Artful Dodger (Maggie Kean Mis-Adventures)

by Davis, Nageeba

  “I didn’t know that then, Maggie. All I knew was that he kept coming, night after night after night, until I didn’t care anymore. He came in, patted me on the arm, and I opened the covers to let him in.” She stared blankly ahead. “After a while it wasn’t so bad. I learned to focus on one single spot between two ceiling tiles until my mind sort of slipped away. I would stay that way until long after he’d left.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “And then one night he walked in as usual and I pulled the covers aside. He lay beside me and started stroking my body, but something was wrong. He kept touching me, making me touch him, but nothing happened. Before he left, he looked down at me with disgust. He told me that he would never touch me again. Then he was gone.”

  “I don’t know if it was my developing body he found repulsive or whether he was afraid I was old enough to question what he was doing. Maybe he was afraid I’d report him to the police. At any rate, he never came again, and I was never sure why.” Cassie straightened her gun and tightened her finger around the trigger. “You know what? In an odd way I missed him.”

  “Cassie,” I cried, my voice filled with anguish for the hell she had lived through, “why didn’t you tell Elizabeth then? Even though it was over, I know she would have believed you. She would have turned Cranford over to the police and taken you to someone you could talk to. She would have helped you.”

  “You are so naive,” she said, casually raising the gun. She closed one eye and peered down the barrel with the other, sighting me like a bottle sitting on top of a fence post. “Grandmother wouldn’t have helped me. She’s the reason Grandfather came to me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Grandmother kicked him out of her bedroom the day Preston and I moved in. The man had no choice,” she stated flatly.

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing; she kept vacillating between hating her grandfather for his nocturnal fondling and defending him. “Surely you don’t believe that. Normal grown men do not visit little girls in the middle of the night looking for consolation for a broken marriage. The man was a pervert. He should have been castrated and left with the garbage.”

  She laughed that same crazy-sounding laugh. “You do have an active imagination, Maggie. But it doesn’t matter now. Grandmother refused him, so he went out and found other women.”

  “Cassie, your grandfather cheated on Elizabeth long before you ever arrived at the house. She knew all about his philandering and was willing to overlook it while your father was growing up, but she would never have allowed him to stay in the house knowing what he was doing to you.”

  “We’ll never know if that’s true or not, will we?” she said harshly, lowering the gun again. “All we know is that Grandmother let him loose to prowl, and that’s exactly what he did until he created another heir.”

  I didn’t want to argue about Elizabeth’s relationship with her husband. From everything she had told me, the man was a selfish bastard, and after hearing Cassie’s story, I knew even that was too high a compliment. Through some convoluted reasoning, though, Cassie blamed her grandmother for Cranford’s perversity, and I didn’t see how I could accomplish anything but an earlier visit to the grave by arguing Elizabeth’s side.

  “Another heir?” I asked tentatively.

  Her lips thinned. “Don’t pretend you don’t know, Maggie. That lowlife came waltzing over here one night, acting as though she owned the place, and tried to extort money from Grandmother.”

  It was hard to picture Lindsay, complete with bruises and faded dress, trying to blackmail anyone. But as much as I wanted to defend Lindsay, I had to stick with my desperate plan. Keep Cassie talking. The longer I played innocent, the longer I could draw Cassie out. Maybe it wouldn’t amount to anything in the long run, but if I did somehow manage to escape, I wanted as much information as possible.

  “She blackmailed Elizabeth?” I asked, interested to hear how Cassie’s version differed from Lindsay’s.

  “You’re damn right she did. I heard it all. The door was cracked open just enough for the voices to carry and I heard your precious Lindsay spill out her little sob story about her kids and her abusive husband. Grandmother was ready to pull out her checkbook right then and make out a check for some ungodly amount of money. But I wasn’t about to let her give that little tramp a single cent of my money.”

  “What happened?”

  Cassie regarded me speculatively. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you? But then, what difference would it make, you’ll never leave this room alive. Grandmother made noises about helping Ms. Burns with her art, but I saw through that whole charade. She was planning to put her in the will, to split the inheritance among the three of us—”

  “Lindsay was demanding a third of the money?”

