Mad Money Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  I didn't hear anyone behind me. I made sure my hands and feet were in contact with something at all times. It was agony, worrying that my attacker would at any moment plunge a knife into my back, but I couldn't think of that.

  Finally, the platform was in reach. I stepped onto it and reached for the pole. There was a poof of smoke, and Betty appeared on the platform. Because I was startled, I started to fall backward until the girl grabbed the front of my T-shirt with one hand, the pole with the other, and pulled me onto the safety of the platform.

  "Number one," I shouted, "stop doing that! Number two, thank you. Number three, go!" I pushed her to the ladder.

  "Why didn't you have a harness?" She pointed to the one she was wearing.

  "That guy…" I breathed.

  Betty looked around me. "What guy?"

  I put my back to the pole and looked. The tenth swing dangled in the air, but there was nobody beneath it on the ground.

  "I just saved your life again!" Betty shrieked before launching into a little jig.

  The platform wobbled, and I wrapped my arms around the pole, closing my eyes until I felt myself start to relax.

  "Merry?" Rex called from down below.

  "Oh, hi, honey." I tried to steady my voice. "We're coming down now."

  "I'm all harnessed in. I can go after him!" Betty tried to fasten the carabiner and cord that was attached to her harness to the zip line.

  "No!" I shouted. "We have to get down now!"

  She scowled. "You're no fun anymore."

  "Seriously! He could grab you! What would you do then?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. I'd do this."

  A plume of smoke erupted again, and the girl was gone, halfway down the pole, where Rex was waiting at the bottom.

  Once I landed on terra firma, my legs went all wobbly, and Rex reached out to steady me.

  "What happened?" His concerned eyes searched my face.

  "I saved Mrs. Wrath's life. Again." Betty shrugged before turning and heading back to the lodge.

  "Did she?" Rex asked. "Again?"

  I didn't answer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  After I filled him in on what happened, Rex spent the next hour scouring the camp. When he found nothing, we locked the doors to the lodge and called it a night. I knew that guy was long gone. I'd like to think I'd scared him off, but it could've been the appearance of Betty and Rex that made him run off.

  The next morning, we got a few phone calls from parents who suddenly realized that their daughters were gone for an undetermined amount of time. Kelly assured them that we'd all be leaving the very next day. That seemed to placate them.

  "We only have one more day here," she said after getting off the phone with Betty's mom.

  "Good," I said. "That means today is make or break on this case. We've got to give it our all."

  "I think we should have a solid breakfast. Eggs, bacon, the works," Kelly said.

  As good as that sounded, I wanted to hit the ground running. "Can you handle this? I thought I'd run by the house."

  "We have to go to the post office first," Rex said. "I'm going with you."

  Kelly waved us off. "Go on. The girls know how to make this stuff. We'll meet up later."

  Rex and I walked into the post office. The building was a little less run down on the outside than its neighboring buildings and on the inside appeared to be a typical small-town post office.

  "Hey, you two!" Basil was at the counter and spotted us coming over. He appeared to be the only one here. "Here to finally see the tooth?" He crossed his eyes, and I laughed.

  "How did you know I haven't seen it already?"

  "You know how it is. Everyone here knows everything that happens."

  This town had better security than Washington DC.

  He looked at my hair and rearranged a few curls. "I think your hair is some of the best work I've ever done."

  It took everything I had to smile. "Your talent does seem wasted here."

  "You have no idea. But hopefully I won't be stuck here too much longer." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I've got an interview with a salon in Chicago next month!"

  "I thought you couldn't leave here due to your dad's will?" I asked. But I thought, Good for you.

  "I've decided that I don't care about that anymore." He winked at me.

  I asked, "What do Nigel and Hal think?"

  "Nigel's the oldest. He's in charge of everything, and he thinks that means me too. He's got a plan to make money out of this dump of a town. If I play my cards right, I can escape."

  "And Hal?" I liked Hal too. Hopefully he could break out as well.

