He went on to explain how the plan was initially set in motion. “Harry had flown in secretly on Peter’s private jet the day before the plan was carried out. He contacted Sir Clement the following night and said he’d flown in urgently because he needed to confide in him about a serious problem he was having. Peter allowed him to use one of his cars to drive over to his brother’s house. Sir Clement invited him inside and he sat down in the kitchen where Sir Clement had been fixing a sandwich or something. Harry said they engaged in what he called ‘meaningful conversation’ for probably the first time in their lives and he even started to feel a bit guilty about what he knew he was going to do. When it was time to leave, Sir Clement accompanied him and after they stepped onto the front porch, Harry looked back at his brother; told him how he felt about him—how much he detested him. He then charged at him in a fit of bitter rage, then after getting him to the ground and delivering several nasty blows at his head, he slid the handgun out of his pocket, pointed it at Sir Clement’s face and fired. After that, Harry took off. He said he knew he’d killed him because he aimed specifically for between his eyes. He took a chance leaving before knowing if he was, in fact, dead or not and we all, after brutally scolding him for it, kept our fingers crossed. We all breathed a sigh of relief when the next day, it had been reported that Sir Clement’s body had been discovered at his home. By then, Harry had been long gone. He’d actually left for Manchester less than two hours after the murder. What Harry didn’t know was that there was also a planned hit on his life.”
“And who arranged this hit?” Cantua asked.
“Alfred Tucker—his brother.”
There was a collective gasp in the courtroom. The Bailiff demanded order.
“Alfred was in on the whole deal from the beginning. Harry just didn’t know. The plan was that Alfred would get his share after Harry died when the land was turned over to him through inheritance because although Harry did have a child, he gave it up for adoption, so that child no longer had rights to Harry’s estate. Alfred saw far ahead; that’s the reason he ever took the child to begin with.”
“So, this plan was in motion for a good while before Sir Clement died?” Cantua queried.
“Right. We sat on it for several months waiting for the right time we all felt comfortable enough to strike.”
“But Harry lived in England. How were you able to get him in on it initially?” she asked.
“Peter paid him a visit over there. Basically told him everything he needed to hear. Alfred was already in on the scheme the same time the rest of us were. He laid low in the background,” Simon revealed. “And when it was time to get rid of Harry, since everyone else had gotten their share of the deal and Alfred did not, he had an associate of his poison him over a cocktail. His death was conveniently ruled as a heart attack, but we all knew the truth. Alfred never did reveal to any of us who this ‘associate’ was.”
Merlene was shaking her head a lot as she listened to the complex plot these men had stitched together all for the love of money.
As Simon spoke, I suddenly saw Sir Clement in the courtroom. He was standing at the western end of the room near the wall, looking very good and spiffily dressed, almost as if he was there to attend a wedding. There was a calmness in his face—one I don’t recall seeing before. Maybe the fact that we were finally at this point had everything to do with it. Also with him, were the others. They also seemed perfectly placid, but I wondered why? How would Sir Clement’s case possibly impact them? Were they all bosom buddies after they passed on? That one was puzzling.
“Mister Simon, was realtor Tony Brawn, who ultimately acquired Sir Clement’s remaining property in on this scheme of treachery and murder as well?”
Not a pin drop could be heard in the room. It’s as if the air stopped circulating and time stood still.
“No,” he finally responded. “Tony was not involved, but he did find out later what had happened to Sir Clement and was warned if he ever repeated what he’d heard, he would be killed and so would his family. The only thing he was guilty of was paying me to bypass Stuart Tucker’s right to inherit Sir Clement’s property after Stuart’s supposed father, Alfred, took his own life. Stuart was the child Harry had allowed his brother Alfred to take off his hand. The deal was that I allow Tony to claim title of the land via the Quieting of Titles Act that was on the books at the time. After that was done, the Tucker family, when they got wind of the quieting, fought it for years as many people here might know. But their efforts got knocked down every time because of the system that was in place with key people in our corner making sure that things flowed smoothly for us. In all honesty, Stuart Tucker had a legal right to inherit the property, especially since his actual father was Harry and not Alfred. Then all remaining property after Stuart would have been passed down to his only son, Luke, providing he didn’t leave a will that stated otherwise,” he explained.
“So, you’re saying that Tony bribed you to steal the remainder of Sir Clement’s property?” Judge Ferrino sought clarification.
“Yes, that’s what I pretty much said in a nutshell,” Simon replied.
“Who filled Tony in about the plot?” Cantua asked.
“Peter spilled the beans one day when they had too much to drink. He said he never took a drink of alcohol another day since.”
“And was it Peter that threatened Tony’s life and that of his family?”
“I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think so.”
She looked him squarely in the eyes. “Your grandson, Raymond Allister, claimed that he was also threatened lately in like manner. Do you know about that?”
“I don’t know anything about that. I, personally, would not have threatened the life of my grandson and his family,” he replied, matter-of-factly.
