Murderous Intent and Deadly Desires

by Angela C. Blackmoore

  “But these nightmares!” Hazel said sadly.

  “Aren’t your fault,” Abby answered. “They’re the senator’s fault. They’re Bakes and Wallace’s fault. But more importantly, it doesn’t matter whose fault it is, I can’t just point fingers. I have to deal with this problem.”

  Hazel nodded silently and reached her hand out, taking Abby’s and squeezing it softly. “How? I feel like a ninny for suggesting this, and Bill would laugh at me for it, but have you thought about getting… professional help?”

  Abby grinned, hearing the deep pause before Hazel said the last two words. It almost came out in a whisper, but she understood where it came from. Hazel was from a small town and a different generation. Suggesting professional help probably conjured big men holding a straitjacket in Hazel’s mind.

  “Actually, that is exactly what I was thinking of,” Abby said, squeezing Hazel’s hand back. “The army was always big on not hiding psychological trauma like that after all the wars. Getting professional help isn’t the bug-a-boo it used to be. I’ll call the doctors later today, or maybe talk to Charlie to see if he would recommend someone.”

  Hazel breathed out a sigh and nodded, clearly happy at Abby’s easy acceptance of her suggestion. Standing, she reached for Abby’s almost empty tea cup. “Care for a refresh on your tea?” she asked.

  Abby nodded. “I might as well. I don’t think I’ll be able to get to sleep after what I saw. It was the senator, again. This time he was some huge snake creature with the man’s head.” Abby shuddered.

  Hazel gave her a look of distaste as she poured hot tea into the tea cups and brought them back. “Was it about the treasure, again?”

  Abby nodded. “Yes. Did you remember if anyone had any stories about how Kat got the gold? Or if there were any documents hidden away?”

  Hazel shook her head. “No, I didn’t remember anything. My mother didn’t tell me much, or at least nothing that didn’t sound just as outlandish as the rumors going around town. As for documents, I’ve not seen anything.”

  “And nothing but the chests downstairs?” Abby asked dejectedly. “No hidden doorways or covered nooks?”

  Hazel began to shake her head but then paused. “I’ve never looked. In fact, I’ve never looked in three of the chests, to tell you the truth.”

  Abby and Hazel looked at each other, their eyes slowly widening. “I think it might be time to look in the chests,” Abby whispered.

  “I think you might be right,” Hazel answered before both of their eyes traveled to the pantry door. “But it won’t be today. We’ll have to wait until Bill is out of the way on one of his errands. I think he’s planning on going up to some prepper’s show in Portland in a week or so, but I’ll have to make sure.”

  “Preppers?” Abby asked, curious. “What’s a prepper’s show?”

  Hazel waved her hands dismissively and snorted. “Preppers are people who believe in disaster preparedness and self-reliance in case everything goes to pot. Not always a bad idea, especially living on an island. Bill’s believed in self-reliance all his life, and if he had his way, we’d be completely off the grid, as he calls it.”

  Abby nodded, not at all surprised at this bit of information. Mr. Wilberson had said on more than a few occasions that trusting the government for everything was not a good idea.

  “Anyway, I know it’s a pain to wait, but it has helped me keep the secret for my whole life,” Hazel said, taking a sip from her tea. “I’ll let you know the day, and then I can finally show you my burden.”

  Abby took a deep breath, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Here she was, talking to Hazel about a secret the Morgans had kept for over a hundred years, one she was going to be responsible for some day. Still, a small thrill shivered through her. She’d never seen a gold bar, much less a couple of chests full of them. “That’s okay, Grandmother,” Abby said. “I couldn’t do it today anyway. I had plans to go up to the state hospital and check up on Samantha Green, remember?”

  “Oh,” Hazel said, her eyes going a little wide as that little tidbit made an impact. “That is today, isn’t it? How do you feel about it?”

  Abby grimaced. “I’m not looking forward to it, honestly. I’m still not sure why I’m helping them out. Buck is the one that took a shot at me, after all, and Samantha tried to poison us.”