  "Hal goes along with Nigel on everything. Such a follower."

  "But you're not."

  "I am when I have to be." He winked. "So you're here to see the tooth. Make sure to meet Virgil. He's a pillar of the community." Basil's eye roll seemed to be condescending.

  "I will. I'm trying to suss out your rumor and see if he's one of the three suitors," I said quietly.

  Basil giggled. "I'll leave you to it, then. Bye!" Basil gave my gorgeous husband an appraising look-over and then disappeared through the door.

  We were alone. Virgil didn't seem to be around.

  "Where's this tooth?" Rex wondered.

  It wasn't hard to find. The whole post office was one large room, with a counter on the left and a wall of mailboxes on the right. At the end of the room, under a huge mural, was a very expensive-looking plexiglass box, and underneath that, on a small, black satin pillow, was the tooth, lit up on all sides.

  "That is a big tooth," Rex said as we looked down on it.

  I had to admit that it really was. "How did he eat?"

  "Very carefully" came the reply from behind.

  We turned to see an elderly man, thin, and maybe 5'9", wearing a postal uniform.

  "I'm Virgil Jacobson." He held out his hand and shook Rex's then mine. "I'm the postmaster and tooth keeper. But you can call me Virgil."

  "Thanks," I said. "I'm…"

  "Merry and Rex Ferguson," Virgil finished. "Sorry. I shouldn't have interrupted. It makes me look smart if I know who you are. I apologize for grandstanding."

  I liked him immediately.

  "Can you tell us about the tooth? We heard the story from Nancy, but she was iffy on some of the details."

  "Oh sure." He pointed to the mural above.

  It was one of those Great Depression murals painted by artists. It had an industrial feel to it, like other murals common to small towns. Who's There has one of a group of Native Americans teaching settlers how to fish in local waters. The problem was that, besides a lake on the other side of the county and a creek that was really just a trickle, there weren't any local waters. In the mural, the waters in question are as vast as the sea. I think the artist had been from out of town.

  The mural featured Tubby Thorkelson in a dentist chair as a dentist admired his huge bucktooth.

  "Tubby grew up here. He died in 1919. Instead of two front teeth, he had just the one there. And it was a whopper. Oh, he got teased some, but the ladies all seemed to like it. He was married and divorced five times. When he willed it to the town, all five wives sued to get custody."

  "Why?" I looked at the mural. Tubby wasn't bad looking. But was it really feasible to think he'd been married five times?

  "Don't know, really." Virgil scratched his chin. "Maybe they were really into teeth."

  Rex couldn't take his eyes off the tooth. "How did he feel about the tooth when it was still attached?"

  Virgil nodded as if he was asked that often. "He had a very distinctive bite mark. It didn't look like a regular human's. Tubby didn't like that none. He told a reporter once that he could never commit a crime where bite marks would be compared because it would be obvious that he'd done it."

  "It is impressive," Rex admitted. "I can see why you have it on display."

  Virgil nodded as if he heard that every day too. "You're the one who inherited Aun
t June's house, right?"

  "That's right," I said. "Were you friends with her?"

  His demeanor changed ever so slightly, going from warm to tepid. "We were friends."

  "More than friends? Sorry to pry," I covered. "But I've heard she had a boyfriend."

  Virgil's face darkened, going from tepid to icy. "Where did you hear something like that?"

  "It's just that I never knew her," I said quickly. "I didn't even know she was family until I got the urn in the mail."

  Virgil looked at me in stony silence.

  "And her house is so amazing! She knew so many famous people! And her collection of dangerous insects!"

  Rex added, "She seems like someone Merry would've gotten along with. My wife shares a few eccentricities with the deceased."

  "I really do."

  The postmaster considered this. "Well, she came in here all the time, mailing things to all over the world. Receiving things too. Mostly in the 1960s and 70s, mind you. It slowed down some these past few decades."

  That was interesting. "Do you have any idea what she did for a living?"

