Pirate Gold and Murder

by Patti Larsen

  Where, clearly and audibly, she spoke in that icy voice of hers no one could deny. “Sheriff Wagner,” Reading’s mayor said, “you are to place Robert Carlisle under immediate arrest for the murder of Victor French.”

  My cousin’s expression didn’t change. No attempt to deny it, just that steady black consuming him as he met Vivian’s eyes. And lost, looking away.

  It should have been satisfying to watch Jill cuff him and lead him to her truck, with Rose shrieking at her to release him, background noise barely audible once they were out of sight. Vivian returned to us, Mom hugging her, Daisy. Dad. Crew. Then me, joined by Malcolm and, thankfully safe and sound, Siobhan.

  They’d allowed us a few minutes to take a last look at what could have been our final resting place before Liz shunted us forcibly off to the hospital where, to my relief—and a huge hug behind it—Dr. Aberstock greeted us in person, alive and well.

  “Was there ever any doubt?” He really had to ask, didn’t he?

  ***

  Chapter Forty Two

  Pamela seemed content to sip coffee and listen to me fill in the gaps for her big exposé on Fiona Doyle and Blackstone. From what I’d heard, the Boston Globe had offered her a job again, though she hadn’t told me either way if she was staying in Reading or heading out. Fleur’s silent watchfulness and faint, continual mocking smile seemed to tell me she had her own hopes for Pamela’s future.

  My worries about the Pattersons I actually cared about—a short list that encompassed Pamela’s wife, Aundrea, Jared and Alicia—were unfounded. They hadn’t been in the house and, it turned out, the country when everything went down. Though, from what Fiona set up, they were prepped to take part in the fall of the Patterson clan.

  “She threatened all of us,” Pamela told me, setting her coffee aside as I wrapped up. “Not directly. I never got to meet the infamous Marie. I think she knew better than to let me see her face.” She shrugged. “But she leveraged Aundrea against me, the kids against you. I know Alicia was told if she didn’t toe the family line she’d lose Jared.”

  She’d told me as much. “Did they know about Fiona?” I couldn’t bring myself to believe they did. And hadn’t she said so? She only trusted Geoffrey.

  “I think Aundrea suspected,” Pamela said, toying with the plastic lid lip. “She wouldn’t tell me anything. And I wasn’t allowed to talk to you, could barely contribute to the paper. So, when I’d had enough, I left to find the evidence I needed to get my life back.”

  “I still think you could have told me I wasn’t going to find you floating in Cutter Lake,” I grumbled. Bitter, who, me?

  Pamela flashed me a wicked grin and a wink. “You should know me better than that by now, Fiona Fleming.” She sighed then, sinking back into the plastic chair as chatter of other customers went on around us. I wasn’t sure why she chose a public venue to have our conversation. I’d had enough of the stares and whispers of Reading’s residents since Patterson House was crushed under Ruth’s rockslide. Two weeks later, they were still talking about it. Fiona had been right, I guess, though they’d given up on Petunia’s burning down, so this would likely fall to the wayside in short order.

  I winced as I flexed my right leg, the ache from my injury still lingering. Dr. Aberstock had said it would be a couple more weeks before the pain was gone, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t begrudge the fact he was right.

  “Thanks for the info,” Pamela said. “Liz has been a bit tight-lipped, though she gave me more than I expected.”

  Whoops. “Just promise me you won’t jeopardize her investigation.” Turned out Fiona’s warning about her secondary plans had given Liz what she needed to find the new home for my namesake’s criminal empire. She’d told me despite finding what they needed to bring Fiona—and Blackstone—down, it would be years before they followed all the trails, tracked down all the players now scattering to the winds, and cleaned up the mess she’d left behind.

  Better Liz than me.

  “I hear you visited Robert,” Pamela said, eyes narrowing, fishing, as always, for more info. It was in her nature, as it was in mine, so I didn’t give her a hard time for it.

  “Just wanted to make sure he’s where he’s supposed to be.” I broke eye contact and took a sip of coffee, not wanting her to see I hadn’t told the whole truth. I wanted reassurance, yes, he really was in a jail cell, and not in Reading, either. The state troopers had carted him off and I’d had to go to Southern State Correctional Facility to see him.

