Merciless Legacy: Merciless Murder - A Thrilling Closed Circle Mystery Series

by Tikiri Herath

  Nancy merely stared at her.

  Katy switched on her charm to her full wattage.

  “What a fantastic discovery, though. What a magnificent home this is. So, how long have you been living in this gorgeous place?”

  I thought I saw Nancy swallow and wondered why she looked so uncomfortable. There was something more in her than the usual small-town distrust of out-of-towners.

  “Just a few months,” she replied guardedly.

  “Where are you from? Around hereabouts, then?” asked Katy, leaning across the counter.

  Nancy leaned away.

  “Iowa,” she said, turning her back toward us and opening a cupboard.

  Tetyana and I exchanged a quick glance.

  It was Nancy who was lying now.

  Chapter Eleven

  “It’s getting late,” said Mrs. Robinson bustling around the kitchen, pointedly ignoring Nancy’s surly face. “We need to serve supper soon.”

  “I’ll give you a hand,” I said, stepping up, making Nancy scowl even more.

  Did that woman ever smile?

  Tetyana and Katy chipped in and within half an hour, we’d set the table in the dining room on the second floor.

  Connected to the dining room was an expansive living area. Someone had started a fire in the rustic fireplace in the corner, and it was sending a warm glow our way. Outside, a northwesterly wind was beating against the windows and a heavy rain had begun to fall.

  After doing her part, Nancy disappeared to her room temporarily. So, Tetyana, Katy and I waited with Mrs. Robinson for the rest of the family to join us. Hearing the stormy winds howl outside, I was glad we were in here, and not stuck in the middle of the darkened, wet and lonely woods.

  The roast now sat on the table with a carving knife next to it. The pot of stew was on the sideboard, ready to be served with home-baked bread and garlic butter.

  If I ignored the peeling paint and worn features, this room could be the perfect showroom for an old-fashioned manor.

  Above the table hung a light fixture made of deer antlers. The rustic wooden furniture and the retro dishes and cutlery added to the whimsical decor of the room.

  I remembered the champagne-fueled, celebrity-studded parties Madame Bouchard attended in Paris and New York. These were the high-society functions my bakery catered for. The difference between her jet-setting lifestyle and that of her children in the mountains of New Hampshire couldn’t have been more striking.

  Didn’t Madame Bouchard care for her own flesh and blood?

  I wondered if she’d left anything to her family. Madame Bouchard had been a very wealthy woman. I’d assumed the million-dollar payouts she’d promised us for solving problems for her friends were a small allotment of her full estate.

  I looked around the immense dining and living area.

  This house would have a massive sales tag if it were to be sold. With possibly more than two dozen bedrooms, mostly shuttered and locked up now, it could be easily converted into a boutique hotel for hikers and skiers.

  This estate was a significant inheritance, I thought, making a mental note to call Peace, my friend and lawyer, to confirm details after dinner.

  “Who do we have here now?”

  As soon as I heard the voice, I knew instantly it had to be Pastor Graham.

  “Hi there,” said Katy, getting up from her chair with a wide smile.

  “Three lovely ladies from the Big Apple,” boomed Pastor Graham, giving Katy a low bow and a genial smile back.

  “We had our GPS and everything,” said Katy, offering her hand to the pastor, “you’d think we’d be prepared, but these mountains are so confusing.”

  “Your fancy GPS won’t work around here,” replied the pastor. “I’m afraid the mountains and the woods don’t help, especially during weather like this. We’ve had to pluck out more than one hiker from the mountains and they usually had all the fancy equipment in the world, but they had still got disoriented.”

  “It’s a beautiful place to get stranded in, as long as you don’t get frostbite or run out of food,” prattled Katy, “and you, Pastor, do you live in the village?”

  “I’m down there all week, busy with my congregation. But it’s nice to get away on the weekends. Lisa and Barry are good to me.”

  He turned and smiled at Mrs. Robinson, who was serving the stew into bowls.