  Virgil scratched his head. "No. But right after she died, a couple of men in black suits and sunglasses came in and asked if she had any mail."

  My heart stopped for a moment. Riley had said she wasn't CIA. Could he have gotten it wrong?

  "What did you tell them?"

  "To mind their own business. Besides, it would be unethical of me to hand over her mail." He looked at me for a long time. "I wondered about you too. Thought maybe they sent you in. But you're that gal who was nabbed in the CIA, right? The one who had to quit because her name was all over?"

  "That was me, yes. I didn't want to quit. I had no choice."

  "Well, it doesn't seem like you'd be working for men like them." He turned toward the counter. "I do have something that I didn't tell them about."

  Rex and I exchanged looks as we followed him to the counter. Virgil lifted part of the counter and went through, locking it down behind him. Reaching under the counter, he pulled up a letter to Aunt June. It was sealed. There was no return address.

  "It's probably junk mail, but I thought I oughta give it to you anyway. She had mentioned you a fair amount recently."

  That got my attention. "She did?"

  "June was just a friend. That's all. I don't know where you heard such a rumor." Virgil nodded toward the exit. "But I can guess. Me being a suitor is new though. Still, you can't control things like rumors."

  I asked, "You said she mentioned me?"

  Virgil scratched his cheek. "Oh. Right. Said she had a sort of niece who was all kinds of interesting. That's all. She didn't say more."

  "Have you ever been to the house?" I asked. "From all the photos, it seems like she was all kinds of interesting."

  "Nope. And as far as I know, no one else in town had either. She was very private."

  This information had come up before, and I had to wonder—why have all those photos of yourself with famous people if you didn't let anyone see them? Were they just reminders for her? That was the only explanation I could come up with.

  We thanked him for the letter and walked outside. I was turning the envelope over in my hands when Rex's cell rang. He answered it and said a few words before hanging up.

  "The jeweler wants to see me," he said.

  "You go." I was still staring at the letter. "I'm going to the house. I thought I'd give Kelly a few of the antique dishes. I should probably pack them up before the girls come in like a herd of bulls."

  "Are you sure?" Rex looked at the envelope. "I don't know if you should open that. It's probably nothing, but it could be rigged."

  I smiled at my husband. "Honey, I'm ex-CIA. I know all the tricks. Don't worry. I won't take a chance."

  Rex relaxed. "I think I'll swing by the museum and give the florist another call while I'm there. Need a ride to the house?"

  I kissed him on the cheek. "Nope. It's a nice day. I think I'll walk."

  Rex drove off, and I turned and headed toward Aunt June's house. My house. I thought about the town, studying the buildings as I passed. This town had so much potential. Aunt June had thought so too. I guess the folks who lived here just couldn't see it.

  I used the time to run through the facts as I knew them. The suspects, the motives, all rolled around in my brain. Maybe back at camp we should take another shot at the murder board. We'd ignored it in our quest for ghosts and aliens. Maybe I just needed a good think.

  The girls and Kelly had been very helpful. They were sharp. Maybe we'd give Riley a run for his money and open up a competing agency. I laughed out loud. Riley. He'd really hate that.

  I reached the house and let myself in, looking at it as just a house. My third. I texted Kelly, who told me that they had another hour there and then they'd be over. I hung up and decided to go find a box to pack those pretty teacups and saucers in.

  The garage only had tools in it. I didn't recall there being any boxes in the other rooms. I remembered that the basement was empty, but I'd just glanced down there when we were racing through the house looking for the girls.

  The door was beneath the main stairs. It opened with an eerie creak. I flipped a light switch and walked downstairs, stuffing my cell into my pocket. It was empty. There wasn't even a washer or dryer. How did she do her laundry?

  It was remarkably clean and dry, except for a spot at the far end where there was a water stain that ran from the ceiling to the floor. Probably from the mines.

  I wondered what Rex was finding out. Oh well. He'd call if he had anything.

