Poisoned Pie (Pineville Gazette Mystery Book 6)

by Wendy Meadows

  Brent turned his head and spotted Loretta. Loretta was tied down, too. “You,” he hissed. “This is all your fault!”

  “Oh?” Mary asked, waiting for Brent to toss some holes into Loretta’s story. “How is this Loretta’s fault?”

  “I…” Brent decided to wait for his mind and vision to clear before he spoke. It was clear that he was in a very dangerous situation. The question of words grabbed his mind. Would he be able to talk his way through a brick wall? What words could form a sledge hammer? Words of truth? Words laced with lies? Words threaded with both the truth and lies? Brent wasn’t sure. All the man knew was that he was trapped in a very dangerous situation that required tact and skill. “You will not untie me?” he asked.

  “I slugged you with a baseball bat and now I’m holding your gun. What do you think?” Mary asked back.

  Brent nodded his head. “Very well,” he said, struggling to sound gentlemanly. “Mrs. Holland, I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken. You see, I’m not who you think I am.”

  “Oh?” Mary asked.

  Brent nodded his head. “I’m a federal bank inspector on assignment from Washington,” Brent explained, forcing his voice to sound calm. Surely, he thought, a woman like Mary Holland would believe him. After all, he really was a federal bank inspector…albeit a very corrupt federal bank inspector. “I have been assigned to investigate Mr. MacNight.”

  “Liar!” Loretta snapped. “You—”

  “Be quiet!” Brent snapped back. “You’re in enough trouble as it is, Miss MacNight. The death of Kent Connors will not go unpunished.”

  Mary sighed. So much for getting to the truth. “Mr. Presley, you may or may not be a federal bank inspector, but the truth is, you are a crook. Now, please, save me the difficulty of having to ask a hundred questions and simply tell me the truth.”

  Brent stared up at Mary. “You want the truth?” he asked. Mary nodded her head and put on a hat of discernment. “Very well,” Brent said, allowing a little sourness to enter his voice. “The truth is I was assigned to investigate Mr. MacNight for bank fraud. The man has been stealing money from each of his banks for several years.” Brent eased his eyes over to Loretta. “Isn’t that right, Miss MacNight?”

  Loretta bowed her head and listened to the icy winds scratch at the attic window and angry claws. “Please…” she begged.

  “You thought you were going to send me to prison, didn’t you?” Brent asked and then shook his head in disgust. He focused his eyes back on Mary. “Miss MacNight is not as innocent as she appears, Mrs. Holland. The woman has the heart of a snake. However, Kent Connors, also known as Mark Jones, charmed the snake, did he not?”

  “Please…” Loretta moaned miserably.

  “Kent Connors was a well-known bank robber, Mrs. Holland. He robbed four banks in California and three banks in Oregon. He is…was…a wanted man.” Brent studied Mary’s face. The woman was obviously brilliant and was carefully dissecting every word he spoke. “Mrs. Holland, Kent Connors convinced Miss MacNight to participate in a very ugly scheme, a scheme that involved kidnapping, bank robbery, and, yes, murder. You see, Kent Connors convinced Miss MacNight to help him rob all the banks belonging to her father. Miss MacNight agreed and set out to put the scheme in place.”

  Brent paused, glanced over at Loretta, made a sour face, and continued. “Mr. MacNight is not a stupid man. As a matter of fact, the man is deadly brilliant. He was fully aware of his daughter’s actions with Kent Connors. After all, why would such a handsome man be after the hand of his daughter? Mr. MacNight set out to find out exactly who Kent Connors was.”

  “What did Mr. MacNight discover?”

  “Mr. MacNight knew Mark Jones was a false name so he hired a private detective to begin following Kent,” Brent explained. “Kent began meeting with an unknown subject that the private detective had his brother follow all the way back to California. The unknown subject, it appeared, Mrs. Holland, was Kent Connors’s partner in crime…a vicious man who was demanding that Kent turn over his share of all the stolen bank money…or die. Unfortunately, Kent Connors had spent all the bank money running from the law…living the good life every inch of the way. He arrived in Pineville nearly broke and began watching Mr. MacNight’s bank. That’s when he came across Miss MacNight and decided it would be wise to carry off a heist without using a gun.”

  “Mary—” Loretta began to beg. Mary held up her left hand and hushed Loretta.

