robert Snyder,” introduced Bill.

  “Billy. Please. I’m not your ordinary client. We’ve known each other for years. Please call me Jackie.” she requested. Being the hostess that she was, she simply gestured with a graceful wave of her left hand to enter the living room.

  “Your home is magnificent, Mrs. Moore,” stated Robert. “May I ask how old this house is?”

  “It originally dated back to William Penn’s days when this was 200 acres but over the years, parcels were sold off and my husband’s family purchased it about 100 years ago. Since we moved here it seems like we have been updating it every year up until my husband recently passed away.”

  “Tell me, Robert, what do your friends call you?” she asked.

  “It’s a toss-up, Mrs. Moore. Some call me Bob and others Robert.”

  “I like Robert. If you don’t mind that is what I shall call you,” Mrs. Moore’s stated.

  “Now, Robert. Tell me what you have done in the past that you would want to work here for me?”

  “My mother’s friend lost her son in a tragic accident and she was in an awful state. She went through several people who had attended to her but was upset that they only sat on their backsides and claimed they did nothing except smoke cigarettes or steal her liquor. None lasted more than a few days, possibly a week. While I was going to college, I was asked to help out for a week or two; however, she kept asking me to stay on, which I did but I had other plans. I was a student at Temple’s drama department and was torn between doing both. Eventually, she moved in with her niece and nephew in Palm Beach.”

  Bill was shocked. Of all things, the most obvious was that he hadn’t gone over Robert’s background. Bill looked surprised at Robert’s ease in making up the entire story.

  “Mrs. Moore...pardon me—‘Jackie’. I had my people do a thorough check on Robert and we found him to be very sincere with no vices.”

  “Oh Billy, everybody has some vices or life wouldn’t be any fun,” smiled Mrs. Moore. “Come let me show you around while I still have my energy.”

  Without discussing any of the duties that would be Robert's responsibility, Mrs. Moore took Robert for a tour of her home starting with the living room area, where she pointed to an old carved marble fireplace mantle that stood on white marble arches with a keystone in the center. She showed him the pictures sitting on top of the mantle of her parents and her husband’s ancestors. Robert paid attention to everything that she said while at the same time admiring this woman who did her best to stand upright even though she was in obvious pain as she leaned on her cane. She pointed out that the room was kept as it was originally built with its white plaster ceiling and exposed 3” x 12" wood beams that were stained a deep natural color and ran the width of this large room. The walls were plastered and painted a light lime color that had six pairs of floor-to-ceiling windows, two of which framed doors that opened to the gardens. Imported 19th century drapes in solid sky blue gracefully bordered each opening. The furnishings in the room were elegant and period correct and enhanced with occasional oil paintings by Samuel Alken Sr., the renowned English artist, illustrating his favorite hunt scenes to give this room a true museum appearance.

  Leaving the living room Mrs. Moore walked through an arched hall leading to the dining room. The dining room was very similar in layout and taste as the living room. In the center was a dining room table that would seat 16 people. The table, that had been constructed for Mr. Moore's parents, was nearly 100 years old. The table was made of walnut planks that were cut down from trees on their estate. Standing like soldiers were 16 chairs with a golden embroidered cloth material on the cushions and backrests. The finish on the table shined like glass. In pointing out the table to Robert and her attorney she said that this room has not been used for nearly a decade and that she would rather have her meals in the anteroom adjacent to the kitchen. For that reason, she refused to have the 16 place settings of dishes and silverware on the table since that would mean only more things to keep clean. However, there were two beautiful silver candelabras placed to the right and left of the center of the table.

  At this point, Mrs. Moore seemed a little bit exhausted and instructed Bill to “please show Robert the accommodations for him.”

  In Robert’s mind, it seemed as though Mrs. Moore had accepted him for the job and he smiled. Not even knowing or thinking if anyone saw him smile, it was something he could not hold back. He liked her along with her sense of humor and determination do not let anything stand in her way as long as she could.

  “I'll show Robert the accommodations should you both agree,” and waved his right hand to Robert after he first made sure that Mrs. Moore was comfortably seated.

  “I think she sincerely likes you, Robert. I'm very happy for that,” said Bill. "I have the keys, so follow me.”

  They exited the main house and walked down the flagstone path to the carriage house. Bill opened the entrance door and only a few steps inside were stairways that led to the second floor and a door to the right that led to the six-car garage.

  As Robert anxiously placed his right hand on the rail leading to the second floor Bill abruptly stopped him. “Wait. I want to see the cars again.”

