by V. M. Burns
Lord William shook his head. “Risky business that.”
Major Davies nodded. “Took every cent I had. Mines were worthless. Then, he did a bunk and disappeared from the club. Left word I would cover his debts.” He laughed. “I could barely cover my own debts, let alone his.” He swirled his whiskey. “Had to sell land to come up with the money to pay the blasted things off.”
Lord William stared openmouthed. “I had no idea. I certainly wouldn’t have had him at the house if I’d known.”
The major sighed. “No reason you should know. The club hushed it up, and I went to live with a nephew in India for a bit. Gave me time to get back on my feet.”
“Well, I’m terribly sorry, old chap.”
Major Davies downed his drink. “I heard someone killed him. If I’d run into the arrogant little blackguard, I’d have killed him myself.”
Chapter 14
It was Sunday, so any plans would need to wait until after church with Mom. I got up and dressed and was surprised to see Lexi and Angelo both dressed in their Sunday finest at the breakfast bar, eating pancakes.
I looked an unspoken question at Nana Jo, who was drinking coffee.
She shrugged. “Grace thought it would be nice if we all went to church as a family.”
I got so excited I nearly spilled my coffee all over the counter. “Do you think that means Margaret and Oscar will be there too?”
She looked suspiciously at me. “Why are you suddenly so interested in worshipping with Margaret Robertson?”
I glanced over to make sure Angelo and Lexi weren’t listening. Fortunately, Angelo was distracted by cartoons and Lexi had her nose buried in a book. Still, I leaned close to Nana Jo and whispered, “My interest developed this morning. I think we need to confront Margaret and ask her if April is her daughter and if Lydia Lighthouse was blackmailing her.”
Nana Jo stared at me and raised an eyebrow. “What are you planning to do, drag her to the altar and accuse her of adultery, like Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter?”
“Actually, I thought maybe I’d just get her in a corner and ask.”
“I guess that’s one option.”
I turned around and heard a loud YELP as I stepped on Snickers, who was, of course, underfoot. I reached down and picked her up. “I’m sorry, girl, but you can’t get under my feet all the time.”
She took a few moments of stroking and murmured apologies before she forgave me and gave my nose a lick. Only then did I know I was truly forgiven. I put Snickers down and got two biscuits from the doggie jar. I turned to Angelo. “Would you like to let Snickers and Oreo outside?” I handed him the biscuits and he ran screaming down the stairs while being chased by two poodles.
I looked at Nana Jo. “Are you sure taking him to church is a good idea? He has a lot of energy.”
Nana Jo shrugged. “We’ll take crayons and he’ll be fine.”
When Dawson arrived, we all piled into the car and headed over to the church. Normally, I picked my mom up for church. According to Nana Jo, she said she’d ride with Harold and meet us there. I wondered if this was a sign of the future. Once Mom and Harold were married, she would want to ride to church with her husband. I wasn’t really sure how I felt about that. A few months ago, I dreaded the Sunday excursions with my mom. Church, brunch, and then time spent shopping, watching a movie, or some other activity complete with a guilt-ridden interlude of criticism about my appearance, life choices, or lack of refinement. Once she was married, things would change. As much as I dreaded the emotional roller coaster of Sunday outings with my mother, I knew there was a part of me that would miss it when it was gone. Change was never easy and I’d been through quite a bit of it in the last eighteen months. Nevertheless, I knew change was inevitable. Perhaps Sundays with Mom and Harold would be a pleasant experience, which didn’t involve criticism or guilt.
My contemplations distracted me to the point that I nearly passed the church.
“Sam, where are you going?” Nana Jo asked.
I forced my brain out of the clouds and whipped across two lanes of traffic and pulled into the church parking lot. The early service wasn’t as crowded as the main service would be, so finding a good parking space wasn’t hard.
Angelo skipped between Nana Jo and Dawson and held their hands, while Lexi and I walked together. She seemed solemn.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just so pretty here.” She looked out at the snow-covered church with its brick exterior and stained glass windows.
