Necessary Evil

by Killarney Traynor

  After a long, weary day of unexpected surprises, you’d think I’d have grown immune to shock, but I hadn’t. When I finally recovered my voice, I managed to squeak, “What?”

  She was calm and steady. “What are you going to do about his proposal? He told me he talked to you tonight.”

  I remembered: she’d let him into the house. Of course, she must have had some conversation with him. I relaxed and was able to answer evenly. “Oh, right, yes, that crank. He wanted to look for the treasure. I told him to take a hike.”

  “You did?” Aunt Susanna cocked her head. “But - didn’t he tell you about the letter?”

  My heart sunk. “The letter?”

  She regarded me soberly. “It’s a fake, Maddie.”

  “A fake?” I squeaked. “When did he tell you that?”

  He told her, he told her I forged it, he told her and she’ll…

  She was saying, “Darlene and I pulled up just as you left in the ambulance. I was frightened, as you can imagine. Randall was there, watching you go. He told us what had happened and then Darlene asked him what he was doing here. She recognized him right off, actually.”

  “Recognized him?”

  I was horrified. So Darlene knew, too? Did Randall tell everyone what I had done?

  “From his books – Darlene’s read them and she recognized his picture. Well, he told me that he had watched the Dulles show and was interested in the McInnis robbery. Did you know that he’s an expert in treasure hunting? He found those papers in New York and it made him the go-to guy for finding lost historical items. Even Mark Dulles consults with him.”

  “I’m not surprised Randall told you that,” I said bitterly. “He struck me as a braggart.”

  Aunt Susanna’s eyes flashed, but she continued. “Anyway, he showed us his copy of the letter and told us his theory.” She leaned forward and I instinctively retreated. “We’ve been lied to, Maddie. Someone clever enough to fool Professor Maddox forged that letter from Beaumont and planted it where we’d be sure to find it. They wanted us to stop looking for that treasure, to stop looking for the truth about Alexander Chase. They wanted me to think that Michael was mistaken, but he wasn’t, Maddie! Michael was right – all along, he was right! There’s more to Alexander’s story and Michael was right!”

  Her eyes began to fill with tears and I stared at her, my mind whirling.

  Someone clever enough to fool Professor Maddox…

  Then Randall hadn’t told Aunt Susanna about my involvement in the letter’s creation. Surely she would guess soon enough… But why hadn’t he clued her in? He knew I was behind the whole thing and he knew I would block his attempts to search for the treasure. So why hadn’t he used his suspicions to try to drive a wedge between Aunt Susanna and me and convince her to go along with it?

  “You don’t know…” Aunt Susanna was wiping her eyes on a napkin, sniffing, and I braced myself. “You don’t know what it meant to me to hear that, Maddie. All this time, thinking that your uncle died for nothing – that he’d been mistaken. I don’t mean about the treasure, I mean about the theft. He was so convinced, that Alexander wasn’t a thief. When the letter came out and we thought – well, it just killed me thinking that he’d been wrong all this time. That he’d been made a fool, and everyone knew it.” She looked at me then, her eyes gleaming. “Now we have a chance to prove your uncle knew what he was talking about. That he wasn’t just some old fool bent on keeping the family name. He was right, Maddie. He was right.”

  I stared at her, aghast. With a rush, the blinders fell off and I could see the full extent of what I’d done. By fabricating the story, I’d ruined the one reputation that mattered. I had been trying to protect my uncle’s legacy, but I had thought it was the land. I was wrong. My uncle’s legacy was his family name – the same name I’d thrown away in a futile attempt at security. Thanks to me, Alexander Chase looked like a thief and a wastrel and I’d made a fool out of the man I respected above all else. I’d not only failed: I’d ruined that which I’d been trying to save. And what was worse, I also saw that it wasn’t just my uncle’s death which had my aunt prostrate with grief for so long – it was the death of a dream as well.

  Aunt Susanna was wiping her eyes and I watched her, dully. I have to tell her, I thought. I have to tell her who wrote the letter.

