Dangerous Inheritance

by Barbara Warren

  The phone rang, and she rushed back to Opal’s room to answer. “Hello?”

  Silence.

  She tried again. “Hello?”

  A long pause, then a voice, harsh, contorted, sounding not quite human, rasped in her ear. “Two women died in that house. You’ll be the third.”

  “Who is this?” Macy demanded.

  Click.

  Macy sat on the bed, holding the receiver, too stunned to replace it. Two women. And she’d be the third? So were the two women her mother and her grandmother? Did that mean her grandmother hadn’t died a natural death, either? Had there been two murders in this old house?

  Who had been on the other end of that call? As always, the voice sounded strange, as if something had been used to disguise the sound of it—so she wouldn’t know who was harassing her. Which probably meant the caller was someone she’d met and whose voice she would recognize.

  According to Nick, some of the techniques available could even change the gender of the voice. So was her caller a man or a woman? Now she wasn’t sure. Who did she know that would do this? Anita Miles? Macy could see her making the calls. She was arrogant enough to think she could get away with anything. Even murder? Quite possibly. And yes, Anita’s name was on her list.

  Macy finally went back to her room, not to sleep, but to lie awake staring at the ceiling, going over the names of the people who might have a reason to make threatening phone calls to her. The list was too short for comfort, but her mother’s killer would be the one with the most to lose. It was time to stop worrying about the political end of things and concentrate on who had a reason to kill Megan Douglas.

  She needed to go deeper, talk to people who had known her mother, find out more about her life here. The problem was finding people who wanted to talk to her. Most of the people she’d met either didn’t want to get involved or turned on her for being her father’s daughter.

  God, help me, please. I don’t know where to turn, what to do next. I’m just stumbling in the dark. She’d driven Nick away and now God was all she had left to rely on. The danger she faced was too real, too terrifying. If God didn’t help her, she wouldn’t survive.

  Midmorning, she was sitting at the kitchen table reading the trial transcript again, hoping something would jump out at her. Something that would point away from her father. She wished Nick could be sitting at the table with her so they could share thoughts, but for now that was out of the question. Without him her life seemed so empty. But he didn’t want anything to do with her now.

  Neva entered the kitchen, and Macy stared at her in surprise. “The door was locked. How did you get in?”

  Neva smiled and shrugged. “I found an extra key the other day. I didn’t think you’d mind if I took it.”

  Macy looked at her, stunned. Hadn’t she refused to give this woman a key when she asked? What was this all about? And the only spare key was in the top drawer of her father’s desk where she had placed it. Had Neva been going through the drawers?

  “Look, Neva. I’m still getting used to this house. It makes me nervous for anyone to be able to just walk right in. How about giving that key to me. I’ll be here to open the door whenever you arrive.”

  And what was she doing here, anyway? It wasn’t her day to clean.

  Neva stared at her, not saying anything.

  Macy held out her hand. “The key?”

  After a moment Neva held out the key and Macy took it, hoping she hadn’t made extras. Why was she so determined to have a key? Did she have one before? But then the old one wouldn’t work on the new locks.

  “Look, Macy. I didn’t mean anything wrong with the key. I really had forgotten you were still nervous about being here. To tell the truth, I don’t blame you. The house is too big and too quiet. I understand completely.”

  “That’s all right, Neva. Maybe someday I’ll be more comfortable here.” When her mother’s murderer had been caught and brought to justice. “This isn’t your day to clean. Did you need something?”

  “No, not really. I just thought I’d help you look for that diary. I’d like to see it, like to read what Megan wrote. We both lost something the day she died. You lost your mother, I lost a good friend.”

  Macy tried find the right words to say. She didn’t want Neva helping her look for the diary. Whatever was written in those pages was private, her mother’s musings about the things that mattered to her. She wanted to read it first. Not with Neva or anyone else looking over her shoulder.

  “No, that’s all right. I’m not in the mood to look today. Maybe later.”

  Neva finally she nodded. “All right. It was just a thought. I’ll see you on Friday.”

  Neva left and Macy spent the next two hours hunting for the diary, but didn’t find anything.

  * * *

  Nick decided to drop by and talk to Clyde Jackson, the man who was chief of police when Megan Douglas was killed. He found Clyde puttering in his garden. “You got a minute? I’d like to ask you about something.”

  Clyde motioned to a bench under a large oak tree. “Sure. Glad to take a break. I’m getting too old to work for very many hours at a time. Can’t do what I used to do.”

  They sat while Nick tried to think how to start without upsetting Clyde. He wanted information, so it would probably be better not to come on too strong. “You know Macy Douglas is in town?”

  Clyde nodded. “Heard she was. Heard she was stirring things up a bit, too.”

  “Yeah. She believes her father didn’t get a fair trial. That he was innocent of killing his wife. You got any thoughts on that?”

  Clyde sat silent looking at him. Finally he said, “You asking if there was any dirty work going on?”

  “Something like that.” Okay, there it was. Would Clyde get mad and order him off the property, or could they just sit and talk in a reasonable manner?

  For a minute Clyde didn’t say anything, then he shrugged. “I always figured this would happen one day. But it’s been so long, I’d sort of thought maybe no one would bother to check into it.”

