“I’ve been tracing it for years, Doctor. How much do you know about it?”
The professor shrugged. “I know it belonged to Stonewall Jackson. That makes it valuable.”
“It’s more than just a sword Jackson owned, Doc.” Sam leaned forward, eyes bright. “It’s the sword he was wearing when he was shot.”
Suddath raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Indeed? And how do you know that?”
Sam reached into the top desk drawer and pulled out an old leather book. “About six years ago, I bought a bunch of old books at an estate sale. One of them was the journal of a Virginia farmer named Chandler. Thomas Chandler. Ring any bells?”
Suddath frowned. “It sounds familiar, but I can’t…” He stopped. “Wait. It was at Chandler’s farm that Jackson died.”
Sam nodded. “Exactly. After he was shot by mistake by some of his own troops in the dark, his staff evacuated him to Chandler’s place. Where he had his arm amputated, caught pneumonia, and died. But it took eight days.” He picked up the book. “And Chandler wrote a lot about those eight days.”
“Hm.” Suddath was clearly still a little skeptical, but definitely interested. “And what does that have to do with the sword?”
“In all of the comings and goings around Jackson up to and after his death, the sword got left behind. And Chandler kept it. He writes that he didn’t know what to do with it, but he knew it was important. He sharpened it, oiled it, kept it safe in case anyone ever came back for it. But no one ever did. And before long, there was no more Confederacy.”
“Very interesting, Mr. Price. And that document might be worth as much as the sword. If authentic.”
“One thing at a time. I’ve traced the sword down through the generations of Chandlers and their relatives who passed it down. Mrs. Morrison is that last of the line.” Sam put the book back in the drawer. “But I can’t afford to purchase it. Which brings me to my proposition.”
“Finally.”
Sam ignored the tone. “I have a buyer. In Japan. A big collector of American Civil War items.” He saw the look on Suddath’s face and shrugged. “I know. It’s weird. But he’s not the only one. A lot of rich Japanese guys are nuts for anything American. You should see what they pay for baseball cards. Anyway, this guy’s willing to pay up to three hundred thousand.”
For the first time, Suddath looked impressed. “I had…I had no idea.”
“But you can pick it up for much less. If I help you.”
A scowl crossed Suddath’s face. “What exactly are you proposing?”
Sam leaned forward again. “You demand an appraisal. From me. I tell them it’s worth, say, one hundred fifty thousand. They’ll jump at it.”
Suddath leaned back in his chair, an incredulous look on his face. “And then, I suppose, you sell the sword to your Japanese buyer for twice that.”
Sam nodded. “And we split the profit. Fifty-fifty. Easy money.”
“Which we would obtain by swindling an old lady. And her granddaughter.”
“Yeah,” Sam grinned. “The granddaughter.” He got up and opened the door. “Angel,” he called, “you want to join us?”
Suddath blinked in amazed confusion as Angela Morrison walked through the door. She was dressed in jeans and a red silk blouse that hugged her curves. It was a much less formal outfit than she’d worn at dinner, but she still managed to make it look like a million bucks. She smiled at him. “Hello again, Doctor.” Sam got up and gave her his chair.
“Miss Morrison,” Suddath said, then shut his mouth, clearly unsure of what to say next.
She laughed that musical laugh. “If you could see your face right now. And call me Angela. My friends do.”
Price put his hand on her shoulder. “Except me,” Price said. “I call her my Angel.” He bent down and kissed the top of her head. A sudden look crossed her face, only for an instant, but unmistakable. She couldn’t stand this man.
Suddath found his voice. “I just can’t believe…are you a party to this?”
“Doctor Suddath,” she said, her eyes staring into his, “I have spent the best years of my life caring for that old woman. Of course, I owe her a lot, but she owes me as well, don’t you think?” She laughed bitterly. “And now I find she’s gone and frittered away all her money.” She looked away. “My inheritance. When she dies, I’ll have nothing left but the bills. And the foreclosure notices on the house in Raleigh and the farm in Smithfield.” She looked back and leaned across the desk to fix Suddath with blazing intensity in her startling eyes. “I will do anything to avoid that.” She glanced at Price. That look flickered across her face again. “Anything.”
Price winked at Suddath. “And when she says anything, she’s not lyin’, Doc.”
His greasy laugh made Suddath’s skin crawl. He looked Angela in the eyes and smiled. “I think we can come to some sort of arrangement,” he said. After a brief hesitation, she smiled back. He hoped she understood the import of his words.
“Good,” Price leaned over and pulled out the lower desk drawer. He took out a bottle of Southern Comfort and set it on the desk. “Let’s drink to our new partnership.” He reached back in and pulled out three glasses that had apparently began life as jelly containers. He poured two fingers of the amber liquid into each glass and pushed two of them across the table, one to Suddath, one to Angela. Suddath picked his up and raised it, his eyes still on Angela’s. “To partnership.”
She raised hers and nodded back as if they were the only two people in the room. “Partners.”