  Part of me just wanted to know he was really going to pay for what he’d done to Victor. And part of me wanted answers to questions I wasn’t sure would come out in court.

  “Come to gloat?” He hadn’t been friendly, but he hadn’t rejected my visit, either. Robert had lost that heavy darkness, his boastful bravado. He looked shrunken and old in his orange jumpsuit, mustache joined by the scruff of a new beard I guess he’d been too lazy to shave. But he was still Robert and he had a lot to answer for.

  “I came to ask where you got the piece of the map.” I wasn’t sure he was going to answer, but he seemed open enough when he shrugged.

  “Mom,” he said. “She stole it and the hairclip from Grandmother Iris’s room when she was there for the funeral.” He didn’t seem to care he just called his own mother a thief. “I didn’t think the treasure was real, by the way.” Nice attempt at a return to confidence that didn’t last. A haunted look passed across his features, tongue licking his lips in an audible swipe. “Victor,” he said. “You’re going to ask about Victor next.” I didn’t respond, waited for him to go on. Robert sat on his hands on the bench seat across from me, chin dropping to his chest. “He was my friend.” He coughed softly, jaw jumping, while I refused in no uncertain terms to allow even a scrap of compassion or empathy or whatever cousins or distant relatives of those two emotions might try to weasel their way into my heart. Because no. Absolutely not. Some things were unforgivable. “I’ve had to live with what I did. We were kids.” He looked up, met my eyes, while I gave him a wall of silence. “I was a kid. I didn’t mean to kill him.”

  He could tell himself whatever lies he needed to get himself through twenty-five to life, but I wasn’t buying it.

  “Doesn’t excuse the rest of it, though, does it?” There was a laundry list of crimes Liz presented to the state troopers, all to do with the Pattersons, all delivered, bless her heart (and I meant that in the most Southern way possible despite being from Vermont) by none other than Fiona Doyle.

  Robert hadn’t answered. And I’d walked away, struggling to feel good about any of it. We’d won, but some of us had lost so much, could we really ever call it a victory?

  “You’ve heard they’re broke now, right?” I started out of the memory as Fleur spoke up, resentful justification in her voice. Like she thought they deserved everything they got. Because she was talking about the Patterson clan, wasn’t she?

  Pamela squirmed in her seat, unhappy suddenly. “Apparently.”

  “Emile is in process of buying up their remaining assets and property.” Daisy told me as much, hesitant about it herself. “Including the mountain.” What was left of it. Every time I looked across the lake at the remains of Patterson House, I cringed a little. So close, Fleming. So. Freaking. Close.

  Maybe, like a cat, I had a set number of lives. If so, I had to be reaching my limit. I glanced down at the pug sitting on my foot, her happy grin and panting enthusiasm as she waited for treats that weren’t forthcoming giving me hope. Since our return from the hospital she’d rallied and acted now, more than ever, like the pug I’d adopted three years ago.

  Maybe she had nine lives, too.

  “I heard,” Pamela said, returning me to the conversation I’d almost forgotten about. “So Daisy’s staying in Reading?”

  “At least part time,” I said. “Emile wants to rebuild the mansion for her.” Talk about a fantasy love affair. Those two made a prince/princess story look like a cheap tabloid romance. Nice to know I wouldn’
t be losing my bestie anytime soon.

  “And you?” Pamela’s nosiness wasn’t going anywhere. “What has Fiona Fleming decided to do with the rest of her life?” She grinned over her coffee cup. “We could always use another reporter.”

  I shook my head at that, unable to stop the rueful smile in response. “Sorry. Dad has his heart set on Fleming Investigations.” I’d already had my heart-to-heart with Mom and Daisy about leaving the annex to them, and neither seemed all that surprised. Though, I admit, Mom looked relieved and grateful when Daisy then informed us she wasn’t leaving Reading.

  Poor Mom. She must have thought she was losing both partners in the blink of an eye.

