Target in Jeopardy

by Carla Cassidy

  Even though she wasn’t working right now that didn’t mean she wasn’t interested in the crime taking place in town, and she was particularly interested in the mummy murders.

  At a quarter to nine she and Dallas were in the living room waiting for Forrest and Rae to arrive.

  “I can’t wait for a chance to visit with Rae,” she said, petting Lulu, who was seated in her lap. “I want to hear all about her giving birth to little Connor and what it’s like to have a three-month-old.”

  “Whatever she tells you, for you it will be times two,” Dallas replied with a warm grin.

  “I’m sure we’ll muddle through with two.” A car honked outside.

  “That must be them,” Dallas said. Avery placed Lulu on the floor, grabbed her purse and followed him out the door. Forrest and Dallas sat in the front seats and Avery sat in the back seat with Rae.

  Rae was an attractive brunette who worked as a paralegal at the local offices of Lucas, Jolley and Fitzsimmons. She was bright and friendly, and for most of the drive to Austin the two women chattered about birth and the challenges of parenthood.

  “I’ll warn you, Dallas, don’t take personally anything she says to you while she’s in labor,” Rae said. “It’s possible she’ll curse you and she’ll want to do bodily harm to you.”

  They all laughed. “I’m sure I can take whatever she dishes out,” Dallas replied.

  “Have you two been to all the birthing classes?” Rae asked.

  Dallas whirled around and looked at Avery with panic. “Birthing classes? Were we supposed to go to those?”

  “With everything that’s been going on, there really hasn’t been time,” Avery replied.

  “All you need to remember, Dallas, is to remind Avery to breathe through the labor pains,” Rae said.

  “Okay, I can do that,” he replied.

  “How about a pit stop,” Rae suggested, when they were about halfway to Austin. “I’m sure Avery could use a bit of a stretch and so could I.”

  Avery smiled at her gratefully. They made the pit stop where the other three fueled up on coffee and Avery got a bottle of water and a chocolate-covered doughnut, and then blamed it on the twins for loving chocolate.

  However, the closer they got to Austin, the more the air in the car grew palpable with tension. Forrest, as a working law enforcement agent, had to be thinking about the interview they would have with Horace. She was sure Dallas was thinking similar thoughts.

  Not only did Horace have the same kind of forty-year-old army buttons that had been found near the victims’ bodies, he was also the cousin of the man who had died in prison for the crime of killing seven women.

  Was it possible Horace had killed the recent victims? Was it possible he’d been part of his cousin’s killing spree all those years ago? There were so many questions, and hopefully after today they would finally have some answers.

  “Okay, we’re almost there. I want to talk about this case so we’re all on the same page when we go in to speak with Horace,” Forrest said.

  “It all started when Maggie Reeves found the skeleton on the Live Oak Ranch property after the hurricane,” Dallas said. “It was the seventh girl who was murdered forty years ago,” Dallas replied.

  “And that skeleton was Emmeline Thompson, Chief Thompson’s little sister,” Rae said. “Then Patrice Eccleston’s body was discovered in the Lone Star Pharma parking lot and the mummified body was found in my backyard. And then my dad was murdered.” Rae’s voice thickened with emotion, and Avery reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “And we’re going to find the person responsible for his murder, Rae,” Forrest exclaimed firmly.

  “We all know that Elliot Corgan went to prison for the murder of the women and then he committed suicide, but now I have to wonder if he was really guilty,” Dallas said.

  “There was definitely some question at the time about Elliot’s suicide,” Forrest added.

  Everyone fell silent. They got off the highway in Austin and eventually turned down a tree-lined street of small houses with neat front yards. “It should be up ahead on the right,” Forrest said.

  He passed two more houses and then pulled into the driveway of a weathered white house with black shutters. Avery desperately hoped they would find some answers inside. Right now Horace was their best hope for solving the murders that haunted Whisperwood.

  Chapter 12

  Dallas had no idea what to expect when he knocked on Horace Corgan’s front door, but he certainly hadn’t expected to be greeted by a uniformed nurse.

  The middle-aged woman wore a name tag that identified her as Jane Oliver. It wasn’t until Forrest showed her his badge that she allowed them all to step into the small living room.

  Although the room appeared neat and clean, the smell of sickness hung heavy in the air.

  “We need to speak with Horace,” Forrest said to Jane, who immediately frowned in disapproval.

  “Mr. Corgan is quite ill,” she said.

  “Is he able to speak?” Forrest asked.

  “Well, yes,” she replied.

  “We just need to ask him a few questions,” Dallas said.

  “I hope you don’t plan on taxing him,” she replied. “He tires quite easily.”

  Dallas exchanged a quick glance with his brother. Nobody had told them that Horace was ill. “How sick is he?” Dallas asked.

  “Mr. Corgan has stage four lung cancer. His health has gone downhill dramatically in the past couple of weeks and recently he was placed on oxygen full-time. He’s also trying to gain some strength back after a recent heart attack,” the nurse explained. “He’s quite ill.”

  “We still need to talk to him,” Forrest replied firmly.

  Dallas was glad his brother was so determined. They hadn’t driven all this way to be turned away by an overprotective nurse.

