“I’ll call him and tell him he’s very welcome.” While we had many lawyers in the family, most of them pretty darn competent, if I were in any kind of real trouble, Festus would be the one I’d call. Clarence was batting a thousand in the common sense department so far. And it would be nice to see Festus, even if Clarence probably wasn’t going to need his help. I was beginning to feel grateful that Dad and the chief had kept the secret of Harvey’s survival from me as long as they did. Keeping my mouth shut was driving me crazy.
“I’m not going to keep all the money, you know,” Clarence said. “I’m going to give some of it to those poor people whose families lost everything when the Dunlops’ bank failed. Pay them back what they lost, plus interest. I’m sure I can find someone to figure out what the numbers would be.”
“You know, that was over eighty years ago,” I said. “I think by now they’ve all gotten over the loss.” And did he have any idea how much the interest would have added up?
“There’s no proof the gold came from the bank,” Judge Jane pointed out. “For all we know, Harvey’s father could have bought those coins over the years and squirreled them away. He sure didn’t spend much on anything else.”
“I know all that,” Clarence said. “But I think it’s what Harvey would want me to do. I know he felt bad about the suffering his family bank’s failure caused people. I’m pretty sure he had no idea that money was up there, or he’d have made restitution himself.”
“Just let Festus work out all the legal details,” Judge Jane said.
“And don’t tell anyone you’re planning to give them money until you’re sure there aren’t any hitches,” I said.
“Of course.” Clarence nodded. “And I’m not counting chickens for myself either—by which I mean for the shelter. I hope there will be enough left over to make some improvements to the shelter, but in the meantime, we have to make do with what we have. And keep up that adoption program.”
“Good thinking.” I breathed a sigh of relief and made a mental note to point out to the chief that the longer his deception went on, the more complications like this would result.
“Speaking of the adoption program,” Clarence said. “Rob, you and Delaney are hired. Last night Kevin posted the first batch of dog glamour shots on that new website he made for us, and we’ve already got a dozen people coming by today for possible adoptions.”
“Awesome,” Rob said.
“Any chance you could drop by for a while and help keep the dogs in a good mood?” Clarence suddenly sounded a little anxious. “Because I can’t be everywhere, and you’re so good at getting them to relax and open up to people.”
“Can I spend the day playing with your dogs?” Rob laughed. “No problem. Opening at ten, right?”
Clarence nodded.
“As long as you’re all here,” I began.
Just then the bell over the front door tinkled. We all looked up to see Ernest and Josephine Haverhill.
“Speak of the devil,” Rob muttered.
Shadow hissed and arched her back.
My latest encounter with Morris had left me wary of Haverhills. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.
“Anything wrong, Meg?” Debbie Ann asked when she answered the phone.
“Can we help you people?” Judge Jane asked the new arrivals.
“Ms. Haverhill,” I said, looking up from the phone but keeping it near my ear—and mouth. “And Mr. Haverhill. How nice to see you.”
“Try and keep them there,” Debbie Ann said.
“Your police chief has arrested our brother,” Ernest Haverhill said. “I would assume that means we can have our stuff.”
“And you’d be making an erroneous assumption,” Judge Jane said. “Your brother’s only arrested—not even arraigned, much less convicted. So at the moment Mr. Dunlop’s house is still a crime scene and its contents still potentially constitute evidence. But even if that weren’t the case, you can’t just walk in and take possession. The estate has to go through probate. It’s a lot faster and easier when there’s a will—do you know if he left one?”
The Haverhills hunched slightly more than they were already and exchanged a glance.
“We’re his family,” Josephine said.
“His only family,” Ernest added. “I expect he didn’t think he needed a will.”
“If it turns out there’s no will, you’ll get his property once you go through the probate process.” Judge Jane managed to keep a straight face as she said it.
The bell over the door rang again and Chief Burke stepped in. The Haverhills turned in unison and their faces lit up with a pleased though predatory expression, as if he were a hummingbird coming within range. Clearly they didn’t know him yet.