I don’t think anyone in that courtroom believed their ears and the revelations would have needed time to sink in. Sheriff Cooke was seated on the other side of the courtroom, along with Detective Lance Matthews. I could tell by the expression on their faces that they, too, were in shock.
“So, there’s the story, huh?” Merlene said as we sat down together in a tacos joint after the hearing.
“Yep. There it is. What a tangled web they wove,” I replied.
“They’re all gonna die in prison, you know?”
I nodded slowly. “Guess they will. I know Judge Simon squealed in order to save his own skin, but if he didn’t come out and tell the whole truth, none of us would’ve ever known how deep and disturbing this scheme was. Although he said Tony knew, the guy had lost his mind, so even if he blurted the facts out, no one would’ve taken him seriously and those involved realized that. That’s why they weren’t worrying about it. They’ve all embarrassed their families and forever ruined their reputations and good names in this town.”
“True. So many families have been destroyed because of greed, jealousy and hatred,” Merlene added.
We sat for a while, quietly watching as people strolled back and forth along the sidewalk. We were both deep in thought as much had happened within the last few weeks since we trespassed on Luke Tucker’s property.
“How did David react when you told him what we were up to behind his back?” I asked.
“He couldn’t believe it! He thought we’d lost our minds and threatened to put me in an old folks’ home that was nowhere nearly as nice and fancy as Admiral Souls where Tony Brawn’s at. He said I could look forward to it if we kept breaking into people’s homes and getting ourselves mixed up in murder cases.”
I chuckled.
“What about Theodore? How did he react?” she asked.
“He was stunned. I mean… stunned. He barely knew what to say except: ‘Are you out of your mind, Miss Lucille Velma Abigail Pfiffer?’”
We really had a good laugh and sat for another hour or so reminiscing on times we found ourselves in hot water. My funniest and absolute favorite memory was when Merlene went overboard in the ocean due to her drunken stupor. Good thing we c
an laugh about it now, but it was no joking matter back then. She could’ve died.
According to Sheriff Cooke, the entire case would be wrapped up in court in four days. Of course, Merlene and I looked forward to being there to watch Raymond Allister take the stand and face his grandfather. We were certain it would be an unforgettable experience.
18
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Merlene came down with the flu the evening before the last day of court. Unfortunately, she was stuck in bed and couldn’t join me to the courthouse.
Theodore had dropped me off and told me to call him when I was ready. He would dash to the airport to pick up Anthony when the flight came in.
There were more people filing into the courtroom than were there the previous time when Judge Simon gave his full confession. If everyone in Chadsworth could have been there, I’m sure they would have. The closing session was expected to be brief and I was glad about that. I really needed a vacation and had told Merlene when she recovered, I’d still treat her to a trip to Manchester and we could get to see what Harry Tucker’s house looked like. Then we could explore Paris and other cities across the U.K. She loved the idea and I knew she deserved a getaway. The way she stuck with me and went along with my brilliant ideas was added proof that she was one of the best friends a girl could have.
The bailiff called order to the courtroom as the presiding judge took his seat. I saw him glance over there to the front row at Tobias Simon with a slight look of disdain. I guess Simon was an embarrassment to more than just his own family.
In the moment we had all been waiting for, Raymond was allowed to take the stand and address his grandfather. It was a move the prosecutor’s office agreed to when Raymond decided to give his full confession and save Chadsworth a ton of money in legal costs. Raymond looked over at the older man wearing a red jumpsuit and shackled, hands and feet, the same as he was.
“You gave our family a bad name, grandpa, and all I ever did was tried to protect it,” he said. “Your father, my great-grandpa, was a judge in this town for many years and so was his father. They were honorable men and I was beyond proud to have such a heritage. But you’re no honorable man—not by a long shot. I thank God my grandma isn’t alive to witness this. You have disgraced us all and have left a trail of blood in your wake. I’m not innocent either; I’m not saying that I am. But the death I caused was unintentional on my part, but you helped plan the murder of others for the one thing you already had a lot of—money. You are a greedy bastard, and I can’t believe I was actually going to take the fall to cover your sins. I hope I never get to see you again and I hope you burn in hell.”
Raymond looked over to his wife and sons seated in the gallery and I saw when he whispered, “I’m so sorry,” to them.
I shook my head, feeling pity for a man who ended the life of another. Was that misguided compassion? I sometimes asked myself. Whatever it was had to have been human and I can live with that.
Just below the steps of the courthouse, as I waited for Theodore to pull up, Sheriff Cooke approached me.
“Sir Clement Tucker’s case is now officially closed, thanks to you, Lucille.” He smiled.
“And you still have your job and retirement benefits,” I replied.
Nodding gladly, he said, “Yeah, I do.” He lowered his head for a moment, as if he felt a bit awkward by what he was about to say. “I wanna say thanks for being the type of person to fight the way you did for a man who no one was fighting for. I would’ve wished if I had been in his situation for someone to have enough guts to fight for me. You’re one of a kind, Lucille—a very special lady, in my books. Just wanted you to know that.”
“How very kind of you, Sheriff! But I really can’t take all of the credit. Your nemesis had a lot to do with getting this case solved. She’d taken risks I’ve never seen her take before.”
