The Marquesa's Necklace (Oak Grove Mysteries Book 1)

by P. J. MacLayne

  As we moved out into the hallway, I wondered if the wind was picking up. Was a storm on the way? The tree branches, untrimmed for too many years, scraped against the outside walls. At least that’s how it sounded like to me.

  By the time we moved down to the second floor—still empty-handed—enough daylight streamed in through the windows that we didn’t need the flashlight to make our way from room to room. The second floor had three bedrooms, one bathroom and a large linen closet, so we split up to do our search. I took the linen closet and the flashlight because the closet had no window.

  What it did have was a lot of shelves. Some of them pretty high up. Without a ladder, I wasn’t able to see on top of the highest one. I couldn’t imagine Jake throwing the necklace up there. And he wasn’t tall enough to get it back down without standing on something.

  As I moved onto the bathroom, I wondered how Elijah was doing. I hadn’t heard any shouts of excitement, so probably the same as me. Chances were, he would get through searching the three bedrooms before I got done with my two rooms. I’d find out for sure when we met in the hallway before moving downstairs.

  To save the batteries, I turned the flashlight off when I left the bathroom. There was enough light that I could see that Elijah wasn’t waiting for me. Maybe his search had taken longer than I expected. So I sat down on the top step to wait, and stared out the window above the landing. Jake planned on replacing it, leaving the bottom half clear glass, and installing stained glass in the top. He wanted a rose pattern, because the window overlooked what had been a rose garden. Lost in thought, I didn’t even look up when the footsteps stopped behind me. And it was too late to do anything when I felt a gun shoved into the side of my head.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Hand it over,” a deep voice growled from behind me.

  I raised my hands in the air. “I don’t have it. It isn’t here. I don’t have any idea where it is,” I said. The words of my teacher—“Show no weakness”—echoed in my head as I tried to calm my racing heart and control the shaking of my knees.

  A shoe prodded my side. Too hard, I thought, grimacing, considering I wasn’t putting up a fight. “Stand up,” the voice said. “And don’t turn around.”

  I did, slowly, plotting what self-defense move to use in this situation. None of them that came to mind would work. Not when I stood two steps below my opponent, I had no idea how big he was and he had a gun.

  “Back up until I tell you to stop.”

  The more he talked, the more the voice seemed familiar. But now was not the time to solve that puzzle. With my hands still in the air, I edged my way up to the landing. When I felt the gun poke into my back, I was tempted to twirl around and try to grab the hand holding it. Except out of the corner of one eye, I spotted another figure moving towards us, and it wasn’t Elijah. Where was he?

  I wanted to take a shower by the time they got done searching me, spending far too much time touching all the spots I didn’t want them to touch. Then they shoved me down the hallway. I still hadn’t got a look at the first guy, but I engraved the face of the second in my brain. Unless he got plastic surgery, I’d be able to recognize him. If I survived.

  If I had to make a guess, I would’ve said he and Rufus were related. They shared the same stocky build and square face. Even the irritating smirk he wore as he ran his hands over my breasts while he searched me reminded me of Rufus. Rufus Jr. worked as good as any other name for this man.

  I still didn’t have any idea what the first guy looked like. They made damn sure I didn’t see him. I made damn sure I’d be able to identify that voice if I ever heard it again.

  Junior opened the doorway at the end of hall and shoved me inside. I rushed across the room and dropped to my knees by the lump on the floor. I had found Elijah.

  He was alive, but unconscious, and the bump on his head explained why. I ran my hands over the parts of his body I could reach without turning him over to check for other injuries. Thank God, I didn’t find any. But I also didn’t find his gun. I don’t know why they found it necessary to tie him up.

  “If you’re done playing nurse,” Junior said. “You can put your hands behind your back.”

  I got the distinct impression when he waved his gun around that it wasn’t a suggestion. So I stood and tried not to tense up while he roughly tied my wrists together. A second length of rope was shoved between my jaws and tied around the back of my head, effectively gagging me. More rope was wrapped around my ankles. Then, with a push on my shoulder, he knocked me back down to the floor. He blindfolded me, and I was unable to resist. I waited as his footsteps crossed the room and he closed the door behind him.