“I love the windows. There are beautiful scenes of the nativity, the last supper, and the crucifixion.” I leaned closer. “When I was a kid, a tornado blew through town and shattered one of the stained glass windows. The church commissioned a famous stained glass artist to replace it. My dad was one of the people who helped open the church for the installation and I watched.” I leaned close. “The artist saw me staring at the window and came over and told me a secret.”
She looked up surprised. “What secret?”
I looked around to make sure no one was listening. “He said he hid a picture in the glass, but you won’t see it unless you look carefully.”
“What’s the picture?”
I shook my head. “You have to find it for yourself.” I smiled.
We hurried inside and found the pew where Mom, Harold, Margaret, and Oscar were already seated.
I pointed out the window to Lexi and noticed her eyes barely left the window for the entire service.
When the service was over, I felt a tug on my sleeve. I looked down at Lexi.
“I don’t see the picture. What is it?” she begged. “Please. I may not be back and have another chance to see it.”
I leaned down. “Look at the very bottom right-hand corner of the window.” I looked at her. “I don’t know this for a fact, but I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a dog at the crucifixion of Christ.”
She stared and finally saw the picture of the small brown dog with his tongue hanging out. Her face lit up with excitement. “That’s amazing. I never would have seen it if you hadn’t pointed it out.”
We left the church and headed for Tippecanoe Place. I wasn’t thrilled about the drive to River Bend, simply for brunch. However, I hoped the atmosphere would put Margaret in a good mood so she would answer my questions. During the drive, Nana Jo and I decided it would also be a good chance to tackle the River Bend Mall and finish our Christmas shopping. Under normal circumstances, nothing could have compelled me to drive down Grape Road, the street that went by the mall. During Christmas, it would be a nightmare. However, the idea of picking up a few toys that would put a smile on Angelo’s face was all it took to get me to comply.
Dawson called Christopher and Zaq earlier and had gotten their agreement to distract the kids so Nana Jo and I could shop. Since we had to drive to River Bend, we might as well make the most of it.
Tippecanoe Place was as crowded as always, but, just as in previous visits, Harold Robertson’s name opened doors. In our case, his name opened a private dining room, which was quickly set up to accommodate our party of thirteen. Thirteen—an unlucky number, at least that was what my mom announced once everyone was counted.
The foyer of the mansion was crowded, making it difficult to stand or sit together while we waited. In typical Harold fashion, he commandeered a chair for my mom. Margaret tapped her foot impatiently and looked at Oscar as though she expected the same treatment. Oscar must have been accustomed to the look because he was able to ignore it. Margaret must have become accustomed to being ignored because she merely rolled her eyes at her husband. She turned to the hostess, snapped her fingers, and demanded a chair. However, before the chair arrived, I spotted a newly vacated seat. I quickly sent Lexi to sit and hold it.
“Margaret, here’s a seat if you’d like to sit.” I pointed to the wingback chair where Lexi was currently perched.
Margaret hadn’t defrosted much and merely inclined her head
like a queen acknowledging a peasant’s obeisance. Unfortunately, she didn’t get to enjoy her seat for long. Almost immediately after her butt hit the seat, the hostess came to let us know our room was ready.
I had to hustle to keep up with Margaret as she mounted the stairs and went to the room set aside for our brunch. I was determined to stay close to her in an effort to be seated within close proximity to facilitate conversation during brunch. Once in the room, there was a moment of hesitation while we looked at the table and got our bearings.
Harold placed Mom at the seat closest to the fireplace and settled himself next to her. That determined the head of the table. Margaret positioned herself opposite to Harold, and I hurried to take the seat next to her. I might have been a little overzealous in making sure I was seated next to Margaret, because I nearly pushed Nana Jo aside. Her raised eyebrow was the only response, but she chose the seat on Margaret’s other side.
When we were all settled and our drink orders were given, I wondered how to start the conversation with Margaret. How did you ask someone if they were being blackmailed?