“Yeah. Merlene is a good friend. Wished I hadn’t crossed her.” He smiled. “It’s a shame she couldn’t be here today to see what happened in that courtroom.”
“It really is. I hope someone recorded it,” I said. Just then, something else came to mind. “Tell me something, Sheriff… do you know anything about the history of Harriet’s Cove and the surrounding area when it was still government land? I thought I’d do some research myself, but just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
“I don’t know much about it except it was said to have been originally settled upon by an Indian tribe and now a portion of it is thought to be their burial ground.”
“Oh!” I said, not too shocked by his reply. I guess it sort of explained why I was seeing the others, along with Sir Clement. They all were somehow attached to the same land.
Just then, my cell phone rang and I picked up. David’s voice was frantic. “Miss Lucille, I just got home to find our house ransacked, and Mom’s nowhere to be found, but her cell’s here. Do you have any idea where she is?”
Stunned, I replied, “No, honey, I don’t know where she is. The last time I spoke with her she said she was in bed resting. The Sheriff’s right here. Let me put you on to him.”
I handed Cooke the phone.
My heart was racing, as the first thing that entered my mind was the death threat Merlene received. Could someone have made good on it?
Cooke handed me back my cell and immediately sprang into action. He called his deputy and arranged for an immediate search. In Chadsworth, they never waited for twenty-four hours for anyone to be missing before they initiated a search—especially when there were obvious signs of a kidnapping.
* * * *
Three days, later, there was still no sign of Merlene. I barely ate or slept. One of my greatest fears in life was actually staring me in the face: Could my best friend be dead?
~ The End ~
*** Lucille is frantic that her best friend, Merlene, has suddenly gone missing without a trace. Will Merlene be found alive? And was the death threat she received the reason for her disappearance?
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PROLOGUE
It was a day and age much like today where every town, generation and household held firmly its secrets—torrid improprieties they would protect to the end of the world. Yet some secrets back then were far too shocking and disturbing to contain—ones entangled with emotions of such intensity that would shock the very life out of 'innocent', reserved folk.
The year was 1861. The town of Mizpah was on the verge of the abolition of slavery. White people with a conscience and black folk alike prayed and fought long and hard for the day when all human beings were considered equal in the eyes of the law.
Cornelius Ferguson, only the wealthiest planter in all of Mizpah, didn't support the views of the abolitionist movement in that territory nor in any other for that matter. Negro labor was highly favorable for his pockets and he couldn't imagine conducting his plantation affairs by any other means.
June 12th of 1861 was the day his life would forever change. It was the day a colored girl by the name of Karlen Key walked through his door. She was beautiful, literate, well-spoken—a rare breed and long-awaited trade off from another planter across the river. Cornelius had been anticipating her arrival. Germina, a rotund, elderly house slave with a few long strands protruding from her chin, met Karlen at the door and showed her where to put her tattered bag. Cornelius stood thirty feet away in the great room facing the entrance way, highly pleased and mesmerized by the new addition to his household. Karlen's eyes met his for a brief moment before she quickly lowered her head, made a slight bow and greeted her master. The twenty-one-year-old had no idea that her arrival at the Ferguson plantation would
alter the course of her life and those around her in a most uncanny way.
1
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Summer of 1965
"Wade! Mira!" Sara Cullen called her kids from outside the kitchen door. "Time to come inside and get yourselves cleaned up for dinner!"
Fourteen-year-old, Wade and thirteen-year-old, Mira were in the road playing 'bat and ball' in front of their yard with Monique Constantakis and her cousin Philip. Mira had just swung the bat for her turn to run the bases.
"Let's go!" Wade shouted to his sister as she considered one last run before heading inside. "If you don't come now, I'm leaving you and you'll be in big trouble with Dad." On that, he took off up to the driveway of their home and Mira, with a tinge of disappointment, handed the bedraggled, semi-splintered bat to Monique who was standing behind her.
"See you later," Monique said, visibly disappointed that her new friend had to leave.
"Yeah," Mira said before heading up the driveway behind her brother who had disappeared into the house.
The table, as usual, had been beautifully set for dinner. Sara Cullen was a true perfectionist and wanted everything to be just right when her husband of fifteen years, Michael, stepped into the dining room for his meal. She worshipped the dirt the man walked on and kept herself in the finest physical shape she could possibly manage. She was five feet, ten inches tall, and remarkably thin. Her hair was long, black and curly, and her features narrow. Michael Cullen was not the most attractive man in the world, but he carried big, broad shoulders and a six-pack most men would die for. Furthermore, he collected a handsome paycheck at the end of each week, lived in a nice neighborhood, and sported a two-year-old red Jaguar. Nevertheless, Sara—Head Nurse at Freedom Hospital—could not be accused of being with him solely for his money or his executive status at the State run Gaming Board. They had met fresh out of high school when all they had ahead of them were nothing more than dreams and aspirations.
Lucille Pfiffer Mystery Series Box Set Page 31
