Murder at Peacock Mansion

by Judy Alter

  He looked away. “No, it’s not final. I just think of her as my ex.”

  “Might she want to get her hands on something…I don’t know, some papers or something…so she could get a better settlement?”

  “I’ve offered a damn good settlement, but she won’t sign. Her lawyer’s holding out for more, and I’m not going to be bullied.”

  “Maybe you just were.”

  “No. I don’t think that’s her style, but I wouldn’t put much past that lawyer of hers. Sleazebag. No, I think this has to do with a client.”

  “What client?”

  “I don’t want to point fingers until I’m sure.”

  Once, when I worked for him, I would have known all David’s clients and been able to make an educated guess. Now I was at a loss, so I changed the subject. “How did you get out of there?”

  David stared out the window a long time. “I’m not sure,” he said hesitantly. “I came to smelling smoke…and, more strongly, kerosene. My brain clicked enough to know I was in deep shit. But my body wouldn’t respond. I hurt everywhere, and every time I tried to stand my ankle told me that wouldn’t work. Besides, my head was light.” He paused. “I guess some deep instinct took over, because I crawled out of that damn place. Burned my pants and house shoes and my feet a bit, hands too.” He held up the gauze-wrapped hands. “Some kind of salve.”

  I hadn’t noticed the burns at all yesterday when I found him. I guess I focused on a breathing, living individual and his head.

  “I rolled off what was left of the porch…and then I was afraid they’d left more kerosene that would explode, so I crawled toward the car. It was the only thing I could think to do. It was hard to pull myself up into it, but I did. And then I guess I passed out. Until you and Huggles woke me.”

  Horrified, I simply sat and listened. There was nothing to say. “I’m glad you’re okay” was inane, because he wasn’t okay. Finally, I said, “Bless Huggles. I’m not sure I would have looked in the car. He was so upset that afternoon, refused to let me go without him. Now I know why.”

  David grinned a bit. “He’s our dog. We rescued him together, and he remembers.” Then he sobered. “I need you to do something, like right now while it’s broad daylight.”

  “Okay?” I was puzzled.

  “There’s a fireproof safe under the bathroom sink. Did you see it?”

  “No, but I didn’t inspect that closely. Chester did, though, and didn’t mention it.”

  “Good. Maybe the sink didn’t burn away and expose it. I’ve been trying this morning to remember the combination but my head is still fuzzy. I think it’s 4-48-28. If you could find my wallet, it’s on a slip of paper in there. Wallet should have been in my pocket. Maybe it’s in the car? Can you go look? I need the papers out of that safe…or I need you to take them home.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah. Maybe you should go get Huggles first.”

  My instinct to rebel was soon quelled. Huggles would once again be a good companion, even if it meant a much longer trip. “Okay.” I leaned over, kissed him on the forehead, and felt him pull me down for a real kiss. I would have gone to the ends of the earth for this man.

  Chapter Five

  By the time I collected a wiggly, excited dog and made it to David’s cabin, it was near noon, and I realized I was hungry. I had called Chester to make sure he didn’t have the wallet, but I didn’t give him any idea of what I planned. He’d have forbidden me. The cabin was, after all, a crime scene.

  Even the yellow crime-scene tape across the driveway didn’t stop me. I parked on the side of the road, and Huggles and I made our way around the tape and walked down the driveway. My chances of opening the safe were better than of finding the wallet, at least so I figured, so I gingerly stepped on one burned step and then another. Huggles bounded ahead of me, and I tried to figure out how to tell him to tread gently.

  Around us the woods were eerily quiet, and suddenly my heart began to race. Here I was, out in the middle of nowhere, no neighbors close by, nobody knew where I was except maybe David. Who would ask him if I disappeared?

  Gingerly, I made my way through the ruined house, checking every board before I put weight on it, trying to ignore the wet, burnt smell, urging Huggles to stay close to me. Luckily, the bathroom sink was in place, although a door hung open, exposing the safe. I knelt, with Huggles breathing on my neck, and tried the combination David had given me.

