by Madison Kent
"More than anything, even the money, it's the St. Fleur's standing in the community. They're old money and considered the prominent aristocrats of our city. They're a powerful family―in my opinion―that is what makes Emma such a desirable marriage partner," explained Jeffrey.
"What about you, Jeffrey?" What makes you so open and honest about the goings on here, and did you never consider wooing Miss Emma?"
"Thank you for the compliment, but I am not that bold. I will be off to university in the winter― making a new life for myself in Virginia. I've never been one for idle nonsense, and not attracted to that way of life. I hope to be a lawyer one day―that is what fascinates me, perhaps defending my fellow countrymen who are being put upon or swindled.
"I wish I could go to court and defend the reputation and honor of my friend, Lonnie," he concluded.
"What do you think of Austin?"
"Austin, well, I..., actually I'd rather not say."
Madeline thought of Austin, as innocuous a person as they came. Jovial, temperate in personality and gentle were words she would use to describe him. She was surprised by Jeffrey's reluctance to speak about him.
"Why do you say that?"
Jeffrey was about to reply when they saw Austin riding up the long drive. She thought, What a fine looking young man Austin was, and such a gentleman. Why did Jeffrey think ill of him?
After explaining to Austin the reason Jeffrey was there, and their plans to visit the Armstrong family, Austin said, "
"May I join you? I would like to offer my condolences to the Armstrong family."
Madeline thought it noteworthy that Austin did not comment, one way or the other, about the reason for their visit to the Armstrong's home. She could not ascertain whether he approved of this venture, especially after he and Oliver had both stated they thought the matter settled.
She knew she was anxious to meet with the family, and that the matter was far from closed.
Chapter Seven
Lonnie Armstrong
The Armstrong's home was similar to that of the Montgomery family―lavish, but it did not compare to the opulence of the St. Fleur's residence.
They went into the drawing room, where Mr. Benjamin Armstrong stood by the fireplace rolling a snifter of brandy. His face looked drawn, and his eyes had the look of someone far away―not at all in the present moment.
Jeffrey had introduced them, and they sat quietly waiting for Mrs. Armstrong to enter.
Mr. Armstrong said, "I have brandy, bourbon―and most other liquors. Please, join me in a drink. These are trying times; it will relax us all."
Madeline drank her absinthe while Austin and Jeffrey chose bourbon, all of them nursing their drinks―their discomfort evident.
A young, uniformed man was escorted in by one of the servants.
Austin noted, "I know him―that's one of the inspector's puppets―Robert St. John."
Oliver added in a hushed tone, "He's also one of Corinne's orphans. I've heard it said he was one of her favorite visitors to the estate. She supposedly had a fondness for him, giving him special favors, and even getting him the job of deputy when he reached adulthood."
"I wonder what he's doing here?" questioned Madeline.
Oliver replied, "It does seem curious if the police have closed the case."
The deputy appeared reserved―perhaps even shy―as he stood erect at the back of the room. He informed Mr. Armstrong that he preferred to stand. He did not introduce himself, nor did he, or Mr. Armstrong, offer any explanation as to why he was there.
When Mrs. Armstrong entered, one could tell she had been crying, but she walked in composed and greeted her guests.
Lonnie's mother had requested her guests sit near the fireplace and then seated herself in the middle of the group.
She began, "Mrs. Donovan, thank you for coming. You are not from this area, and because of that, it is my hope that you will conduct an impartial investigation. And that the opinion of the community that think my beloved son was guilty of murder will not sway you.
"Is it not enough that we should be mourning our beloved boy, but then to have him accused in this matter―when he is defenseless and cannot speak for himself?
"I've asked Deputy St. John to attend this meeting so he can hear my objections, and my plans, and to pass this information on to Inspector Davis."
Deputy St. John nodded to the group but remained silent.