Harold smiled. “It’s so nice to have our entire family together.”
Margaret grunted.
We all pretended we didn’t hear her.
“Speaking of families, Grace was just telling me about her research.” Harold stared lovingly at Mom. “Why don’t you tell everyone what you’ve found, dear.”
Mom blushed. “Well, I really have Margaret to thank for getting me started.”
We stared at Margaret, who looked as surprised as the rest of us.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Margaret took a sip of her mimosa.
I hoped there was enough alcohol in there to loosen her tongue sufficiently but wondered if I should order her something stronger.
“Oh, yes. You’ve spoken with so much pride about being able to trace your family all the way back to Robert E. Lee; I just wanted to know how far we could trace our family.” Mom smiled. “So, I ordered some of those kits you see on television that will trace your genealogy and I sent it off.”
“That’s awesome, Granny,” Christopher said.
“What did you find?” Zaq asked.
Mom fluttered her hand, but she pulled some papers from her purse. “I paid extra to get the results expedited, and it turns out we can trace our family tree all the way back to Thomas Jefferson.”
“Really?” Nana Jo looked at Margaret. “I guess Thomas Jefferson, one of the Founding Fathers of our nation, principal author of the Declaration of Independence, and the third president of the United States, trumps Robert E. Lee.”
Margaret rolled her eyes and sipped her drink.
“The research is absolutely fascinating. I mean there’s so much you can learn from DNA,” Mom said.
I turned to Margaret. “I feel like there’s so little we know about you.” I hoped my voice sounded interesting. “Like, I don’t even know where you’re from. Do you have brothers and sisters, children?”
Something flashed across Margaret’s face and, for a moment, I thought I saw fear in her eyes. However, the emotion vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“Why would you want to know?” she asked.
“Since we’re going to be family, I think it would be good to get to know each other. I can start. I was married to my husband, Leon, for twenty-five years but he died about eighteen months ago. We were never blessed with children, but I’ve been very fortunate.” I looked down the table at Dawson and across at my nephews, who were still talking about DNA and biology with Harold and my mom. A bit of their conversation drifted toward me. Dawson was talking about his biology class and how he’d learned about dominant and recessive genes. I had a flash and a moment of clarity.
“Good for you.” Margaret took a sip from her glass. Obviously, she wasn’t in a mood to share.
“Perhaps you were raised in a barn, but when someone asks a question, it’s good manners to answer them.” Nana Jo glared.
“I have no desire to get to know any of you people,” Margaret sneered. “Don’t think I haven’t done my research. I know all about that juvenile delinquent and his alcoholic father that you’ve befriended and tried to pass off as a part of your family.” She glanced at Lexi and Angelo. “Apparently, you’ve picked up two more orphans from God only knows where.”
The room had gotten very quiet as all eyes turned to the fight brewing between Nana Jo and Margaret. I stole a glance at Dawson. His jaw clenched and a flush rose from his neck.
“How dare you?” I spoke softly and enunciated every syllable, a sure sign of my fury. “You, of all people, have no right to say one word about anyone’s background.”
The look of fear lingered longer this time. “What are you talking about?”
“I wonder what Robert E. Lee would have to say about Maggie Anne Tuttleford or should I say Maggie Anne Jones, because that’s your name.”
Margaret’s face went from a bright red to ashen. “How do you know?”
“We know all about you and your real husband, Bufford Jones,” I said.
“Real husband?” Oscar asked.
“That’s right,” Nana Jo said. “Real husband because Bufford is alive and kicking, which means that Little Miss Fancy Pants is nothing more than a bigamist.”
Margaret looked liked a scared, cornered rabbit. Her hand shook slightly as she took a drink from her glass. “You’re both crazy.”
“That’s not all, is it?” I asked.
Margaret stared.
“Lydia knew. She knew you committed bigamy when you married Oscar because Bufford was . . . is her brother. Bufford Jones, who is currently incarcerated at the Polk County Jail.”