  Hazel’s mouth pulled into a thin line as she reached out and patted Abby’s arm again. “Yes, I understand it isn’t easy, but they need our help. For all the bad apple Buck was, Samantha has had a difficult life, and you know she’s got some difficulties. That’s why she’s in the state hospital for killing Craig Malcom and not in jail.”

  “I know,” Abby said, remembering the shy, strange girl she’d met soon after coming to town. Samantha had been nice enough, but clearly had struggled with mental disabilities. “I’m going to meet Gloria at Becky’s café and we’re going to ride in together.”

  When Craig Malcom was going to destroy the town park and dig up an old oak tree that had some family ancestors buried under it, Samantha had poisoned Craig to stop the tragedy. She’d succeeded, and when Becky, Abby’s best friend was accused of the crime, Abby had begun to snoop around the case. Samantha had then tried to poison Abby to protect herself. Fortunately, Abby had figured out the killer before Hazel and Bill had opened the bottle of wine that had been meant for Abby.

  However, Samantha was ruled unfit to stand trial and had been remanded to the Oregon State Hospital, a place Abby wasn’t looking forward to visiting.

  Chapter 3

  “Be nice, Becky,” Abby hissed softly as Gloria Sanborn came in the front door.

  “What?” Becky said defensively, even as she tapped her toe and half-glared at the other red-haired woman.

  Abby didn’t answer, but pointed toward Becky’s furiously tapping toe and then at her lowered eyebrows, making Becky roll her eyes.

  “Fine, of course I’m worried about you getting all mixed up in this,” Becky whispered, trying to talk fast before Gloria got within hearing range. “Buck did take a shot at you, and Samantha, bless her heart, tried to slip you a fatal mickey. You can’t blame me.”

  “I’m not blaming you,” Abby answered. “I’m most of the way there myself but something Hazel said made me change my mind.”

  “What did Hazel say?”

  “She said, you help people because it’s the right thing to do, not because they fit some checklist,” Abby said, shrugging.

  Becky snorted, but didn’t respond as she mulled over the words. She didn’t seem convinced, but their conversation was cut off when Gloria walked up.

  The woman eyed Abby with a cross between hesitation and defensiveness. “Abby,” Gloria said by way of greeting. Gloria was taller and broader built than either Abby or Becky, having fewer curves than either woman. She also wore no makeup though it seemed to fit the jeans and flannel shirt she wore.

  “Gloria,” Abby said back politely, “How are you this morning? Did you want to get something to eat before we head out?”

  Gloria pursed her lips in thought, hesitating. It was obvious Gloria was considering it but didn’t want to inconvenience Abby or delay their departure.

  “If it helps, I haven’t eaten anything yet, either,” Abby said, cursing the fatalistic Pacific Northwest politeness. “I was thinking of getting a bagel.”

  Gloria brightened at that suggestion and accompanied Abby to one of the tables. After ordering food, both women sat and did everything but look at each other. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and it didn’t help that Becky would give her an eyebrow wiggle from behind Gloria whenever she moved to help a customer.

  Finally, after they’d received their food, Abby couldn’t take anymore and cleared her throat, looking at the larger woman. She said the first thing that came to her mind, though was almost surprised at the words. “I’m sorry, Gloria,” she said.

  Gloria looked quickly at Abby before raising an eyebrow and frowning down at her plate. The woman took a breath before raising
her eyes once again. Instead of the uncertainty that Gloria had been exhibiting before, now she looked determined. “Don’t apologize,” she said, “I know it’s not your fault. Buck always was a screw up and Samantha did her own thing. You didn’t do anything but figure it out.”

  “I thought you blamed me.” Abby stated, clearly befuddled. “It felt like you were angry with me when we saw you at Butters.”

  “No,” Gloria answered, “No, I just said that because I don’t’ know what else to do. Buck is gone, and honestly, I’m not too sad to see it, but Samantha and Demsey don’t deserve to be killed. Samantha screwed up, to be sure, but she honestly doesn’t understand what she did. Not really. Demsey is worse.” Gloria put her fork down and turned away from Abby and looked outside. “I know Demsey is scary, but he’s got mental issues just like Samantha.”