  Nick’s heart sank. Was he saying it was true? This wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He wanted Clyde to deny any possibility, but it didn’t sound as if that was what he was going to get.

  “What do you mean?”

  Clyde scuffed the ground with the toe of his shoe for a minute, not replying, while Nick waited impatiently. Finally he shrugged. “The early signs pointed to Steve. His alibi didn’t hold up and Anita was running around telling everyone she was having an affair with him and that he was talking about getting rid of Megan.”

  “What about later signs? Did you do any real investigating?” Surely they did. That was their job.

  Clyde took a deep breath. “You got to remember Steve had been pretty rough on Garth. Family stands up for family, and Garth’s my first cousin. And no, I hate to admit it, but I didn’t look all that hard for any conflicting evidence.”

  “You didn’t try to find anyone else who might have done it?” Nick shook his head, not wanting to hear this. His stomach churned at the thought. “You just stopped looking?”

  Clyde nodded. “That about sums it up. I’ve never felt right about it, either. Particularly since Steve died in prison. Megan Douglas was a fine woman. She didn’t deserve what was done to her, and neither did that little girl.”

  Nick didn’t want to ask the next question, but he had to know, for his own satisfaction if for nothing else. There had been too much secrecy. It was time he found out the truth, and the former chief of police was the man to tell him. “My dad was a cop. He probably worked on the case.”

  Clyde shook his head. “You thinking he did anything wrong? You can forget that. Angus was a straight arrow. Deacon in the church. He wouldn’t take part in anything like that.”

  Nick slumped against the seat, relief surging through him. This was what he needed to hear. He had been right to believe in his father. He’d known it all along. The man he’d looked up to had been true to his beliefs,
just the way he’d taught his son to be.

  Clyde stared out at the garden and Nick could see from his expression he was struggling with something. He waited, wondering what was coming next.

  “I need to get something off my chest. Guess now is as good a time as any. I didn’t do Angus right. He wasn’t sure Steve was guilty and I was still upset over what Steve had done to Garth, him being family and all. I know he’s not worth much, but I didn’t realize that back then. And like I said, family stands by family when you can.”

  He stopped talking, staring out over the neat rows of garden plants before giving a sigh that seemed to come from his toes. “Me and Angus had words over it. I made it kind of rough on him, and he finally quit the police and went to work at the sawmill. That’s where he was when that stack of logs fell on him. I always felt like it was my fault he got killed. If it hadn’t been for me, he’d probably still be a cop.”

  Nick stared at him, overwhelmed by what he was hearing. He’d lost his father and had spent the rest of his life missing him. Now he had to listen to this? Words, boiling hot, clogged his throat, almost choking him. He clamped down on them, struggling to hold those hateful statements inside. His father wouldn’t want him to take his anger out on Clyde.

  Neither would God.

  Clyde watched him, his expression showing understanding and compassion. “I know you can’t forgive me, so I won’t ask you to, but I’ve regretted it every day of my life. That’s why I quit police work. Didn’t have the heart to run for office again.”

  Nick stared at the ground, fighting for control. God, help me. Don’t let me lose my temper and say words I shouldn’t.

  He took a deep breath, trying to hold his voice steady. “I can’t forgive you right now, no. Maybe I can someday, but not right now.”

  “I understand and I don’t blame you. I’d feel the same way if I was in your shoes. You’re working on this case, trying to find out what happened. If there’s anything I can do to help straighten out this mess, let me know. I’d like to get the truth out there. One more thing, Nick. Be careful around Garth. He’s my cousin, but I don’t trust him very far anymore.”

  Nick forced the words out. “I understand he was in Jefferson City at the time Megan was killed.”

  Clyde nodded. “That was the story, but Tim Dawson insists he saw him that night, right here in Walnut Grove. I never saw him myself, so I can’t say, but I’ve learned not to put anything past him. And I hate to say it, but it’s a good thing he lost that election. We’ve got too many crooked politicians. We don’t need another one.”

  “You think he could kill someone?”

  Clyde hesitated. “I don’t know. I guess we never know what we can do until we’ve done it. I’m not ready to point fingers, but I guess I wouldn’t put it past him. Garth always thought he was a little more important than anyone else, that we owed him. I don’t think he’d stop at anything to get something he thought he deserved.”

  Nick absorbed this, knowing he felt the same way about the man. He needed to find out more about Garth and some of the things he’d done. If he’d stepped on enough people, someone should be willing to talk.

  He stood and looked down at Clyde. “Thanks for letting me know my dad wasn’t involved in anything out of line. I couldn’t believe he would be, but there were all of those rumors floating around.”

  Clyde nodded. “He was a good man, a good policeman. Better than I was. Look, Nick. I mean it. If I can help bring this to a close and find out the truth, just tell me. I’ll do all I can.”

  “It might help if you’d go back over everything you can remember about what happened. You might come up with something we could use.”

  “I’ll do that,” Clyde promised. “I’ll be in touch.”

