The Tycoon Murderer

by Maureen Driscoll

  “I apologize for the uneven ground in my garden,” said Remington. “I’ll have to speak to the landscapers about it.”

  “I should say so,” said Farnsworth. “She could have been seriously injured. Another man might sue you.” From the look on his face, it appeared he’d just given himself a great idea. “I can’t believe that bastard got away with everyone’s money.”

  Remington and Agent Barker had gone out shortly after delivering Lydia home, only to find each packet of money had been picked up.

  “All of it?” asked Josie.

  “All except Dora’s on the roof,” said Remington.

  “I feel so embarrassed,” said Dora between sips of tea. “My sum was so paltry even the blackmailer didn’t want it.”

  Remington smiled at her. “I’m just sorry you and my other guests are going through this. We left your envelope upstairs to see if we can discover who picks it up. I’m not overly optimistic since he has evaded capture so far, but it was worth a try.”

  “Where’s somebody going to hide all that money?” asked Kurt.

  “That’s a very good question,” said Remington.

  “Maybe he has an accomplice in town,” said Tanner. “He could have handed it off by now.”

  “If this guy is smart, he’ll be in Mexico by now,” said Mikey. “Because if I get my hands on him, his life won’t be worth a plug nickel.”

  “But just in case he hasn’t gone, I’d like to search everyone’s rooms this morning,” said Barker.

  “Surely you don’t suspect one of us,” said Lydia.

  Barker shrugged. “Somebody knew the guest list well enough to come up with this blackmail scheme. It makes more sense that it was someone in this house, rather than outside of it.”

  “Search the staff rooms,” said Farnsworth. “Any one of them could have done it. Or Josie Matthews’s room. She’s no more Remington’s cousin than I am.”

  “I have no problem with anyone searching my room,” said Josie. “But if you are going to search it, I hope this means you’ll be searching everyone’s room, Agent Barker.”

  “That’s exactly what I plan to do,” said Barker. “If that blackmail money is here I’m going to find it.”

  “Just how much money did the blackmailer get away with?” asked Lawrence.

  “I don’t know for sure, since not everyone was very forthcoming.” Here, Barker glared at Senator Farnsworth. “But my guess is at least $10,000.”

  “Golly,” said Lucy. “That’s a lot of dough.”

  “It is,” said Mikey. “You have to wonder what he’s going to do with it.”

  “Spend it, I imagine,” said Dora.

  Mikey took a sip of his spiked lemonade. “But with that kinda dough, this guy probably has a very specific purpose in mind.”

  “Maybe he’d like to expand his bootlegging business,” said Farnsworth pointedly. “Or finance a movie,” he said, glancing at Tanner and Kurt.

  “Or finance another grave-robbing expedition,” countered Mikey.

  “I do not rob graves,” said the Senator. “I am an explorer and my discoveries go to museums so everyone can enjoy them.”

  “From what I’ve heard,” said Lawrence. “Some of your artifacts have a way of getting lost on the way to the museums, usually the more valuable ones.”

  Farnsworth shrugged. “It’s not my fault if their couriers are incompetent. Speaking of which, I want to keep an eye on Barker as he conducts his room-to-room search.”

  “What’s the matter? Worried about what I might find in yours?” asked Barker.

  “More worried about what you might plant.”

  Remington cleared his throat. “I’ll accompany Grant. Is that all right with everyone else?”

  When no one objected, he and Agent Barker left the room.

  Josie used the opportunity to talk to Kurt Franklin, who’d just finished his meal and was about to leave with Tanner.

  “Mr. Franklin,” she said. “Might I have a word with you outside?”

  “Of course, Miss Matthews,” he said, as he followed her out to the porch, accompanied by Tanner.

  She looked at the press man, who was more than a bit curious about the meeting. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Mr. Franklin in private.”

  Tanner stared at her blankly, then smiled. “I see. Is it about a late night rendezvous? I still have those forms for you to sign.”

  “No, it isn’t. Now if you’ll please excuse us?”

  It didn’t look like Tanner wanted to leave, but after another awkward moment of silence, he finally departed.

  Josie didn’t how she was going to warn Kurt that he was probably going to be a murder victim, but she had to try. “How did you come to be at the party, Mr. Franklin? I understand you and Mr. Remington had never previously met.”

  “I came by train. I got on in Los Angeles, and it took me all the way here.”

  “I didn’t mean to ask how you physically arrived...”

  “It was on the train.”

  “Yes, I think I see that now. I was just wondering how you came to be at the party.”

  “By train,” he said, a bit slower, as if he doubted her comprehension skills.

  “Yes! Yes, you came by train. That is now well and truly established. But were you invited to the party?”

  He blushed and looked embarrassed. “Not really. Tanner said it’d be a good idea to come on account of Mr. Remington invests in pictures from time to time. I have a question for you. Do you like talkies?”

  Josie knew she had to be diplomatic since the switch to sound must be hard for this handsome guy with the terrible voice. “I like good storytelling at the movies.”