Vern followed him. I heard a noise at the back door and saw Aida slip in.
“Ms. Josephine Haverhill. Mr. Ernest Haverhill. You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Harvey Dunlop. You—”
“Murder! What are you talking about?” Josephine shrieked.
Ernest made a dash for the back door, and Vern gave chase and tackled him.
“Attempted murder?” Judge Jane murmured.
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard!” Josephine was saying. “We didn’t murder him. Apparently you think Morris did, which is almost as ridiculous—were you not listening when—”
“Quiet!” The chief didn’t often raise his voice, but when he did, the results were impressive. Josephine shut up. Ernest stopped struggling and let Vern put the handcuffs on him.
“Your little trick with the transponders was ingenious,” the chief said. “It could easily have fooled us.”
“Trick with the transponders?” Judge Jane asked.
“Those things in your car that let you breeze through tollbooths,” Rob explained.
“I know what they are,” Judge Jane said—probably sounding more patient than she felt. “I want to know what trick the Haverhills played with them, and how the chief saw through it.”
“Mr. Morris Haverhill made a point of suggesting that we check his transponder,” the chief explained. “Since, as he pointed out, it would show that he left Caerphilly in time to pass through several tollbooths in the Richmond area between around five fifteen and five forty-five, then returned along the same route at around ten o’clock yesterday morning.”
“So far, so good,” Judge Jane said.
“E-ZPass confirmed those times,” the chief went on. “And while we were at it, we checked his siblings’ transponders, which showed that they passed through Richmond on much the same route several hours earlier and didn’t come back the next day until sometime even later than Mr. Morris.”
“Then how can you arrest us for murder if none of us were anywhere near here when Harvey got killed?” Ernest demanded.
“Your brother’s transponder may have been passing through Richmond between five fifteen and five forty-five on Monday,” the chief said. “But his cell phone never left Caerphilly that night.”
“Bingo!” Rob exclaimed. Judge Jane nodded.
“And Ms. Haverhill’s cell phone records show that after passing through a series of tollbooths in and around Richmond, she then proceeded to circle back on non-toll roads so she could take the same route through the tollbooths, this time with her brother’s transponder. And then you pulled the same stunt in the morning to make it look as if he came back here.”
“We were just trying to help him get out of trouble,” Josephine said.
“Not the way I see it.” The chief looked stern. “The texts and emails we’ve retrieved from his phone show that the three of you actively planned to murder Mr. Dunlop and were in constant communication before, during, and after your brother’s attack on him.”
“But we erased those,” Ernest said.
“Shut up, you fool!” Josephine snapped.
“I’ll be taking you down to the station for booking,” the chief said. “The attorney you retained for your brother is already down there, a
lthough it’s up to you whether you want to retain him or whether you each want separate attorneys to protect your interests.”
From the suddenly suspicious looks Josephine and Ernest were giving each other, I predicted that two more attorneys from Farmville would be trekking down to Caerphilly soon.
The chief stood watching as Vern and Aida led the Haverhills outside.
“Good work, letting us know they were here,” he said to me. “I was just about to issue a BOLO on them after the phone records came in this morning. And thanks for sending young Kevin down to the station last night—he was actually the one who figured out the phone thing.”
“Henry, you arrested them for attempted murder,” Judge Jane said. “Just what aren’t you telling us?”
The chief glanced at me, and I deduced that he was giving me permission.
“Harvey’s alive,” I said. “He was badly injured and unconscious for a while, but he’s awake now, and going to be okay.”
“Hurray!” Clarence shouted, and for a few minutes we all cheered, laughed, or even cried a little.
Shadow went over and sniffed delicately at the chief’s trousers.
“Don’t try to pet her,” I warned, seeing him lean down. “That’s the feral kitten Harvey was feeding.”
