A Will To Murder (26 page)

“Ouch,” said the boy, taking the thorny bouquet in bewilderment.  

His hands free, Bradley lugged the thrashing Richie back up to the tower.  Arthur followed, roses trembling.  With a grunt, Smith hoisted Richie up to the top of the railing, but Richie locked onto the metal supports, his back curved in refusal.  The boy was screeching and contorting.  “You’re as bad as a cat trying to stay out of a flea bath,” Bradley scolded.  Smith chopped him hard on each wrist and shoved him over.  

“Here,” Bradley said.  “Now you don’t have any reason to fight.”  With a generous air, he held out something to Richie, and the boy took it in surprise.  Then Richie saw what it was.  A penny.

The boy screamed and threw the coin at Bradley.  It missed, and Richie clanged down the metal stairs, cursing them.  Arthur watched the coin bounce off the wooden shingles, then fly over the edge.  He shuddered.

“You know,” said Bradley, retrieving his roses from Arthur, “there’s something wrong with that boy.  It’s not just his father being on the lam, either.”

“He’s evil,” said Arthur.  

“I don’t know what his problem is,” Smith continued, inspecting his flowers to see if they had been damaged.  “If someone had given me a penny I’d be pleased with the gesture, though it’s not much money.  That boy’s been spoiled.  It’s a good thing I was outside picking some flowers to spruce up my cruddy motel room.  Barksdale was throwing a fit about something on the roof and I heard you two yelling. He’s a pretty good animal, even if he is a dog.  Was Richie really trying to swipe a penny from you?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, still shaking.  “I need to talk to my Dad.”

Bert was sitting in the living room when his son launched himself at his father, holding the penny case out.  Smith had left to gather a few more roses.  “Richie and Briarly are trying to steal my penny!” Arthur bawled.  

His father winced.  “Kid, don't pile into people like that.  And c'mon, who'd want a penny?”

Arthur held the case up.  Slowly, Bert took it.  “This is a collector's coin, isn't it?” he asked after a moment.

“Mr. Hamilton said it could be worth tens of thousands of dollars.”   

“Oh nowhere near that much, I'll bet.  Where’d you get this?”

“Grandfather Boyle left it to me in the will, remember?  He gave me a penny.”

“And this was it?  Well, you made out better than I thought.”

“It's worth thousands and thousands of dollars!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, kid, it is not.  No lawyer would have let you run around with something that valuable.  He would have told your mom and me about it, first.”

The boy was disappointed.  His father was probably right.  “But when he gave it to me, he said to show it to you and Mom.  I tried and you wouldn't look at it.  Nobody would.”

Bert stared at his son.  “I'd better see Hamilton about this.  Now what was that fuss going on with your cousins?”

“Richie and Briarly were trying to steal it!”

“You ought to know better.  If you show anything interesting to a boy like Richie, of course he'd try to take it.  Let's go talk to the lawyer.”  

They wound up speaking to Walker instead, because Hamilton was still busy at the sheriff’s.  Walker was startled to hear that Bert hadn’t known about the coin.  He confirmed its monetary value, and Bert gagged.  Apologetically, the lawyer suggested placing the coin in a safe deposit box until the family left, and Bert and Arthur drove off to the First National Bank of Chichiteaux, Cummings fuming about the lawyer’s incompetence all the way.   

After the police left, Eric made another phone call to Wendy to tell her about the gun.  Fortunately, she was at her desk this time.  

“Thanks,” she said.  “Nevertheless, I’m glad you’re at a motel.  It’s not safe for either of you at that house.  Your usefulness has to end.”

“Oh, c’mon, I doubt I’m a target.  And none of these people really know Bradley.”  

“You’re not at Rollingwood right now, are you?”

“Sure.”

“You pair of blockheads!  Someone just got murdered there and we don’t know who pulled the trigger!”

“Hey, we’re reporters, remember.  By the way, is your boss pursuing this case at all?”  

“Just a second.”  Wendy looked out her office door.  Both Linzy and Dex were still at the sheriff’s.  “He’s working on the case pretty hard right now, but he wasn’t earlier.  Remember that re-enactor’s society James belonged to?”

“Yeah.  You said your boss was a member of the same group.”

“It’s the thing to do around here if you’re a history buff, and Linzy also wants to make new connections--he plans to run for Congress some day.  Anyway, he joined up, all ready to spend the day shooting blanks and recreating the Battle of Fort Chichiteaux.  There’s a replica of the fort just outside of town--the original fort was captured and burned down by the British--and the Americans were determined that this time the British wouldn’t succeed.  Well, James Boyle was an officer, and Linzy was a private.”