  “I agree! You can’t enjoy the acting if you have to listen to all that talk. I want to make a silent movie musical, but I can’t find anyone to finance it. You think it’s a good idea, don’t you?”

  “A silent movie musical?”

  Kurt nodded enthusiastically. “We have music and the actors sing, but instead of sound, you have words on the screen. That’s why I’m here. To get David Remington to make my picture.”

  “I think you should consider going home, instead.” She thought about the photos of his funeral she’d seen online.

  Kurt was crestfallen. “So you don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Of course not. “It isn’t that. It’s just that this has become a dangerous place to be, what with the death of Madame Racine, the shooting of Mr. Corrigan and the blackmail. Someone as famous as you might be the next victim.”

  “I never thought of that,” said Kurt. “You think I should leave?”

  “I do.”

  “But I don’t have my funding, yet.”

  “You could leave a note for Mr. Remington or call him once you’re back in Los Angeles. Better yet, perhaps Mr. Tanner could see to the matter while you return home.”

  “I don’t know,” said Kurt. “I’ve always heard the personal touch works better.”

  “Please say you’ll consider it.”

  “All right. If it makes you feel better.” Kurt remained silent for a moment and Josie hoped that meant he was giving her suggestion serious consideration. “Would you like to invest in my silent movie musical?”

  “No,” said Josie. “Now please go home.”

  * * *

  After a search of the house turned up no evidence of the money, the mood among the guests improved somewhat. There had been no more violence and, so far, no further demands for money.

  By mid-afternoon, everyone was gathered on the back lawn playing croquet. Kurt hit a ball which easily sailed through his wicket. “If Agent Barker doesn’t catch this guy, what’s to prevent him from asking for more money?” He smiled at Lucy as he walked by her.

  “That’s a very good question,” said Farnsworth as he lined up his shot. “Even if Barker catches him – and that’s a very big if – what’s to prevent this guy from running his trap in jail?”

  “But would you rather the man
kept bleeding you dry?” asked Lawrence, from where he and Dora watched the game in lawn chairs, sipping martinis. “Personally, I’d rather see the man behind bars than continuing his demands. Besides, he’s quite likely to reveal the secrets eventually, when people stop paying.”

  Mikey put his foot on his ball, which was right next to Kurt’s. “There are other ways of dealing with this guy than arresting him,” he said, as he slammed his mallet into his stationary ball, sending Kurt’s sailing.

  Lydia shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked at Mikey. “As much as I can sympathize with your position, Mikey, I’d rather see him locked up and talking, than you locked up for killing him. I think we should leave this in Grant’s – Agent Barker’s hands.”

  Her husband looked at her from across the lawn, where he was subtly inching his ball toward the wicket with his foot. “Are you joining us, Miss Matthews?” he asked. “Or are you going to stay in the shade lurking?”

  “What do you think should happen to the blackmailer, Miss Matthews?” asked Dora.

  Josie shrugged. “I don’t think killing him is the answer. We just have to identify him and let the justice system take care of him.”

  Lawrence took a sip of his drink. “You’re certainly an optimist, Miss Matthews. It’s been my experience that the justice system is rarely just. It’s barely even a system.”

  He was interrupted in that thought by the appearance of David Remington, who was striding across the lawn with purpose.

  “Miss Matthews, a word, please.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Josie followed Remington to the front lawn of the house, well out of earshot of the others. “Has there been a development?”

  “An interesting one. Grant just told me you said you’re a time traveler.”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you care to explain?”

  “Not really.”

  “Will you do it anyway?”

  Josie told him everything which had happened from buying the house until winding up in the ballroom at the party. “You must have suspected something when I knew about penicillin and tetanus shots.”

  “I didn’t suspect this. I thought maybe you were some sort of doctor.”

  “That does sound more dignified, doesn’t it? But, no. I’m from the future.”

  “You have to know just how difficult this is to believe.”

  “I realize that, but you saw me materialize before your very eyes. You’ve said yourself that I say odd things. Do I seem like someone from the 1920s? Look at me. I mean, really look at me. What do you see?”

  He looked at her for a long moment. An uncomfortably long moment. She could tell the logical part of him was in a battle with what he was seeing and feeling. Finally, he nodded. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “Is that a compliment?”

  “Yes. It doesn’t necessarily mean I believe you’re a time traveler. Let’s just say I’m open to the possibility that you are.”

  “We’re making progress.”

  He looked as if something had just occurred to him. “Why did you suspect me of shooting Mikey?”

  “Because in my timeline, you did. Or, at least people think you did.” She told him about the articles she’d read online. He took the news better than she would have, though he did seem surprised.

  “I have to wonder why you’d agree to be alone with me if you think I’m a murderer.”

  “I don’t think you’re the Tycoon Murderer anymore. Well, mostly. You could say I’m open to the possibility that you aren’t.” She grinned. It had been fun turning his words against him.

  Thankfully, he grinned, too. “What did the articles say about the blackmail?”

  “That’s the odd thing...”

  “Oh, there’s more than one odd thing in all of this.”