  “Mrs. Robinson always has a place for me at the table. She’s an absolute angel.”

  “If it wasn’t for her, we’d be frozen out in the woods,” I said. “We can’t thank her enough.”

  The man tilted his head slightly.

  “Most people come to this part of the world in the summer when it’s nice and warm. Why would you ladies come here at this time?”

  Katy let out a dramatic sigh. She was an excellent actor. I was glad she’d decided to come with us.

  “I’m going through a separation right now,” she said, looking forlorn. That was true. She didn’t have to act any more now. “My friends thought it would be good to get me out of the city for a little while and get some fresh air in the countryside.”

  The pastor nodded sympathetically.

  “That’s not such a bad idea. Come to think of it, there are fewer crowds on the trails and you get to have the entire mountain for yourself. I suppose you’ll be climbing Mount Washington this weekend?”

  “Can’t wait,” said Katy, her face brightening. “We’ve been preparing for weeks at the gym. Not everyone can say they hiked up the tallest mountain on the East Coast, can they?”

  “Go early, take lots of water, and take your time going up. You should be fine.” He paused. “How long do you plan on staying in town?”

  “Just a few—”

  The sound of a door opening made us all turn.

  “Ah, Jim, my boy, come right in,” said the pastor, as if he was the host of the house, “we have some lovely visitors from the big city. Three beautiful young women who got lost on their way to Falcon Hills and drove straight into the arms of Cedar Cottage. Hahaha.”

  It was a good-looking man in his twenties who stepped in, carrying a pile of firewood in his arms. He walked with the confident swagger of a star college footballer who knew his charm. He dropped the wood near the fireplace and turned to us with a pearly smile that could have beaten Katy’s in the charisma Richter scale.

  Katy didn’t miss a beat.

  She stepped up to him, shook his hand and introduced Tetyana and me.

  While Jim’s smile was high on wattage, I noticed it didn’t go all the way to his eyes. His eyes were glassy, like they were looking through me, not at me. I shook his hand, feeling like this extrovert bluster was all a show.

  A show for whom? For us?

  I noticed Jim wink at Katy as he took her hand. Nancy, who’d been lighting the candles on the table, turned away. Her face had turned dark.

  I stepped up to her to give her a hand so she wouldn’t feel left out, when I realized another stranger had slipped into the room, and I hadn’t even noticed.

  It was a mousy-looking woman with thinning brown hair and wearing an old-fashioned shapeless dress. She was hovering at the far end of the table, as if unsure what to do. She was the type of person who could be in a room for hours and no one would ever acknowledge her presence.

  Who is this? How did I not see her enter the room?

  Mrs. Robinson stepped up and pulled a chair for her.

  “I made your favorite stew today, Lisa,” said Mrs. Robinson.

  Lisa?

  The woman didn’t make eye contact or say hello. I tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. I couldn’t see any of the intelligence Mrs. Robinson talked about.

  “Storm outside....” I heard Mrs. Robinson speak to her in a low voice. “... three lost girls... car trouble... just for the night...”

  Lisa kept her eyes on the table as Mrs. Robinson spoke.

  I couldn't believe this was the daughter of the elegant, illustrious, and demanding Madame Bouchard
who twirled foreign diplomats and celebrities around her finger. Then again, getting abandoned in a rambling old mansion among the lonely mountains and being treated like you were a mistake probably did strange things to you.

  Mrs. Robinson placed a bowl of stew in front of Lisa. Without looking up or waiting for the rest of us, Lisa began to eat.

  She was a quiet one, all right. Though she looked mousy, those intense blue eyes, and those lips set in a thin red line told me you wouldn’t want to cross her. They say still waters run deep. Lisa was a bottomless, subterranean well.

  “Please, please, take a seat,” said Pastor Graham, pulling a chair out for Katy.

  One by one, we took our places, even Nancy, though her scowl never left her face.

  The chair at the head of the table remained empty. I guessed that was where Barry usually sat. He was, I was sure, roaming somewhere in this immense house, lost in a drunken stupor.