  No sound of clicks, no reassuring final click, and no, the safe didn’t open. Why did I think it would be that easy? Maybe my fingers were nervous. I’d try again. I cleared the dial and tried again, very carefully and slowly. No luck.

  “We’ll have to find his wallet,” I said to Huggles.

  We made our way off the porch and trudged to the car. A thorough search, pulling back seats, scouring the floor, looking everywhere I could think of—no wallet. Frustrated, I turned back to the house with no idea where to look. I scoured the ground on either side as I walked and then climbed carefully back onto the porch. Part of the porch floor had given way, so if the wallet was buried in the mud and slime under that gaping hole, it was beyond recovery.

  I turned to the house. The stone fireplace was intact, though covered with soot, and the couch where David always worked had been in front of it; now it was a pile of ashes and melted iron. Huggles nosed around it whining, until I told him it was no use.

  And then he came to me bearing the wallet in his teeth. It was virtually unscathed. Fire, I decided, was as capricious as a tornado. I’d never know how the wallet escaped the devastation nor how Huggles found it. But, praising him, I accepted it from his mouth; he gave it proudly as a prized possession.

  My fingers nervous again, I pulled out the papers from the wallet. How can one man keep so much stuff in his wallet? I was careful not to drop any papers—who knew what was important and what wasn’t? But I was down to the last few items when I came across a plain small strip of paper with the numbers: 4-38-28. David had only been one digit off.

  Deep breaths to calm myself, and then I tried the safe again. This time I heard those small clicks, and then the final click. A turn of the handle, and the safe opened. I feared it would contain boxes of papers that would take me trips to the car to load, but it was only one armful. Gratefully, I scooped them up and said, “Come on, Huggles. Let’s get out of here.” The eerie feeling clung to me, and I couldn’t be back at the café fast enough.

  We started gingerly down the steps when there was a loud crack and a whistling sound. My country roots hadn’t abandoned me—I knew the sound of a rifle shot, and I knew that a bullet had whizzed by not nearly far enough from my head for comfort. No hesitation. I pushed Huggles off the porch and jumped, landing on top of him with enough force that he protested. But I quickly began to reassure him in soft tones, petting him and urging him to stay still.

  Two more bullets churned up the dirt, but not close enough to scare me. Whoever was shooting wasn’t a good shot and may have been lucky with that first bullet. I heard two more shots but had no idea where they landed. After the fifth shot, the woods surrounding us became strangely quiet for a moment. Then I heard two men pushing through the brush. My guess was that they had waited to make sure I made no move, and now they were coming after me. My heart pounded in my ears, and I looked around desperately. No phone—it was in the car. No weapon. No shelter.

  The only thing I saw was the porch that remained sort of intact. I inched Huggles under it, into the mud and muck, still keeping my body over his and whispering gently to him. He must have understood our danger because he kept very quiet. We had just managed to inch under the porch and a ways back, when two men in camouflage, carrying rifles, emerged from the brush.

  “Where the hell is she?” one man demanded.

  “How do I know? But she’s here. Her car’s still here.”

  “Miss, you better come out now. We have to look for you, we’re gonna be that much more mad.”

  I held my breath. I’
d learned several things—they’d been spying, so they knew they had a girl trapped, but they didn’t know it was me. And they didn’t speak good grammar. I assumed they were the ones who beat David and tried to burn his house. The next words of the first speaker confirmed that.

  “It’d all be fine if that damn rain hadn’t come through last night and dampened our fire. I did a good job of setting it, pouring kerosene in just the right spots.” He was tall, stocky, with a dark beard on his face, fierce eyebrows, and an unpleasant look about him. I bet if I got close he’d smell bad too.

  The other man was younger, slighter, and lighter in complexion. He looked a whole lot less intimidating, but I wasn’t going to rush out and throw myself on his mercy. He didn’t look quite that pleasant.

  “Missy, you come on out now!” Urgency raised his voice to menacing levels. He was clearly losing it, and in a minute he did what no responsible gun owner would ever do. He threw the rifle down on the ground.