  But I was a coward and the words wouldn’t come.

  Aunt Susanna pulled herself together, sniffing and smiling at me as she straightened up. I cringed, expecting accusations that didn’t come. Aunt Susanna wasn’t angry. Behind her tears was a glow – a glow I almost didn’t recognize.

  It was hope and purpose.

  “Randall is convinced,” she continued, “that there is a lot to the McInnis story that we don’t know and he’s volunteered to look into it for us. He said that he already spoke to you about the book…?”

  It was a question. I answered it dully. “Yes, he mentioned it.”

  She nodded briskly. “He’s taken the summer off to write it, so we were thinking that that he could spend it here, with us, in the spare room. He could write his book and investigate the treasure at the same time. He wants to be on location because he thinks there’s a lot of unexplored material, both at the farm and in the library. It’ll be easier on site and living here, on Alexander’s property, he’ll get a better idea of the character of the people involved.”

  I bit back a bitter laugh. “Who came up with that idea?”

  “Why… I think I did, why?”

  Sure she did. After Randall put it in her head. Again, his voice rang loud and clear in my head: I ought to expose this fraud. We have an obligation to the truth you know.

  Fine words coming from a blackmailer. I couldn’t stomach the idea of letting him stay in my house over the summer, yet what would he do if I didn’t?

  I shook my head and pushed my chair away from the table. “Just curious, is all. He hinted at something like that when he was here.” I grabbed my mug and brought it to the sink.

  Aunt Susanna’s eyes followed me where her weak body could not. “Randall even offered to lend a hand with the chores, to help offset the expense.”

  “Has he ever worked a horse farm before?”

  “He said something about his spring breaks as a college student. Even if he doesn’t have much experience, I still think it’s a good idea – with Lindsay unable to work, you’ll be needing even more help than before and it’ll be for free.”

  I grunted, and ran the water over my mug, avoiding looking at her. Professor Randall, mucking out stalls and exercising horses? I couldn’t imagine him wanting to get his hands dirty. “I suppose that was your idea, too?”

  “No, it was Darlene’s. But he jumped right on it. He said he’d welcome the exercise.”

  “Huh! Really.”

  “Maddie, don’t you think it’s a good idea?”

  Aunt Susanna sounded worried. Well, so was I. I still didn’t believe there was anything more than grass and seeds in those fields and I could live with that. My reputation and livelihood did not depend on finding something more, but Randall’s did. When he came up empty-handed, what would prevent him from exposing my fraud anyway? Aunt Susanna might have been hurt by the idea that Michael had been mistaken, but what would learning of her niece’s deceit do to her?

  She repeated, “Maddie? Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”

  “No, I think it’s a terrible idea.”

  “You do? Why?”

  “Because he’s not going to find anything,” I said, yanking open the dishwasher. “There’s nothing out there to find, Aunt Susanna, we’ve been over this a million times! There’s no bloody treasure!” I threw the cup in and slammed the door shut.

  Aunt Susanna was frowning.

  “I know,” she said. “We discussed that. It doesn’t matter whether there’s treasure or not. The truth is all that’s important.”

  “Is that what he told you, this – this fortune hunter?” I almost said “blackmailer”.
<
br />   “Yes, it is. The professor thinks there’s a strong possibility that there may be something buried out in the fields. Both Darlene and I warned him that it wasn’t likely, but he just said that wasn’t what was important. Finding the truth was.” When I laughed, she added, “Randall said that you agreed with him.”

  That rat!

  “All right,” I said, trying a different tactic. “That’s all well and good, but what do we do when the press gets a hold of this? The only good that Beaumont letter has done is convince treasure hunters that there’s nothing here. What will happen when they find out that we’ve practically hired a professional to look for us? We were inundated before – imagine the chaos then!”

  To my surprise, Aunt Susanna seemed unaffected.