Mrs. Armstrong described, at full length, her son's life, his accomplishments, and vivacious personality. She spoke of his many friends, his volunteer work at the hospital, and his dream of traveling to Europe. Lonnie's relationship with Clifford, which she said was amiable, was her closing comment.
Jeffrey said, "Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong―Lonnie was a good friend, and I intend to assist Madeline, in any way that I can. She will need someone to navigate the city."
Deputy St. John finally spoke, "It is only natural that you think your son is innocent, but I'm afraid the facts find otherwise. I will tell Inspector Davis that you wish further investigation on this matter and that you are taking it upon yourself to do your investigation.
"If you should produce any new evidence, I'm sure Inspector Davis will look it over thoroughly. Be assured that we are here to serve and protect, that's why we're here, to serve and protect."
The policeman was not unattractive, but he was not appealing. Madeline wondered if it was his inability to meet her gaze or his obvious nervousness that made her think that. At five-foot-seven, he was of average height and had a slender, but very muscular physique. Oliver stated the deputy had notable boxing skills and was active in statewide competition. His head full of light blonde curly hair made him look juvenile, but she guessed he was twenty-five or twenty-six years of age.
Before Mr. St. John left, he approached Madeline, hesitating with every step towards her.
He coughed several times, then spoke to her, "Mrs. Donovan, please don't take offense, Mam, I'm sure you're a competent detective, even though you're a female. I've heard tell women do lots of things they probably ought not to, but it's fine with me, fine with me.
"I want to say I understand if you need the money, and that's why you're doing this. But you're not from these parts, and I can assure you the inspector never lets a case close unless he's rock solid sure it is warranted."
Madeline softened towards him, despite his demeaning remarks. She thought his honesty refreshing and believed he lacked diplomacy, and his social awkwardness was most likely due to his unfortunate upbringing in an orphanage.
"I will take your words to heart, Deputy St. John, but I don't suppose if it were a relative of yours that you would accept that conclusion so easily. We will see what we can discover. I feel Jeffrey's help will be invaluable to me, and we will get to the bottom of this.
"People will learn soon enough that I will not deter from my mission, especially when the subject is murder," Madeline concluded.
St. John looked down, pulled at his ear and replied, "All right, Mam, good luck to you."
Before they left, Madeline told them of her case histories. She assured them that she had the needed experience to take on this venture and that she would not back down from the resistance she knew she would meet. Mr. Armstrong paid her generously. He told her that he had been wealthy most of his life, but today, he felt the use of that money to find Lonnie's killer was the best way he had ever spent it. He seemed convinced Madeline would help them.
"I say that calls for a strong beverage, it will ease the spirit as we discuss tactics," said Austin as if he were on the case with her.
Jeffrey added, "I concur―I feel better already, just knowing the door is not entirely closed on Lonnie's innocence. Palms Place? It's a perfect tavern if you like an atmosphere with privacy."
Madeline remembered she liked it there and readily agreed.
Palms Place was sparsely populated―of the dozen or so patrons present, one could hear them openly commenting about Clifford and Lonnie. The voic
es were condemning Lonnie, and bemoaning the St. Alder boys death. Madeline knew it would be difficult to prove his innocence, knowing the tainted opinion most people had of him.
The waiter took them to a back table overlooking the water.
Madeline observed smiling, "I see the conversation piqued your interest by your statement about "discussing tactics."
Austin replied, "I suppose I was caught up in the moment. I apologize if it seemed as if I was going to push in."
Jeffrey spoke up, "Austin, old man, Madeline and I appreciate your offer, but I think, for now, it is a two person team. Am I correct in saying that?"
He looked at her in a strange way―she knew there was something about Austin he did not trust.
She answered, "Austin, thank you, but for now, I think I will confer with Jeffrey."
Changing the subject, she said, "Is that Inspector Davis I see at the bar?"
Jeffrey leaned in, and noted, "That's Stoney all right. Even with his back turned, you can see that handlebar mustache extending past his face. What a character!"