  After leaving Clyde, Nick wanted to tell Macy what he’d found out, but he didn’t think she’d believe him. Besides, he was still upset about both what he’d learned from Clyde and the disagreement he’d had with Macy. The more he thought about it, the more it disturbed him. Sure, he understood how she felt about what had happened with her parents, but she should have realized that he cared about his father and his father’s reputation, too. She could have cut him a little slack.

  Still, he had to admit that he missed her. He’d give anything to sit down with her and talk about what they’d learned. And not just talk about the past, but just talk, like two people who cared about each other. He missed the light in her eyes when she was excited, the warmth of her smile, the way he felt just looking at her, but it might be best to give them both time to cool off. He didn’t want to stir up another argument.

  Nick stopped in front of the newspaper office. This wasn’t anything he looked forward to, but it had to be done. Garth Nixon had been at the center of the controversy stirred up by the political editorials written by Steve Douglas. So it was time to talk to Garth and get his side of the story.

  He got out of the car and walked inside. Bess Underwood at the front desk looked up and smiled at him. “Hello, Nick. What brings you this way?”

  “I’d like to talk to Garth if it’s okay.” And if it wasn’t, he still planned on talking to him.

  “Sure. Go on back. He’s in the second room on the left.”

  Nick stepped behind the counter and walked in the direction she had indicated. He doubted if Garth wanted to talk to him, but that was okay. It wasn’t as if the guy had a choice. He was here, and he had some questions to ask.

  Garth looked up with a surprised expression when Nick entered his office. “Nick? What are you doing here?”

  “Just wanted to talk. You know Macy Douglas is in town?”

  Garth frowned. “Yes. I’m aware of that. Why?”

  “You know she’s trying to learn what happened on the night of her mother’s murder. She doesn’t believe Steve killed Megan.”

  “It doesn’t make any difference what she thinks. There was a trial. A jury said he was guilty. In my opinion, he got just what he deserved.”

  “I heard you were out of town when it happened, but then again, it seems someone saw you here that night. Which is correct?”

  Garth gripped the pencil in his hand so hard it broke in half. “What difference does it make where I was? No one ever suggested I had anything to do with Megan Douglas. I wouldn’t have wiped my feet on her. My gripe was with Steve.”

  “I was a kid then. But from what I hear Steve came down rather hard on you in the newspaper.”

  Garth’s face flushed with rage. “He ruined my life. I had a chance to win that race, then he started writing those editorials. Turned people against me. He cost me the election for no reason except he belonged to the other party.”

  Nick pressed a little harder. “You knew them both. Who would have a reason to kill Megan?”

  Garth shook his head. “I have no idea and I wouldn’t tell you if I did. No one gives a rap why Megan was killed or who did it. Megan wasn’t as important as she thought she was, but she did serve a purpose. Her death and the trial got rid of Steve.”

  Nick left the newspaper office, convinced Garth Nixon knew more than he’d admitted. It was obvious the man hated Steve Douglas. He didn’t even try to hide it. A hatred that strong would be difficult to control. On the other hand, there wasn’t any evidence that really pointed to Garth. That was the trouble. They didn’t have evidence that pointed to anyone except Steve. And that so-called evidence was awfully weak. There had to be more, and somehow he had to find it. Before the true killer could strike again.

  * * *

  Hilda dropped by and she and Macy sat on the front porch, which seemed to be more comfortable for Hilda. Macy knew Hilda missed Opal a lot and she had a feeling the front porch wasn’t quite as personal as being inside the house where her friend had lived.

  They chatted about trivial things for a few minutes and then Hilda turned serious. “Look, Macy. You’re wrong in the way you’re treating Nick. He didn’t talk to me about it, I heard from someone else, but you’re not being fair.”<
br />
  Macy bristled at her words. How did she get to be the one in the wrong, and what business was it of Hilda’s or anyone else? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. And I want to assure you that no one who knew Angus Baldwin could think he would be involved in any kind of cover-up. And you ought to know Nick would believe in his father, just the way you believe in yours.”

  Macy sat silent, knowing that was too close to the truth to be comfortable. Although she hated to admit it, what really hurt was that she knew Hilda was right. What she couldn’t say out loud, because it was too personal, was the way the days seemed long and impossibly dreary without Nick dropping in occasionally. She missed his smile, the way he could cheer her up when she was feeling discouraged, missed him in more ways than she could count.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I most certainly do. You and Nick are coming at this from different directions, but you both want the same thing—to learn the truth about what happened and how it involved your parents.”

  Hilda changed the subject as if giving Macy time to think about it. “How are you getting along with Neva?”

  “All right. I feel very sorry for her.”

  “Yes, you have to feel sorry for her. Some people can handle trouble, some can’t. Neva has a hard time dealing with the problems life has hit her with.”

  “Does she clean your house?”

  Hilda shook her head. “No, I clean my own. I can’t afford a housekeeper. Besides, even though I feel sorry for her, I’m not all that fond of Neva. She’s got a short fuse. Doesn’t take much to set her off.”

  Macy thought about that. How had her grandmother gotten along with the housekeeper? “Did Grandmother Lassiter have a run-in with Neva?”

  Hilda laughed. “Opal never had a run-in with anyone. Not like Megan. No one ran over her. But from what I picked up, Opal was thinking of getting someone else to clean her house.”