Money, Marbles and Murder

by Mary Frances

  Madame Cobilet 2 – Money, Marbles and Murder.

  By: Mary Frances.

  ISBN 978-1-877546-98-3

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © Oct, 2011, Mary Frances

  Cover Art Copyright © Oct, 2011, Brightling Spur

  Bluewood Publishing Ltd

  Christchurch, 8441, New Zealand

  www.bluewoodpublishing.com

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Bluewood Publishing Ltd.

  Dedication

  For all my children and grandchildren. May they discover their imaginations through my work so they may experience their life through theirs.

  Chapter One

  Margaret locked herself in her room and closed the drapes. For the next three days, the phone ringers were turned off and the housekeeper and staff were given strict orders to stay away. Until Madame Cobilet came back out into the world, she was not to be bothered. The famous psychic took refuge, once again, in her mansion on the river. This time she was resting, not hiding.

  In 1979, the state of New Mexico was in the news. A school bus with seventeen children had been kidnaped. At the time, Margaret had been invited to come help find the children. After everything was said and done, she found she couldn’t. The media had not been kind. She had returned to her home in St. Clair and stayed behind the walls of her brick mansion, waiting for the clue to help her bring the children home. In 2005, it happened. Margaret had advertised her home address on a television show, years before, and asked the kidnapers to send her anything from the incident. She had hoped to ‘read’ the item, giving her and the authorities enough information so they could bring the children back. The television plea had opened the way for anyone and everyone. Packages came. Madame Cobilets home was soon filled to the roof with boxes, sent to her from all corners of the world. Everyone wanted the psychics help in their own private matters. For over twenty years, she opened boxes and read the contents, hoping to find the clue. Her unselfish act had turned into an obsession and slowly turned her into a hermit. Her hands, the tools of her trade, gave in to arthritis and she soon found herself alone in her world of boxes.

  Sandy, her personal assistant, was hired in the fall of 2004, and had proven to be a valuable asset to Margaret’s lifestyle. The woman handled Margaret’s affairs and took care of anything and everything, including Margaret’s finances. She had become Margaret’s ‘spare’ set of hands. Sandy kept the house quiet as Margaret had requested after their trip from New Mexico. The ordeal had been exhausting and when they arrived back in Detroit, Margaret had collapsed at the airport. After an overnight stay at the hospital, she was brought home to rest. For three days, the sun came up and went back down and for three days, the world waited for Madame Cobilet. Sandy wandered through the huge house. When the world found out Madame Cobilet had gone to New Mexico and had found the children, packages flooded once again into the four story mansion. Rooms that had been emptied over the last six months were filled again. The post office had already started storage in a warehouse.

  Sandy stood in the attic and shook her head. This area too, had been filled. Wilma, the housekeeper stood quietly next to her.

  “She is not going to believe this,” Sandy said. Wilma only shook her head. The older woman wiped her hands on her apron and headed back down the steps.

  “My job is the first floor,” she said as she disappeared down the stairs. Sandy went back down to the third floor and again, stared at the boxes along the hall. The rooms had been filled and boxes had been stacked. The second floor was a little better. The housekeeper and maids had left half of the floor open, sending the boxes into the attic. As she stood in the hall looking at the closed doors, Tess, one of the floor maids came through with a bundle of sheets in her arms.

  “I have three rooms cleaned and furnished,” she said as she passed. Sandy followed her into a room at the end of the hall. The room smelled like fresh soaps and clean wood. She walked to the window and looked out over the river. The view was spectacular. Sandy inspected the new furniture and opened the closet. As Tess made the bed, Sandy opened a window and let the cool air flow through.

  “We will need at least five rooms opened and ready on this floor,” she said as she turned to leave the room. “Please make sure the bathrooms are ready to receive any guests too.”

  Tess nodded and went back to her work. Sandy went back down the stairs to the office. As she sat down at the desk, she looked at the pile of mail in front of her. On the floor, she found two crates filled with letters. All were addressed to Margaret. She looked at the answering machine as she opened one envelope. The numbers flashed ‘99'. She touched the button and as she listened to the messages, her fingers deleted them one after the other. They seemed to be the same. Everyone wanted an interview with Margaret.

  Sandy spent most of the day opening mail and filing letters. Margaret would most likely want to see some of them. She had paid the bills as they came in and ordered the work done on the house and grounds. For years, the old red brick mansion had sat neglected. With Sandy’s arrival, the house was awakened and life returned to the house, the grounds and most of all, the old lady on the river.