  Using one of his keys, he unlocked the door to the right then turned on the switch for the interior lighting of the carriage house garage. Bill was in awe for he had a love of old cars since childhood. He used to sketch them. He used to dream about them. He used to make his own designs hoping that someday someone would build a car to his drawings.

  “Do you know what you're looking at? “ he asked Robert.

  “I sure do. There is a ‘54 Eldorado convertible like my uncle used to have. I see that she has a rare 1955 0r 1956 Gullwing Mercedes 300. I used to work for my uncle who sold these from his car lot when I was a kid. Wow! Look at that gorgeous 1932 Duesenberg Model J with a supercharger.”

  Before Robert continued to show that he understood that there were some very beautiful and desirable antique automobiles Bill stopped him in his tracks.

>   “Let me show you the apartment where you're going to be living.” Bill directed Robert to follow him upstairs.

  At the top of the stairs were a hat and coat rack made from deer antlers and a seat to put one’s boots on during inclement weather. Once the door was opened a switch turned some dim lights on a kitchen table and a hallway. The interior was totally different from the main house. It had a rustic theme that carried throughout the apartment. When you entered you were immediately in a very airy kitchen even though it was small in size. The ceiling with a tall A-frame with heavy wooden beams crossing the room. From the peak of the ‘A’ ceiling hung a carriage wheel lamp with six electrified kerosene lanterns. To the right was a television room which in reality was a small living room . There were antique rifles and shotguns on the walls and electrified oil lamps on the end tables and a sofa made of mixed leather hides in a large diamond pattern. Between the kitchen and the television room was a short hallway leading to a bathroom on the left that was modern and had a bathtub fitted with shower doors. One bedroom to the right with a double bed and a tall dresser and a sliding door closet that had a mirror facing to help make the bedroom appear larger. The opposite bedroom had a single bed with a night table on either side. Neatly placed on each wall were other Samuel Alken Sr.’s fox hunting scenes however all were smaller than those hanging in the main house .

  “Bill, I really owe you. You came through for me once again. I love this place and Mrs. Moore seems like a doll.” Robert said, his voice showing his excitement.

  He added, “Do you think that she is offering me the position?”

  “You would've been gone a half-hour ago if she had any unsure feelings about you. Mrs. Moore is totally upfront with everyone. At her age, she doesn't stand on ceremony.” Bill answered. “Let's go back to the house and firm things up.”

  Retracing their steps back to the main house Bill approached the front door and tapped the Lion’s Head knocker twice, then opened the door himself realizing that Mrs. Moore would be expecting them. In the living room, he found her resting on a Victorian chaise lounge with her eyes closed. Her hearing was not affected by her age and she heard them enter. She quickly sat up and stated, “I was just resting with my eyes closed,” since her vanity would not permit anyone to think she might have dozed off.

  She presented a list of things that she expected to have Robert carry out. Some items were marked to do or check daily and others marked weekly or monthly. Nothing came as a surprise to Robert, nor was there anything difficult to do. Most items were those which would be performed by an administrator. Others were minor such as running errands, bringing in the mail and going over invoices and utility bills for her estate.

  “Would you like your paycheck weekly or monthly, Robert?”

  “Whatever your pleasure, Mrs. Moore. I'm here to do whatever you need and to do it well,” he gratefully answered.

  “Oh, it's a moot point, Robert, since once you get acclimated you will be writing all the checks. My hand cannot write legibly since this damn ‘Essential tremor’ I inherited from the generations that preceded me. All I can do is scribble my initials.” she hesitated. “Now, how soon can you start?”

  Chapter 3

  Within a few days, Robert knew the routine and had her breakfast ready for her at 9:15 sharp: three scrambled eggs very loose and runny with four pieces of bacon, Florida orange juice and two pieces of lightly toasted white bread. He walked down the long driveway every day at 1 o'clock to bring in the mail and sort what might be personal mail that he would hand directly to Mrs. Moore and throw out the junk mail. On his desk in the study, he had one incoming and one outgoing file that was made of dark oak where neatly organized bills were placed.

  His desk was a deep oak-stained serpentine 1920’s circa roll-top that housed numerous cubbyholes at the far end of the desk and in the base to the right and the left of the leg opening were very heavy drawers that had to be pulled with some amount of difficulty. Robert rubbed a heavy coat of beeswax on the runners to make it easier.