Emotions of fear crossed her face.
“Lydia knew and she was blackmailing you.”
Margaret put down her glass and tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know you’ve been withdrawing large amounts of money from your bank account for years. She’s been bleeding you dry, which is why that sable you wear so proudly is nothing but a fake. You probably had to hock it to keep paying Lydia.”
“You can’t prove any of this,” Margaret said.
“I know every time you made a withdrawal, Lydia made a deposit of the exact same amount.” I looked at Margaret’s face. “I also know Lydia was blackmailing you with more than just the fact that you’re a bigamist.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. She stood up. “I don’t have to take this.”
“Sit down!” Nana Jo ordered. She reached for her purse, but it slipped onto the floor. Her gun fell out.
Both Margaret and Nana Jo lunged for the gun, but Margaret was quicker. She grabbed it before Nana Jo could get it. Then she grabbed Lexi around the neck and put the gun to her head.
We froze.
“One step and I’ll blow her head off.”
We stared at Margaret. The door opened and our server entered. She took one look at the gun, dropped the tray, and ran from the room.
“Back up. Up against the wall.”
Everyone rose slowly and backed up against the wall. Everyone, except me. I was frozen to the spot. I tried to force my feet to move, but they wouldn’t.
“You’re a lot smarter than you look.” Margaret sneered. “Lydia had been bleeding me dry for years. She took every cent I had to keep her mouth shut. I hocked all of my jewels, furs, everything to pay her off. But, this was supposed to be the end. I didn’t have anything left to give.” She shook her head. “So, I recommended her to my wealthy friends and family so she could bleed them dry.” She laughed. “Marrying her brother Bufford was the biggest mistake of my life and I’ve paid for it over and over again.” She chuckled. “Oh, yes, I have definitely paid for it.”
I took one step forward.
Margaret pushed the gun into Lexie’s head and I saw her gasp. “Don’t try to be a hero. I’ve killed once, I won’t hesitate to shoot all of you.”
“Plea
se.” I willed my legs to move, but, try as I might, they wouldn’t budge. “Please, don’t hurt her. Take me instead.”
“MOVE!” she yelled.
“I can’t move. I can’t. Please, take me. I’ll be your hostage. I’ll help you get out of here. I’ll drive you to the airport. I’ll give you my credit card.” Tears streamed down my face.
“If you take the kid, we’ll call the police as soon as you leave the room. Take me.” Nana Jo took a step forward. “I’m an old woman and I’m sure it would give you a great deal of pleasure to shoot me.”
“Now that’s a tempting offer, but something tells me you’re a lot tougher than you look.” She slowly walked backward toward the door, with one arm around Lexi’s neck and the other pointing the gun from me to Nana Jo. She was almost to the door. A few steps and she would be out of the room. I gauged the distance and knew there was no way I could get there before she had time to fire a shot. I looked at Nana Jo, who was slowly trying to inch her way toward Margaret.
Margaret turned slightly toward the door and, in that split second, my mom walked up to Margaret, reached back, and punched her in the face with a sharp right jab. The blow stunned Margaret and she teetered. Nana Jo rushed forward and wrestled the gun from her.
I grabbed Lexi and clutched her to my chest. When I turned again, Margaret lay in a heap on the floor, blood pouring from her nose.
I stared at my mom, who stared down at Margaret on the floor. “I hope she doesn’t get blood on the carpet. I think that’s an Aubusson rug. They’re very expensive.”
Chapter 15
The police arrived shortly thereafter, and we let them know Margaret was wanted for murder in North Harbor, Michigan. They took her away in an ambulance and notified Detective Pitt so he could start the paperwork for extraditing her to Michigan. Despite a bit of shock, Lexi and Angelo both seemed to be handling the trauma fairly well. I wasn’t sure if they would suffer nightmares or if they really understood how dangerous the situation really was. Neither was anxious to go to the hospital, so Zaq, Christopher, and Dawson took them home.