  It exploded, a shot careening off in the direction of the younger man. “Holy shit! You do that again, and I’m out of here. What kind of bullheaded trick is that?”

  I saw him rub his arm, where the bullet had apparently grazed him.

  The other man remained silent and then said, “We better start searchin’. Now that we shot at this woman, whoever she is, we don’t want her tellin’ no tales.”

  I buried my head in Huggles’ coat and he reached around to lickuHu my face. I prayed. I talked to Gram. I sent urgent telepathic messages to David, though I was pretty sure he wasn’t receiving. Overhead, I could hear the big man stomping on the porch, and I prayed it would hold and not send him crashing down to our hiding place. I had no idea how long Huggles and I stayed under that burned porch, but I saw the sun shift from one side of the sky to the other. The mud we lay in smelled bad, and in spite of the warm day, I shivered. I remembered how glad David had been for Huggles’ warmth, and now I too welcomed it and hugged the dog closer.

  Both men stomped their way through the underbrush and trees that hid David’s house from the road. They were gone a long time, and then I could hear them down by the lake, though there weren’t many hiding places down there. I wasn’t about to wallow in the mud in those grasses that lined the lakeshore. I told David he should put a beach in there, but he scoffed at me and said someday he’d build a pier and get a fishing boat.

  Eventually the men came back toward the cabin, arguing loudly with each other. Big One finally ordered, “You go off that way and see if you spot any sign. I’m gonna check what’s left of this house—not that she could be there. But a woman and a dog can’t just disappear into thin air.”

  I held my breath as he gingerly mounted what was left of the stairs, so close to me I could have reached out and grabbed his ankle. Actually, I considered it but decided it would get me in more trouble than I was already in.

  He seemed to be picking his way carefully through the shell of the house. I tried to gauge from his footsteps where he was—in the kitchen, then turning toward the bedroom, and then into the bath where he yelled, “Well, lookee here! John, where the dickens are you? Get up here now.”

  John, apparently ever obedient, came running from the brush, jumped on the porch at the far end from where Huggles and I hid, and promptly crashed his foot through the floor, letting out a yell of “God damn!”

  Big One, whose name I didn’t yet know, yelled, “What’s the matter now? Get in here.”

  “Can’t. My foot’s stuck in this hole in the porch floor, and I think I broke my ankle. You gotta help me.”

  If I hadn’t been so scared and the situation so serious, I swear I would have laughed. As it was, I tried to figure out what might happen next.

  Big One almost stomped to where John was—you’d think he’d have better sense, but apparently not. “How the hell did you do that?”

  “Running at your command,” John said, now with a touch of irony. “Help me outta here.”

  “I ought’a go off and leave you there,” the other one said. “Of all the fool things to do. Here, pull yourself up by my arm.”

  There was a great deal of huffing and puffing and grunting. “I gotta see a doctor. I think it’s broke. I don’t wanna be a cripple all my life.”

  “Hands up, boys!” A new voice took command. “I’ll see that you get a doctor and a nice long rest. Throw your rifles down off that way.” Big One must have tried to aim his rifle because a shot sounded and he yelped, “Ouch! You dang near shot me in the head.”

  “Next time my aim will be better. Throw the rifle off to the side and get down here, lie face down in the dirt.”

  A lot of grumbling from both, and moaning from John, whose ankle was apparently hurting. “Last time I ever listen to you,” he said. “‘Come on, piece of cake,’ you said.”

  Halstead raised his voice. “Miss Chambers? Come out, come out wherever you are. I could use your help right now.”

  I peeked out from under the porch and saw that he indeed had both suspects on the ground, face down, his foot planted squarely in the middle of Big One’s back. I released Huggles, who rushed to stand over the two prone men and growl menacingly.

  Big One suddenly turned the coward. “Get him away from me. I’m scared to death of dogs. He’s gonna bite me, sure as shootin’.”

