A Despicable Mission (Olympia Brown Mysteries)

by Judith Campbell

  ~

  In the church office Frederick’s voice was being recorded on the answering machine as Mike Herlihy, the church sexton and husband of the office administrator, was finishing up with his weekly maintenance chores. He thought it strange that the Reverend’s car was outside with a note under the wiper saying she had a pastoral emergency and stranger still when he opened the drawer to put away some leftover bulletins and found her cell phone. None of it made sense. But she was new to the island, wasn’t she? Island ways took years to learn, and Mike knew all too well that some people never did.

  ~

  Using one of his several keys William Bateson opened the massive front door of the multilevel house and allowed Olympia and Mary Beth to pass in front of him. Had she been less terrified, Olympia might have enjoyed the breathtaking view, the massive fieldstone fireplace and the sand-colored wicker furniture arranged around a hand-woven Navaho rug on the wall over the fireplace. Everything in the room said money and reflected the colors of the view outside the window, but despite the warmth and the carelessly opulent beauty of the place, Olympia’s teeth were chattering. She had been clenching her jaw to make it stop, but her face was beginning to ache.

  “Sit over there.”

  Bateson pointed to a chair next to the fireplace. “I’ll open some windows. It’s stuffy in here because it’s been closed. You never need air conditioning, though. There’s always a breeze up here.”

  Olympia didn’t give a damn about the view or the breeze or anything else that Bateson was prattling on about. Because of the gravity of the situation, her mind was clicking through all of the possible avenues of escape or rescue, and thus far, she had nothing on the list.

  “So, Ms. Olympia, we are here because yesterday afternoon, during our meeting at Julia’s place, you totally screwed up everything. We were almost there, and you scotched it. We have less than twenty-four hours to reverse that and get the whole thing signed over to us. If we can do that, then we are out of here on the next ferry, and you come out of hiding. If we can’t, we go back after the daughter leaves, scare the bejeezus out of the old dear and get the house anyway. You, madam preacher-lady, are in charge of damage control, your own and little Eudora’s.”

  Olympia clasped her hands in front of her and was twisting the ring that she had only recently agreed to wear. “Let me get this straight. It seems that a lot depends on what I do and say. Why the rush all of a sudden? The other day you said she could take her time.”

  “It would appear that you’ve poked your insistent little nose into another situation, and unfortunately, you have managed to raise a few eyebrows in our direction. We need to get out of here, but I’m not going without the West Property.”

  “Mary Parker.”

  “Precisely. It’s possible you might have made a better detective than a minister, but I fear it’s too late for that now. Would anyone like a glass of water?” said Bateson, walking towards an enormous, open kitchen-dining area.

  “I would,” said Mary Beth.”

  “Me, too,” said Olympia. She was pleased to discover her voice was not shaking.

  “Keep talking, I can hear you from here.”

  “To be honest,” said Olympia, “I didn’t think anything was going on until right now. I’ll admit to having some suspicious moments over the last two weeks, but I really thought that much of the confusion was due to Dory’s age and failing memory. At the very worst I thought you were just being a pushy salesman.”

  She hesitated, dropped both her eyes and lowered her voice. “I can be pretty oblivious sometimes. Maybe it’s because I always want to think the best of people. That, and I guess I’m an instinctive mediator. I want to make sure everybody sees all sides of an issue. Up until now I was convinced that Dory was feeling pressured to sell. Jessica is concerned for the welfare of her mother, and she understands the need for her to move to a smaller place, but in the end we all know that Dory has the final word. ”

  William returned to the living room, balancing three glasses of water. “Well, now you know what’s really going on and why we have to keep you out of the picture, at the very least until we close the deal.”

  Olympia felt the knot of fear in her stomach tighten. “And then what?”

  “I repeat, that depends. You tell us everything you told Dory and her daughter and that super-efficient matriarch of all seasons, Julia Scott-Norton. Then you write a note to Dory and her daughter, saying you’ve been called away, but you’ve thought it over, and as her minister you are convinced that it would be best to let me dispose of the house for her, take the insurance money, and trust me and Julia to find a workable living situation for her.”

  “Why bring Julia into this?”

  “We aren’t really bringing her into it, we’re just using her name to add credibility to your letter.”

  Olympia knew she didn’t have much time. If she didn’t cooperate, considering what she now knew about this operation, the picture was not good. If she told them what she knew and wrote the letter, he and Mary Beth would carry out their despicable mission. Dory would be the homeless victim of their deception. But once they set me free, I can tell the whole story to the police and see them brought to justice. At the very least, Dory won’t be physically hurt, and I get a second chance at life. On the other hand, if I don’t cooperate, Dory could lose more than her house.

  Olympia took a sip of water and began to speak. When she was done, Bateson thanked her and explained that she would have to stay there under the watchful eye of Mary Beth until the papers were signed.

  “But I left my car at the church. If it stays there for too long, somebody is going to get curious.”

  “I’ve already thought of that. After you sign the letter, I’m going back down island and pay a call on Mrs. West and her daughter. When I do, we’ll move your car to a less conspicuous spot. Give me the keys.”