They sat conversing, the men downing several bourbons―making their tongues loose. Madeline drank two drinks of the liqueur absinthe but only felt mild relaxation. The men, however, began to speak and laugh a little louder.
It did not surprise her when Jeffrey blurted out, "I'm going to tell the 'old man' that since he didn't find the real killer, it's up to us to do it."
Madeline touched his sleeve and reasoned, "Jeffrey, do you think it wise to upset him? We will need him to follow through on anything we might find."
He answered, "Someone's got to tell the truth. Someone has to defend Lonnie. You understand, don't you, Madeline?"
"I...," she began, but Jeffrey walked toward Mr. Davis.
Oh dear, she thought.
Madeline followed Jeffrey to the bar, with Austin trailing behind her, one just as inebriated as the other.
Jeffrey tapped the inspector on the shoulder, and when he turned around, Davis said in a slurred tone,
"My boy, how are you? Grown like a weed, you have―your parents must be proud! Old enough for an ale, are you? It's on me, lad."
"Thank you, Inspector," Jeffrey replied, slowly spilling his words out in syllables.
"But, sir, I have something to say," he continued.
"George, bring this young man a bottle of your best beer," interrupted the inspector while slapping Jeffrey on the shoulder, and pulling him in closer.
Madeline wanted to laugh aloud at Jeffrey's dilemma―the inspector was making it difficult for him to angrily confront him when he was so congenial.
"Sir!"
"What is it, my boy?"
"I know you're a great man, but I must tell you Lonnie Armstrong was my friend―do you understand, sir, my friend?" Jeffrey said, still speaking in drips.
Stoney answered, "Yes, yes...it's a shame. I understand how you feel, a dirty, shame. Why couldn't he have turned out more like you?"
Madeline tried to get Jeffrey to return to their seats, but he pulled away from her.
"I'm sorry, Madeline, I must do this."
Austin now added, "Maybe the inspector's right, Jeff, leave it alone―just leave it alone."
Davis asked, "Leave what alone?"
Jeffrey stated, "Sir, we're going to find Clifford's killer. You got it wrong. You have to support us in this if you truly believe in justice."
Madeline observed Stoney, as he seemed to sober up instantly. He gripped Jeffrey by the shoulder and firmly said, "No, my boy, you will not pursue this. I don't care about 'her'. She's not one of us, besides, no one will talk to her. But you, to disrespect me, to challenge my actions? No, son, you will not do it. Do you understand me?"
His last sentence sounded threatening to Madeline, but she didn't think anyone else noticed.
"I can't do that; my friend must have his name cleared. No, sir, can't do it."
"Come and see me tomorrow―after you've sobered up. It's just the drink talking. At least, I hope it is. We don't want no trouble 'round here," said Davis.
Austin and Madeline tugged on Jeffrey, and then convinced him to return to their seats.
Jeffrey grimaced, and then said, "Well, he'll see. It was fate that sent you here, Madeline. I know we'll find the killer. What's wrong with him?"
Austin replied, "Look, perhaps 'Stoney' truly believes Lon did it. You have to give the old man his due that he seems to have kept crime out of your city."
He replied, "That's another thing. How is that possible?
"My head is throbbing. I don't want to spoil the evening, but I think I should return home."
They took Madeline home, and Jeffrey and her agreed to meet the next day.
Emily and Edgar were sitting on the veranda when Madeline arrived.
"Did you have a nice evening, Madeline?" Emily asked.
"I did. I've been at the home of Lonnie Armstrong, and his parents have retained my services to look into their son's death."
She hesitated when Edgar stood, coughed, and started pacing across the veranda.
"Is something wrong?" Madeline asked.
Edgar replied, "Do you think it wise to continue this when Inspector Davis has―without question―concluded that the case is closed?"
"The Armstrong family and others believe there must be a mistake. They contend there was a rush to judgment, and that it was a convenient assumption," Madeline answered.
"I still think..." he began.