“Ah.” The chief put his hands on his knees and peered down at Shadow, who stared up at him, unblinking. “You have a lot to answer for, little lady.”
“How is that?” Judge Jane asked.
As if resenting the chief’s accusation, Clarence scooped up Shadow and took her into the back room.
“Sandbox time,” he muttered.
“Morris Haverhill used her to lure Harvey outside,” I said. “It wasn’t her fault.”
“Apparently, while the decluttering was going on, Mr. Haverhill managed to slip into the garage long enough to unlock the one window,” the chief added. “He returned and hid in there. And at some time in the early morning, he imitated a kitten in pain to lure Harvey out there.”
“The wretch,” Judge Jane muttered.
“Incidentally, don’t be shocked if you hear the Haverhills trying to shift some of the blame on the Helping Hands project,” the chief said, turning to me. “Apparently the reason they were trying to get the building inspector and Adult Protective Services to come down hard on Harvey was so he’d turn to them for the help he needed to get his act together.”
“I have a hard time imagining him trusting them that much,” I said. “He’s afraid of them.”
“Yes,” the chief went on. “And it came as a nasty shock when they found out someone outside the family was going to help him declutter. They realized that they had to do something quickly to keep a bunch of ‘nosy, interfering outsiders’ from finding the family treasure.”
“A treasure I bet Harvey didn’t even know about.”
“You’re right,” the chief said. “It was his father who hid the gold. Harvey was only ten or eleven when the false ceiling went up. Anyway, after attacking Harvey, Morris took his keys and spent some time searching the house. Horace has already found his fingerprints inside.”
“Will that hold up?” Judge Jane asked. “After all, they were cousins. He could claim he was visiting Harvey.”
“The fingerprints were on some of the moving boxes delivered to the site by the Shiffley Construction Company Monday morning,” the chief said. “Harvey tells us that he did not let his cousin in to the house at any time after that. And Mr. Haverhill claimed the key ring he had was one Mr. Dunlop had entrusted to him years ago, but given the presence of a key to the furniture store, I don’t think that explanation will hold up.” He chuckled.
“But maybe we caused it,” I said. “Their attempt on Harvey. If we hadn’t—”
“No.” He sounded fierce, and shook his head. “This is on them. I’m pretty sure they’d have tried to get to him eventually. At worst, having the Helping Hands come in drove them to act sooner than they would have, but they were heading that way. And maybe if they’d had more time to plan, they’d have succeeded in killing him. And gotten away with it. But now … all’s well that ends well.”
“What about Tabitha?” I asked. “And Harvey’s neighbors?”
“Ms. Fillmore’s still down at the jail, conferring with her defense attorney,” the chief said. “She could very well see prison time. Dangerous use of a firearm—that’s a class four felony, which means up to ten years in prison. Even if her attorney does a good job—well, our local juries generally take a dim view of people taking potshots at their fellow citizens. Mrs. Gudgeon and Mr. Brimley, now—they’re out on bail. I’ll let the D.A. decide if she thinks she can get them on breaking and entering or if she has to settle for trespassing.”
“Busy holiday season for you,” Judge Jane said.
“But at least I don’t have a lot of unsolved crimes to worry about,” the chief said. “And if you’ll excuse me, I’m hoping to have some interesting conversations with the Haverhills before I start my holiday. Merry Christmas!”
He exited, although I heard him exchanging Christmas greetings with someone outside.
A few seconds later, Mother sailed in with Rose Noire trailing behind her.
“Merry Christmas!” Mother trilled. “Meg, I heard you helped the chief capture the culprit last night. And they tell me Harvey is alive. How wonderful! Now we can all relax and really enjoy our Christmas.”
“Culprits, actually,” I said. “I’ll fill you in later.” I noticed that Rob had caught Rose Noire’s eye and pointed dramatically toward the back room before slipping into it himself. To get Shadow ready for her introduction, I suspected. “So did you bring me any raffle tickets?”
“Raffle tickets?” Mother looked blank.