  Jane’s features tightened in obvious disapproval once again. “Follow me,” she said curtly.

  She led them down a short hallway to a small bedroom, where the old man was in bed and hooked up to all kinds of machines.

  “These people are here to talk to you, Mr. Corgan.” Jane moved to stand at the head of the bed, where a blue computer monitor displayed his vitals.

  Horace looked like a dying man. His skeletal body was scarcely visible beneath the light blue bedsheets. His wheezing breaths filled the air, along with the click and whirr of the various machines. His skin tone was the pasty gray of impending death.

  Forrest introduced himself and the others, and Horace grinned. “I don’t get many visitors. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He turned and looked at Jane. “Prop me up.”

  She rearranged the pillows behind him so that he was sitting up a little more.

  “We have some questions to ask you, Mr. Corgan,” Forrest said.

  “Questions about what? And call me Horace. You don’t need to be formal with me.”

  “We understand you were once in the army,” Dallas said.

  “That was a hell of a long time ago,” Horace replied.

  “We also understand you once lived in Whisperwood,” Forrest said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Did you keep your army buttons?” Dallas asked.

  “I did, until I started losing them here and there. But I’m sure you aren’t here to talk to me about some old buttons.”

  “Actually, we’re here about some murders that happened in Whisperwood about forty years ago, and murders that are happening right now,” Dallas said.

  Horace laughed, but the laughter turned into a fit of violent coughing. “I was wondering when or if anyone would get around to talking to me,” he finally managed to gasp.

  “We’re here now to talk to you,” Forrest said.

  “What do you want to know? If I killed those women? I’ll confess when I was younge
r I had an appetite for the young beauties.”

  He paused and his gaze grew distant. A smile curved his lips, a smile that completely creeped Dallas out. He glanced over to Avery, who looked as uncomfortable as he felt.

  The old man focused on them all once again. “I managed to escape the law, but dammit, it appears that there’s no way I’m going to escape the devil, who is ready to take me way sooner than I wanted.”

  “We’re sorry about your health,” Forrest said. “But we need some answers, Horace.”

  He didn’t acknowledge Forrest’s statement, but remained silent for several long moments. “Sweet little Emmeline,” he finally said. For a moment his breathing grew louder in the room. Again his gaze grew distant, as if he’d drifted back into the distant past.

  Nobody else spoke. It was as if everyone but Horace was holding their breath, waiting to hear what the old man would say next. But the minute Horace had spoken the name of Chief Thompson’s little sister, one of the victims, Dallas’s tension had shot through the ceiling.

  “She was a torment to me, that one with her pretty face and fetching ways. But she wasn’t interested in me. Still, I’d decided I had to have her one way or the other and I did.” His eyes gleamed with a sick light. “I suppose I can admit it now. I had her every way I wanted her and then I killed her. To preserve her beauty, I mummified her before I buried her.”

  Nurse Jane released a small gasp as she stepped back from the bed and stared at her patient. Dallas heard Avery gasp, too, and he gazed at her to make sure she was okay. The last thing he wanted was for her to get so upset she somehow was triggered into an early delivery.

  “You okay?” he asked softly. She nodded.

  Dallas was shocked by what Horace had just done. He’d confessed to raping and murdering Chief Thompson’s little sister.

  “What about the other six women?” Forrest asked. Once again the air in the room became charged with a tense anticipation.

  Horace cast him a sly smile. “Didn’t you hear the news? My cousin Elliot went to prison for those murders.” He laughed again, then once more went into a choking spasm that went on for several long minutes. When he was finally finished, Nurse Jane handed him a tissue to wipe away the blood he’d coughed up.

  “Elliot was the perfect patsy,” he finally said. “That man couldn’t keep his mouth shut long enough to stay out of prison. He spewed all his women-hating ways to anyone who would listen, and made himself the number one suspect in those murder cases.”

  Horace’s smile fell away and his skeletal features twisted into a scowl. “But then I heard he was looking for an appeal, and he had a lawyer who was interested in taking the case. Elliot intended to tell everything he knew. And he knew way too much. He was going to put my name in the picture and that’s the last thing I wanted.”

  “We heard he committed suicide in prison...that he hanged himself in his cell,” Dallas said. He was astonished by what the man had already admitted He’d confessed that he’d raped and killed Emmeline. One murder mystery solved. What next?

  Horace barked a laugh. “Elliot was too much of a wimp to commit suicide. It’s amazing what you can get an inmate who is never getting out of prison to do if you just add a little money to his books.”

  “So somebody helped Elliot to his death. It wasn’t a suicide,” Forrest asked.

  “That’s right.” Again Horace smiled, that sly grin that Dallas found so disturbing.

  “So, who killed those six other women forty years ago?” Dallas asked. “Was it Elliot or was it you?”

  Horace’s smile widened, stretching his thin lips into a grin that turned his skeletal features into a death mask. “They were all my beauties, so sweet and so pretty. I just couldn’t help myself. I had them all and when I was finished with them, I buried them.”

  Murder mystery solved. Dallas stared at the old man who had been responsible for seven young women’s deaths. “Why are you confessing to all this now?” he asked.