  Brent continued. “To make a very long story short, Mrs. Holland, Mr. MacNight discovered, through Kent Connors’s partner in crime…and through a very hefty payoff…the plans his daughter and her new…future husband…were making. It seems Kent’s partner in crime decided it was better to get a nice payoff from Mr. MacNight rather than risk waiting for Kent to turn over his share of the stolen bank money. That was a smart move.”

  Mary pulled up a wooden chair and sat down. “Go on, I’m listening,” she told Brent.

  “As I mentioned, Mr. MacNight…nor his wife, for that matter…are foolish. Mr. MacNight, who was already under investigation, decided that the only way he could clear himself of any wrongdoing was to have his banks robbed.” Brent tested the ropes and shook his head. “Very good, Mrs. Holland. I’m impressed.”

  “I’m not. Keep talking,” Mary ordered. She turned her head, studied the cold attic window, and began to wonder about Betty.

  “Mr. MacNight sent Kent Connors on a while goose chase while he had a little talk with his darling princess,” Brent continued. “Isn’t that right, Miss MacNight?”

  Loretta threw a vicious eye at Brent. “Daddy was upset with me…he had every right to be upset with me. I betrayed him. But if I do what Daddy tells me he’ll forgive me, you awful creature. Oh, Daddy should have killed you the moment you arrived in town.”

  Brent gritted his teeth. “And you, Miss MacNight, should have never come to me for help,” he snapped.

  “Help?” Mary asked.

  Brent steadied his mind. “Mrs. Holland, I’m not foolish either. It didn’t take long for Mr. MacNight to figure out who I was. With my disguise destroyed I was preparing to arrest Mr. MacNight, although I had yet to have the needed evidence to bring charges against him. That was when Miss MacNight came to my home one night….about two weeks ago….and confessed the truth. She pleaded with me to help her.”

  “Shut up!” Loretta screamed.

  Brent ignored Loretta. “Mr. MacNight ordered his precious little princess to kill Kent Connors. That was step one. My murder was step two. Step three was to rob all the banks. Mr. MacNight sent Miss MacNight certain numbers to all the bank combination locks. He did this to ensure that if Miss MacNight decided to betray him, the law would arrest her.”

  “How?” Mary asked.

  “Mr. MacNight placed the combination numbers to all the safes located in his banks in a locker rented under Miss MacNight’s name,” Brent explained. “All the numbers of course, except for a few. Miss MacNight is currently in custody of those numbers, aren’t you?”

  Mary looked at Loretta. “Are you?”

  “Yes…are you happy! Daddy threatened to have me arrested if I didn’t obey him. He blackmailed me! But that wasn’t enough…” Loretta bowed her head. “Daddy has threatened to…end my life…unless I kill him,” Loretta nodded at Brent, “and…and….you and Betty. Daddy is very angry, Mary. He’s not about to allow himself to be arrested and sent to prison.”

  Mary bit down on her lip. “Keep talking, Mr. Presley.”

  “Miss MacNight came to me for help. I decided to oblige.”

  “Because you’re a crook,” Mary pointed out.

  “Because I understand how to manipulate the system,” Brent snapped. “Mrs. Holland, make no mistake, I am not your common criminal. I am a man who possesses valuable education. I—”

  “You’re a thief,” Mary told Brent, popping a hole in his prideful speech. “Get on with the story.”

  Brent narrowed his eyes at Mary. “It does not do well to ins
ult my pride, Mrs. Holland. I decided to begin manipulating the system after my pride was wounded. All of my life I have watched useless men wave power and money into the air…power and money they did not deserve…power and money that belongs to me. And trust me, Mrs. Holland, regardless of how this night turns out, I will be set free…and I will remember my enemies.”

  Mary looked deep into Brent’s eyes. She saw a killer. “Mr. Presley, you’re a monster that hides under the beds of innocent children. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a child.” Mary stood up. “While you sit here and complain…sit here as a coward…brave men are fighting a dangerous enemy in a very horrible war. My own husband, who has flown numerous missions over Europe, had his plane attacked by enemy gun fire. He was forced to make an emergency landing and broke his rib during the process. My husband was…blessed. Many men have already died…and many more will not return home. So don’t you dare sit there and threaten me, because I’m not scared of the likes of you. You may be a killer, Mr. Presley, but you’re also a coward. Real men….real men like my husband…are fighting in the war. Those men are not scared of you, either….you’re scared of them.”