  “We talked about that, too, and we decided that the best thing to do was to keep it a secret. Most people won’t recognize him as a historian – Darlene will spread the idea that he’s a novelist, working his summer here as background for his next book.” She grinned. “Its subterfuge, but not that far from the truth, when you think of it.”

  “It’s a bad idea,” I said, shaking my head. “A bad, bad idea. We can’t do this, Aunt Susanna. We don’t even know the man. How can you trust him? How do we know he’s what he says he is?”

  “Darlene knew him,” she countered.

  I snapped, “From a photo in a back of a book. That’s hardly a thorough background check.”

  Aunt Susanna looked at her hands, then at me, and her gaze was steady. “I want him to investigate, Maddie. I want him to find the answers and put this thing to rest. He thinks he can.”

  “He, also, thinks he’s God’s gift to American history,” I growled. “He is a jerk, a blowhard, and a fortune hunter.”

  “He’s not a fortune hunter,” she said. “He’s a scientist and a historian, and he’s very interested in finding the truth, whether or not there’s a treasure, just like Michael. Your uncle never wanted the money, you know. He only ever wanted the truth, and that’s what I want. I thought that’s what you wanted, too.”

  The disappointment in her voice was clear. I turned away and leaned on the counter. I heard her rise up behind me and take her walker.

  When she spoke, her voice was clear and firm. “It’s been a long, terrible night and you’re tired and upset. We can talk more about this tomorrow. But Madeleine, I want this matter settled. I think this man has the wherewithal to figure things out, but if you are so dead-set against his involvement, then I insist that we shut the trails down. I won’t have anyone else hurt because of this treasure. I won’t have it, Maddie. You can decide. Goodnight.”

  With that, she left the room, her walker clumping awkwardly.

  I stood for a long time alone in that kitchen, until Trusty started whining. I let her out the front door to do her business and stood on the porch as I waited.

  The silence of the night rose. Spring was aging, summer was coming, and the symphony of night sounds sang their anticipation. I leaned on the post, sullenly refusing to allow them to lift my spirits, facing my second round of blackmail that night.

  Professor Randall had been worse than annoying, but I couldn’t afford to shut down the trails for even one day. My business couldn’t handle it, any more than my conscience could deal with the idea of another accident.

  I thought of Lindsay, how she’d teased me earlier in the day about the Fontaines and how she’d looked when we found her, a crumpled, shapeless form on the darkened trail. I thought of Missy’s limp and wondered what the veterinarian had found. I saw Ellen’s frantic face as she watched us checking Lindsay over, and I recalled Randall’s puzzled expression as he looked up from the exploratory hole.

  Something is really wrong here, Warwick… he’d said.

  Well, he was right about that at least.

  Aunt Susanna was right, too. We couldn’t continue as we had. Something had to give. And if I didn’t, we were likely to break. If I didn’t, Randall would have no reason not to tell the whole world the truth. I was surprised he hadn’t already told Aunt Susanna. Was he hoping to use it later?

  It didn’t matter. I really had no choice.

  “All right,” I said aloud. “I give up. Let him come. Let him look. It’ll be August before he realizes that there’s nothing to find and by then, I’ll know what to do about it.”

  Resignation felt slightly better than floundering.

  No one heard me but Trusty, who came running back, her ears streaming behind her. When I opened the door to let her back in, I caught the faintest whiff of cologne as I stepped into the foyer. Fragrant as it was, it set my hair on end.

  Alexander Chase’s Last Known Letter to Mary Chase:

  Discovered by Michael Chase tucked inside an old hymnal in the attic.

  Written on a long half-sheet of paper, and reproduced here exactly with original spelling and emphasis.

  June 1, 1862

  Dearest Mother,

  Your letter of the 12th arrived yesterday

  And I was glad to receive it.

  Any word from home is always welcome. I

  Pray that you and Avery are well. I al-

  So wish to thank you for your kind words of

  Blessing – they are dew-drops to my soul. Marched

  Long today and I am exhausted by hours

  Of training and miserable Poe-like terrain. We shall meet

  Johnny Rebel any day and I am itching for the introduction.