  The new garage was almost finished. Margaret had asked for a new one to replace the small garage beside the property. The new building would house the limousine and up to three other vehicles, should they need the space. It also had an apartment above the garage and a small patio beside the building, affording William, the driver and groundskeeper, his own private area in the world. Margaret had insisted. Sandy smiled at her thoughts. Margaret treated her help very nicely, both financially and emotionally. The housekeeper and maids were all offered rooms, should they want to stay in the house they cared for. So far, Wilma and William were the only ones to take Margaret up on her generous offer. It also gave Sandy peace of mind, knowing Margaret would never be left alone in the huge house. Although Margaret had shown a ‘rough’

  exterior, her interior had mellowed over the years. Keeping Margaret safe was a priority. On the morning of the fourth day, Margaret’s door opened. Sandy was sipping her morning coffee and reading bank statements when Margaret tip-toed in. She slipped in quietly in bare feet and sat down on the sofa facing the fireplace. Sandy caught her in her side vision and knew; it was better for Margaret to make the first move. She continued reading the statement. Margaret looked around slowly and then back at Sandy. Her hair was flowing about her head, the braids long since taken down. Margaret sat, her hands folded in her lap. Her hands were absent the gloves. Sandy took everything into consideration and waited until Margaret spoke to even look in that direction. Until then, she focused on the papers in her hands.

  “What day is today?” Margaret asked.

  Without looking up, Sandy answered. “Wednesday.”

  “And the date?”

  “May eleventh,” Sandy told her.

  Margaret got up slowly and went back into her room. It would be another hour or more before Margaret was dressed and would be back out to the office. Sandy smiled to herself as she finished her paperwork. It was almost noon when Margaret came back. Margaret went first to the windows and pulled the drapes open, then she went to the doors and opened them. She stood for a few moments looking out across the river, drawing in deep breaths of cool air. Sandy watched from the desk a
nd waited. When Margaret finally turned around again, she was smiling.

  “Had you worried, didn’t I?” she asked.

  Sandy set her papers down and leaned back in the chair. “Not really,” she said quietly.

  “Wilma told me you had been sneaking into the kitchen at night to eat, so I wasn’t too worried.”

  “The snitch!” Margaret laughed, then added, “So you have two sets of eyes, do you now?”

  “Four,” Sandy said as she got up and rang for Wilma on the intercom. “William and Tess report to me too.”

  Wilma came in the room within a minute. She had a tray in her hands and went straight to the desk and set it down. She turned to look at Margaret.

  “Coffee?” she asked as she lifted the silver pot.

  “Please,” Margaret answered. As the woman left the room, Margaret whispered to her.

  “Snitch.”

  Wilma smiled and kept going.

  Margaret cradled the hot coffee between her hands and sat on the sofa. As she breathed in the rich aroma, she closed her eyes and smiled.

  “With New Mexico behind us, where do we go from here?” she finally asked after sipping the coffee.

  Sandy hadn’t had a chance to tell her about anything since returning from the trip. Margaret surely did not know about the boxes in the attic. The doctors had said she needed a long rest and Sandy did not think four days was enough. She bit her lip for a moment and thought about not saying a word, just yet. Margaret was watching her.

  “Don’t make me hold your hand,” Margaret said. Sandy knew if Margaret did hold her hand, even briefly, she would know everything in Sandy’s head. It was hard keeping anything from Margaret.

  “You have been on the news, non-stop, since we left,” Sandy started. “The phone has been ringing off the hook and I had to hire security to keep people away from the house. Should I go on?”

  Margaret got up slowly and went to the window. The once quiet street in front of her house was filled with all kinds of vehicles. Margaret could see the glint of camera lenses as the sun hit on them at the street. She turned and went back to the sofa. Sandy joined her.

  “I take it they dug up the bus?” Margaret asked. Sandy only nodded.

  “Things will settle back down in a few days” she said, then finished her coffee. Sandy got up to get her another cup. “I don’t know, Margaret,” she said. “Your face is on every channel and on every broadcast. This was a lot bigger than I thought. There is talk about a monument out there, in the desert, with your name on it, for the children.”

  Margaret shook her head. “I can see a monument for the children, but I do not see why they would put my name on it too.”

  Sandy handed her the cup of coffee and went to the desk. When she returned, she had one envelope in her hand. She held it out for Margaret.

  “Because you are not accepting any calls yet, this came for you yesterday,” she said. Margaret took it and looked at the return address. It had the White House seal on it.

  “Oh my,” she said as she opened the flap. Sandy brought her reading glasses and waited until Margaret read the letter. When she had finished, she put the letter back in the envelope and held it close to her chest.

  “This has to go in my scrap book,” she said. Her eyes had tears welling up inside. Sandy took the letter and put it back on the desk. It gave Margaret the private moment she needed to wipe her eyes. Margaret set her glasses down on the coffee table.

  “I asked earlier, where do we go from here?” Margaret asked.

  “I don’t think you should do much just yet,” she said. “The doctors said you need a vacation.” Then she quickly added, “And they mean a real vacation, not just lay in your room for a few days.”

  Margaret held up her hands. “It’s hard to shut these off,” she said. “Besides, we have a lot more boxes to go through now.”

  Sandy looked surprised. “How did you know about the boxes?” she asked. Margaret grinned. “Wilma talks to me too.”

  “The snitch!” Sandy said with a laugh. Then, she turned serious again. “You really do need a vacation from all this, Margaret. Please think about it, will you?”

  “Where can I go? You saw the people out there. They’re waiting for me. I step outside and they’ll be all over me.” Margaret was cradling her empty cup in her lap as she talked. “I would love to be able to go somewhere, where no one knew me. Some place where I can just sit and enjoy the sun rise and sun set.”