  “Not in so many words. Apparently, Grandfather had done his duty...supported her and her mother while she was growing up. Not out of benevolence, of course, but to keep the affair quiet. Lindsay’s story was that she was simply asking for introductions to different art dealers, to help her escape her husband.”

  “But you didn’t believe her?”

  “It doesn’t matter whether I did or not. The point was, Grandmother believed all of it, the whole tragic story,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “She even picked up the phone and made an appointment with Hawthorne—with Lindsay standing right there in the room. Grandmother was always a sucker for the lost and lonely, for the downtrodden. One good look at Lindsay’s life and I knew I could kiss my money good-bye.”

  I was almost afraid to ask the next question. “What did you do then?”

  “When the meeting was over, I hid in the hall closet while they left the office and Grandmother walked her out to her car. Then I escaped and ran upstairs to begin making plans. I knew exactly what I had to do,” she said, her lips twisting into a cynical smile. “Most importantly, I had to relax and bide my time. But what I didn’t expect was for everything to happen so quickly. The next afternoon, Grandmother left the house claiming she had some errands to run. I wanted to follow her, but I knew she’d recognize my car immediately. So I waited until she returned that evening, praying she hadn’t gone and given away my inheritance. I was ready to do whatever was necessary.”

  I took a deep breath then, fairly sure of what was going to come next.

  “I confronted Grandmother in her office. I demanded to know what was going on—who Lindsay Burns was and what kind of claim she had on the will. But Grandmother ignored me, as usual, and said it was none of my business. She told me not to worry, that I would be taken care of.” Cassie’s eyes burned in outrage. “I couldn’t believe it, and no matter what I said, Grandmother continued working at her desk as though I hadn’t spoken, like I was no more than a pesky mosquito she could flick away.” Her voice turned low and furious. “But I wasn’t going away. That money was mine. I deserved it. I earned it—night after night. But Grandmother’s mind was made up. I forced myself to remain calm, to do what had to be done. I took a deep breath and smiled at Grandmother. I told her I trusted her. I went around to her side to say good night. I bent down to kiss her cheek, picked up the bronze statue off the credenza behind her desk, and slammed the back of her head.” Her eyes glittered when she looked at me. “It was a sculpture you had given to her as a gift.”

  My hands were shaking so hard I had to clench them together, but my knees started to fold and I didn’t know how long I could keep myself upright. Cassie’s eyes were dead and flat now; no spark of life or even a flare of anger lit them any longer. For the first time I wanted her to stop talking, to take back the pictures of that horrible night. But her words lay bare between us.

  “It was perfect. Grandmother simply slumped forward, her forehead landing on the papers she was working on. I untied the scarf she was wearing around her neck and wrapped it around her head to keep any blood spots off the floor when I picked her up. Then I took off the coat I was wearing and wrapped her in it. I lifted
her into my arms and took one last glance around the room before turning off the light.” She ran one hand through her hair and continued emotionlessly. “I was lucky. Other than what was on the papers and file, there was no blood to clean up. Even in death, Grandmother was very neat and tidy.”

  Cassie described the scene dispassionately, her voice flat. Her very lack of feeling, her impassivity nauseated me. Bile rose up in my throat, threatening to choke me. I no longer cared about listening to her rant on; all I wanted was to grab the gun and turn it on her.

  “She was much lighter than I expected. Of course, I hadn’t known about her cancer then. I suppose now that she had probably lost weight.” Cassie shrugged her shoulders. “Anyway, I carried her across the driveway and through the hedges between our yards, just like I’d seen her do so many times when she went to visit you. You were right. I wore a pair of her low-heeled pumps so the footprints wouldn’t raise suspicion. In fact, that was really the only uncomfortable part of the whole journey—Grandmother’s feet were smaller than mine.”

  “But why the septic tank?”

