Marblestone Mansion, Book 10 Read online

  “Can you give her anything for the pain?” Hannish asked.

  “I am afraid I must save all I brought with me for Prescot. As soon as the drugstore opens, I shall send someone to town for more. Meanwhile, I suggest we all go to bed.”

  *

  Listening at the top of the stairs, Justin took Traitor to his room, and fully intended to sleep for a week now that his mother was safe. Traitor sprawled out on the bed beside him, rolled over on his back and fell fast asleep. The dog was dog-tired.

  CHAPTER 9

  None of them went to work that Monday morning. It had been the longest night anyone could remember, but finally, Leesil calmed down and fell asleep. Afraid to disturb her rest, Hannish slept in the chair beside her bed, and when she awoke a couple of times with terror in her eyes, he managed to talk her back to sleep.

  When Prescot woke up, he was in even more pain, but everyone was relieved to know he made it through the night. Nurse Julia gave him more pain medicine, and now it was just a matter of a long rest and time to heal. Beverly and Dugan couldn’t stop looking at their adorable son and half the household had already gone to take a peek at him. The new parents couldn’t agree on a name, however. Dugan liked the name Augustus and all Beverly could do was wrinkle her brow in disbelief.

  As soon as Claymore and Abigail got up, they were greeted with the happy news and called their butler to say they would be coming home. Provost MacGreagor was so happy, he kissed Cook Jessie on the cheek.

  The Marblestone family and friends were not the only ones elated that morning. The new hotshot newspaper reporter managed to get his article finished just in time for the morning edition.

  He was disappointed, however, when he learned Leesil had come home in the night and he had not been there to see it. Hopefully, the MacGreagors would grant him an interview for a follow-up story. He called and was told to call back in a day or two.

  *

  It was not quite over yet.

  With the stolen money, Pete and Willis slept late, and then treated themselves to a hearty breakfast in a Manitou Springs restaurant. When they were finished, they went back to their horses.

  Pete whispered, “We better sell Earl’s horse. It will only slow us down after we get the ransom money.”

  “Earl sure is going to be mad,” said Willis.

  “So?” Pete shot back. “We will never see him again anyway.”

  “I suppose not. How much can we get for his horse?”

  “Not much, it’s an old horse. You sell it while I call MacGreagor and tell him where to leave the money.”

  “Sell it to who?” Willis asked.

  “Try the general store. They might know of someone wanting to buy a horse.”

  “Okay.” Willis untied the reins to both horses, and then mounted his. “Where are you going to tell MacGreagor to leave the money?”

  Pete grinned. “See that big tree in the park? I will tell him to leave the bag of money behind that tree at noon. You and me will be in the restaurant having lunch and after he is gone, we will…”

  “Grab the money and run?” Willis asked.

  “That is right,” Pete chuckled. “Meet me back here. It will not take me long to make the telephone call.”

  Willis hesitated for a moment and then, with Earl’s horse in tow, he walked his horse down the street and around the corner to a general store.

  As soon as Willis was out of sight, Pete quickly mounted and turned his horse the opposite direction. On his way to Colorado Springs, he looked up the lane at Marblestone. The place looked practically deserted except for the three automobiles parked haphazardly near the house. The sheriff probably had a posse out looking for them, but they would never catch him. Pete had his and Earl’s share of the money in his pocket, and with Willis out of the way, he had the ransom money too. All he had to do was make a phone call.

  He managed to do that from the back room of a men’s hat shop in downtown Colorado Springs.

  “Mr. MacGreagor?”

  “Aye,” Hannish answered.

  “You got the money?”

  “Aye.”

  “In ten minutes, drive down the hill, and when you see a man standing beside the road, throw the bag of money to him and keep driving.”

  “Where is my wife?”

  “You will get her back as soon as I get the money. Ten minutes, Mr. MacGreagor.”

  “Wait, dinna hang…” Hannish slowly put the telephone back in the cradle, and then recounted the conversation to Alistair and Cameron.

