Shelley Freydont - Celebration Bay 03 - Independence Slay

by Shelley Freydont

  He turned to Henry. “There has been one obstruction after another. I acted in good faith and have been thwarted at every turn.”

  “My apologies. But you must understand that, without directives from me, Daniel Haynes had no other choice.”

  “A damned inconvenience.”

  “You didn’t have a chance to rob us on Monday, so you broke in tonight.”

  “Hildy, please,” Bill said.

  “I know. I’ll be quiet, but get on with it, Bill Gunnison. Some of us have work tomorrow.”

  Bill took a deep breath. “Did you break into this residence?” He paused to name the address again. “Tonight?”

  “No. The door was unlocked. I came in.”

  “At one o’clock in the middle of the night?”

  “Hildy, please.”

  Hildy glared at Bill, crossed her arms, and began to tap her foot.

  Liv was tempted to join her. This was taking forever.

  “And why did you do that?”

  “I just told you. I couldn’t get in during the day.”

  “Let me rephrase that,” Bill said politely. “Would you rather answer these questions down at the station?”

  “Okay, okay. Monday, during the inventory, I discovered quite by accident what I thought might be a priest hole. The wood sounded hollow.”

  And why were you sounding the wood if you were taking inventory? Liv wondered.

  “And how did you discover this hollow-sounding panel?” Bill asked.

  “I was merely ascertaining whether the wainscoting was covering plaster or some other substance.”

  Lame excuse, thought Liv.

  “And was that part of your inventory?”

  “It was part of my inspection, which included the inventory.”

  “So why didn’t you explore it at that time?”

  Grossman’s eye flitted from Bill to the carpet.

  Having a little trouble coming up with a reasonable excuse for breaking in? Liv yawned. After all the excitement, she was beginning to get a little punch-drunk. She really wished Bill would move this along.

  “I didn’t know at the time that I wouldn’t be allowed back in.”

  “So you decided to take matters into your own hands?”

  They were seeing a lot of that tonight. First Chaz, now Grossman. Liv stifled another yawn.

  It seemed to be catching. Bill yawned, then Henry. It was ludicrous.

  “Mr. Grossman. I suggest you move this along or I will finish questioning at the station.”

  “All right. I decided to come back here tonight and have a look. I have to return to Schenectady tomorrow—well, today, actually. And I didn’t want to leave without seeing what was behind that panel.”

  “Did you expect to find something?”

  Again he deliberated.

  “The treasure perhaps?” Henry asked.

  “Yes. It’s a hobby of mine. The Revolutionary War. I’d heard of the treasure and I was curious.”

  “Why not just ask?”

  “Who? Her?” He cast a caustic look toward Hildy. “And besides, with Mr. Gallantine here out of town, I thought I’d better get to it before it was too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  “Well, when I was down at the lake, Henry’s nephew told me he knew where Henry kept the treasure. Not a treasure in the usual sense but a document or documents, primary sources of that period. He knew where they were kept and offered to get them for me for an exorbitant sum.”

  Henry shook his head and rested his forehead in his hand. “Stupid young man. Gambling problem. He would hustle his own mother. Probably has. He’s certainly helped himself to many of the things in this house.”

  “What do you mean, ‘before it was too late’?”

  “Only that he had other people interested in them and he’d hate for them to fall into the wrong hands. I didn’t have any idea what he meant by that. And I wasn’t about to pay what he asked, so I decided to look for it myself.” He shrugged.

  “But your plans were thwarted?”

  “I had just gotten the box out and on the table when someone hit me from behind. And that’s all I remember until I woke up and Henry was standing over me.”

  “Did you knock him out?”

  “Not I.”

  “And I came in after Mr. G found him,” Hildy volunteered.

  “So some third party hit you?”

  “I suppose.”

  Slowly they all looked at Liv.

  “I didn’t even know about it until Hildy called me and asked me to come over.”

  “We’ll get to that later.”

  Bill’s threats were beginning to pile up. Liv guessed she’d be facing the music pretty soon. But, hopefully, after she’d had a few hours of sleep.

  “So an unknown assailant?”

  “I guess.”

  “And where are the papers now?”

  “I don’t know. Before I could open the box, I was knocked out. Whoever it was must have the papers. When I came back to consciousness, the box was empty.”

  “Was it empty?” Bill asked Henry.

  “Most certainly.”

  “And you’re sure you don’t have them?”

  Grossman spread out his arms. He was wearing a short-sleeve sport shirt.

  Across from Liv, Henry Gallantine looked so innocent, she knew he was holding out on them.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Henry, did you or Hildy take any papers or anything else from the box on the table?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “So whoever hit Mr. Grossman must have taken the papers or whatever else was in the box?”

  No one answered.

  Finally, Henry leaned forward. “Sheriff, as far as I know, the box was empty to begin with.”

  Grossman surged out of his chair. “You mean I got hit over the head and questioned by the sheriff over an empty box?”

  “I’m afraid so. If only you’d asked, I could have shown you.”