Price didn’t seem to notice the exchange. If Suddath had felt contempt for the man before, it was nothing to what he felt now. He didn’t deserve this woman. He was too stupid to see how she was slipping away from him, right under his nose. And when it was over, she wasn’t the only thing Suddath would take from him. He downed his portion of the sweet liquor, grimacing as it burned its way down his gullet.
“So,” Price said, smacking his lips and pouring himself another dram. He gestured toward the empty glasses with the bottle, but Suddath refused with a shake of his head. So did Angela. Price shrugged and downed his second shot. “Now here’s how we pull this off…”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When it was all over, Suddath felt as if he needed a shower. It was a perfect plan, and perfectly sleazy. He kept sneaking glances at Angela, who just stared down into her empty glass, no expression on her face. More than anything else, he wanted to get her alone, let her know that he was her ally, that he could pry her loose from the clutches of this terrible man with his dirty laughs and his constant sly asides. He’d never considered more than a temporary liaison with Mrs. Morrison’s granddaughter, but the more he looked at her, the more fascinated he became. The looks she darted at him during Price’s self-important monologue made him think that maybe, just maybe, the feeling could be mutual. He felt his heart speed up at the thought.
Finally, when Price wound down, Suddath merely nodded. “That sounds like you’ve thought everything out.” He smiled ingratiatingly. “It’s a good plan.”
“Of course it’s a good plan.” Despite the cockiness of the words, Price seemed flattered by Suddath’s approval. “How soon can you get the cash together?”
Suddath frowned. “Cash?”
“Yeah,” Price said. “Cash’ll have more of an effect that a check, no matter how many zeroes it has on it. Once you open up a suitcase full of cash, the old lady won’t be able to turn it down.”
Suddath thought that over. The idea of carrying that much cash around worried him. But he could do it. “I can get it together tonight.”
Price blinked in surprise. “Really? That quick? How?”
“Never mind that. I can have it by tomorrow morning.”
“Wow.” Price looked impressed, but quickly regained his composure. “What do you think, Angel? You in?” He reached out and touched her hand.
Before she answered, she pulled her own hand away, re
ached over, and poured herself another shot of the Southern Comfort, a small one. She drained it in one gulp, plopped the glass down onto the desktop, and nodded. “I’m in.”
“Okay, then.” Price nodded in satisfaction. “We set the meeting up for, say, ten o’clock tomorrow morning. At the house.”
“Okay.” Price moved to the door. “I’m going to lock up then. Angel, can you get an Uber home?”
Suddath rose from his chair. “I can give you a ride.”
Angela looked at Price uncertainly, as if asking permission, but he just nodded. “Sure. Fine. Whatever.”
They walked together in silence, Angela pulling out her own key as they reached the door. She took one last look back over her shoulder at Price, who was puttering around one of the display cases, then looked at Suddath before opening the door and letting them both out. She didn’t speak as they walked to Suddath’s Mercedes, but that look had already spoken volumes.
Once they were in the car, Suddath wasted no time. “He’s a pig.”
She glared at him, then looked away. “You think I don’t know that?” she said in a choked voice.
Suddath turned the key in the ignition. “Why did you team up with him?”
She spoke through clenched teeth, still looking out the window. “It’s not a team. He’s…helping me get away.”
“In exchange for what?”
She turned back to glare at him again, but this time he could see the tears glistening in her eyes. “You know what.”
“Does your grandmother know that you and he are…involved?”
“No. He contacted me privately. Let me know what he could do if a buyer showed up. I put him off at first. Then I began thinking. About a new life. How I could start living again.” She sighed. “And then my grandmother said she’d been in contact with you. I saw my chance. It was only then he told me what…other things I had to do to get in on the plan.” Her voice trembled with barely repressed tears.
He didn’t answer, just kept driving. Finally, he said, “Do you know who his buyer is? Do you have his contact information?”
Her voice when she answered was flat and hopeless. “No.”
“Could you get it?”
A long pause. “Maybe.”
They’d arrived at the Morrison house. He parked in one of the street side spaces, turned the car off, and turned to her. “Could you get it if it meant being free of him?”
Her eyes were wide. “What are you saying?”
“Do I have to spell it out, Angela? We get the sword. Then we do the re-sale. You and I. And we keep the money. All of it. The two of us.”
“You…you mean…”
He decided in an instant that this was the time to make his move. He reached out and put his hand on hers. “Yes. I’ve been fascinated by you ever since the second I met you. I can’t help the feeling that it was fate that brought us together.”
She looked startled, then she smiled. “Really?” The smile faded and she shook her head. “No. It’s too dangerous. You don’t know what he’s capable of. He’s a desperate man.”
He snorted. “He’s a greasy little hustler who’ll blow away in the first strong wind.”
She put her free hand over his and looked into his eyes. “You mean it?”
“I do.” He leaned over and kissed her, hard. He pulled his hands from hers and tangled them in her hair. His kiss was hard and passionate, the kind he knew a woman needed to show her to the man is. She moaned deep in her throat, and he knew he had conquered her. But it was she who broke away first, gasping.
“This is what you want,” he said.