  “The sheriff is right, they dinna know Leesil is gone,” said Cameron. When his brother stood up, so did he. “You are not thinking of paying it, are you?”

  “Of course not. I am thinking of pounding his skull into the ground.”

  “In that case, I am going with you,” said Cameron.

  Hannish took hold of his brother’s arm. “I need you to stay with Leesil so she will feel safe. I shan’t be gone long.”

  “I understand, but brother, I wish to help you bash his head in.”

  Hannish smiled. “Do you recall the edict?”

  Aye, it says a lad who harms a woman or a child out of anger is to be put to death.”

  “That is what I was afraid of. These lads did it out of greed and not anger, so we cannae kill them.” Hannish walked into the foyer, took the hat Alistair handed him, and then went outside. A moment later, he came back, picked up the satchel with money in it and left.

  Hannish didn’t see the need to rush, although he would hate it if the thief left before he got there, so in exactly ten minutes, Hannish started his automobile and began to slowly drive down the hill toward Colorado Springs. He slowed when he saw a man standing beside the road and then stopped next to him. Instead of reaching for a bag of money, Hannish raised the shotgun and pointed it at the stranger.

  Pete put his hands up. “Mister, I have not done anything. I was just…”

  “Where is my wife?” Hannish demanded.

  Thinking he still had the upper hand, Pete’s demeanor completely changed. He grinned. “You will not get her back if you shoot me. My…”

  “Get in.”

  “What?”

  Hannish narrowed his eyes. “I said. get in! You and I are going to have a little talk with the sheriff.”

  “You will never see your wife again if…” Pete stammered. “You do not want her back?”

  “I already have her back. If you run, I will not be blamed for killing you.”

  Pete considered his options for a moment, and then reluctantly opened the automobile’s passenger door and got in.

  *

  “They made me go along with it,” Pete claimed in the Sheriff’s office.

  The deputy gladly locked Pete in an empty cell. “In that case, you will not mind telling me where I can find the other two.”

  “I…I cannot. Earl will kill me if I do.”

  “Earl Flood?” the deputy asked.

  Pete was shocked. “You know our names?”

  “Which one are you, Pete or Willis?”

  Pete decided not to answer. Instead, he went to the bed, laid down and curled into the fetal position.

  “Thank you, Mr. MacGreagor,” the deputy said, shaking Hannish’s hand and walking him to the door. “I sure was glad to hear your wife is home safe and sound. You catch the other two, you let us know and we will come pick them up.”

  “My wife thinks she killed one of them. The sheriff is out looking for him now.”

  “I hope she did. We do not want their kind in our town. Where you off to now?”

  Hannish looked at Pete’s motionless body in the cell. “To put the ransom money back in the bank.”

  In his cell, Pete closed his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way…he had it all planned out. He was so very close to having it all, but something went wrong.

  Unfortunately for him, he would have a lifetime in prison to figure out what it was.

  *

  Willis waited and waited, but P
ete didn’t come back. More and more, he was beginning to think Pete had tricked him. He didn’t think Pete was that kind of guy, but what else could he think? It made sense now that the whiskey he drank the night before had completely worn off. Pete could have gone off by himself, but by taking all the horses, he didn’t have to worry about Earl coming after him. To manage all three horses, he needed Willis. Now Pete didn’t need Willis and had gone to get the ransom money without him.

  There was no other answer.

  Willis went out to his horse, pulled the candlestick holder out of his backpack and took it back inside the restaurant. “Anyone want to buy this?” he asked, holding the candlestick in the air.”

  “How much?” a man asked.

  “Ten dollars.”

  “Is it real gold?” another asked.

  “Could be?” Willis answered.

  The first man dug in his pocket, produced a ten dollar bill, and exchanged it for the candlestick holder. Willis was happy. He got twenty dollars for Earl’s horse and now he had close to two hundred and thirty dollars, minus what he paid for the room and food. Satisfied, he went back to his horse and mounted it.