  After going through the bill, he sorted them for the estate purposes and personal items. Robert came under estate items and her groceries, which he picked up twice a week along with her orders from her favorite butcher in town, would be filed under personal. A few days after Robert started, Mrs. Moore had her banker come over with papers to put Robert on the checking account. She had two accounts. One account for personal items and the other for expenses related to the estate. He had authorization for both accounts, however, they were capped at $500. Anything over $500 Robert would need Mrs. Moore’s signature in addition to his. This was the advice that her banker gave her and she took.

  Robert had a meeting with Victor, a young man about 30 years old, who was born and raised in Guatemala. He had worked faithfully for her for the past ten years and knew everything that had to be done for the grounds work. Even though half of his life was spent in the United States one would think that he just arrived for it was so difficult for him to understand instructions. He would constantly nod his head as if he understood but Robert soon discovered that he would have to ask Victor to tell him what he had just said. Victor also worked taking care of two neighbors’ properties within a mile of Hampton Court and found other work over the wintertime when the grounds did not need maintenance helping do tile work for a contractor.

  Every week Robert would go into the carriage house garage and start each automobile. Every other week each car would be taken out for a 20-minute drive which was the minimum time that an automobile needed to be warmed up sufficiently so that all the lubricants did their job. This was really fun ‘work’ for Robert. He felt like he was working at his uncle Al’s car lot when he was a kid. He knew everything about the white 1954 Cadillac Eldorado convertible but this was a one-owner car with only 35,000 miles. Mr. Moore had purchased it new and it still had most of its original paint with the exception of some minor paint work to one door when Mrs. Moore opened it not realizing that she was too close to a parking lot signpost. It still had its original black convertible top; however, the back-plastic window had turned brown over the years. He would see if a local upholstery shop would be competent to replace it. The interior of the car surprised him the most. Under wool blankets that loosely covered the seats were supple leather seats in red and white that looked like they were never sat on.

  Adjacent to the Cadillac was the 1956 Mercedes 300 SL Silver grey Gullwing 2-seater with red leather bucket seats. He could not believe that it showed only 9000 miles but it did for sure.

  “This should be in a museum,” he said to himself. “They only built 311 of these.”

  He then looked closely at the 1932 Duesenberg in a handsome burgundy finish with a tan top and tan leather interior. It had a badge on the front bumper indicating that it was a National ACD First place winner in 1969 in Auburn, Indiana. As he looked closer he knew he was looking at yet another magnificent automobile. In the glove compartment, he found award badges from national events around the country.

  Someone had performed an incredible restoration on this, went through his mind.

  Before going any further Robert heard a buzzer and then the voice of Mrs. Moore through an intercom system. “Robert, can you come to the house?”

  He looked up and said, “I'll be there immediately,” without even knowing if Mrs. Moore heard him since he was unfamiliar with the system. He rushed to the main house and Mrs. Moore was standing at the doorway resting on her cane. “Robert, it is such a beautiful day today. How about taking me for a walk around the grounds?” She pointed to her wheelchair, which Robert immediately brought over to her and gently assisted her to sit comfortably.

  “I'm here to serve you, Mrs. Moore. It is my pleasure and my honor.”

  He guided the wheelchair down the walkway past the carriage house to the garden.

  “Let me just get some sun and you do whatever you would like,” she told Robert.

  “I would be glad to sit here with you if you don't mind, Mrs.
Moore.” He meant every word of it because he was really caring about this woman especially since he never had a warm nor caring relationship with his mother.

  As the days turned into weeks he was enjoying this position more than he ever thought. Then one day after road testing and gassing up her classic cars, he had an idea. He came into the house but he left the Cadillac Eldorado outside.

  “Mrs. Moore, I'm taking you to dinner. It's on me. You've told me many times how you and your husband used to go to Blue Bell Inn for dinner once a week. Will you let me take you?”

  “Oh, Robert! You have no idea what a thrill that would be for me to have dinner with you there; however, my dear boy, you cannot afford to pay for it and I am certain that our old house account is still viable,” she said.

  “We are taking the Cadillac convertible, if you don’t mind,” he informed her.

  “My husband used to take me there in his Rolls Royce sedan that he purchased new in 1965,” stated Mrs. Moore.

  ***

  At 5 o'clock, after pushing the wheelchair to the Cadillac and making certain that she was seated comfortably, they were on their way. Less than 30 minutes later they pulled up to the parking lot of the Blue Bell Inn and as Robert guided the wheelchair towards the entranceway she looked up to the roof and she saw the owner’s sister, Dorothy, repairing shingles on the roof. “That’s Dorothy. She does everything here,” Mrs. Moore exclaimed. Less than 20 minutes later Dorothy would be serving liver pâté and fried oysters at the bar for both of them.