The Errant Heirs Caper - Chapter 4
She swung around, book still in hand, and knocked me on the temple with it. Stars filled my eyes as I stumbled backwards, losing my hold on her wrist.
“Peggy…” a feminine voice whispered. “Peggy, are you here?”
I moved into a corner of the room that was shrouded in enough shadow that she wouldn’t be able to see me clearly. “Mmm?”
“There you are, Peggy. Thank goodness. I wanted to talk to you before Linton saw me. He is still here, isn’t he? Or has he already been arrested? Our plan did work, didn’t it? They’ve pinned it on Linton? Or did they snag both of them as we’d hoped?”
“Mmmhmm…”
She giggled almost maniacally, then put a hand to her mouth as she stood against the door, “I knew it. It was absolutely brilliant. I knew they would find the needle marks and know that the old coot had been poisoned. And that would naturally lead them to Leo. Oh, I wish I could have seen his face when he found out Uncle Jarod was murdered.”
“And the shots would lead to Linton, suggesting a double-cross…” I surmised, whispering to myself. Fortunately, my voice was low enough that she still hadn’t realized I wasn’t her sister.
“Now tell me, has the will been read? How much did we get from that old man? And Peggy, why are you sitting here in the dark?”
When she switched on the light and saw that I wasn’t Peggy, her eyes got big as saucers.
She reached for the book on a small table near the bed. “Don’t move, Beatrix. Stay right there.” She briefly halted as I leveled my gun on her, then she tipped her head back to laugh and backed towards the door as if she knew I wouldn’t fire. She was right. I was a dead shot, but I didn’t want to use lethal force when there might be some other way to diffuse the situation.
Suddenly she grabbed the knob, and I rushed her, jerking her back so that she couldn’t escape. She swung around, book still in hand, and knocked me on the temple with it.
Stars filled my eyes as I stumbled backwards, losing my hold on her wrist. But when she found the doorknob again and pulled it open, she ran smack dab into Blake.
“Don’t let her get away! She killed Presley!”
Despite her struggle to slip away from him, Blake managed to entrap her by pinning her arm behind her back. She shrieked and kicked, but he held firm.
“Where’s Peggy? She was in on it and…”
“I know, I know,” he muttered. “Rufus has her downstairs.”
“You know?”
He grabbed one of Peggy’s scarves from the bureau beside the door and tied a complicated knot around both of Beatrix’ wrists, then raised his eyes to me. I saw that he wasn’t happy in the least. “I know because Peggy told me. I was suspicious of her reaction to the will, so I invited her for that walk so that I could try to question her. She spilled the entire story to me.”
“Oh,” I muttered. “Good thinking.”
“And speaking of good thinking, you apparently have not one bit of common sense or you wouldn’t have decided to confront a potential killer on your own. Don’t you know you could have been hurt and…”
His words reminded me of the throbbing pain against my left eye. and I naturally raised a hand to it.
“Did she hit you?” he hissed, more alarm in his voice now than irritation. His hand cupped my chin as he examined what I assumed to be quite a goose egg popping up on the side of my head. “Jenny Dee, what is wrong with you? Here alone with her, like you’re playing some spy game or something.”
“Peggy wouldn’t tell you our plan!” Beatrix drew our attention again. “She wouldn’t turn on me like that!”
Blake snorted. “Seems she’s more scared of you than jail. Said she was afraid of your reaction when you found out you hadn’t inherited a dime.”
She truly looked stunned then, her face lost all color and her chest fell in defeat. “Nothing? Nothing? It can’t be… I deserve to win this time. It can’t be? How can it be?”
She continued mumbling over and over about how it was her turn to come out on top, it was her turn to win. They were the constant, hysterical ramblings of a woman who was certainly unhinged. And I knew in that moment that Peggy was right to be afraid of her sister. And maybe if I had known, I would have been afraid, too.
The funeral was to be a fine affair. But then when one had twenty-five hundred dollars to spend on a last farewell, finery was at a premium.
The morning after Peggy and Beatrix were both arrested for murder, Leonidis Montague packed up his bags and left the Reel ‘Em Inn, presumably never to return. Linton lingered only long enough to visit his wife in jail before she and her sister were transported to the county lockup to await trial on their charges. He’d looked somewhat defeated when he loaded into his vehicle. I presumed a man of his charms wouldn’t have expected a woman to turn on him so vehemently as Beatrix had done.
From the coherent bits of Beatrix’ confession, we determined that she had killed ol’ Presley herself. She’d rented a boat and lodged it on the shore of Goat Island where he would see her that evening. When he pulled up to check on whoever was there, she slammed a steel pipe into the back of his head to knock him unconscious. After she dragged him farther up the shore, she’d injected a lethal dose of potassium under his arm to make his death look like a heart attack. When she’d brushed away all of her footprints, she left and went back to the hospital. Taylor was only a few hours away.