  For a minute, he thought about the girl he left behind, but he remembered hearing that land was cheap on the other side of the mountains. There was plenty of water too, and no tornados. It sounded even better than Wyoming, and Susan would never have left her family anyway.

  He was about to ride away when he saw the train coming. No point in riding a horse when a man could afford to ride the train. Once more, he went back in the restaurant, found a man willing to pay fifty dollars for a horse with his father’s brand on it, bought a train ticket, and sat down to wait for an hour.

  That is when he spotted the cobbler shop across the street. For the first time in his life, he walked out with a new pair of shoes just for him.

  *

  The three little Flynn girls were outside playing, and Mr. Burns had his hat in his hand, when he knocked on the door of the sod house.

  Acting as both butler and footman, Brookton opened the door. “Mr. Burns, what may I do for you?”

  “I need to see Mrs. Flynn…about the insurance policy her husband bought.”

  “I see. Wait here and I shall see if she is receiving guests.” Brookton closed the door and looked at Lillie Mae. When she nodded, he opened the door again. “Mrs. Flynn is not available just now, but Lillie Mae will see you.”

  “That will work out fine.”

  Even after he was offered a seat on the slightly slanted davenport, Mr. Burns remained standing. “Lillie Mae, I do not wish to impose at such a time as this, but this must be settled.”

  She had a pretty good idea what he was talking about, but she asked anyway. “What must be settled?”

  “Mr. Flynn’s life insurance.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, I…” He took a deep breath, “I have come to say the insurance policy your father bought from me has an exclusion clause which says the company will not pay in cases of suicide. I fear your father did not read…”

  “He did not commit suicide,” Lillie Mae argued.

  “Come now, Lillie Mae, everyone knows he killed himself.”

  “I do not know it. Horace and the preacher said he still had his shoes on.”

  “His shoes on?”

  “It is a well-known fact,” Brookston put in, “that a man cannot point it at his head and pull the trigger on a shotgun without using his toes.”

  “Well, yes, yes it is. However, since the body was moved before I could…”

  Brookton held up his hand to silence him. “I have been wondering about something. Lillie Mae, where is the gun?”

  “Mother put it in her closet.”

  Brookton knocked on the bedroom door, and when Mrs. Flynn let him in, he retrieved the gun and brought it back to the only other room. He examined the trigger, and used from his nose to the tip of his fingers to measure the length. The gun was too long for even him. Next, Brookton smelled the tip of the barrel. “Mr. Burns, I do not believe this gun has ever been fired.”

  “What?” both Lillie Mae and Mr. Burns said at the same time.

  “Let me have that,” Mr. Burns said, reaching out his hand. He too smelled the barrel, moved away, and then smelled it again. Next, he put his finger in the end of the barrel and ran it around. When he pulled it out, it came out clean. “Well, I’ll be.” He handed the gun back to Brookton and then turned to look at Lillie Mae. “Lillie Mae, it appears your father was murdered.”

  Shocked, Lillie Mae stared at the floor. “Murdered?”

  The part time insurance salesman, part time mercantile counter person took the sheriff’s badge out of his pocket and pinned it on his shirt. He knocked on the grieving widows closed door. “Mrs. Flynn, will you show me where your husband kept the bullets?”

  Lillie Mae watched through the open door as the sheriff retrieved the small box from under the bed. He came back out, set the box on the table and then counted the bullets. “One missing,” he muttered. Once more, he took the gun from Brookton, pulled the hammer back and looked in the chamber. “Well, I’ll be. It is still loaded.” He pulled the shell out of the chamber and laid it with the others.

  By then, the grieving widow had come out of her bedroom.

  “Mrs. Flynn, I am happy to say your husband definitely did not commit suicide.”

  Lillie Mae stood up and put an arm around her tearful mother. “See, Mother, you did nothing wrong…nothing at all.”

  “Well somebody did,” said Mr. Burns. “I best ask the doctor to retrieve the bullet before the burial. We got us a murder case on our hands – right here in Peyton.”