  “What do I have to lose? What are you going to do? Throw an old, dying man in prison? If that’s where I wind up, at least I’ll have a bed and three squares a day for the rest of my life. I’ll be placed in the hospital ward, where I’ll have everything I need and nobody will be able to bother me.”

  “What about the mummified remains that were found on my property,” Rae asked. “Do you know anything about her?”

  Horace’s eyes half closed, as if he was once again drifting back to the past. “Ah, sweet Leora.” His eyes fluttered and then closed, and his breathing grew louder and quickened.

  “Leora who?” Rae asked.

  “Leora Sweeney,” Horace replied, and opened his eyes. “She was Emmeline’s best friend. Such a beautiful young woman. Of course I had to have her, too.”

  “And what about my father? Did you kill him?” Rae asked softly, her grief audible in her voice.

  “Who in the hell is your father?” Horace asked.

  “Beau... Beau Lemmons,” Forrest said, and pulled Rae closer to his side.

  “Nah, I didn’t do him.” Once again the sick man went into a coughing spell that left him gasping.

  “Just breathe through your nose,” the nurse said. “Breathe in the oxygen, Horace.”

  Horace nodded and leaned his head back as he did what she told him. “Are we done here?” he asked, when he’d finally caught his breath.

  “Just one more question,” Forrest said. “Did you kill Patrice Eccleston?”

  Horace frowned. “No, I never heard of her.”

  Dallas looked at Forrest. “Maybe we should step outside and have a discussion.” He wanted to make sure they had asked the man all the questions they needed to.

  “Yes, you all have overtaxed Mr. Corgan,” Jane said, the disapproval back in her voice.

  The four of them moved out of the bedroom and back into the living room. “Wow,” Avery said. “I can’t believe he just confessed to so much.”

  “He’s got nothing much to lose now. He does look sick, but I’d like to take a look at his medical records to see if maybe he’s still in some way playing us all,” Forrest replied.

  Dallas looked at his brother curiously. “What are you thinking?”

  “Maybe he’s banking on the sympathy vote from us. Maybe he isn’t as close to death as he’s pretending to be, and he’s banking on us not turning in a dying man.”

  “But he couldn’t have known we were coming today,” Avery said. “I saw the blood he coughed up. He definitely looks like a dying man.”

  Forrest frowned and released a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m not thinking straight. My head is spinning with everything he told us. All I know is that he’s one evil son of a bitch.”

  “He is that,” Dallas agreed. “So, can anyone think of any more questions we need to ask him before we leave here?”

  “I think we definitely got more answers than we expected,” Forrest said drily. “Poor Elliot got the rap for his cousin’s crimes and then was strung up and murdered.” He shook his head.

  Jane joined them in the living room. She had to be in shock, given what she’d just heard about her patient. “He’s sleeping,” she said to nobody in particular.

  “I need to call Chief Thompson and see how he wants us to proceed,” Forrest said. “I’m sure he’ll want to coordinate with the local authorities here.”

  “At least he has his answer as to who killed his sister. Maybe that will finally bring him some closure,” Avery said.

  “Still, we don’t know who killed Beau and Patrice,” Dallas said. “I’m pretty sure if Horace was responsible for those deaths, he would have told us.” One murderer had been found, but another one still walked the streets of his town.

  Forrest pulled out his cell phone, but before he could make the call, from the bedroom came the sound of Horace coughing hysterically. His coughs sounded violent. />
  The nurse rushed into the room and the four of them followed on her heels. The oxygen tube was out, and it was obvious he was in great distress. The gray of his face had taken on a bluish tint. His hands appeared to be somehow tangled beneath the sheet and one of the machines began to squeal with an alarm sound.

  Suddenly he stopped coughing. “Melody,” he managed to whisper, and then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and the alarm sound changed to one of no pulse, no blood pressure.

  Horace Corgan was dead.

  * * *

  It was almost midnight when Forrest dropped Avery and Dallas back at her house. Despite the lateness of the hour, the aching of her body and the shocking events of the long day, adrenaline still flooded through Avery.

  The mummy killer was finally identified and now was dead. That should have been the end of things, but Horace’s sudden death had certainly been more than suspicious. Not only was it odd that his oxygen tube had been removed prior to his death, but also it was discovered that his hands had been bound beneath the sheet.

  And who the heck was Melody? The name had been the last word Horace had spoken before death had taken him. But none of them knew of a Melody.

  “What a day,” Avery said as she collapsed on the sofa. Lulu immediately jumped into her lap.

  “It was a really long day for you. How are you feeling?” Dallas asked, sinking down next to her.

  “Like I should be exhausted, but I’m not. I’m a bit sore from the drive, but it’s nothing serious. It was such a strange and horrible day.” She’d listened to a man confess to killing so many young women, and then she’d watched him die under mysterious circumstances.

  “At least he managed to solve a lot of murder cases, but his death was definitely strange. It looked like a murder to me.” Dallas frowned.

  “The window in his bedroom was cracked open and there was no screen on it. I guess it’s possible somebody got inside, tied his hands and pulled out his oxygen tube, and then left while we were all talking in the living room,” she replied. It had definitely been more than suspicious.