The Errant Heirs Caper - Chapter 3
“So, they all have alibis. Where does that leave us?”
Clarence Todd was late, and the natives were getting restless. Peggy Montague had left her room at least three times in the last half hour, glancing over the banister to the lobby, then huffing in annoyance before going back into her suite. Montague and Dunlevy were together, sitting chummily in the lobby, and every so often one of them would demand the time from Margo behind the counter. She finally abandoned her post altogether a few seconds ago just to be free of them. I wasn’t sure what to make of their intimacy, considering my suspicion just a few hours earlier that Dunlevy might have been trying to kill Montague.
Hooting and laughter came from behind the door to Rufus’ office, and I gritted my teeth in annoyance as I flicked my gaze that direction. Until about fifty minutes ago, I’d been afforded enough privacy to sit in a big comfy easy chair beside the phone and make several calls about Presley’s heirs. Now that they were here, I’d decided to keep that position, watching them and considering their potential involvement in the murder.
Whatever Presley had been injected with, the fact that Montague was a pharmacist or at least a person knowledgeable in concoctions that could potentially cause death made him a prime suspect. But then whatever that poison was, it could just as well prove to be so common that anyone might use it.
Meanwhile, Dunlevy was too suave and sure of himself for my liking. It made me instantly distrust him, especially assuming Peggy was right and he was a philanderer. If his wife was sick, then that meant he could easily control whatever monies she might inherit from Ol’ Presley.
The door of the lobby opened, and both Montague and Dunlevy sprang forward expectantly, only to grumble in disappointment when Blake came into the Reel ‘Em Inn. I raised an eyebrow and smiled ever so slightly. He twitched his head in the direction of an alcove away from prying ears, so I nodded and followed.
Earlier, I’d followed Blake out to the parking lot where we’d found and examined Dunlevy’s rifle. To our disappointment and my confusion, we found absolutely no residue inside the barrel. We could be fairly certain there hadn’t been enough time for him to have cleaned it before making his entrance into Rufus’ office that afternoon, so that meant it hadn’t recently been fired.
Because there was only one phone at the Reel ‘Em Inn, after he carefully placed the rifle back into Dunlevy’s case, Blake had gone down to a lakeside restaurant about thirty minutes away to make his inquiries.
“Where’s JD?”
I shrugged and motioned my wrist loosely in the direction of Rufus’ office. Blake leaned in close, his breath tickling my shoulder. “Are they still drinking?”
“What did you find out?” I asked instead of answering.
“Well, none of them seem to be in exceedingly great financial condition, but then who is these days?” No truer statement could be made. Finding a man who was doing well in the current depression was rare. “Montague is holding his own; the post at the college seems steady for him. Dunlevy is a little more questionable. I know he hasn’t won a top prize in at least twelve months, though he’s had a few minor gains. From what I can see, they’ve been living on his inheritance, a sweet but small pot he got from his parents about ten years ago.”
I whistled. “Ten years is a long time. The well must be running dry.”
“That’s what I figure. Then there’s Peggy. She’s said to run alongside some very wealthy oil men in Dallas and Fort Worth. They’re known to be exceedingly generous oil men.”
“Ah…” I nodded. “Well, as for my part, Montague teaches both day and night classes and according to the college, he was there yesterday for all of his sessions. And since it’s a good five hours from Lufkin to here…” I rolled my hand to indicate he could make the same assumption I had. “Dunlevy, meanwhile, was, in fact, at that competition in Broken Bow. And Miss Peggy Montague was photographed on the arm of one Thomas Dunn in Fort Worth last night at some ritzy event.”
“So, they all have alibis. Where does that leave us?”
I shrugged. “I also checked on Beatrix. She’s been listed as a patient at the sanitarium for two weeks last Thursday. They don’t keep constant tabs on their patients, though they believe she was there last night. She’s reportedly on her way here now.”
“I figured it was one of those fancy places more for rest and relaxation.”
“Exactly, I…”
The door to the lobby opened, and an austere gentleman carrying a briefcase entered. Blake rushed over to him and put out his hand. “Mr. Todd?”