  Something Mrs. Robinson had said earlier was bothering me. If I were him, I’d probably drink every day too. What did she mean by that? I wondered.

  Lisa and Barry may have been emotionally and physically abandoned by their parents, but their everyday needs had been taken care of. They’d had a roof over their heads, food on their plates, staff who’d tried their best to take care of their needs, and a vast outdoor playground without restrictions.

  My own found-family of lost orphans had suffered much worse at the hands of traffickers, but none of us had turned into feckless drunks. There was more to Barry’s story, I was sure.

  Pastor Graham reached over and took Katy’s hand, then turned to Jim and took his. He glanced around the table.

  “Shall we say grace now?”

  I took the hands of Mrs. Robinson and of Lisa and bowed my head.

  “Let us give thanks to the Lord—”

  “You dumb cretin!”

  We all snapped our heads up.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was Barry.

  He came crashing through the doorway, a tumbler of whiskey swaying dangerously in one hand, his face a deep shade of purple.

  “You forgot to call me!” he bawled at Mrs. Robinson.

  “I knew you’d come down soon,” she replied in a quiet voice. I marveled at her patience. I wanted nothing more than to punch this man’s nose and tell him to behave.

  Instead of walking up to his chair, Barry staggered over to the liquor cabinet next to the dining table. With an angry grunt, he opened the door, pulled down a whiskey decanter and filled his glass to the brim.

  He turned back to the table and gave a start as he spotted me sitting in his direct line of sight. He pointed a shaky finger my way.

  “What the hell are these wenches still doing here?”

  “Now, Barry,” said Pastor Graham. “Is that any way to—”

  “I thought I told you to get rid of ’em!”

  “Please take your seat, Barry. The food will get cold,” I heard Mrs. Robinson say.

  But Barry was advancing my way, his finger pointed at me, like the muzzle of a gun readying for its target.

  I stared at the madman, my heart hammering. He’d gathered I was a leader of my pack and hadn’t taken a liking to me. I knew he was brash and mean, but I wasn’t sure if he was violent.

  I braced myself.

  “Get out of my house!” he roared, his arm held high in the air now. “You bloody little witch!”

  I got up from my chair, ready to parry or duck.

  “Barry, please sit down,” said Mrs. Robinson.

  Barry slammed his fist toward me, but I blocked him just in time. Tetyana sprang from her chair and pulled him away, twisting his arms behind him and propelling him away from the table.

  Suddenly the entire room was on their feet.

  Pastor Graham and Jim surrounded Barry. I could hear them talking to him in low voices. Barry was muttering under his breath, but he seemed to be calming down.

  “My goodness, I’m so sorry,” said Mrs. Robinson, giving me a napkin to wipe the whiskey that had splashed on my shirt. Her face was red with shock. “I had no idea—”

  “It’s fine,” I said and smiled. I lowered my voice. “All part of the job.”

  She gave me a frazzled look but didn’t reply.

  I settled back in my seat, feeling rather unhinged.

  It was never fun to be hit by the host. I’d have gladly hit him right back, but I had to make sure we could stay here at least another twenty-four hours. I couldn’t afford to get us kicked out so soon.

  “You okay?” whispered Katy.

  I nodded, ignoring the searing pain in my forearm. If Barry had been sober and fit, this would have hurt much more.

  I turned to Lisa who’d been staring at the altercation, her lips set in an even more austere line. It was clear she didn’t approve of her brother’s behavior.

  “Would you pass me some water, please?” I asked.

  She turned around and looked for the decanter. “He’s not well....” she mumbled.

  “Don’t mention it,” I said. “I understand.”

  Jim helped Barry to his seat. Then, as if he’d forgotten the incident already, he picked up his spoon and started on his stew, pointedly ignoring everyone. I was glad I was sitting as far away from Barry as I could.

  “I do sincerely apologize. This is highly unusual,” said the pastor, taking his seat, looking aghast. He pointed at the reddened skin on my forearm. “Would you like me to look at that? Maybe get some ointment?”