  “You were mine first.” Pamela set her empty cup aside, stretching as sunlight beamed in the glass front of Sammy’s and bathed us in warmth. It felt good to be outside. Felt like I’d been hiding, hibernating in Crew’s house the last two weeks.

  “Have that fight with Dad,” I said.

  Pamela laughed. “Go up against a Fleming?” She leaned in and hugged me, to my surprise, rare show of affection returned as I embraced her back. “Not a chance.” She rose then, Fleur instantly at her side. Which again made me wonder about Aundrea, their marriage. I had, as yet, to talk to her directly, she and her son, his wife, avoiding me.

  Well, I’d get to it. When the time was right.

  I had time, thankfully. And it was a beautiful day.

  With a smile for my pug, I headed out into the street with a wincing limp for additional company, to enjoy the gorgeous weather in the cutest town in America.

  ***

  Chapter Forty Three

  I passed the statue of Captain Reading, pausing to look up at the attempt Olivia had made to make the old scoundrel and liar look impressively heroic and saluted his grim visage. I couldn’t help the soft inner sigh of regret and disappointment over the treasure, but it was satisfying to know that mystery was solved, once and for all.

  And not just that one. Warmed a girl’s busybody heart, it did, having the answers I needed to sleep at night.

  I set out again, Petunia happily waddling beside me, with a strange thought. Maybe now that all the mysteries in my life were solved I could get to the most important one. That being the man I married, my darling Crew, who, despite my love for him, still surprised me at times. As my steps carried me past the office, I glanced in the door, spotting my darling and his former partner talking near the entrance.

  Of course we stopped in, my limp going magically away as we did. I hated Crew to know I was still in pain, though I was positive he saw past my fakery. Didn’t say anything about it, though, despite knowing how protective he was of me. Like I said, the man was still a mystery.

  Maybe that was the best part of being married. Figuring each other out.

  Crew hugged me instantly, scar over his eyebrow giving him a deliciously dangerous look I wasn’t complaining about. Liz embraced me in turn, then Dad, who joined us from the bowels of Fleming Investigations with a beaming smile on his face. My father didn’t complain when I hugged him, despite knowing even the gentlest of embraces had to hurt. He’d cracked four ribs when the house came down. Mom had come out unscathed, mine the only serious injury. My father set one hand on Crew’s shoulder, the other on Liz’s, while the two of them shrugged at me as he spoke.

  “And then there were four.” Dad winked. “Fee, I know we’re partners, but I figured you’d be all for hiring our newest investigator.”

  I gaped at Liz who giggled. Like, girl giggled, so uncharacteristic for her I continued gaping while she pulled herself back into Agent Michaud mode.

  “Not full time yet,” she said. “I’m wrapping up with the Bureau over the next month or so. But, once that’s done, I’m all yours.”

  “Dad.” I choked on that word. “I trust you have a plan to keep all of us gainfully employed.” I knew he’d been taking jobs outside Reading, but honestly, we were four grown adults, two of us in the same household, looking for one small business to support us. Yes, I had reserves, thanks to the success of my bed and breakfast. But that wasn’t going to last a lifetime.

  Dad just smiled. “Trust your old man,” he said.

  “If you say so.” I didn’t meant to kill the buzz, but I wasn’t sure if he knew and only remembered just then. “Did Malcolm come to see you?”

  My father hesitated, then nodded. “He and Siobhan are setting up here permanently, like they wanted, and Malcolm claims he’s going legit.”

  Darius’s return to Reading had been quiet and full of guilt. He had, as yet, to say anything to me, keeping his head down, refusing to meet my eyes, back working for his old boss now that I didn’t need protecting anymore. Though, I’d been told in no uncertain terms my former bodyguard was now on the bottom of the pile, the lowest of the low, and it would take a lot for him to recover his position, if ever.

  I’d tried to thank him for the map piece, pivotal in solving the Patterson/Fiona mystery, but no such luck. Never mind his silence and hangdog acceptance of the punishment Malcolm had forced on him for being dragged physically from his post and basically held at gunpoint (okay, I was guessing, but knowing Darius, it would have taken as much to keep him away.) We’d be having a talk about that guilt of his. Just as soon as Malcolm forgave Darius for leaving me. Which might be never.