  I had managed to crawl out from the porch, stretch out what stiffness I could, and ignore the mud and slime that clung to me. I was sure I smelled and looked as bad as the burnt-out house. I made my way awkwardly toward the three men. “Not unless I tell him to,” I said, knowing full well that Huggles had no such protective training but just might bite if he thought I was in danger.

  Halstead wasted no words. “You and the dog keep that one down”—he nodded his head toward John—“while I tie this loudmouth up. Tempted to gag him too.”

  Not knowing what else to do, I planted my foot on John’s back and pulled Huggles toward me. I reasoned John couldn’t get very far at any speed with a broken ankle. His ankle did appear to be turned at an odd angle. While I stood there, I studied both faces as well as I could, though they were both flat down on the dirt. If I ever had to identify them, I wanted to be able to.

  Once Halstead had the two men in the back of his car, handcuffed and seat-belted in behind a screen partition, with the doors securely locked, he came back to me. “I went to see Clinkscales in the hospital—Chester Grimes called me to report what happened.”

  “He did? Why?”

  Halstead put on a patient voice. “Cause he understands what you don’t. It’s my jurisdiction. Anyway, Clinkscales told me he’d sent you out here and you hadn’t been in touch—said it had been too long.”

  Too long? It seemed to me everything had happened in fast forward, and yet my morning visit with David seemed far distant. “I found what David wanted. Some files in a fireproof safe. Wait? I’ve got to get them.” I sprinted—as fast as my cramped legs would let me—back to our hiding spot, crawled in, and got the files.

  Halstead held out his hand. “Give them to me. Evidence.”

  Stubbornly, I held on to them. “I promised to bring them to David.”

  He sighed impatiently. “As long as they don’t get into the wrong hands, he’ll be okay.”

  “Tell you what,” I said. “Let’s give them to him together, and then he can turn them over to you.”

  He drew himself up in authority. “I have prisoners to check in, and I am ordering you to give me those papers. I don’t want to get into a wrassling match to get them from you, but I will arrest you for obstructing justice. I remember you weren’t too helpful last time I ran into you.”

  Last time he ran into me was when a journalist was found dead in her car in an old barn on my sister’s B&B property. I didn’t even want to think about it. I thrust the papers at him, wishing I could somehow inventory them. “I’m going straight to David’s hospital room to report this,” I said haughtily.

  “You do that. I’ll probably see you there later.” A touch of
his Stetson and he whirled around and left me. I thought he could have at least watched to see that I got out safely, but no, he slammed his car door and gunned it.

  We tramped down David’s road to the Farm-to-Market road where I’d parked, my legs complaining the entire time. I got Huggles settled in the back seat, got in, and locked the doors. Then I called David at the hospital and told him the story, downplaying the danger and emphasizing that the sheriff now had the papers.

  “Damn!” his voice was much stronger than it had been. “Those papers needed to be confidential. At this point I don’t know who’s in league with who. Why did you give them to him?”

  If he was going to be angry, I was prepared to give it back to him in spades. “It was either that or be arrested for obstruction of justice. At which point he’d be in possession of the papers anyway. I didn’t really want to ride in the sheriff’s car with those two goons.”

  “What two goons?”

  I realized I hadn’t told him the full story at all, and I repeated it in sketchy terms, minimizing the fright I’d felt, the danger I thought we were in, the agony of hiding in cramped, wet smelly quarters under the porch. When I told him, he was contrite but still angry—great mixture of emotions. Sorry to have sent me into danger but furious at the two men. No, he had no idea who they were but from my description they sounded like real trouble.

  “Are they the ones who beat you?”

  His voice was weary. “I have no idea. I don’t know what the two you ran into look like, and the men who beat me wore ski masks. Halstead called just now and asked me the same thing today. Said they were brothers—John and Dan’l Smith. I’d say fake names, but who would make up the name Dan’l? Besides, Halstead said their IDs checked out. Neither one bright enough to think of this all by themselves.”

  “Which means someone else—someone smarter—is behind all this. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “And it definitely has to do with a client?”