  “I’m good,” I said, rustling up a smile. “I train every day, so this is par for the course.”

  “Train?”

  “In Krav Maga.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Tactical mixed martial arts.”

  His smile disappeared instantly at those words. Then, without another word, he turned to his stew.

  Next to me, Lisa hunkered down in her chair.

  She picked up the spoon she’d dropped when Barry had rumbled in like an errant steam train. Ignoring the splatter on her placemat, she lowered her spoon into the bowl, scooped up some stew and placed it in her mouth, her attention seemingly fully on her food. But I noticed the slight tremble in her hand.

  For the next ten minutes, all we could hear around the table, other than Barry’s loud slurping, was the ting of the spoons against the retro china.

  It’s time to ask my question.

  I wiped my mouth with my napkin and looked around the table.

  “I read in a magazine at the airport that a famous Madame Bouchard owned this beautiful house at one point.”

  I paused to watch for their reaction. I noticed Tetyana and Katy were discreetly glancing around the table too.

  Lisa stopped her spoon halfway to her mouth and the pastor’s face turned a shade paler. Barry looked up, squinted at me as if he’d forgotten who I was or why I was talking. Then, with a loud and dismissive grunt, he turned his attention back to his food.

  Nancy and Jim seemed the least affected by my words. The others’ reactions didn’t appear to even register with them as they kept eating.

  “She’s no longer alive, I gather?” I asked, hoping it sounded like an innocent question from an ignorant guest.

  The pastor cleared his throat. “Lots of history in this place,” he said. “Is this the first time you’ve been in this region?”

  “It is.”

  “The views from up here are spectacular. You’ll see the mountains in all their glory tomorrow morning. Don’t forget to snap a few pictures before you leave.”

  He was changing the topic.

  Why is everyone so cagey?

  Soon Katy started small talk with Jim. With the pastor adding an anecdote here and there, a semblance of normal conversation hummed around the table.

  Nancy ate silently, glancing up once in a while to throw an ugly look Katy’s way. I didn’t know if Katy noticed her and ignored her, but she kept the chatter going.

  Something told me Jim and Nancy had a row recently. They’
d hardly acknowledged each other that evening, kept their distance and never made eye contact.

  Though Mrs. Robinson was doing her best to play hostess, she looked pale and tired. She wheezed and coughed a few times, clutching her chest like she was in pain. She’s sick, I thought as I watched her. I wondered what was wrong with her.

  Across from me, Tetyana’s eyes swept the room regularly. She was, as always, on full alert.

  Outside, it was raining hard. The sound of heavy raindrops thrashing against the window made me feel glad to be in here, even in these extraordinary surroundings with a host who clearly resented us.

  I wondered why nobody wanted to acknowledge Madame Bouchard, the matriarch of this family. I’d expected someone to at least say, “Oh, it’s a sad thing. She was part of the family.”

  I leaned over to Lisa.

  “Thank you so much for letting us stay here tonight,” I said.

  She looked up and gave me a suspicious look from under her eyelashes. I thought she looked disquieted, but it was hard to say. The flicker from the candlelight could have played with my eyes.

  Thank goodness she’s not as hostile as her brother, I thought.

  I tried again. “I hate to intrude on your home like this, but I want you to know we really appreciate it.”

  She gave an imperceptible nod.

  “It was scary when we got stuck on the road, near the woods with the lightning and all.”

  “It’s bad tonight,” she finally replied.

  I had no idea what it must have been like to have your first child taken away to a mental asylum so young. I also didn’t know what it was like to have cold and callous parents.

  Lisa looked more like the new girl at the school cafeteria, than the owner or part owner of this multi-million-dollar mansion. I felt sorry for her.

  “It’s a beautiful spot you have here.”

  She gave another nod.

  “I hear the trails through the woods are spectacular, especially at this time of the year with the fall colors. I’m so glad we brought our big camera.”

  “Don’t go to the woods.”

  “Excuse me?” I said, unsure I heard her right.