“I am Clarence Todd,” he acknowledged. “I apologize for my tardiness, but I was in trial. I’m pressed for time so I’d like to…”
“Yes, yes,” Montague interrupted. “No need to delay. Let’s get on with this.”
“I agree,” Dunlevy nodded, standing. “Someone should go get Peggy…”
“No need.” The gorgeous dark-haired woman spoke as she gracefully descended the stairs. “I’m here.”
Blake glanced at me, then at Rufus’ office. I nodded and pushed between the swarming heirs to get my dad and the police chief. My stomach sank when I saw JD leaning against the arm of the sofa with an empty glass dangling from his hand.
“Your dad’s a sneaky bastard, Jenny,” Rufus said as he came out of the office washroom, face wet and dripping. He picked up the empty bottle from his desk. “Drank the last drop of my good stuff.”
I approached my father, abject disappointment in my glare. He smiled sheepishly from one side of his face as I took his glass and set it aside, then helped close his open suitcoat and straighten his tie.
“You’re a good girl, Jenny,” he slurred.
I patted his chest affectionately, not missing the feel of the flask he had tucked into his pocket.
“You ready for us, Chief?” Blake asked, his head peeking inside the doorway.
Rufus cleared his throat, then nodded, motioning with a roll of his arm. As soon as Blake let the door swing wide, Montague, Dunlevy and Peggy rushed inside, following by Attorney Todd. Rufus shook the lawyer’s hand and motioned him to the chair at his desk. Blake and I stood aside, waiting like wallflowers not far from the sofa. I only hoped my dad would be able to stay awake and quiet until the meeting was over.
“Well, I know you all are anxious to get this over with, and I have another appointment I will need to get to, so I’ll make this quick. I have been Mr. Presley’s attorney for approximately eight years. We drafted this particular will only a few weeks ago. It was witnessed and notarized in accordance with the laws of the state of Texas.”
“Yes, yes,” Montague rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get on with this. I’d rather not be forced to remain in this little one-horse town longer than necessary.”
Dunlevy didn’t outright agree, but the smirk on his face said he felt the same. Peggy crossed her legs at the ankle, a hungry look in her eyes evidence of how anxious she too was to hear what the lawyer had to say.
“I have a full accounting of Mr. Presley’s finances here.” He held up a piece of paper but didn’t offer it to Montague, despite the way the man leaned forward to see it. “And I understand that Mr. Broadmore’s insurance company holds the policy for Mr. Presley’s life insurance, which is also an asset of his estate, should the claim be found to be in order.”
“Correct.” Blake inflected his head in agreement.
“Well, then, I shall now read the will.” Attorney Todd removed a long, folded document and cleared his throat. “I, Jarod Billings Presley, of sound mind and body, do hereby make this, my last will and testament. I hereby direct that any and all proceeds of the life insurance policy with Gilead Mutual should be used solely for my funeral and burial. The entirety of the proceeds is to be used for this purpose and for nothing else.”
“Well, that was good of him,” Peggy smirked, flicking one of her brightly painted nails against the pad of her thumb.
“Ahem,” Todd continued. “Any and all other property of mine, save and except the clothing on my back, has been disposed of during my lifetime. Insomuch as I have been beyond fortunate, and insomuch as others are suffering daily with poverty and despair, I have seen fit to gift the greatest bulk of my assets during my lifetime to those in need. I have further desired not to burden any of my family with the responsibility of wealth unearned and so have left them none…”
Todd couldn’t get the words out of his mouth because Montague began to laugh. It started as a little chuckle but quickly escalated hysterically. Peggy turned her icy eyes on him with a look of disdain. Dunlevy’s mouth dropped open a moment, then a grin split his face, too.
“It’s little more than we all deserved.” Montague smacked his brother-in-law on the back.
Peggy dominated my attention as the anticlimax that was Jarod Presley’s will emptied the occupants of the room. Her brother and Dunlevy appeared mostly indifferent to the news that they would not, in fact, inherit a vast estate from Ol’ Presley’s wildcatter’s fortune.