  She grinned like an evil Cheshire cat toying with a doomed mouse. “Because it was perfect, don’t you see? There I was driving home earlier that afternoon before meeting with Grandmother and I happened to glance over at your yard. Your repairman was climbing into his truck after working on your tank, cordoning the area off with little yellow flags. It had to be fate. One look at those cute little flags fluttering in the summer breeze and everything just fell into place.”

  Cassie stood then, in almost the exact same spot she was standing when I first burst through the door firing accusations. Her smile faded. “Your lights were out when I came through the hedge. My only concern was getting the cement lid off while carrying Grandmother. I needed to use both hands. I didn’t want to put her down and leave an imprint of her body on the ground, so I walked over to your flower garden and put her in the wheelbarrow you have leaning against the wall. Lifting the cover wasn’t easy, but even that wasn’t the obstacle it could have been since your repairman had removed it the day before. I pushed it aside and dumped her in. Everything went off without a hitch, perfectly choreographed. And the best part was still to come.”

  I couldn’t imagine what she meant by that.

  “The murder solved more than one problem, Maggie. It eliminated Grandmother before she had a chance to change the will and divide Preston’s and my inheritance with a stranger. But Lindsay still posed a threat to the money. Much to my delight, though, Grandmother had written her name and address in her appointment book, which saved me from having to pencil it in myself. I knew the police would eventually comb through her desk and files and discover her name. Without too much trouble, the cops would discover Lindsay’s relationship to Grand- mother, and with me there to point the boys in the proper direction, they would find out about Lindsay’s blackmailing scheme. Lindsay Burns would be an immediate suspect with an obvious motive. Once they convicted her, Preston and I would be safe. The money would stay intact and would soon be ours. And, of course, you were an unexpected bonus.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “With Grandmother slipping your name into the will, and with the body in your front yard, the cops started breathing down your neck pretty hard and fast, and I didn’t have to do anything but sit back and watch you squirm. Of course, I knew that wouldn’t last long; they wouldn’t have any physical evidence to pin on you and you did an excellent job of pretending to know nothing about the will, so it was only a matter of time before the suspicion shifted from you to Ms. Burns.”

  “I wonder why Lindsay didn’t mention the cops questioning her during our conversation,” I said, knowing full well that the police had never found Elizabeth’s appointment book and that I myself had given Villari Lindsay’s name, and had done so just this afternoon.

  Cassie frowned, a fine line furrowing her brow. “Yes, there’s been a slight problem. Grandmother’s date book disappeared sometime after the murder, although whether a cop took it, or the cleaning ladies misplaced it or it, I don’t know. Apparently, I will have to devise another way of dropping her name somewhere for the police to discover themselves—but I don’t see that being too much of a problem. Now, all that being said, I’m afraid you came at a very inopportune time. I have dinner plans and I do hate being late. So if you’ll excuse me...”

  She spoke in such polite tones that I was ready to step aside and let her pass. It wasn’t until she raised her arms and leveled the gun at my chest that I came out of my stupor and realized she was preparing to shoot me. For real this time. My body stiffened. I stared right into the long dark tunnel of that gun barrel, my heart pounding like a bongo drum, beating so loudly I couldn’t hear myself praying.

  Then the glass shattered. A large rock crashed to the floor.

  Cassie whipped around and fired.

  I hit the ground without thinking and crossed my hands over the back of my head. The room exploded with glass as Cassie dropped into a low crouch and methodically shot out the large windowpanes. I managed to crawl on my elbows and knees behind the bar. I curled up into a fetal position, jammed myself back into the corner, and squeezed my eyes shut. The noise was deafening, but it wasn’t long before I realized that all the gunshots were being fired from the inside. Cassie was the only one shooting.

  Then I heard quick footsteps.

  “Don’t shoot or I’ll kill her!”

  Burning heat stroked the side of my cheek. I opened my eyes to see Cassie standing serenely overhead, her gun barrel a few inches from my face. “Stand up, Maggie,” she ordered with calm authority.

  My body refused to cooperate. I tried to do as she asked, but I’d been so tightly wound up that my muscles were cramped into stiff little knots.