  Using the wall as a brace, I struggled to get to a seated position. I listened to the sound of Elijah’s uneven breathing and prayed that he would be all right. I used the time to gather my strength for whatever was to come.

  That’s when I started to think of him as Eli.

  I didn’t have long to wait before I heard voices outside the room and the door pushed open. I held my breath, and listened. There wasn’t much more I could do.

  “Neither one of ’em is going anywhere,” the voice I recognized as Junior’s said.

  I slowly released my breath into silence and drew another. There was a grunt and a squeak as the door closed. I sat unmoving, while two sets of footsteps moved away and continued down the hall. And I waited.

  Once I figured I’d waited long enough, I started the process of working my legs through the loop created by my arms. I’d end up with my hands in front of me. It wasn’t easy, but I’d done this once in self-defense class. The first step in the slowly forming plan to free both myself and Eli.

  As I worked, I paid attention to the sounds of the search in progress, praying no one would return to our room. With my hands finally in front of me, I removed the blindfold and started to untie the knots on the rope behind my head. Not that it was important in the overall scheme of things, but the rough texture of the rope was making me gag and cutting into the tender sides of my mouth. Luckily, Junior had done a really poor job and the knots worked free easier than I’d anticipated.

  While I pondered what my next step should be, I checked on Eli again. His breathing seemed, to my untrained ears, to be easier and more even. I ran my hand over his head, and before I stood, dropped a light kiss on his forehead.

  I needed a weapon, but the room was empty. Even the rod in the closet had been removed. If I broke the glass in the window I would have a cutting edge. No defense against a bullet, but the upside was that I could use it to cut the ropes binding Eli. He wore loafers; and I figured they would shatter the glass better than my tennis shoes.

  The downside was that I couldn’t figure out a way to muffle the noise of the glass breaking. It might bring our captors back to check on us. Not what I wanted. I scooted my way across the floor and pressed my ear against the door. I needed to know what was going on outside our makeshift prison.

  I thought about lowering myself out of the window, getting away, and bringing back help. But I hated leaving Eli alone. He wouldn’t have been in this fix if it weren’t for me.

  He groaned loudly, his eyes fluttered, and his body jerked. Eli needed medical attention, and soon. I crawled back to him, but his breathing returned to normal.

  Chewing through the ropes on my hand seemed a hopeless task, but I might be able to get my ankles free. Junior had done a better job with those knots, but with my hands in front of me, I should be able to get them untied. I settled myself with my back against the wall, and went to work, keeping one corner of my mind focused on the noises below.

  With fingers bloodied by the coarse sisal fibers, I untied the last of the knots and shook my legs free. Things had quieted down. I wondered if the men had left or if they were still busy searching for the necklace. I’d decided I needed to leave the house on my own and come back to rescue Eli. I wasn’t strong enough to lift him, and I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to walk on his own even if I manag
ed to wake him up.

  As so often happens in old houses, the sash had been painted shut. I wasn’t strong enough to break the seal when I tried to pry the window open. So back to breaking the glass. But now that my legs were free, I might be able to kick it out rather than use Eli’s shoe to break it. And if I wrapped the rope around my foot and ankle, I wouldn’t cut myself in the process. It was a bad plan, but the only one I had.

  I wished the house sat closer to the street. If I could time my kick to the passing of a large truck or a noisy car, maybe the noise would go unheard. Who was I kidding? I took a step away from the window, mentally measured the distance, and took a deep breath.

  The gunshot covered the shattering of the glass. I crumbled to the floor amid the shards that had fallen inwards.

  I moved each limb, testing for damage. If someone had been shot, it wasn’t me, so I crawled out of the glass debris, trying to protect my hands with the sleeves of my coat. With the rope still binding them and blocking me from pulling the sleeves all the way down, the glass slivers cut me more than once. My back to the wall, I peered out of the window, trying to find a sign of the shooter. The morning sun lit the side yard, but I didn’t find a shadow that didn’t belong. Maybe the sound had come from somewhere else.