"Edgar, dear, Madeline is our guest. I'm afraid some of this is my doing. After all, I encouraged her―even while still on the train coming here―to investigate the circumstances behind the mysterious disappearances. If the parents wish to investigate the matter privately, why should you, or anyone object? You know Mr. Davis enjoys easy victories. If it were our child, wouldn't you choose to do the same?" Emily questioned defiantly.
He looked stern, and frustrated by Emily's comments, saying only, "I think I will retire early. I have important business to attend to early tomorrow morning."
After he had left, Emily said, "That's not like him to behave so. I will speak to him. I think I know what it is. He's afraid of some condemnation from the locals. You go ahead, with my blessing, and find the facts about this sordid business. Now, go to bed, and rest yourself."
Emily kissed her cheek, and Madeline instinctively hugged her, thanking her for her support.
Madeline struggled to sleep, but after an hour of lying in bed, she lit a candle and seated herself by the window.
Picking up her journal, she wrote:
I find that this case has its peculiarities that have, thus far, never occurred since I've delved into the business of murder. In all other incidents, everyone concerned sought answers, even those loosely connected to the matter.
The degree of opposition I have been confronted concerning Clifford St. Alder's murder, is nothing short of extraordinary. It's as if the entire city has some predilection toward the police inspector, and whatever he concludes, is accepted without question. To my dismay, even Mr. Montgomery voiced his objection to investigating the affair any further.
Thank goodness for Emily and Jeffrey, who appear to be my only true allies. Jeffrey and I will begin our search tomorrow.
I do so wish that Hugh or Jonathan were here.
Despite his obvious distress the evening before, Jeffrey arrived at ten in the morning. She had not expected him before early afternoon and was delighted to see him.
He said, "I wanted to get started before the trail gets any colder, or I changed my mind."
"You've considered not assisting me?"
"I went to see Davis―certain he would have dogged me if I didn't. He was rather persuasive, trying his best to convince me that my actions would cause undue scandal for my mother. He said if I was so foolish to proceed, that people's good opinion of me would forever change.
"This strange attitude people have about this case, makes me think there must be some evidence to uncover that no one wants
found out. Either that or we have a town full of very, silly people."
"So, what's your decision?"
"Let's just start and see where it takes us. I thought the harbor would be a good place―many of Lonnie's friends are avid fisherman," stated Jeffrey.
Although there were several young men at the pier, their visit to the harbor provided no further clues. The only sentiment offered, by those present, was their belief that Lonnie was innocent. No one could offer any further input. None of them had seen Lonnie near the harbor at the time of the murder. They suggested speaking to a reclusive old man, Mr. Fitzgerald―they said Lonnie would bring fish to him from time to time, and maybe Fitzgerald had seen him. They informed them; the old man lived about a half mile away, in a cabin, nestled in a wooded area by the beachfront.
"Old 'Fitzie'―I didn't know the ancient mariner was still alive. I know where he lives. Any child who grew up in this area knows Fitzie. He told us fish stories and tales about when he was on a deserted island. He was kind, and always had an interesting tale to tell," Jeffrey stated.
It didn't take them long to find Fitzie's place. When they arrived, he was on the beach―a short distance from his cabin―smoking fish over a fire.
Fitzie looked at them quizzically but did not turn away.
He said, "Good morning, folks. Can I offer you some flounder, just caught from the most life-giving waters in the world?"
Jeffrey held out his hand, and said, "Fitzie, it's good to see you."
"Do I know you, young man?"
Jeffrey replied, by reciting the beginning of one of his stories. "And then, when I thought I was alone, I heard the hiss of a snake, not just any snake, but the largest..."
The old man chuckled, then started to belly laugh, "You're one of my boys―don't recognize you."
"I'm 'Little Jeffey'."
"Well, well, you're all grown―don't see many of you anymore. I'm just a lonely fisherman, and my one friend, Lonnie, who came a calling, is now dead."
The elderly man looked out over the water as if he were searching for a lost loved one.