“Oh no,” said Eric, beginning to understand.

“Linzy was supposed to guard some door, but he didn’t take his role very seriously.  The British broke into the fort through that door, and the Americans had to surrender.  James was furious.  Colonel Boyle decided to have an impromptu trial for dereliction of duty.  He formed the men up into a hollow square and called Linzy into the middle.  Then he proclaimed Fowler’s crime, said he’d lived up to his name--Fouler--and sentenced him to be bucked and gagged.  I don’t think any of the troops realized how long James intended to leave my boss tied up.  After James pronounced sentence, Linzy asked, ‘Are you serious?’  My boss was thinking, ‘Well hey, I’m the new guy here, this must be a sort of fraternity-initiation type thing.’  

“So they bucked and gagged him and went off to have some drinks, and forgot about him.  It was hours later before James released him.  I don’t know what Linzy said to him, but it must have been scorching.  I’m surprised he didn’t sue.  I’ve often thought it was that little event that made him give up his regular job as a lawyer to run for district attorney.  Of course, he didn’t tell me this story--I’m repeating the office gossip.  So when James died from that CD, Linzy just laughed like a maniac.  Felt James got what he deserved, and Linzy was damned if he was going to investigate.  That’s why I was interested when Bradley said James was his grandfather.”

“When did your boss change his mind?”

“Not until Lance.  He thought Katherine died of old age and stress--Linzy said anyone would have a heart attack if they lived with James, but Colette bothered him.  Unfortunately, Douthit’s report made him hold back.  She clearly had a fatal medical condition.  And if Colette had been murdered, then so had James and Katherine.  It would have looked like--”

“Dereliction of duty?”

“Yeah,” said Wendy dryly.  “Then Lance was shot, and Linzy realized he had to start investigating fast or there wasn’t going to be any congressman from Vermont by the name of Fowler.  I’ll tell you something else, though.  The other day I ran across Bob Webster, Linzy’s old law partner, and he hinted ‘an obstruction might occur’--his words--in the case.  Webster added ‘this case might never be fully investigated.’”

“What?!”

“Webster wouldn’t give me details.  He’s not supposed to know anything about the case, but old law partners sometimes learn these things anyway.  He said some Boyle family member had a tie to someone who ‘ain’t gonna get investigated.’  Then he insinuated that this might be why Linzy hadn’t gone into the case earlier.  I was furious.  I don’t doubt him at all.  Bob’s known Linzy a long time.”  

“So your boss might not be very--accommodating?”

“We’ll see,” Wendy replied darkly.  “Even if we don’t go to trial, I’ll make sure this case becomes
well-known
.  I take back what I said about your usefulness, Mr. Reporter.”  

That afternoon workmen came to Rollingwood to repair the hole in the roof.  Armagnac guided them up to the observation deck, and they said it was a fine view and it was obvious the entire roof needed replacing as well.  With a sigh, Armagnac told them to go ahead.  The cost would come out of James’ estate somehow, Boyle was sure.

Cummings was glad to hear this.  A few hours later he was even more cheerful, because after the workmen pulled all the old shingles off, the hammering of the new shingles began.  Soon, Armagnac was whimpering from a migraine.

“This is impossible to endure!” Boyle shrilled from the living room.  His glasses were pushed up and he was rubbing his eyes.  “They're charging me for giving me this ghastly pain, and it's not even legally my house to boot!”

“Go to a hotel, Army,” Jac said irritably.

“Ahem.”

“What?” Jac crossed her arms.  

“There is a certain matter of funds,” puffed Armagnac, lowering his hands from his eyes.  “All my cash was used to pay for that hotel room the other day.”

His sister yanked open her purse and pulled out some bills.  “Here.  And take Mrs. Marshpool with you.  I don't care anymore.”

Boyle's eyebrows rose in surprise.  

The doorbell rang, and Kyle Walker entered.  Quickly, people gathered to hear him.  Arthur hid behind an urn, afraid they would eject him if they found him.  Earlier, Jac had taken Richie back to the Bed and Breakfast, to Arthur’s relief.  He never wanted to see his monstrous cousin again.

“I have some more news,” the lawyer said.

Jac was watching Walker intently.  “Is it about Phil?” she asked.

“I will tell you something about him in a moment, Ma'am, but first--I need to say that Mr. Heydrick has confessed to killing Woofie.”

Rose gasped.  

“That's not a surprise,” Jac said harshly.  “Why did he do it?  And why did he confess?”