  I took the rope off my ankle. I could use it to help knock out the remaining glass from the window frame. Tension kept me warm, but I wished I had a blanket or something because I was worried about Eli getting cold. The faster I got help for him, the better.

  Loud voices from downstairs stopped me in my tracks. Shouts of “Freeze!” and “Drop your weapons!” Amid the cacophony, I heard someone calling my name. No, two different voices called for both me and Eli.

  I cracked open the bedroom door to see Mr. Almost-On-Time Stangel charging up the steps, gun in hand.

  “Harmony,” he called, worry evident in his voice. “Hennessey. Are you here?”

  I opened the door an inch more. “Stangel,” I hissed. “In here.”

  He rushed down the hallway. For a big man, he moved faster than expected. He grabbed me and hugged me—Mr. Show-No-Emotion hugged me!—before noticing the blood on my hands and clothes.

  He cursed as he grabbed my hands and examined them. “We need to get you to a doctor,” he said, his deep voice a growl.

  “Don’t worry about me. It’s Eli that needs help.” He looked past me and cursed again when he noticed the unmoving figure on the floor.

  We stood outside watching Eli being loaded into an ambulance while one of the paramedics wrapped my hands in gauze. I was flanked on one side by Mr. Stangel, and on the other by Freddie, cane and all. Half of the Oak Grove Police Department milled around the yard, and in and out of the house. Once the ambulance holding Eli pulled out of the driveway, sirens screaming, another pulled into its place. The second group of paramedics was in no great hurry as they wheeled their stretcher up to the house.

  Junior, with his shoulder, chest and upper arm wrapped heavily with gauze, was escorted to the ambulance by two uniformed officers. I turned inquiring eyes towards Freddie. “Shot in the shoulder,” he said. “He pulled a gun on one of ours.” I grinned as they handcuffed the thug to the stretcher before loading him in the ambulance.

  An older man, his hands already handcuffed behind his back, was the next one to be escorted out. “That’s Stephen Sallis. He’s been a big name in crime for a long time, but no one has ever been able to make a charge stick.” Freddie chuckled. “We may not be able to get him on anything huge, but he’ll be spending more than a few nights in custody. We think he’s the one behind all the attacks on you. Can’t imagine our judge will grant him bail.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before,” I said. “Can you make him say something for me? I want to hear his voice.”

  Freddie raised one eyebrow, but didn’t question me. “Hey, Felton,” he called. “The lady wants him to say something.”

  Officer Felton and his partner prodded the man my way, stopping about ten feet away. Close enough, in my opinion. Sallis and I stared each other down for a long moment. He broke first.

  “You weren’t worth it,” he snarled, then spit on the ground. “Shoulda’ had you wiped out a long time ago.”

  “Not what I wanted to hear,” I answered. My eyes didn’t leave his face. “But it will do. It’s not the voice I expected,” I said turning to Freddie. “Where’s the other one?”

  He waited to answer until Sallis, screaming about how his lawyers would sue the city into oblivion, had been pushed into a police car and the door closed. “There were only two, Harmony.”

  I shook my head vigorously. “No. There’s another one. I didn’t see his face, but I’d know the voice.”

  About that time I saw a man in street clothes come around from the back yard. Freddie saw him too. “Hey Bill, come here a minute.”

  I thought he looked familiar. Of course, I called him Officer Clearmont. He seemed reluctant and took his time making his way towards us.

  “The house has been thoroughly searched, hasn’t it?” Freddie asked.

  Clearmont hesitated before answering. “Yes. We looked everywhere. No more bad guys.”

  The back of my neck prickled. “Did you check the attic?” I asked. He was close, too close, but my bodyguard stood beside me.

  “Not sure. I’ll check with Sergeant.”

  “Never mind.” I gulped. “This is the third man, Freddie. I recognize the voice.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I waited for Freddie to call me crazy, or at least tell me I was mistaken. He didn’t have a chance.