  To glory we go, hungry and tired, but with

  New vigor and eagerness. It may seem strange but I have no

  Fear, just regret that I leave so little behind for my dearest

  Mother – just the earthy good contained in my home soil.

  Do pray for me, as I always do for you, knowing our God is

  Just and loving and all is in His hands.

  Yours, always,

  Alexander.

  PS: When I fear, I think on the August words in my beloved psalmery, especially no. 29. Read on this and think of me. – AC

  Chapter 10:

  June

  Professor Randall moved into the spare bedroom in the back of the house in late June.

  Despite my telling him to park around back, he rang the front doorbell. I was in the office and came out to find Aunt Susanna chatting animatedly with him while he wrestled two large suitcases through the door. My aunt was leaning heavily on her cane – she’d ditched the walker in a fit of pique a week before – and she watched him eagerly, as Maid Marion might have when Robin Hood came swinging in to rescue her.

  Some hero, I thought sourly. I honestly did not understand her enthusiasm, but showing my displeasure would be tantamount to telling Aunt Susanna about the blackmail. So I put on my most congenial face and went over to help.

  Professor Randall’s car certainly looked the part of the poor academic. It was a four door sedan, several years old, and filled to capacity with his belongings. He’d brought a couple of suitcases, a laptop, a desk-top computer, and a box of books that was nearly the size of the twin bed in his room. Getting it up the stairs was some trick, and we were both winded when we finally made it.

  “Are you moving in permanently?” I asked, as I helped him cram it into the far corner of his room. It wasn't a large space to begin with and the box dwarfed it.

  “God forbid,” he said cheerfully. “No, these are just a few references texts for my book and some manuscripts I’ve agreed to look over.”

  Aunt Susanna was in the room, having made the long, slow climb up the back stairs while we worked. She was fussing with a vase filled with the flowers that she’d insisted on putting in his room. It was a kind gesture, but it was, also, an excuse for her to hang around. I didn't want her getting attached to my blackmailer, but there was little I could say about it.

  As we recovered from our labors, Randall spotted her moving an old book to better position her vase, and he pounced.

  “Ah, now that,” he said. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket a
nd moved swiftly to pluck the book out her hands with the cloth. “That is a very valuable and irreplaceable old book. It’s on loan from a friend – it’s not even supposed to be out of its display. I’ll have to ask both of you not to touch this in future. It requires delicate handling.”

  Aunt Susanna glanced at me. “Sorry, Professor.”

  I just rolled my eyes.

  “I’ll just put it over here,” he continued, wrapping it in the handkerchief and placing it on a high shelf. “Now, then…”

  He straightened, rubbing his back as he looked around the room. Aunt Susanna and I had decided to give him the rarely used room only after considerable discussion. She’d wanted to give him her old upstairs room, claiming that she never used it now that her knees had gone bad.

  “It’s just empty space now,” she’d said, but I balked.

  “You are moving back up there as soon as your knee heals,” I insisted, and flatly refused to listen to her protests. “You’re not a cripple, you know, just an impatient patient.”

  In the end, I got my own way and Randall got the back bedroom, which suited me for a number of reasons: One, it was one of the nicest rooms in the house - which meant he couldn’t complain about his accommodations - and two, it was already wired for internet, which meant he wouldn’t need the office.

  The third reason was the most important: It was the furthest room from my own.

  I’d decided that the best way to deal with living with the man was to avoid him as much as possible. I was even willing to let him off the hook with helping out around the farm, if it meant that he would just leave me alone. I wanted no part in his investigation, no part in his writing, and no part in his life - and his having the back bedroom suited the plan perfectly: his room was close to the back stairs, while mine practically opened on the front ones. I wouldn’t even have to run into him on the stairwell.

  Just get through the summer, I kept telling myself, even though I knew that the end of the season would bring another set of problems, specifically a disappointed Hadley history professor who still knew that the Beaumont letter was a forgery.