Peggy, though saying little, appeared shaken deep down. I watched her pull a cigarette from the case, then try to light it with little luck. Blake had moved further into the room and was standing near her.
“Do you mind?” she asked low, waving the cigarette in front of her. He took the lighter, shook it, then flicked the switch a few times before getting a flame. She puffed twice to get it started, then pursed her red lips with a flat smile.
I heard a little noise and glanced in Dad’s direction to see him starting to doze. Pushing away from the wall with both hands, I stepped in to help him up, hoping I could get him to his room without anyone realizing the state he was in. Thankfully, most everyone else seemed otherwise occupied.
“Let me help, Jenny,” Rufus said softly as he put one hand under JD’s arm and took on most of his weight as we shuffled out of the office and down the hallway to the first floor rooms. Over my shoulder I glanced at Blake still talking to Peggy. The woman tipped her head back and laughed drolly, and I rolled my eyes at the obvious flirtation.
I thanked Rufus for his help, then tucked Dad into bed after pulling his muddy boots off. He grumbled something that might have been goodnight before starting to snore loudly. I turned the switch to put out the light, then closed the door with a deep sigh.
I took a moment to contemplate things with my father. I wondered if it was time to sit him down for a long, hard talk. Up until now, I’d tried to ignore his drinking, but I’d been doing some research, and it was clear that he was more than just a lover of spirits. He had an illness, what the some doctors called an allergy to alcohol, and it was only getting worse.
A pain in my forehead convinced me to stop worrying about him for now. I started down the dark hallway back towards the lobby when I heard Peggy’s seductive voice.
“… it’s too late to start for home, I suppose, so it appears I’ll be staying the night here afterall. That means a walk wouldn’t be amiss.”
“We can take the trail down to the docks, then,” Blake replied, and I once again bristled that he was so susceptible to her charms.
“Yes, though I’d rather not move along that bank up the backside of the grounds. Someone could disappear into that mud.”
My brows drew together as I considered that. How would she know about the boggy area far down from the docks? That was the same area from which a shooter had taken potshots at our boat earlier. I waited for them to disappear out the back door of the lodge, gave myself another minute or so to be sure they didn’t return, then I slipped out of the darkness to the front counter.
I heard Margo’s voice in the back, and I could see the shadows of what looked to be Montague and Dunlevy now talking out on the front porch area of the inn. Quickly, I reached for the register and turned it so that I could see the entries. Peggy Montague’s name was signed in fancy scrawl, and just beside it was written 2D.
After turning the register back to its original position, I made my way up the stairs to her room. I couldn’t risk turning the lights on, but luckily, there was enough illumination coming in from the waning sun outside the window that I could get a quick peek around.
For an unexpected trip, Peggy Montague had packed a wide assortment of dresses, blouses and trousers, all of them of the finest material and make. Her suitcase was empty except for a small bag of toiletries, none of those out of the ordinary except for the fact that she carried a large assortment of face creams and makeup.
She had an equally impressive variety of shoes, each of them lined neatly in the small closet. Standing on my tiptoes I felt along the shelf atop the clothes rack but found nothing but dust. With a pouting stomp of my foot, I scanned the room through squinted eyes, trying to find something, anything, that might be a clue.
As I made my way past the bed, I knocked over an ashtray and hissed an expletive at my own clumsiness. Bending at the waist, I reached down for it and immediately noticed a pair of mud-caked shoes hidden under the bed. My hand reached for them, then I noticed a long cut in the underside of the mattress. I felt inside, immediately recognizing the barrel of a rifle. But before I could remove it from its hiding place, I saw a shadow appear in the hallway just outside the door.
The person stopped, and there was enough space between the door and the floor for me to see that the feet belonged to a woman. But not Peggy. These weren’t her brand of heels. The knob turned, and I jerked ramrod straight as I considered my options. I reached into my handbag and removed my pistol even as the door cracked open.