  “True. But this particular odd thing was that there was no mention of blackmail in the articles, just as there was no mention of Madame Racine. In some ways, this is an even bigger mystery now than it was, especially if you’re not the killer. That means the real murderer got away with it in my timeline and might now, as well.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Neither, do I.” There was a nice moment between them. They were a team, working together on a common goal.

  “That’s why you need to stay here in safety while I try to figure out what’s going on.”

  Apparently, that nice moment had been all in her head. “I’m not staying here in safety – and in case you haven’t noticed, your house isn’t all that safe. In my day, women don’t sit around helplessly while the men do all the dangerous work.”

  “But we’re not in your day. And regardless of the time period, I could never let a woman go into harm’s way.”

  “And I can’t sit back and do nothing. Besides, I’m uniquely qualified to help you. I write mysteries back in my own time.”

  “Books?”

  “Movies.”

  “I’ve been to the movies. They’re not too realistic.”

  “Trust me when I say movies get better and more realistic. Plus, I read a lot on the internet.”

  “Inter-what?”

  “It’s like an encyclopedia in a radio with pictures.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. How does it work?”

  This was going to be hard to explain. “You type in questions and it gives you information.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “You can learn just about anything you need to know. It’s how I know so much about this party.”

  “That doesn’t...”

  “Stop saying ‘that doesn’t make sense.’ Trust me, there are a ton of things I could tell you which don’t make sense. Just believe me when I say that I’m good at solving mysteries. And we might as well start with how I’m going to get home.” That question had been weighing on her mind more and more. “I need to find someone who’s an expert on geology, specifically the Cascade Mountain Range.”

  Remington thought about it for a moment. “There’s a university professor who lives fairly close to here. I heard him speak a couple weeks ago. But why this interest in geology? What does that have to do with your getting home?”

  “I believe the earthquakes have opened up some sort of time portal.”

  He looked dubious. “This sounds a little far-fetched.”

  “We’re talking about time-travel. I doubt anything which isn’t far-fetched would work. Will you take me to see this guy?”

  She could see him weighing the question carefully. “I’ll do it if you promise not to look into these murders on your own.”

  Josie thought about it, then figured out a way to agree to that condition in only the strictest sense. “Agreed.”

  He raised a brow. “I’m not sure I entirely trust that promise.”

  “I promise that I won’t investigate on my own. But nothing says we can’t do it together.”

  Now she had two goals. She wanted to solve the mystery of the Tycoon Murderer with the Tycoon Murderer and she needed to figure out a way to get home.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It had taken Josie and David almost an hour to reach Professor Harris Crowfeather’s house over an unpaved two-lane country road in Remington’s Duesenberg.

  “This is a really nice car,” said Josie, as she ran her hands over the soft leather, while praying the lack of seatbelts wasn’t going to send her to her death.

  “You’ve never ridden in a Duesenberg before?” asked David, who was driving faster than he should over the rutted road in a car without seatbelts.

  “They don’t have them in my time.”

  “Why? Do all the cars fly or something? I’d think Duesenberg would make a better flying car than anyone.”

  “Cars don’t fly in my day.”

  “All cars fly in the future. It’s a known fact,” he said with a half-smile.

  “Well, they don’t in 2018.”

  “What happened to science?”


  “Science got used for more important matters, like vaccines and telecommunications.”

  “Like the radio you type into?”

  “Something like that.”

  He slowed down to check his map, then turned left onto a rutted road. “Have you ever been to Mars?”

  “No one has been to Mars.”

  “What? Surely you’ve got colonies on the moon and Mars by now.”

  Josie sighed. Explaining the future wasn’t fun. “The U.S. has been to the moon, but no one lives there. We’ve sent unmanned probes to Mars, but a person has never gone.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so anxious to get back to the future when it sounds really boring.”

  Josie looked out the window as they drove past the thousandth pine tree. “How much longer until we arrive?”

  “We should be just about there.”

  A few moments later, a beautiful Craftsman home came into view, with a cedar-shingled roof and a wide porch. Josie had never seen it in her day and wondered if it was still standing. It was hard to recognize modern-day McConnell in this area since it was mostly forest. She just knew she’d never take her town for granted if she ever managed to get back there.

  They walked up to the house where the door was opened by a Native American man in his mid-thirties. A short while later, Professor Crowfeather had served them coffee.

  “We were wondering about unusual activity in the Cascade Mountain Range,” said Josie as she sipped her coffee.

  “What do you mean by unusual?”

  “We’ve been having a lot of earthquakes. I know the Cascades are dormant volcanoes, but these earthquakes are related to them, aren’t they?”

  Professor Crowfeather nodded. “They are dormant volcanoes, but not a lot of people know the earthquakes are related to them.”

  “I read a lot,” said Josie, by feeble means of explaining her knowledge.

  Dr. Crowfeather smiled. “I wonder where you get your reading material. But I applaud your scholarship. The Cascade Mountain Range has quite a bit of volcanic activity, despite its dormant status. Personally, I believe it’s entirely possible one of these mountains could even erupt in the next fifty or sixty years.”