  Sandy listened and took mental notes.

  “For the last twenty years, I have been in this house, looking for THE box. Every day, I was here, I felt like a prisoner in my own home. Now that it’s over, I feel like a prisoner again. Unless I buy my own private island, I am afraid a vacation is out of the question,” she said with a sigh.

  “Well, let me work on it for you. The sooner you go, the better I will feel. Let me see what I can come up with, okay?” Sandy went to her computer and started clicking on the keyboard. Margaret got herself another cup of coffee and as she carried the cup in her hands, wandered through the house. Sandy was left to the internet and Margaret shuffled along inside the walls of her home. She would stop and look out the windows and at each one, shake her head at the media frenzy in the street. She also noticed the security guards as they walked the line inside the wrought iron fence.

  Margaret wandered into the kitchen and set her cup on the counter. The room had been remodeled and all the appliances updated. Wilma was busy at the sink, pulling grapes from the stems.

  “Sandy thinks I need a vacation,” she told the woman.

  “You do, Madame,” Wilma answered as she rinsed the grapes. She shook the water off the bowl and held it out for Margaret. Margaret cupped her hands and waited. Wilma poured some into her palms.

  “She has a good heart, but I don’t think she understands. Where can I go that I won’t have to touch anything or face anyone now?” Margaret asked as she put her hands up to her mouth. Wilma slid the bowl into the fridge and wiped her hands on a towel.

  “If I promise to move with you, would you buy your own private island?” Wilma asked with a grin.

  Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Did I leave the intercom on again?” she asked. Wilma only winked and went back to her sink. Margaret wandered back out and down the hall. When she reached the office again, she went straight to the intercom and flipped the switch. Sandy was busy until Margaret came in. When the woman sat down again, Sandy had a few ideas.

  “We could take a cruise,” she said.

  “I hate boats,” Margaret told her.

  “Get a private jet and fly…” Sandy started to say.

  “No fun. I always sleep on planes and the last time, I didn’t wake up!” Margaret said with raised eyebrows.

  “There’s always the car,” Sandy said.

  “Ever try to hide in a limousine?” Margaret said as she finished the grapes in her hand.

  “We could get a different car,” Sandy told her. “I do know how to drive.”

  The knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Tess came in and said there was a Mr. Thrower at the gate, requesting to see Margaret Cobilet. The security guards had brought the message. At the mention of his name, Margaret and Sandy both got up and went to the front door. Margaret looked out and down the brick path to the iron gates protecting the house. There, in the middle of the news people and cameras, she could barely see the top of a cowboy hat. The security guards waited for Margaret’s word.

  “Please escort Mr. Thrower inside,” Margaret said to the guard, and to Tess, she added,

  “Show him into the office, would you please?”

  She and Sandy went back to the office and waited. In moments, the now infamous detective Thrower was ushered inside.

  Chapter Two

  Detective Thrower had been an acquaintance of Margaret’s over the years. He had been on the Los Angeles police force and was also in on the case in New Mexico. It was he Margaret had called when she needed an escort in or out of
a city. She had helped him on several cases and he had helped her get away from crowds and safely into airports. It was he she had worked with when solving the New Mexico kidnaping case. Although retired, he had the same obsession with the case as she.

  As Dallas was ushered into the house, he looked back at the cameras at the curb. Tess showed him inside, but he paused at the door and waved for the media. With his hat in his hand, Dallas entered the office. Margaret was on the sofa and as he walked in, Sandy rose and extended her hand.

  “Detective,” she said. “Nice to see you again.”

  Dallas took her hand and shook it lightly. He was not used to shaking a woman’s hand. He focused his attention next on Margaret. She sat quietly waiting her turn.

  “Ah, Margaret,” he said with a wide grin. Margaret’s eyes danced as he approached her.

  “Always the lady,” he said as he walked to her.

  Margaret patted the sofa and smiled.

  “Please, take a seat,” she said. “Would you like something to drink?” Margaret was watching him as he sat down.

  “No, thank you.” Dallas set his hat on the sofa next to him and looked up at the ceiling. He let his eyes follow the lines of the woodwork to the walls and then along the walls. He was in awe at the size of the room.

  “This place is huge!” he finally said as his eyes came back to Margaret.

  “What do I owe this pleasure?” she asked.

  Dallas was grinning. It was his turn to choose the conversation. “How long have you lived here?” he asked.

  Sandy pulled a chair up near the sofa and joined them. Margaret waited.

  “How many rooms are there in here?” he asked and without waiting for an answer, he continued. “This place must have cost a fortune,” he said and when he looked out the back doors, he saw the river.

  “Whoa there!” he said and got up to get a closer look. As he stared out at the water, he put his hands in his back pockets. “What a fantastic back yard,” he whispered. Margaret and Sandy let him gawk at the house and grounds for a moment. When he was finished, he came back to the sofa and took his seat. His eyes sparkled when he finally stopped talking. Margaret tried again.