Murder Is No Accident

by A. H. Gabhart

  Maggie looked up at the tower room. The perfect place to come up with her stories. All lost to her now. Even if the firemen did save the house. She could never hide out there again.

  Michael kept coming over to make sure Maggie was all right. And she was. All right. Not great, but all right.

  “They think the fire is out,” he told her when the firemen came out of the house. “Mostly water damage except for the library. Probably ruined a lot of things.”

  “Do you think the tower room is okay?” Maggie knew she shouldn’t keep worrying about her stories, but she did. “I won’t hide out there anymore, but I need to go back up there one more time.”

  “Why?”

  “I left something up there.”

  “Something important?” Michael looked from the house to her.

  “Not to anybody but me. A notebook. It has my stories in it.” She had to push out those last words. She hoped Michael wouldn’t laugh at her.

  He didn’t. “Sounds important, but I didn’t see anything like that when I climbed up there last week.”

  “I hid it. Between the wallboards.”

  “Oh.” He stared up at the tower room. “You can’t go up there, but let me talk to the fire chief. I’ll see if I can get them for you. I think you deserve that much.”

  “But you being here and everything is my fault.”

  “None of it is your fault, Maggie. None of it.” He leaned down to look her in the face and Bertie tried to lick him. Michael pushed the dog’s head to the side and kept looking at Maggie. “You helped Miss Fonda. You helped me. You were very brave.”

  “I didn’t feel brave.”

  “I know. But you were.” Michael squeezed her shoulder. “Your parents will be here soon and Anthony. He called me, you know.”

  “She likes him,” Jesse looked up to poke into their conversation.

  “You hush,” Maggie said.

  Michael laughed. “That’s okay, Maggie. He likes you too. It’s good to have somebody like you.”

  Michael looked away from her then at the dark-haired woman who was leaning against a tree, watching everything like she might be some kind of reporter. Maggie didn’t know if she was or not, but she did know Mr. Leland was. He’d tried to ask her questions earlier about why she was there, but Michael told him to leave her alone. It was all too scary to talk about anyway, but when Michael moved away from her, Mr. Leland raised his camera up and pointed it at her and Jesse and Bertie.

  Maggie shifted Bertie in her arms. The dog was heavy but she didn’t dare put him down. Or let Jesse step away from her. She wished her mother or father would get there so she could quit being the responsible one.

  The dark-haired woman pushed away from her tree and came over to them. “Hi, my name is Alex. And Michael told me you are Maggie and Jesse, but he didn’t tell me your dog’s name.”

  Jesse spoke up. “Bertie. Maggie named him. Said he looked like a Bertie.”

  “He does.” The woman ruffled Bertie’s ears. “I like dogs. You think he’d let me hold him?”

  “He stinks a little,” Maggie said. “I’ve been aiming to give him a bath.”

  “I’m not smelling too good right now myself.” The woman laughed and reached for Bertie. “As long as he doesn’t bite me.”

  “He doesn’t bite. He licks,” Jesse said.

  Maggie was glad to hand off the dog. Bertie did immediately lick the woman’s face, but she just laughed again.

  “Thank you,” Maggie said.

  “Thank you,” the woman said back.

  “For what?” Maggie couldn’t imagine what the woman would be thanking her for.

  “For helping Michael.”

  “Michael’s great. I like him.”

  “He is. Great.” The woman’s eyes went away from Maggie to search through the people milling about in front of the house. “I’ve loved him forever.” She looked back at Maggie, her eyes sparkling in the flashing lights.

  “Maggie has a boyfriend too,” Jesse piped up. “She’s in lo-uve.” He drew the word out.

  “Watch it, kid. Someday you might get bitten by the love bug too.” The woman grinned down at Jesse as she dodged Bertie’s tongue.

  In spite of everything that had happened, Maggie felt a smile spilling out on her face. It was good to be alive and in love. Especially when she saw Anthony running up from the road toward her.