  “But my house keys are on the same chain.”

  “You won’t need them.”

  I don’t like the sound of that.

  Bateson took the keys, tossed them in the air, caught them and slipped them into his pocket. Then he took a pen and a piece of church letterhead paper out of his briefcase and set it on the coffee table in front of Olympia. It read:

  “Dear Dory,

  Having had time to think about what was said yesterday and considering the many difficulties you will have to deal with when your daughter goes back to California and you are alone, I’ve come to the conclusion that the best advice I can give you is to follow William Bateson’s advice and let his company put your real property and financial assets into an irrevocable limited trust to be managed by his associate, Mary Beth Lessing, Esq. I have spoken at length with Mr. Bateson, and Julia Scott-Norton, and we are convinced that this is the best option for you and Jessica. Quite frankly, the sooner it is all signed, notarized and filed with the court, the better. The money will be protected and available to you whenever you wish. If you have any questions, I can go over anything you don’t understand when I return.

  I wish I could be there to say this in person, but I’ve been called away on a pastoral emergency, and this is the best I can do for now.

  Respectfully yours,

  Bateson pointed to the pen on the table. “Sign it.”

  Olympia shook her head. “I can’t sign this. If I do, she’ll be homeless and penniless.”

  “You don’t have a choice. Either you sign it, or I’ll forge it and get it notarized anyway. She‘s seen your handwriting, but the oldies never really look. Remember, we don’t want to have to ... convince her.”

  Defeated, Olympia signed the letter, sighed and held out the pen to Bateson.

  “I feel like Judas Iscariot. I’m betraying someone I love.”

  “Cut the preacher crap. Look at it this way: you might just be saving her life.”

  With that he took the gun out of his pocket and handed it to Mary Beth.

  “I can’t imagine you’re going to have to use this, but
just in case. Remember, there’s no land line and no cell phone reception up here. Once I leave, we’re incommunicado, but I should be back in less than twenty-four hours.”

  “Then what?” Olympia was past fear now. She was helpless and furious. Damn!

  “Then, my dear, we’re going to move you to a less conspicuous spot. The only reason I’m not silencing you right now is because I may need your sweet clerical tactics to persuade dear little Dory if I can’t get her away from Julia. I might need one last bargaining chip, so I’m holding onto it.”

  “You bastard,” snarled Olympia.

  “I’ve been called worse, but never by a minister. I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

  And then he was gone.

  Twenty-Eight

  When Olympia heard the sound of the car starting behind the house, the awful reality of her situation finally sank in. This was not a bad movie, this was the real thing. There was a woman with a gun sitting across from her in an isolated mansion with a view to die for—and that’s precisely what she didn’t intend to do. Add to that, that dirt bag Bateson was driving off with a letter she had signed that would, if she agreed to the terms offered, leave Dory West penniless, homeless and powerless to do anything about it. Olympia was seething and becoming more agitated by the nanosecond. Wiggling her foot wasn’t enough to dispel the electric tension building within her, so in desperation she got out of her chair and began pacing back and forth.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Mary Beth had set the gun on the table beside her, but when Olympia stood up, she reached for it.

  “Do you think I’m completely stupid? Use your head. I’m nervous, and I’m scared, and I can’t sit still. Do you have a problem with me moving around? You’ve got the gun, and I’m about to explode. In fact, I’m not much of a drinker, but I could use one right now. Mind if I look around and see if I can scrounge up something? I’m sure there’s a stash somewhere in a place like this.”

  Mary Beth picked up the gun and got out of the chair. “OK, but I’m going with you.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Followed by her captor, Olympia went into the kitchen and started opening cabinet doors. Finally, in a pantry off the kitchen that was itself as big as a small sitting room, she found what she was looking for. She selected a crystal tumbler from the assortment overhead and then picked up a half-full bottle of an exceptionally fine single-malt Scotch.

  “Ordinarily I drink wine, but considering the state of my nerves, I’m going to have something considerably more powerful. You want one as long as I’m pouring?”

  “You surely don’t think I’m going to fall for that one, do you? Get me drunk so you can escape?” Mary Beth waved her gun in Olympia’s direction as if to make her point.

  Olympia winced and ducked. “Do I look like I’m trying to escape? And will you for God’s sake point that thing at the floor. Guns go off, you know.”

  “I’m quite aware of that, Reverend. That’s why I have it.”

  Olympia poured herself a healthy double, swirled it around in the glass, sniffed at the burnt oaky aroma and then went back to the living room and stood by the fireplace.

  “Aren’t you going to cut that with something? That stuff’s lethal.”

  Olympia held up her glass and looked at the amber-gold liquid. “Nope. As I said earlier, I have absolutely no prospects at the moment. You hold all the cards along with that thing on the table beside you, and I have a glass of really nice Scotch. Might as well have something I can enjoy. If I get slightly smashed, who’s going to criticize me—or even care?”

  “I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

  Olympia tipped the glass to her lips, blinked a couple of times and blew out a long breath and once again began walking slowly back and forth in front of the picture window.