She bit her lip, then nodded, looking at him through a fringe of tousled hair. “I do,” she said in a small voice, then looked back at the house. “But I can’t. Not now.”
He let go and nodded. “I understand. Get the name and contact information. I’ll do the rest.”
She shook her head disbelievingly. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
He took her chin in his hand and pulled her head around to look into her eyes. “It is. I’ll have the money to get the sword. And then we’ll take the profit.” He smiled indulgently. “And then, who knows? Maybe we can gift Grandma a few thousand more.”
“Thank you,” she choked. “Thank you.” She leaned over to plant another quick peck on his lips, then opened the door and was gone. He watched her going up the steps, savoring his victory all the more because he had to wait for it. When she had disappeared into the house, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Hammond’s number. Hammond answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“I have an opportunity here. To make some money for our cause. But I’m going to need some assistance.”
Hammond didn’t answer at first, and when he did, he sounded guarded. “What kind of assistance?”
“There’s another party who needs to be discouraged. I’ll explain when we meet. Are you available now?”
Another pause. “I can make the time.”
“Believe me,” Suddath said, “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Sam was waiting in the kitchen, staring at but not really reading another one of the texts on Civil War Memorabilia Aunt Sally had given him to read, when he heard the door open. He looked up, hand inching toward the pistol under the dish towel on the table until he heard Rachel’s voice. “It’s me.”
“Hey,” he said as she appeared at the kitchen door. He opened his arms for a hug, but she shook her head and put her hand over her mouth.
“Give me a second.” She turned away and headed up the stairs. He put the book down, put the gun in his waistband, and followed. When he got upstairs, she was in the bathroom with the door closed. He heard the water running, then the sound of her scrubbing with her toothbrush. Sam walked to the door and hesitated. “You okay, babe?” The only answer was the sound of Rachel spitting into the basin. “Pah. Pthah.” Then more scrubbing. The door opened and Rachel was standing there. “Now you can kiss me. Please.”
“Gladly.” Sam took her in his arms and kissed her hard. He felt her stiffen slightly and backed off, making the kiss gentler. She broke away and rested her head on her shoulder.
“That bad?” Sam whispered.
She shook her head. “God, what a…I can’t even…” She kissed him again, then pulled back, her eyes fierce. “I am so going to enjoy taking that bastard’s money.”
“More than usual?”
She nodded. “Much. I feel like a need a long hot shower. But it can wait.”
He grinned. “For what?”
“I think you know.”
He kissed her again. “I think I do.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Aunt Sally sat by the edge of her brother’s hospital bed and tried to concentrate on her knitting. A couple of hours of sleep and a BLT made with the leftover bacon had perked her up somewhat, but she was definitely feeling her age. She couldn’t stop stealing glances at the stack of monitors and devices in the rack by his bed. They were attached to a confusing tangle of wires and tubes that snaked from beneath the thin sheet that covered William’s body. After a few dropped stitches, she sighed and put the knitting back in her bag. She reached out and grasped his hand tentatively. “You need to wake up, Willie,” she murmured. “I can’t…” The words caught in her throat. All she could do was squeeze his hand more tightly. That, however, seemed to get through to him.
He took a deep, shuddering breath and his eyes opened. He struggled to focus them, then he caught sight of his sister. A weak smile spread across his broad face. “Hey, Sis,” he croaked.
“Hey.” She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes to clear them. “You going to lie there all day?”
He chuckled, then grimaced as the action pulled at the stitches in his belly. “Five more minutes,” he said, voice tight with pain. It was the plea he’d always directed at her when she’d struggled to get him up in the mornings for school, and she couldn’t help but laugh thro
ugh her tears. His face turned serious. “The job. Did you call it off?”
She shook her head. “We’re going ahead. Sam and Rachel met with the mark this afternoon. If all went well, we’ll do the exchange tomorrow. Then we blow out of here.”
“What about that guy? The one who came to the house?”
She patted his hand. “Don’t you worry about him, brother. I hit him, but good. We won’t be seeing him again.”
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. When he opened them again, he swallowed as if taking some kind of bitter medicine. “Sis,” he said. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“You just rest,” she said. “We’ll take it from—”
He shook his head vigorously. “I need to say this.” He swallowed again. “When he came in. That guy. I knew who he was after.”
“It’s okay, Willie.” Sally’s voice had taken on an edge of desperation. “You don’t have to—”
“We talked some. He convinced me to try and make a deal,” William said. “I told him where they were. I thought if I did…they’d leave you alone.” He looked at her, his eyes brimming with tears of shame. “I was trying to protect you, Sis.”
“I know,” she said. “I know. It’s okay.”
“No. It’s not okay.” He began to pull at the wires and tubes coming out of him. A high, insistent beeping came from first one of the devices by the bed, then another.
A heavyset black nurse in a set of blue scrubs came rushing in. “Hey,” she said indignantly. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Ma’am,” William said, trying to hide the strain in his voice. “I’m sorry. But I need to get home.”
“What you need,” the nurse said, “is to put your big ass back into that bed and go to sleep.”
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