  The next thing I knew Freddie was in a pile on the ground. An arm squeezed around my neck, and the barrel of a gun was poking into my back. “You don’t know when to keep your trap shut, do you?” Clearmont snarled in my ear. “But now you’re my ticket out of here.”

  Mr. Stangel looked like he was about ready to explode. When our eyes met, I read the despair in his. He was helpless to stop Clearmont, and he knew it. And once Clearmont got out of town, and my usefulness as a hostage was over, I was dead. Only one person could save me. Me. Harmony Duprie.

  Clearmont roughly shoved me towards the driveway and I pretended to fall. But I caught myself, and whipped my head back. Clearmont and I were about the same height, so my head hit his nose.

  The hand holding the gun involuntarily jerked to his face. Ignoring the major headache the move graced me with, I took the opportunity to grab the arm around my neck and fall forward for real, dragging him with me. As I hoped, the gun went flying when we hit the ground. I rolled over, putting me on top, and then scrambled to stand.

  Bless his heart, Mr. Stangel was Mr. Johnny-On-The-Spot. He had his revolver trained on Clearmont before I jumped away. He kicked the crooked cop’s legs wide apart. “Put your hands behind your head,” he ordered. Just like a TV show.

  By now every cop still hanging around had rushed over, their guns out and aimed at Clearmont. Freddie, with the help of Officer Felton, struggled to his feet. I wondered if he had re-injured his ribs. Sarah would kill me.

  “I thought you were imagining things,” Freddie said, frowning, as one of the policeman cuffed Clearmont. “I suspected someone was leaking information to the bad guys, but I didn’t expect it to be Bill.” He shook his head and sighed as we watched a handcuffed Clearmont being loaded into a police car. “We’re going to have to ship these guys off to Pittsburgh. Oak Grove doesn’t have the facilities to hold this many high-profile suspects.”

  Officer Felton coughed. “Don’t worry, the feds will be glad to assist.” He put away his gun, pulled out his wallet, and retrieved a card he handed to Freddie. “Agent Marcus Felton, FBI.”

  After a quick visit to the ER to have my cuts looked at—no stitches needed, only cleaning and bandaging—we ended up in conference room at the police station. It barely contained all of us. Well, all of us but Eli. He was in the hospital, conscious off and on, and he would be there for several days. The docs wouldn’t let
him have visitors yet, but they said he’d be okay, and not to worry. Yeah, right.

  Outside, Oak Grove enjoyed a pre-Thanksgiving cold snap, but inside, the room was stifling from the warmth of all the bodies. The Chief of Police sat at one end of the table, with Officer—excuse me—Agent Felton seated right beside him. I don’t know how we all missed the signs that he was a Fed. Freddie came next and then Officer Smith. I sat on the other end, with Mr. Stangel beside me. Other men, including a couple more FBI guys up from Pittsburgh, stood around, leaning against the walls. I wondered if anyone was left to chase down the reports of backfires and kids skateboarding in front of the stores downtown. I started calling them by numbers in my head, because I hadn’t caught all the names.

  The chief asked the questions, but I did most of the talking. Since he’d assured me I wasn’t facing any charges, I held nothing back. Well, almost nothing. I didn’t tell him about the string of thefts we’d tied to Jake’s travels.

  “We’ve had our eyes on Hennessey for quite a while,” Agent Felton explained when I finished reciting my story.

  So much for trying to protect him.

  “But we couldn’t get enough evidence to bring him in. So when he started to spend time with you, Miss Duprie, naturally we assumed you were in on his schemes.”

  Mr. Teddy-Bear-In-Wolf’s-Clothing beside me growled softly, and I stopped fiddling with the gauze wrapped around my wrists long enough to pat his knee.

  Agent Felton cleared his throat. “Even after the jury cleared you, we had our doubts. That’s when we came up with the scheme of having me join the force here, with the Chief’s knowledge, of course. Gave me a good way to keep my eye on you.”