  38

  The booted feet of B.J. Bland, the fire chief, sounded loud as he led the way up the stairs. “It’s good to check out the upper floors again anyway to make sure nothing is smoldering in the walls.”

  “You think it might be?” Michael looked around. Daylight was ebbing outside and it was even darker inside except for the flicker of the emergency lights through the windows.

  “Unlikely. The fire appeared to be contained in that one room, but we’ll keep an eye on it. It would be a shame for the old house to burn down.” B.J. looked back at Michael. “I’ve always heard some kind of treasure is hidden in here somewhere. Is that what you’re after?”

  “A different kind of treasure.” Michael smiled. “Only worth something to a kid out there.”

  “Guess you better get it then.” B.J. laid his hands on the wall at the top of the stairs and then again when they went through the door that led to the tower room. “Feels cool. That’s good. But are you sure that ladder will hold you?” He motioned toward the steps up the wall.

  “It did last week.” Michael grabbed one of the slats and pulled himself up.

  He clicked on his flashlight and played it around the small room. The space was unchanged since he checked it out last Friday, but now Michael saw it through Maggie’s eyes. A dream room where her imagination could take flight. Until nightmares had intruded.

  Her hiding place wasn’t hard to find, but his hand was too big to reach down between the boards. Nothing for it but to prize the top board off. He wasn’t about to go back to Maggie empty-handed.

  A little tug pulled the board off easily. It must have been removed in the past and shoved back in place. Michael lifted out a purple notebook with a pen stuck down in the spiral. Maggie’s name in loopy letters was across the front. Michael flashed his light down into the dusty recess and spotted something else stashed there.

  He pulled out a small brown book. Not new. The cloth-covered back and spine were frayed and bent and the pages yellowed with age. The tower room must have been the hideaway for more than one young writer. Michael flipped open the book. More pages were empty than filled, but the front page showed who had hidden the diary there years ago.

  Fonda Chandler’s Diary – 1949

  “Find it?” B.J. called to him.

  “I got it.” Michael shut the diary. He started to shove the old book back into its hiding place, but Miss Fonda might get pleasure reading it, since the old days were what she remembered best.

  At the trapdoor, when Michael dropped the books down to B.J., a folded sheet of paper fell out of the diary. B.J. picked it up and stuck it back before he handed the books to Michael after he climbed down.

  Out in the hall at the top of the stairs, B.J. said, “This is where Geraldine Harper fell, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for Michael to answer. “I can see why. Dangerous-looking steps. And they say Geraldine wasn’t the first to die here.”

  “True.” Michael followed B.J. down the stairs. “Audrey Carlson, Miss Fonda’s sister, died here years ago.”

  “Audrey, you say. I just saw that name. It was on the letter that fell out of those books you handed me. Funny how sometimes things circle around.”

  “It is. Audrey’s husband is out there in the crowd. Just came down from Indiana today. His son stands to inherit the house from Miss Fonda.”

  “He didn’t have anything to do with the guy setting it on fire, did he?”

  “No. Just coincidence that he’s here.” No need talking about Carlson being blackmailed. Maggie had told Michael she’d overheard Felicia talking about getting money out of a senator. Th
at Felicia was upset about not finding some kind of proof and the man, Trent, saying a gun was all the proof they would need. Michael and the fireman went outside where the crowd had grown, as people gathered to see if the Chandler mansion would survive. Lester was in his element keeping everyone away from the house. Hank Leland was scribbling in his little notebook and pointing his camera at anything and everything.

  Anthony had shown up while Michael was inside. He had the dog now, but it was easy to tell he’d rather be holding Maggie. Michael knew how he felt. He’d give a lot to have his arms around Alex, who was standing with the kids, probably dazzling Anthony with her smile. Then again, Anthony might not be as dazzled as when he first met Alex a couple of years ago. Now Maggie had moved into the center of his vision.