  I reached up to touch the stain on the wall where it met the ceiling. Odd that there wasn't a stain there too. Running my fingers along the stain on the wall, I realized it was totally dry. And that's when I noticed a smudged fingerprint to the right of the mark. I touched it, and the stain became a seam. A door popped open just an inch or two.

  Another secret room? How many were there in this house? I pushed inside and found a light switch. The room flooded with light. It was an office. Tables ran all the way around the perimeter of the midsized room. The walls were covered with what looked to be giant murder boards. Photos and documents were connected with string.

  Was Aunt June totally crazy? I leaned in toward a photo of JFK's motorcade, taken minutes before the president had been struck down. Next to it was a document and a photo of two men who were not Lee Harvey Oswald. They were holding sniper rifles.

  Another set of photos, a foot over, featured J. Edgar Hoover in drag. In one, he was dressed as a ballet dancer from Swan Lake (albeit an ugly one). Another had him as a Hollywood siren in satin gown and platinum blonde wig. The worst one was a sort of cosplay image of him dressed as Juliette Lowe—the founder of the Girl Scouts.

  As I moved along the wall, I found more pictures, including a long dead European prime minister in an S&M session with a dominatrix…a very famous vegetarian chowing down on a large steak…

  Oh wow. There really was a treasure hidden in the house. And this was it.

  Slam!

  The only way out of the room slammed shut. Seriously, what was it with these secret rooms that had only one way in and one way out?

  "Who's out there?" I called out, not really expecting an answer.

  I tried the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. Neither would the door. It opened inward toward me. Kicking it open wouldn't be an option. This wasn't an accident. There were no breezes to do this.

  Someone had locked me in a room of secrets. Don't get me wrong, I could've spent all day in a room like this. What I didn't appreciate was being trapped inside of it.

  A note slid under the door. I picked it up.

  You don't belong here.

  I found a pen and scribbled It's my house before shoving it back under the door.

  No, it's not came the reply.

  I wrote Yes, it is and shoved it back.

  Is Not.

  Is too.

  Why was I engaging in this stupid ar
gument?

  "Let me out, and I promise not to turn you in," I lied. Of course I was going to turn the guy in. No one locks me in a room full of secrets. It had to be the same guy who'd put the frog in the bathroom and who'd tried to kill me last night on the ropes course.

  "This is really getting old," I shouted.

  The note slid back to me. You should be more concerned with what's behind you.

  Turning around, I spotted the deathstalker scorpion crawling across the floor toward me.

  "Quit trying to kill me with my own pets!" I pounded on the door.

  The only response was the sound of footsteps running away.

  It's funny. I've dealt with scorpions before. I'd once spent a month in Cairo. The biggest problem was avoiding the barb in the end of its tail. The little crab claws were useless…a distraction.

  I picked up a box from the desk. It was open on one end. Huh. I guess I did find a box. I neatly dropped it over the scorpion.

  Threaten me with a scorpion, will you? I didn't want to kill it. Nasty as it was, Aunt June had wanted the damn thing and had taken care of it. It wasn't a threat as long as I didn't take the box off the top of it.

  Grabbing my cell, I was surprised to find that there was absolutely no service in this room. Had Aunt June done that on purpose? Older people didn't care for technology. Or maybe she thought it was a threat to her collection of blackmail material. Although, most of the people in the photos were dead, so these things wouldn't hurt them much.

  And everyone knew about J. Edgar Hoover's cross-dressing ways. Some of these secrets were obsolete. So why had she kept them? Had she been planning on writing a tell-all book? Blackmailing their descendants?

  It was starting to annoy me how little I knew about this woman. Every time I thought I had her pegged, something else weird turned up.

  Another question… Should I box everything up? She had some sort of system with the red strings that meant something. I just didn't have time to examine it properly. It would probably be better just to call in the CIA and hand the room over to them. That seemed like the best option. I could only imagine how awful it would be if Betty or the girls got their hands on some of these things.