“I must admit I'm taken aback,” said Boyle.  “Heydrick’s not the coziest sort, but I wouldn’t have thought he’d kill Woofie.”

“He didn't!” Rose protested.  “I'm sure he didn't.  Heydrick could never be that brutal.”

Jac snorted.  Eric and Bradley met each other's eyes.  Both were thinking, ‘scythe’?

“Mr. Heydrick confessed,” the lawyer repeated.  “He did so in Mr. Hamilton’s presence, making a formal statement to the police.  The physical evidence also supports his confession.  The police removed a pair of items from your shed out back, a shed that only Mr. Heydrick could open, since he purchased a lock for it last week.  These items were a scythe and an altered gardener’s handfork.  Both had blood on them, and the stains are consistent with ostrich blood.”

Eric and Bradley exchanged wide-eyed expressions.

“I was right!” Arthur sang out.  

“Pipe down, kid,” said Bert, batting a hand at the urn.  “What’s this handfork you mentioned?”

“A gardener’s handfork.  Heydrick had removed the three tines and reattached them very close together, with a slight staggering to give them the appearance of an animal’s claw.  I believe Dr. Anderson said the wounds looked like they had been made by a wolf.”

“Oh, Heydrick’s handy, all right,” said Jac coldly.

“Mr. Heydrick said that when he appeared next to the ostrich’s pen, Woofie approached, thinking it was feeding time, and the gardener reached over the chicken wire with the scythe and chopped at the animal’s neck.  Woofie was badly hurt.  Heydrick waited until the ostrich was too weak to retaliate, then entered the pen, slashed Woofie a few more times at a distance with the scythe, then used the handfork to simulate a wolf attack.”

“But why?” Rose asked in dismay.  Armagnac’s cheeks were blown out in a puffed-rabbit expression, and his eyes were flitting over the listeners.

“He gave his motive as revenge, Mrs. Cummings.  He was angry with Lance for plowing up a flowerbed in an accident, and he decided to ensure that Mr. Wiley would not inherit.”

“But didn’t he understand,” said Rose, “that by killing Woofie, he would be robbing Colette of her inheritance, too?”

“Rosey,” said Jac emphatically, “Heydrick’s never given a damn about other people.”

“But he wouldn’t--”

“Rosey!  He confessed!  He didn’t care about Colette!” Jac shouted.  “Will you believe the evidence for once?”

Defeated, Rose fell silent.  Walker continued.  “James Boyle told Mr. Hamilton he was uncertain if Lance and Colette deserved to inherit anything.  Your father wanted to see if the Wileys could behave responsibly, which is why he arranged for them to care for Woofie.  After meeting your cousins, Mr. Heydrick thought them unworthy of any inheritance.”

“Sorry, honey,” Bert said to his wife.  Rose was gazing at the carpet.

“Did the police find anything else inside the shed?”  Eric asked.

Arthur tensed, waiting for the answer.

“I’m not allowed to say if they did,” replied Walker.  Arthur sagged against the couch.

“I understand he denies shooting Lance,” Eric added.

“That is true.  The evidence supports this, also.  I have some bad news, I’m afraid.  I’m sorry, Mrs. Salisbury, but your husband is under arrest at the sheriff’s.”

Jac covered her face awkwardly with a hand, then began pacing so no one could see her expression.

“I’m sorry,” Rose said to her sister.  Jac only shook her head silently.

“The family could provide a lawyer, if he needs one,” Armagnac said.  Boyle looked uncertainly from Walker to his sister.

“Mr. Salisbury has already retained Mr. Hamilton,” Walker replied.  “Currently, my colleague is trying to make bail for your husband, Ma’am.  Unfortunately, the bail is set very high, and it seems that it might not be met.”

“Wh--what was the charge?” Jac asked, turning to face the lawyer.

“The murder of Lance Wiley.  I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Rose shouted.  “Phil’s innocent.”

“Ma’am, I have more bad news,” Walker continued.  “The police have witnesses who saw Mr. Salisbury purchasing a handgun at the Chichiteaux Guns-A-Million Outlet Store, just a short time before Lance was killed.  The weapon your son Arthur found in the attic,” Walker nodded at Arthur, who was hanging over the back of the sofa like Kilroy, “was traced to this shop and discovered to be the same one Mr. Salisbury bought.  His fingerprints are on the gun and
no one else’s
.  Also,” he added reluctantly, “the ballistics lab has just reported that the bullet that killed Mr. Wiley had indeed come from Mr. Salisbury’s gun.”