  “You’re right, it is lethal, but it’s really good. I can’t afford anything like this, so I might as well enjoy it while I can.”

  Now it was Mary Beth’s turn to say, “Suit yourself.”

  Olympia continued pacing and sipping.

  “Tell me something. Mary Parker, you did this same thing to her?”

  Mary Beth leaned back in her chair and nodded. “More or less. Every case is different, but basically yes. I make the initial contacts when I offer to give a free talk at one of the local senior centers. I tell them I represent CCIEA, Cape Cod and Islands Elder Advocates, a nonprofit organization dedicated to helping seniors living on their own manage their finances. A business card and a good-looking letterhead is all I need. Nobody ever checks. People are basically trusting and lazy. There’s always someone who comes up after one of my presentations asking for help. Mary Parker was one of them, and Eudora West was another.”

  “You mean there are more.”

  “We’re in the business, Reverend. I’m sure that’s hard for you to comprehend, but everybody has to make a living.”

  Olympia was having trouble taking it all in. She shook her head in disbelief. “You murdered her!”

  “That really was an accident. We didn’t intend for her to die. Our strategy is to gain their confidence, then arrange little incidents or accidents—or in Mrs. West’s case, major inconveniences—that eventually make them realize they can’t manage on their own. That’s when they turn to someone they know and ask for help, and that’s when we move in.”

  “For the kill,” said Olympia.

  “It’s all a matter of perspective,” said Mary Beth.

  Glass in hand, Olympia was slowly pacing her way closer and closer to where Mary Beth was sitting. “And somebody’s mother or grandmother is out on the street without a dime.”

  “Oh, aren’t you the sanctimonious one. Don’t paint it darker than it is. When I give my little talks, somebody in the audience almost always steps up, and they do because they’ve got money to manage and think they need help. But we made a mistake on this one. We didn’t know that Mary Parker was a member of your church. That’s why the push to get little Dory signed off and get out of here. We can’t afford to have people putting two and two together.

  “It’s too late. Someone already has.”

  Olympia punctuated Mary Beth’s instinctive look of surprise by flinging the expensive Scotch hard and fast into her wide-open eyes and making a desperate dive for the gun, but she wasn’t fast enough. In what appeared to be one motion, Mary Beth grabbed for the gun, screeched in pain and pulled the trigger.

  Twenty-Nine

  Jack Winters had never been on this particular road before, so he didn’t know how far back it went. He was making his way cautiously through the weeds and wildflowers that grew along the path when he heard a man’s voice behind him.

  “Stop where you are and turn around.”

  He couldn’t believe his ears. He was out in the middle of nowhere, and he was about to be mugged. He did as he was told and almost collapsed with relief when he turned and saw a young man, far too young to be wearing a police uniform, standing in front of him. Jack noted with some alarm that the young man’s left hand was hovering just above the handle of the gun resting on his hip. The name badge on his collar identified him as Jorge Tavares

  Jack stepped back and involuntarily raised both hands. “Oh, man, am I glad to see you.”

  “I don’t think I’m so glad to see you. Do you mind telling me what you are doing trespassing on what is a very private property? The owners asked us to keep an eye on the place when they’re not here. Looks like it’s a good thing they did. ”

  Jack waved both hands. “Look, I’ll explain as we go. Just come with me, will you? I think a friend of mine is in serious danger.”

  The young officer didn’t look convinced. “That’s what they all say. Look, buddy, why don’t you just turn around and walk back out of here with me, and we’ll both forget it. Consider yourself warned, OK? Usually it’s kids doing this kind of thing. Aren’t you a little old to be breaking into summer houses looking for booze?”

  “Oh, my God,
will you for fuck’s sake listen to me? I live here on the island. I have enough money to buy that goddamn house three times over. I’m not kidding. A friend of mine has just been taken in there. She’s a minister. I followed her up here because I got suspicious when I saw her get into the car with the guy who was driving. Something didn’t look right. It won’t take you five minutes to come with me and prove me wrong, but if you don’t check it out, something really bad could happen, and for all I know, maybe it already has. What do I have to do to get you to believe me?”

  By the drop of his shoulders and the relaxing of his left hand, it was clear that the young man was at least going give Jack Winters the benefit of the doubt. “You go ahead of me,” he said, then instinctively curled his left hand around the grip of his pistol.

  The two men hadn’t walked more than fifty feet when they both heard the sound of a car starting and approaching the very spot where they were standing. The young officer held his ground and motioned for the driver to stop.

  William Bateson did as he was told, smiled and rolled down the window. “Yes, officer, what can I do for you? Hey, Jack Winters, what are you doing up here. Little out of your league, isn’t it?”

  The policeman looked confused. “You two know each other?”

  “He goes to my church,” said Bateson, smiling even more broadly. “Sings off key, though. I must say I’m surprised to see him up here. Jack’s a harbor rat.”

  “He’s lying,” hissed Winters. “Tell him you want to check inside the house.”

  Officer Tavares hesitated, looking back and forth between the two men. Finally, he spoke. “Would you mind shutting off the engine and handing me your license and registration? This is a private property, and it appears you are trespassing.”