  “Get the fuck up before I lose my patience,” she repeated. Her voice, laced with just a hint of a Southern drawl, dripped with molasses sweetness. Cassie sounded more like she was offering an assortment of delicate pastries to her guests at a tea party than getting ready to shoot me in cold blood.

  “Put the gun down and no one will get hurt.” I recognized Villari’s voice as he yelled through the broken windows. “Police officers have surrounded the house. There’s no way out.”

  Cassie reached down and clamped her hand around the top of my arm, her fingernails digging deep into my flesh. “Move your ass now, or I’ll blow your brains out all over Grandmother’s pristine floors.”

  I did as she said. Uncurling my body, I pushed myself up until I was standing awkwardly on two wobbly legs. She grabbed me around my waist with her right arm and yanked me against her body, pressing the barrel of the pistol firmly against my temple.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Detective. I’ve got your little girlfriend,” she taunted, her voice coming over my right shoulder. “One wrong move and sweet Maggie here will be splattered all over the wall. And then where would you sleep?”

  Several seconds ticked by slowly. “Let her go,” he said tightly. “Don’t hurt her.”

  “How very touching, Maggie. The man obviously cares for you. Too bad he has such lousy timing, bursting in when we were having such a nice little chat.” She took two steps back, dragging me along with her. “Tell your men to drop their guns, Detective—that is, if there really are any other cops around. I’m not completely convinced you aren’t the last of the shining knights, riding over here on your big white horse all by yourself. But either way, if you do exactly what I say, your girlfriend may live to see another day.”

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked tersely.

  “Stand up and let me see you. I don’t enjoy talking to a voice.”

  Villari stepped in front of the gaping hole where the windows had been, shards of glass hanging like icicles from splintered frames. His mouth was drawn into a taut line and a muscle flicked angrily in his jaw. His eyes bored into mine. “Are you all right?”

  I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat.

>   “She’s fine,” Cassie assured him, jerking me even closer, her chin now resting on the top of my shoulder, her cheek grazing mine. I tried to pull back. I couldn’t stand the feel of her skin against mine, but she tightened her grip and laughed. “Aren’t you, Maggie dear? Or maybe you’re a little uncomfortable? Don’t worry, it won’t be long before you and the detective will be wrapped in each other’s arms forever.”

  Then I snapped.

  Without thinking, I snapped my arm upward and smashed the back of my clenched fist into that haughty little nose, feeling bones crunch under my knuckles. At the sound of her scream, I rapidly brought my hand forward and thrust my elbow hard into her stomach while simultaneously lifting my foot and slamming it heavily on top of her expensively clad toes. I jerked away as she released her hold and fell to the floor. I leaned down and picked up the gun she had dropped sometime during our fight. I slid my palm around the handle and pointed the barrel down at Cassie.

  “A little uncomfortable, Cassie?”

  Blood gushed from her nose and mouth as she rolled from side to side, fighting the pain and trying to breathe. Her screaming had subsided to odd choking noises as she tried to catch her breath. Glass shattered behind me as Villari cleared an area of broken panes and climbed through to stand beside me. He quietly covered my hand with his. “Pretty impressive, Maggie,” he said, gently prying the gun from my hand.

  “Martial Arts 101...in college... with Lisa. Can’t believe I remembered a thing.”

  “I’m glad you did. We were in a world of hurt.”

  “Why aren’t the boys in blue racing into the room right now, Villari?”

  “The patrolman mentioned he saw you heading over here.” He shrugged, relief filling his eyes. “Besides, why do I need backup when I’ve got Jackie Chan in the room?”

  “Ms. Chan to you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Matthew, honey, would you like a little more spaghetti?”

  I glanced over at the towheaded five-year-old wearing more tomato sauce around his mouth than he had swallowed. But he was up on his knees, a large dish towel tied around his neck like a bib, his eyes as round as saucers, and his mouth turned up in a wide silly grin. His mother tried mopping up the mess, but it was useless. The only thing that would clean up that kid was a thorough dunking in a bathtub or running him through a complete cycle in the washing machine.