Peggy’s job was to make it look like Dunlevy had tried to kill Montague, thereby implicating both of the men in the murder and leaving the loot for the ladies. But Peggy had panicked and shot at our boat when she’d noticed us at the island. Later, her nerves were so frayed that she’d spilled her part of the story to Blake in loud, sobbing tears.
Now with the final exit of all of Ol’ Presley’s family, it fell to his friend to make his arrangements. My father, Blake, Rufus, Margo and I all sat down over coffee to discuss the matter.
“My family is Irish,” Margo sipped her mug. “A good Irish wake is what we should have.”
Rufus snorted, chewing his unlit cigar. “Presley wasn’t Irish, honey cakes.”
“No,” Dad mused. “But it isn’t a bad idea. I think he would like that.”
I groaned, but no one seemed to notice. I knew an Irish wake would be my father’s choice because of the liquor. But then, why would he need that excuse to keep going, I’d thought as I watched him pull his little flask from his coat pocket and pour some into his coffee cup. At ten in the morning, he was already on the sauce.
A few days later, Presley’s remains arrived back at the Reel ‘Em Inn. Rufus hired a top-dollar embalmer to prepare the body and perform the latest in restorative art to make him look like his old self. I was uncomfortably surprised by how “undead” Presley looked laying in a lined pine box in the center of the Reel ‘Em Inn’s lobby.
A procession of attendees made their way past his coffin, some of them somber and quiet as they studied him, others joking and telling stories about the old man. I couldn’t be sure that all of them had really known Presley, but the promise of food and libations lured people out in droves.
“Great party, eh?” Dad chuckled, balancing a plate heaped high with sliced ham and potato salad in one hand and a highball in the other.
“Yep, Pres would be pleased,” I sighed, crossing my legs at the ankle.
“You think so? I wasn’t sure if he was much of a partier, but it certainly seems to be going well.”
“I was referring to the fact that we managed to spend every penny of his life insurance on his funeral. That was his wish. So, I assume he’d be pleased.”
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” he asked, then tried to pass his plate towards me in offering. I wrinkled my nose and shook my head.
“Suit yourself.” He shuffled off towards Rufus, who looked to be enjoying the festivities just as much. I was annoyed. I was angry. I was contemptuous of every drink he’d had since arriving here. My mind wanted to blame Rufus and his ever-stocked liquor cabinet, but the truth was, it wasn’t the old police chief’s fault.
I gritted my teeth and rubbed my aching head. I’d just about decided to head off to bed when a familiar voice intruded,
“How long’s it been like this, Jenny?”
I licked my lips before looking up at Blake, a tired smile curling my mouth. “About…” I glanced at the grandfather clock across the room. “Two or so hours, I’d say.”
He snorted and shook his head as he took the seat beside me. “You know what I mean. How long has JD been hitting the bottle like that?”
I didn’t want to answer, but I didn’t see that I had a choice. He deserved a response, and with any luck I could sugar-coat the situation enough that he wouldn’t turn us away for business in the future.
“Lots of respectable businessmen enjoy their spirits. Dad is no different.” I shrugged and offered a saccharin grin.
“Jenny, if you need help, all you have to do is say the word.”
“Help?” I blinked as if surprised. “We’re fine, Blake. And we helped solve the case, although unfortunately your company still had to pay up.”
His lips pulled into a tight line, and I knew it was my response that annoyed him as much as it was the payout of insurance. Still, he didn't argue or press, and I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Tomorrow Dad and I would head home and hopefully he’d be able to set the bottle aside long enough to take the next case that came through the door.
My eyes found him across the room, cringing when he nearly tripped over his loose feet, almost dropping his plate. Margo, bless her, put her arm out and steadied him just in time, while Rufus gave a deep belly laugh, amused by JD’s inability to keep himself steady.
“Excuse me,” I said to Blake as I rose to my feet. “I think I’ll go on up to my room.”
I felt his eyes on me as I made my way through the throng of pseudo-mourners to the staircase. It was a shame I couldn’t be honest with Blake, as I knew he was a good, honorable man. But Dad’s ego had suffered too many blows over the years, and I wasn’t going to let anyone know about his sickness if I could help it. I just hoped I could find a way to help him before our entire business fell into the trash heap.
The Killer Jack Mystery is next…
I was awakened in the early morning hours by the sound of something crashing. In a panic, I leaped out of the bed and ran towards the parlor in just my old cotton nightgown. There were car lights out in front of the house, and the figures of two people in the shadows on the front porch.