  Brent’s eyes began to flame with fury. “Mrs. Holland, it would be very wise to be silent now or—”

  “Or what?” Mary asked in a brave voice. “Mr. Presley, you need to understand that I’m not afraid of you. Now, it would be wise for you to continue talking.” Mary worried that her outburst of anger had caused Brent to crawl into a hole.

  “Mrs. Holland,” Brent said in a voice that gave Mary the creeps, “Miss MacNight came to me for help. I decided to help her. I decided to help Miss MacNight kill Kent Connors along with her…parents. In return, she would help me rob all the banks belonging to Mr. MacNight. Is that what you want to hear? Do you want to hear about murder, deceit, lies, thief and violence? Because those enemies, Mrs. Holland, are my comrades in arms.”

  Mary didn’t respond. She took a few minutes to gather her thoughts. When she began to speak, the sound of someone walking up the attic stairs stopped her. “Mary?” Betty called out in a voice that alarmed Mary.

  “Betty!” Mary ran to the attic door and yanked it open. She was met by a man holding a gun to Betty’s back.

  “Mrs. Holland,” Mr. MacNight said in a pleasant voice, “how nice of you to gather all the hens into the chicken house for me.”

  Betty looked up at Mary with frightened eyes. “I…as soon as I walked through the front door he was there…Oh, Mary, there was nothing I could do.”

  Mary glanced down at the gun she was holding. Mr. MacNight shook his head. “Drop the gun.”

  Mary raised her eyes and looked into the face of a man who reminded her of a very kind and caring man; a man who bounced children on his knee and played checkers at the local barber shop with his war buddies. But Mr. MacNight wasn’t a loving or kind man. The man was dressed like a cruel killer wearing a dark gray fedora that covered his deadly eyes. “Don’t hurt Betty,” Mary begged.

  “Drop the gun,” Mr. MacNight ordered again. Mary did so. “Very good, Mrs. Holland. Now, step away from the door and join the others.” Mary did as ordered. She walked back to Loretta and Brent and waited for Mr. MacNight to bring Betty into the attic. As soon as Betty was clear of the stairs he shoved her forward. Mary reached out and grabbed Betty before she could fall. “Now then,” Mr. MacNight said, closing the attic door, and letting out a pleased smile, “all of my ducks are in one pond. Thank you Mrs. Holland. Your hard work will not be forgotten. I will remember to put a rose on your grave.”

  Mary took Betty’s hand and slowly pushed the woman behind her back. “Mr. MacNight,” she said, hoping that Mrs. Owlton had spotted Mr. MacNight and Betty enter the house, “you can’t kill all of us. People will know.”

  Mr. MacNight stood like a cruel shadow holding a gun. He glared at Mary with eyes that spoke of a determination that scared her. “Mrs. Holland, I gave my daughter this house,” he explained and motioned around the attic with his gun. “As a young boy I lived in this very house with my own parents. I know every inch of this house…including a hidden cellar that lies under the kitchen floor. The cellar is very deep and currently holds a body that I put there many years ago.”

  “Oh my!” Betty gasped and nearly fainted. Mary grabbed her. “A dead body…right here in this house…oh my!”

  Loretta’s face turned pale. How many nights had she slept in the house alone? How many nights had she lain awake listening to the house creek and moan, assuring herself that the strange noises were not being made from the mouth of a nightmare. The idea of sleeping in a big house with a dead body buried under the kitchen floor in a deep cellar nearly made her scream. “Daddy…a dead body…who?”

  “An old business partner.” Mr. MacNight grinned. “Now,” he said, “it’s time to get down to business and die.”

  “Mr. MacNight the government will come looking for me,” Brent warned. “If you kill me the federal agency I work for will certainly locate my body.” Brent knew his words bounced off his opponent as if they were mere feathers, but he had to try and save his life.

  “Daddy, please, listen to reason,” Loretta begged. “I’m your daughter. Your own flesh and blood.”

  “Which is why you’re going to do exactly as I tell you,” Mr. MacNight ordered Loretta. “I have no intention of killing you. I never did, Loretta. I simply wanted to frighten you. However, you will do as I say.” Mr. MacNight walked behind Loretta’s chair and studied the ropes holding her captive. “You will kill the three people standing in this attic and then rob the banks. I will make it appear as though Ned Prats robbed the banks.”