  “You weren’t here.”

  Henry shrugged. Liv could almost hear him say, C’est la vie.

  This was all getting too bizarre. Henry definitely knew something he wasn’t telling. But questioning so far had not elicited any real information from him.

  What was he hiding? Or was he just enjoying the game?

  Liv had totally lost patience with the two men. All she wanted was to go to bed. But what were the chances of getting out of here before Bill grilled her, then yelled at her for interfering?

  “Mr. Grossman, where were you last Friday evening between the hours of four o’clock and eight o’clock?”

  Grossman nearly levitated out of the wing chair. “Having a light dinner at the inn, and then I came to the reenactment.”

  “And if I ask at the inn, they will attest to that?”

  “Yes. I signed in to my room.”

  “And after that?”

  “Like I said. I went to the reenactment.”

  “And did anyone you know see you?”

  “Sheriff, at that time I didn’t know anyone else in town.”

  Bill stood. And so did Henry Gallantine.

  “I’ll ask everyone in this room not to leave town without informing me of your intentions. You, Mr. Grossman, can come with me.”

  Grossman’s face flooded with horror. “I thought you said I wouldn’t have to go to the station.”

  “I said you wouldn’t have to answer these questions. Breaking and entering is a serious crime. I am holding you until bail can be posted.”

  “Sheriff, is that really necessary?” Henry asked. “I really don’t think I should press charges. I reneged on our agreement, not the gentlemanly thing to do.”

  “Henry, you don’t seem to understand that, un
til proven differently, you are all persons of interest in the death of Jacob Rundle. This is not a game.”

  “I didn’t kill him,” Grossman said.

  “Well, Mr. G didn’t kill him.” Hildy glared at Bill. “And don’t you look at me that way, Bill Gunnison. I didn’t kill the man.”

  At that point, Bill seemed inclined to take them all out to the station, but Liv reminded him that would leave the house unguarded and the “unknown assailant” might return to look for whatever they were looking for in the first place.

  “Everybody stay put.” Bill walked away from the group and spoke into his phone, then came back to where the others waited. “I’m pulling a unit off their patrol and posting them outside. For your safety, Hildy. And to prevent anyone else from breaking into the house. They should be here in a few minutes.”

  “What about Mr. G?”

  “I’m taking Henry and Mr. Grossman back to the station with me to sign their statements. By the time they finish, maybe Henry will call his lawyer to post bail for Grossman here.”

  “And you, Ms. Montgomery, are going home to bed where you should be now. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “That means I’m free to leave?”

  “Don’t you start. Just get out of here.”

  There was a knock at the door. Bill beat Hildy to answer it. Two officers stepped inside.

  Bill gave them instructions and herded the two men and Liv into the foyer.

  “Hildy, are you sure you’ll be okay?” Liv said over her shoulder as Bill nudged her out the door.

  “I’m just fine. But you better not let anything happen to Mr. G, Bill Gunnison.”

  Liv walked beside Bill as he escorted Henry and Grossman to his cruiser. Grossman looking like he might bolt if given the chance. Henry took solemn, measured steps. His head hanging down like an already convicted man.

  Beside her, Bill gritted his teeth.

  It was all an act. Henry Gallantine was enjoying the attention.

  • • •

  Liv drove home almost too tired to think. A man dead, people disappearing, breaking and entering, looking for treasure. She just didn’t get it. Not at all. She yawned as she drove past the Clarion building. She didn’t mean to even glance that way, really didn’t mean to slow down, and really, really didn’t mean to stop in front of it when she saw the lights on.

  But she was no dummy. Okay, maybe a little bit of a dummy, but there were only three reasons she could think of for the lights being on at—she looked at the car clock—three thirty. Either he forgot to turn out the lights when he went to bed, he had company and they’d never gone to bed, or he was doing research.

  Not wanting to butt in if it were either of the first two, but curious to see if it was the third and if it had anything to do with the murder of Jacob Rundle, she sat with the engine running. Turned it off. Sat some more, and finally picked up her cell. It rang four times before he answered.

  “What?”

  “Is that how you always answer your phone?”

  “Only when it’s the middle of the night and it’s you.”

  “Thanks. In that case, I’ll just go home.”

  “Aren’t you home?”

  “No, I’m parked outside your house.”

  “Aw, am I being stalked?”

  “Not by me, anyway. What are you doing?”

  “Is this phone sex?”

  “Stop it. I’ve had a long night. And I just wanted to know if maybe on some whim you were doing research on the ghost business.”

  No answer.

  “Or if you are otherwise engaged?”

  “Have you been watching Doris Day movies again?”

  “Not Doris Day. I’ve been at Gallantine House.”

  “Hell.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “It’s a maybe. Why were you there and in the middle of the night?”

  “Henry is home. Grossman broke in and someone hit him on the head. Bill has taken them both to jail. And there’s still a killer loose.”

  “I’m opening the door.”

  Liv hung up and opened the car door. And, just because she was tired and paranoid, she locked the car behind her.