  Retired crime bosses and their codes of weird honor. Seriously.

  Liz grinned like she’d believe it when she saw it. “The O’Shea family is in disarray with the collapse of Blackstone so it’s the perfect time for Malcolm to cut himself loose,” she said. “I guess Fiona’s agreed to a plea bargain, is turning everything over to the federal prosecutor for a reduced sentence.” She held up both hands as I tried to protest. “She’s getting life, Fee. Don’t worry. But in a minimum security prison, rather that multiple life sentences in supermax.”

  Still. Grunt.

  “It’s been a productive week,” Dad said. “Barry Clement plead guilty to murder.”

  “Any sign of Pitch?” Alicia’s brother was a survivor. I’d be surprised if he got himself caught.

  Liz’s headshake told me I was right. “And all of the Pattersons who could scattered. Including Geoffrey’s son, that journalist, what was his name?”

  “Christopher.” Well, good riddance. I was kind of pissed he’d gotten away with whatever it was he’d gotten away with. I knew he had to be tied to the drug ring, especially after our last conversation. But there were more than enough charges to go around and maybe a few Pattersons slipping through the cracks didn’t matter so much. Now that the family was broke, maybe they’d become less reprehensible. Because they were all just as guilty, as far as I was concerned.

  “Our cute little town is almost brand new,” Crew said. Sighed. “Why couldn’t this have happened when I was sheriff?”

  I laughed, hugged my husband. “Like you would have made it a month without something substantially criminal to sink your teeth into.”

  He looked offended before winking slowly.

  Smartass husband. I knew him better than I gave myself credit for.

  “Jill has her hands full tying up the loose ends,” Dad said. “I told her we’re here to help.”

  At least the sheriff was going to be able to hire some new deputies at last, hopefully much better than the one now sitting in prison. The fact Rose still held her position rankled. I was going to make it my priority to uncover the evidence I needed to put the other half of Rosebert behind bars. Or, at least, make her life miserable and get her fired.

  I’d settle for either.

  The door opened, entry chime warning us we weren’t alone and we all turned to find the perfectly put together Vivian French joining us. No hesitation in hugs this time, either, even Liz giving the mayor a solid embrace, one Vivian seemed happy to return. And, to my surprise, when she pulled free of the agent’s arms, she was smiling.

  A real, genuine smile. Which she turned on me.

  “I thought you all should be the first to
know,” she said, the iciness gone from her tone, showing us the real Vivian French, likely for the first time. “I’ve spoken to Olivia. It’s my decision at this time to step down as mayor of Reading. I’ve asked her and the council in the interim to allow her to resume her position until an election can be held. They’ve agreed.”

  Wow. “Viv, are you sure?” She might not have pushed tourism like Olivia, but she’d carried us through the worst of this disaster. And our new/old friendship made me loyal enough to want her happiness.

  I shouldn’t have worried. She shrugged delicately, that easy elegance of hers going nowhere, even if her cold veneer was long gone. Or was it? She arched an eyebrow, tone dropping back to chill judgment, as she answered me.

  “I’ve had enough politics, thank you,” she said. “It’s time I returned to more important matters.” She sniffed softly. “As the Queen of Wheat.”

  I choked on a laugh, embarrassed and yet unable to stop the giggle that escaped. “How long have you known?” Ack, that nickname.

  Vivian just winked.

  ***

  Strolling through the dusk-wrapped streets of my hometown with my handsome husband at my side, my panting pug between us, was just about as close to heaven as I’d ever get. His fingers twined naturally with mine, like we’d always been in love, holding hands the connection I craved the most since our time under the mess that had become of Patterson House. Sure, I loved his hugs, always would. But the memory of him keeping me together with that simple touch would stay with me the rest of my life.

  We talked about nothing and everything, Dad’s plans for Fleming Investigations—he was still keeping a lot to himself, though we’d cornered him into a staff meeting in a few days when Liz could return to join us—my retirement from tourism, his from law enforcement. His grandfather, my grandmother.