  Michael on the other hand was as dazzled as ever. His chest felt too full and not simply because of the acrid smoke hanging in the air. He wanted to forget everything else and pull Alex aside. Find out why she was there, but duty first. A thankful prayer rose inside him as he walked toward Maggie. Safe. Alive.

  Vernon Trent was locked away. Buck took him in. Michael had called Betty Jean so she would know before Vernon showed up in handcuffs. Turned out she was more worried about being involved in perhaps listing stolen property on Vernon’s website than the loss of a suitor. A new man in town had already shoved Vernon out of the picture.

  Felicia was on the way to the hospital. Michael might not be alive if not for Felicia. Maggie said Felicia talked Trent out of shooting him straight away. That and stepping between Trent and Miss Fonda should help her when she went to trial. The jury might even believe Geraldine Harper’s fall down the steps was an accident. But whether Felicia was directly responsible for Geraldine’s death or not, she had plenty of other charges hanging over her head. Accessory to murder. Theft. Breaking and entering. Extortion.

  Michael remembered the letter B.J. said had Audrey’s name on it. Could that be the proof Felicia had wanted to find?

  First things first. Maggie was waiting for her notebook. A smile broke out on the girl’s face as she hugged her notebook to her chest. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, but I’m afraid you’ll have to find another place to write this story down.” Michael smiled at her and waved up toward the tower room.

  She laughed. A good sound. Anthony must have thought so too the way he joined in. They moved away with Maggie’s parents. Anthony was still carrying the dog. Maybe that would help him get on the good side of Maggie’s parents. He’d already won over Maggie. Young love was fun to watch.

  Young love had been fun to experience. With Alex. But young love had turned into forever love for him. Had Alex followed him to tell him the same? Or merely to part with him on better terms?

  “You didn’t give Maggie the other book.” Alex pointed to the old diary.

  “It’s not hers. It’s Miss Fonda’s. Her diary from 1949.”

  “Wow. That might be interesting to read.”

  “I flipped through it. A lot of pages were blank.”

  “Everybody has slow days.” Alex looked up at him. The red lights reflected off her face. “Or days when all the wrong things happen and you don’t want to remember them.”

  “But writing it down the way it happened keeps the memory straight.” Michael fingered the edge of the letter sticking out of the book and looked across the yard at Bradley Carlson. Lana Waverly had joined the crowd and was watching the man too.

  Would the words on the letter incriminate Carlson in Audrey’s death all those years ago? One way to find out. He pulled the letter out of the diary and unfolded it. The paper was old and stiff.

  “What’s that?” Alex asked.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe something that will clear up a mystery from years ago. Audrey Chandler Carlson’s death.”

  Alex frowned. “Do you think her death is connected to the other deaths here this week?”

  “Perhaps in a roundabout way. Felicia was looking for some sort of proof of what happened to Audrey when Geraldine must have discovered her in the house. Maggie says Geraldine threatened to call the sheriff. She heard them running down the hall, and then Geraldine fell.”

  “Maggie didn’t see it?” Alex’s attorney brain was kicking in.

  “No. She only heard what was happening from her hiding place in the tower room up there.” Michael pointed toward the room.

  “So what about Audrey? Was somebody accused of pushing her down the steps?”

  “Miss Fonda claimed the fault lay with Audrey’s husband, Bradley Carlson.”

  “Right. You and Uncle Reece talked about him at the hospital. The congressman from Indiana.”

  “Oddly enough, that’s him over there talking to the fire chief, perhaps protecting the interest of his son who might inherit the house someday. Felicia was trying to blackmail the congressman by implying she had proof of his wrongdoing, when all she really had were Miss Fonda’s accusations.”

  Alex pointed toward the letter in Michael’s hand. “You think that might be the proof Felicia hoped to find?”

  “It might.”

  “So are you going to read it or just hold it and wonder?” She stepped closer to him. “Next question. Are you going to let me peer over your shoulder while you read it?”

  “You don’t even know the people.”