  Chaz was waiting at the door when she reached the porch. She couldn’t see his face in the early morning light, but he no longer smelled of beer.

  He closed the door behind her and led her back to the “office,” a pigsty of papers and used coffee cups.

  His laptop was open, and there was a Dick Tracy screen saver on his desktop.

  She turned around and saw his face.

  She grimaced. “Nasty.”

  “You should experience it from my side. So bring me up to speed.”

  “The speed at this point is molasses. Unless Bill is investigating a line that we don’t know about.”

  Chaz sat at the desk, rested his fingers on the keyboard, and raised both eyebrows—the only parts of his face that actually worked the way they should—at Liv.

  “The police have been searching for Henry’s car and his whereabouts. Henry showed up tonight, and his car, I imagine, is in his garage. The museum curator breaks into Henry’s house to steal a treasure chest—yes, it’s small but it looks just like a movie prop, probably is a movie prop—from behind a secret panel in the wainscoting. But an unknown assailant knocks him over the head but doesn’t steal the chest.

  “Only the chest is empty. And according to Henry, it was empty before the assailant broke in, after Grossman broke in. Only Henry refuses to press charges. So Bill took them both to the station.”

  Chaz had been typing, but he stopped and laughed. “It sounds like a zany, madcap comedy.”

  “Only a man is really dead.”

  “There is that. Are you sure Henry isn’t putting you on? He lives in an alternate universe, stuck somewhere between reality and all those movies he made. Sometimes he has trouble separating the two.”

  “Or he doesn’t want to,” Liv said. “He really seems to be enjoying this. You don’t think he would kill the gardener and make his escape in one of his delusional moments?”

  “He always was the good guy, the underdog. I don’t see him killing anybody, even someone like Rundle.”

  “Nobody liked him, did they?”

  “Rundle? What was there to like? He was a drunk, took delight in hurting the weak, and an ex-con. All rolled into one.”

  “Henry said he was such a good stock character that he kept him on just for entertainment.”

  “Sounds like Henry.”

  “So do we even have a motive in this mess?”

  “Would it be futile for me to say to leave it to the police?”

  “You aren’t.” She pressed a key on the desktop computer, and Dick Tracy vanished, revealing a primary-source search engine. The computer beside it was opened to a site that Liv thought neither of them had legal access to, and on the laptop were the beginnings of a list Chaz had started before she’d arrived.

  “That’s because I’ve fallen off the no-news wagon. I blame you.”

  “Sorry.” Liv pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. “If you’d rather not get involved…”

  “A little late now.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t want you getting in any more fights.”

  He stopped to look at her for a long moment. An intense, serious look she’d never seen from him, and which he ruined a second later. “Aw, I didn’t know you cared.”

  “Well, actually, I do, a tiny, teensy bit. And I don’t want you getting all upset about things.”

  “Hon, listen to me. My pig. My farm. Just don’t get covered in the—mud.”

  “I won’t as long as you don’t end up being the bacon.”

  He broke out in a real laugh. “That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
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  “Right. Show me what you got so far.”

  He sighed. “I’m guessing that request isn’t continuing with this fascinating foray into double entendres, but getting back to work?”

  “Work,” she said, aware that she might be blushing. Fortunately the light wasn’t all that great. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

  He reached across her and scrolled up the document on one of the desktops. “The story of the Gallantine trial and exoneration has been around Celebration Bay so long that it’s unrecognizable from the actual facts. As much actual fact as was even known in seventeen-something.”

  He glanced at her. “You do know there wasn’t really a Battle of the Bay?”

  Liv nodded. She was already reading the document. After a couple of paragraphs, she looked up. “So someone did warn the British of an attack very similar to our battle?”

  “Yes, only farther down the lake. And strangely enough, both Daniel Haynes’s and Henry Gallantine’s ancestors were both in that troop of patriots. Though the horse is a twenty-first century embellishment.”

  “And no signal from a roof?”

  “Nope. Someone tipped off the British to the placement of the American army. The Brits struck at night, two days before the planned attack, and decimated the encampment, taking camp followers with them, including some wives and children.”

  “Ted said a group of men who were going to draw up a freedom document of some kind were killed.”

  “Maybe. There was a group bivouacking with the troop that night. I haven’t gotten that far.”

  “Okay, so what do you have?”

  “Gallantine came under suspicion because he was a courier between the various generals. One of those generals was a Haynes.”

  “That’s really true, both their ancestors were in the same troop?”

  “Not so unusual. Families are still here from the original colonization.”

  “Wow.”

  “Now, here’s a little tidbit I dug up. Just a footnote in the action.”

  He typed something into his laptop, and a list of troops came up. There was an asterisk by one of them. Chaz moved the cursor to point to it.

  “I don’t recognize that name,” Liv said. “Is it important?”

  “That’s the thing about following a lead. You never know until you get there. But in this case…” He clicked on a download from what appeared to be a genealogical site. “Here’s the same name. Now watch.” Another page. A family tree.