  *

  It took two days for the Sheriff and deputy to find the hidden shack in the woods above Manitou Springs. Earl Flood still lay on the floor with flies buzzing around and landing on his decaying body. Together, the men wrapped him in a blanket, tied it around him, and then loaded him on their spare horse.

  “I will call his folks and see what they want done with him.”

  Later that day, the sheriff rode out to Marblestone to tell Leesil the bad news. Alistair led the way to the upstairs sitting room, knocked on the door and made the announcement. Her wrists and feet were still wrapped in clean white cloth and she had her feet propped on a cushioned ottoman. “Sheriff,” she said, “do come in.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. MacGreagor.” The sheriff was grateful Leesil’s sister was there in case the poor woman had a complete breakdown. “We found Mr. Flood.”

  Leesil didn’t really want to know, but she asked anyway. “Did I kill him?”

  The sheriff expected tears in her eyes when he nodded. “We will send him home to Peyton for the burial.”

  Leesil didn’t cry, but she did purse her lips together for a moment. “Of the three, he was the most dangerous.” Leesil suddenly put her hand over her mouth. “I forgot to tell you. Earl confessed to killing Lillie Mae Flynn’s father in Peyton before they came. He said it was the only way he could think of to get Lillie Mae to leave Colorado Springs.”

  “I will pass that along to the authorities in Peyton as well. Is there anything else I should know?”

  Leesil bowed her head for a moment, tried to think and shook her head. “Have you found Willis?”

  “I’m afraid not. He is probably long gone by now.”

  “Sheriff, if you dinna find him it will be fine by me. Willis is slow of thought and was taken in by them. I believe he would have protected me if the others thought to…truly harm me.”

  “I will remember to tell the court that if we catch him. Good day, Mrs. MacGreagor.”

  Cathleen kept an eye on her sister as the sheriff left and closed the door. “Are you going to cry?”

  “I might,” Leesil admitted. “I have been angry enough to think to kill someone a few times…the duchess, namely, but now that I have, I find no satisfaction in it at all. Today, I would wish to let even the duchess live.”

  “What a sad cr
eature Earl Flood must have been. He thought killing would bring him happiness, and what he got in return was his own death.”

  Another knock on the door interrupted their conversation. “Come in,” Cathleen answered.

  Alistair opened the door and stepped in. “Prescot asks if you might come to the blue room, Miss Leesil, and Miss Cathleen. He is sitting up, has driven Millie daft with his complaining, and he wishs to hear what happened.”

  “Prescot is feeling good enough for visitors?” Leesil asked. “Of course we shall come.”

  “I shall ask Mr. Dugan to carry you, Miss Leesil.” He started to leave when Leesil called him back.

  “Alistair, you might as well know…and tell the others. I did kill that man. I begin to wonder if it was truly necessary, but there it is. I killed him. And would you call my husband at the office and assure him I am not upset. He has had enough worry to last this entire year.”

  “Yes, Miss Leesil.”

  *

  The article about the kidnapping appeared first in the Denver paper, and after a week, was picked up and published all over the United States.

  As had become her custom, when the duchess picked up a copy of a paper published in New York, she picked up a copy for Daphne too. Both seemed to enjoy reading during their dinner hours, and occasionally, one had something to say about the articles. Still, there was no news about new hair dyes, and even if there had been, the duchess would not have mentioned or commented on it. Still, the desire to have youthful looking black hair again was daily increasing.

  Spring brought fresh vegetables to their meals such as collards, cabbage and spinach. Strawberries were offered in some sort of dessert dish in each restaurant. While the pretend Baroness liked lamb, the duchess would have nothing to do with sheep, no matter the cut. It reminded her of Scotland and Hannish MacGreagor.

  It was fascinating then, when an article buried on page three of the paper mentioned Hannish’s name. She involuntarily caught her breath, and then lowered her paper to see if Daphne noticed. Apparently, she had not.