  Abby frowned and shook her head. “Both of them? Why were they even hanging around with Buck?”

  “Because he knew how to talk to them, so they didn’t feel stupid,” Gloria said, shrugging. “The rest of us? We just talked down to them, but Buck wouldn’t. He treated them badly, but he also treated them like they were normal people, not idiots.”

  Abby just shook her head. She didn’t know how to relate to the idea of someone being angry and abusive as favorable, but it was a known thing. There were plenty of stories of wives and mothers that put up with it. Was this any different?

  “So, how do you know someone is trying to kill them? Or that Buck was murdered on purpose, rather than accidentally?” Abby asked. “I hate to say this, but my one interaction with Buck wasn’t very favorable. He seemed like the type to pick fights.”

  Gloria turned back to Abby and nodded soberly. “That’s fair. That’s what the police said happened. That he mouthed off to the wrong people and paid for it, but after that, Samantha said she felt like she was being watched. Also, Demsey and I have noticed some people following him.”

  “Following him? What kind of people?” Abby asked.

  “You know those men that came to town passing out flyers for that foundation that has been trying to give out grants? We noticed that some of them would appear whenever we came into town. I thought they might just be pervs, but they weren’t looking at me. They were watching Demsey. We stopped coming into town because of it.”

  “You called the police, right?” Abby said, but Gloria’s silence told her the answer.

  “No,” Gloria finally said, hesitantly. “I didn’t think they’d help. Buck and Demsey weren’t exactly on good terms with law enforcement.”

  “Well, that’s stupid,” Abby said, almost angry. She knew the sheriff and the three deputies that worked for him. They were good people, and she couldn’t see them just ignoring the issue as Gloria assumed they might. She could be wrong, but everything she’d experienced up to now pointed to the fact they’d do their jobs. “When we get back from the hospital, we’re going to go the sheriff’s office and report this. They aren’t exactly enamored of those foundation men, either.”

  Gloria didn’t seem so sure, but nodded. “Okay, I’ll trust you on this,” she said before putting her fork down and using her napkin. “I’m done. Are you ready to go?”

  Abby nodded, and they settled the bill on the way out. She smiled, making sure to thank Becky for giving them both the employee discount before heading out of the door.

  “It should be okay to leave your car in the café lot,” Abby said as they headed for her purple PT Cruiser.

  “Oh, um, I don’t have a car,” Gloria said, pointing to the now familiar motorcycle parked a few spaces down from Abby’s car. “I just have my dirt bike, but it serves me well enough. Helps to get around the sawmill when I work.”

  “What do you do when it rains?” Abby asked as she opened the doors to the car and got in.

  Gloria grinned as she slid into the passenger seat. “Tough it out. What else can you do?”

  Abby grunted as she started the car and pulled away from the curb. There was a lesson there.

  Chapter 4

  The drive to the state hospital grounds took a bit over forty-five minutes from Red Pine Falls. The hospital itself was in the middle of Salem and only a few blocks away from the I-5 interstate that ran through the center of the city. The grounds were large and spacious, dominated by the huge red-brick building that was surrounded by small, white homes resembling some sort of camping cabins.

  Behind it loomed the state penitentiary. They weren’t part of the same grounds, but were still connected in a way that very clearly said the two institutions were related.

  Behind the massive, gray walls was where Buck Danson had died. Abby hadn’t known the two buildings were this close together, but wondered if it bode well or ill for Samantha. Maybe Samantha was just imagining things, being so close to where the death had occurred? Except Demsey was also being followed.

  The men that Gloria had said were following Demsey worked for the Foundation for Oregon Urban Renewal. They had come to Red Pine Falls to pass out informational flyers to the towns people, but as time passed, they’d also served as bullies and enforcers for Don Buckshire.

  It had all been a bid by Senator Clark to oust the mayor, but before the council could initiate a vote of no confidence against the mayor, Don had been killed. It had been a mistake by the over-eager bikers Bakes and Wallace. They were supposed to kill Don, but only after the vote so it would cast suspicion on the mayor and ruin any chances he had to defend himself.