  Loretta couldn’t see her father’s eyes but Mary could. It was clear that Mr. MacNight was lying through his teeth. Loretta was in deep trouble. But what could Mary do? What could Betty do? What could anyone do except stand still and listen to the icy winds scream and howl?

  “Daddy, please…I…I’m so sorry.” Loretta began to cry. “I didn’t mean…Kent, he forced me to go along with his plan…he threatened to kill me,” Loretta lied.

  Mr. MacNight reached out and patted his daughter’s shoulder. “You have one chance to redeem yourself,” he told Loretta in a soothing voice. “Now, listen to me, I’m going to untie you. Once you are untied you will take the gun lying on the floor over there and kill the people standing in this attic. Is that clear?”

  Loretta hesitated. Did she have the guts to kill? Well, she had gone after Mary with a wooden cane, but…had she really intended to kill Mary or just disable the woman? Loretta wasn’t certain. All she knew was that unless she followed her father’s orders…she was a dead woman for sure. “Okay…Daddy…I’ll kill them.”

  Mr. MacNight patted Loretta’s shoulder. “Very good,” he said and then paused and looked at Mary. “I know your husband, Mrs. Holland. I never cared for him. He was too…patriotic for my taste.” Mr. MacNight kept his gun at the ready while he walked over to the attic window, leaving Loretta feeling scared and confused. “Yes, Mrs. Holland, America is a country founded on murder and yet the good citizens of this land turn a blind eye to the truth while they enjoy soft summer evenings filled with lightning bugs dancing in air scented with the taste of freshly mowed grass.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mary asked.

  “Betrayal…murder…cries of agony and pain…suffering…” Mr. MacNight told Mary in a distant voice. “Yes, my ancestors walked the trail of tears, Mrs. Holland.”

  Mary and Betty glanced at each other. Betty shrugged her shoulders. “Mr. MacNight, I—”

  “You know nothing of true suffering, Mrs. Holland,” Mr. MacNight informed Mary. “The Indians are suffering…living on small patches of land in miserable conditions.” Mr. MacNight pointed a hard finger at Brent. “The American government stole their land…murdered their people…and then imprisoned their hearts. Now trespassers live on the land…destroying the land. Now mind you, Mrs. Holland, my anger is directed at people who sit in positions of power
, not yourself…” Mr. MacNight lowered his finger and let out a regretful sigh. “I steal money from my banks and send the money to the reservations,” he confessed. “Children need medicines, blankets, school supplies, and most importantly, food. The government fails to assist the reservations in gaining proper supplies.”

  “You’ve been stealing money and giving it to Indians?” Brent asked in a disgusted voice. “You traitor!”

  Mary watched Mr. MacNight’s cheeks turn red with fury. He stormed over to Brent and slapped the man across his face. “My people has suffered greatly at the hand of people like yourself!”

  “But…you don’t look Indian,” Betty said in a confused voice.

  “Cherokee, to be exact,” Mr. MacNight snapped at Betty. Betty flinched and ducked behind Mary. “My mother was what you would call a half-breed. She married a full-blooded Scottish man. So yes, it does seem that my appearance is deceiving, doesn’t it?”

  Brent glared up at Mr. MacNight. “Why, I bet you don’t even have any Indian in you at all!”

  Mr. MacNight pointed the gun he was holding at Brent. “A man’s heart creates who he is, not his bloodline, Mr. Presley.”

  Mary looked at Loretta while Mr. MacNight was focused on Brent. She wasn’t interested in listening to Mr. MacNight play hero. Sure, it was horrible how some treated the Indians, but Mary wasn’t responsible and her future generation wouldn’t be responsible either. All anyone—anyone with a heart and conscience, that was—could do was learn from the past in order to create a future shining with loving light. Unfortunately, it seemed, there were still people walking the planet who were determined to ride the waves of hatred into the hearts of people who were too weak to battle for truth and love. Why, in Europe a monster was murdering millions of innocent Jewish men, women, and children and the world was silent. Where was the outrage? Where were the bitter tears? Where was the pain? How many nights had Mary sat up praying for the Jewish people, hoping the bombs her husband was dropping would land on the head of the monster ordering the Jewish people to be murdered?