“For Mrs. Dinwiddie’s grandmother’s quilt.”
“Oh, dear.” Her face fell. “I’m afraid I didn’t manage to get any. They were all bought up before I got a chance. But don’t worry. I took a lot of pictures.”
“Don’t worry,” Rose Noire echoed, before disappearing into the back room.
“And by the way,” Mother went on, “Robyn’s come up with a lovely idea for expanding the Helping Hands program.”
Yesterday I might have growled at her. But now, in spite of my disappointment about the raffle tickets, I was sufficiently cheered by Harvey’s survival and the arrest of the remaining Haverhills that I merely made a mild protest.
“I think the current program’s going to keep us pretty busy for the holidays,” I said. “And possibly some time into the New Year.”
“Oh, yes,” Mother said. “Especially given all the publicity about how the program was helping Harvey before the poor man was attacked. We’ve gotten a dozen new requests today alone. But we’ve started to notice that perhaps the most common reason people give for not being able to do these projects themselves is consumer debt. They don’t have the money to hire someone, and they’ve already maxed out their credit cards. And Robyn found the loveliest article about how several churches have organized projects to help everyone pay off their debts.”
As Mother nattered on about seed money, cohort groups, and financial counseling, I pulled out my notebook and jotted a quick to-do item: ask Robyn to show me this lovely article. And talk to her about what she had in mind. Because it sounded like a wonderful idea, but it also sounded a lot more complicated than simply showing up to build a ramp or finish a quilt.
Of course, it also sounded as if it could have even more impact on the Caerphilly community than what we were doing this year. So it might be worth doing.
“I’ve made a note to talk to Robyn,” I said. “So we won’t forget about it.” Not that there was much chance of Mother forgetting about anything that got her this excited. “For now let’s concentrate on this year’s agenda, shall we? Do you have any information on these dozen new projects?”
Only on a couple of them, but they sounded small and doable. Possibly doable before Christmas—but not so urgent that we had to squeeze them in. Which
was good, because I was hoping to take a few days off. The rest of today and tomorrow, at least.
“But we can worry about that after Christmas,” Mother said. “Right now.… ooooh! Who is this?”
Rob and Rose Noire had returned. Rob was holding Shadow, who appeared to have fallen asleep in his hands. Rose Noire was gently stroking the kitten’s shiny fur.
“One of the cats Clarence needs to unload to make room in the shelter,” Rob said.
“So precious,” Rose Noire cooed.
“May I?” Mother held out both hands. Rob deposited Shadow in them. Mother held the sleeping kitten to her chest and Shadow snuggled closer and began purring.
“What a darling!” Mother whispered.
Behind her back Rob was doing fist pumps. Rose Noire contented herself with beaming at what was clearly a case of love at first sight. Well, at least on Mother’s part.
Rose Noire slipped closer to me. I must have looked a little less than happy.
“For goodness’ sake, don’t worry about the quilt,” she whispered. “I cut a deal with your grandfather. I told him I’d give him back his magpies … but only if he bought every single raffle ticket and gave them all to Josh and Jamie. But pretend to be surprised, okay?”
“You’re amazing,” I said, and gave her a fierce hug.
She returned to helping Mother pet Shadow.
The bell over the door rang, and Dad dashed in, pushing a wheelchair that contained a familiar figure.
“It’s Harvey!” I exclaimed, and everyone gathered around to greet him. He seemed pleased but a little overwhelmed by the warmth of our welcome.
“Oh, never mind about me,” Harvey said finally. “I’ve got more exciting news. Come and look! They were wrong!” He pointed behind him toward the door.
“Who was wrong?” I asked as we all hurried toward the front windows. “And about what?”
“The weather forecasters,” Dad exclaimed, as he turned Harvey around and pushed him toward the windows. “As late as last night, they were forecasting nothing but more rain for today and tomorrow. And now look at it!”
The Gift of the Magpie Page 26