  Except without the vote, it had ruined Senator Clark’s plan, enraging the man and making him send Detectives Mike and Ed to find, and then kill, the two offenders. They had done so, and it had all happened right in front of Abby when she’d been captured by the two bikers.

  They had shown up just in time to save Abby’s life, and for that Abby was grateful, but she wasn’t fooled for a second by the two detectives. She sometimes wondered if she would have gotten out of that shed alive if the sheriff and his deputies hadn’t shown up right away. It had been close, and she still had nightmares over the whole thing.

  “It’s oppressive, isn’t it?” Abby said, eyeing the massive building as they drove around it. The grass was dead, hidden deep in its winter roots and coupled with the overcast sky, the building itself sat like a troll on a bridge, threatening and unmoving.

  “I come here every weekend,” Gloria said softly, watching the front of the building slowly move closer. “I feel terrible for Samantha, having to live in a place like this, but I suppose it’s better than the penitentiary. They keep her in rooms in a place called the Harbor. Its sectioned off from the rest of the hospital where the criminal patients live. She doesn’t seem like she minds it, though.”

  “Why do you care?” Abby asked, confused. “She’s not related to you, is she? Not that I’m saying to stop visiting her, but I’m just trying to understand all of this.”

  Gloria was silent for a long time. As Abby pulled into a parking space, she almost didn’t think the woman was going to answer her, but as the car turned off, Gloria started speaking. “It’s because of Demsey,” she finally said. “I know everyone thought that Buck and Samantha were together, but it was actually Demsey she was with. Buck just didn’t want anyone talking badly about his brother, so he acted like it was him. It was probably one of the few noble things he ever did.”

  “Wow,” Abby said as she absorbed the information. “So, you come for Demsey? Does he ever come with you?”

  Gloria shook her head. “No, no I don’t think it would be a good idea. He wouldn’t understand that she couldn’t come back with us. Then, he might cause problems. People, or Demsey, might get hurt. I come so I can tell him how she’s doing, and vice versa. He’ll probably never get to see her again.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better just to let them forget about each other, instead of playing go-between like this?” Abby asked softly, looking at the larger women.

  Gloria glanced over at Abby. “You don’t have to listen to him cry every night,” she said.
It only stops a few days after I come back from a visit with news of her. I’ve talked to his shrinks, and they’ve recommended the same thing, but it just breaks my heart.”

  Abby was surprised. This hard-faced woman who worked in a saw mill had a heart of gold, and her own melted a little at the story. She decided then and there she’d really try to help. She just didn’t know how.

  As they got out of the car and headed into the large, foreboding building, Abby frowned and squared her shoulders. Whatever was going on, she was going to get to the bottom of it. The senator’s men were involved for a reason, and most likely it wasn’t a good one.

  Authors Notes

  You are amazing for reading this book. So, I learned a lesson with my last book, Dead Reckoning and Murderous Intent. The mystery was who, and how, the senator planned to attack the town. The murder of Don Buckshire was simply the hook for book 5. However, I think I was too subtle, and I got a lashing from some of the reviewers. Truthfully, the story did lead me there, but I outsmarted myself, and ended up with too much of a cliffhanger.

  This book did wrap up who killed Don, but there are still several larger mysteries happening. Senator Clark’s antics and his desire for the treasure are a long game, and will be answered in time, but it won’t be in one book. I hope that you keep reading, because I have several more stores in me before we reach the end of him. I sincerely hope no one has issues with a larger story arc.

  I think the next piece of work will be another short story about Cheerio. Boy, his first little book has done some amazing things, and I am pleased as punch about it. Look for that in early October! It will be with Cheerio and Mr. Wilberson.

  Something you may enjoy knowing is that I do all of this almost on my own. I taught myself how to do covers in January of 2017, and I self-publish my works. I do have people read my books for editing and proofreading, but I don’t have the huge team of New York editors that I wish someday to have.