  “But I love a mystery. Especially one with the cobwebs of age on it.”

  Michael didn’t see what it could hurt and he liked her standing so close to him. “Here.” He handed her the letter. “I’ll hold the flashlight and you read it aloud.”

  She was tantalizingly close, but he restrained his impulse to take her into his arms. Instead he directed his flashlight beam over her shoulder onto the letter. “Can you see a name to tell who wrote it?”

  “It’s signed Fonda Chandler Elwood and dated December 1, 1980.”

  They had stepped into the shadows next to the house away from the noise of the crowd. Alex cleared her throat and began to read.

  Dearest Audrey. I am so very sorry. My heart hurts every time I think of you. While we never saw things alike, you were my sister. We shared Chandler blood. That’s why I could never understand you not loving this house. I blame Bradley for that. His ambitions poisoned your mind against our heritage. And in so doing, destroyed you.

  He caused it all. Without his demands to strip the house of everything of value, we would have had no reason to argue. I only wanted to protect our family treasures for young Brad. You, his mother, should have wanted him to receive his rightful inheritance. That was what I was trying to get you to see that day. But you refused to hear me. I grabbed you to make you listen, but you jerked away and lost your balance. You screamed and Bradley ran down the hall toward us. I was reaching to save you when he shoved me aside. He stood and watched you fall. I would have caught you. If not for him.

  Too late he went after you. Too late. You lay broken at the foot of the stairs. I stood broken at the top of the stairs.

  He is the reason you fell and he should pay. But now he’s gone. Taken young Brad and sneaked away in the night. Left the house keys in an envelope taped to my door. Nobody will listen. They say I am distraught and not thinking clearly. Even Gilbert, pitiful man that he is, says the same.

  Alex looked up from the letter. “Who’s Gilbert?”

  “Miss Fonda’s husband.”

  “Oh.” Alex shook her head. “This is all so very sad.”

  Michael peered at the letter. “Is that all?”

  “One more line.” Alex stared down at the letter again. Tears sounded in her voice as she read. “All I have left now is this house—a shrine to what has been lost forever.”

  Alex folded the letter and handed it to Michael. “She ended up with nothing but things.”

  She sounded so sad that he did put his arms around her then to pull her close. She rested her head against his shoulder a moment before asking, “What are you going to do with the letter?”

  “I don’t know. I could gi
ve it to Miss Fonda.”

  “If she has dementia like you say, that would do little except bring her pain.”

  Michael remembered Miss Fonda’s keening cry when she found Geraldine’s body. Alex was right. It would be cruel to push her toward that pain again. “Maybe I should take it back and put it in its hiding place in the tower room.”

  “Or give it to Bradley Carlson. So he’ll know Felicia had nothing that showed any real wrongdoing on his part. Only in Fonda’s mind.”

  That made sense. If Carlson wanted to share it with Lana Waverly, it might even lay her suspicions to rest too. The man had tragically lost two wives, but Carlson had told the truth about Audrey. Michael had no reason to doubt he told the truth about his second wife too.

  He reluctantly let Alex pull away from him and left her there in the shadows to walk across the yard to Carlson. When he looked back, she was gone.

  39

  As much as he wanted to, Michael didn’t go after Alex. It was her move. He had to wait for her to take it.

  He stayed at the Chandler house after everyone else left. It was a relief to have the emergency lights gone and let the night fall down around him. Since the firemen were wet, tired, and hungry, he took the first watch at the house in case a pocket of fire sprang up. Michael was tired too, but he felt responsible for the house. He should have prevented the fire from being set.

  He could almost see Betty Jean shaking her head at him. She was always telling him he couldn’t be responsible for everybody in Keane County. Or keep them all safe and happy. Maybe not, but he could manage a few hours until the fire chief sent someone else out to check on the house.

  Anthony was headed to Michael’s house to feed Jasper. He reported that Maggie was fine, and from the tone of his voice, Michael could tell Anthony thought she was extra fine.