by Mary Frances
“I saw so much in that man that night,” she said. “I felt so sad and sorry for him. He was dying and everyone in his world was cheating him. His world flashed inside my head and when he finally let go of my hand, he asked me to take the ring for myself and then he smiled at me. He said he believed I would know what to do with the rest of the information he gave me when the time was right. I left his room and never looked back. I took the ring and slipped it down in my…” Margaret looked down at her sagging chest and grinned. “Well, years ago, they stood out.” She laughed.
“Anyway, I put the ring away and left. Later that week, I was almost asleep when I had one of those, ‘oh, by the way’ things happen in my head, so I got out of bed and wrote everything down. When I got up that morning, I called a stock broker and decided to buy some ‘off the wall’
stocks. I invested the one hundred thousand dollars and sat back and waited. It was information that the old man had given me when he held my hand. Anyway, for three months, I held onto the stock and watched it go down, down, down. Then, one day, I woke up and as I sat in my hotel room, I was watching the news. They had a picture of that guy on. He had died in the night and everyone was in turmoil. It seems he was the owner of a huge corporation and when he died, his son took over the company and sold it immediately. The company had held quite a few patents and the old man had refused to sell. Now that he was dead, his son sold everything and the company was absorbed by another. The stock split at least six times in as many months and by the end of the year, I had to hire an accountant and lawyer. In less than a year, I had spent one hundred thousand dollars and made over seven million after taxes!”
Margaret sat back with a wide smile on her face.
“Who was the man?” Sandy asked.
Margaret smiled and sipped her coffee. “I still have the ring,” Margaret said. “It’s in my room in my jewelry box.”
“Who was the guy?” Dallas asked. Margaret hadn’t answered.
Margaret looked at him and then at Sandy. “I promised never to tell,” she whispered. “I am good for my promises.”
“You know I’ll look it up on the internet when we get back home,” Sandy said. Margaret only winked.
“So, you got rich by using your, ‘psychic’ stuff, huh?” Dallas asked. “If I remember right, you said on television, you don’t do that for personal gain.”
Margaret put her gloved hand up. “I didn’t do it intentionally. The information he gave me was what I consider a gift.” Margaret was trying to justify it.
“That’s like, insider trading,” Dallas said.
Margaret filled her cup again. “Now, detective. Be honest for a moment. When you were a detective on the force, how did you feel about solving crimes and watching the reward slip back into the hands of the government? Didn’t you, just once, wish the money went to you?”
“In all honesty, yes. I believed the rewards should go to whoever solved the case. But I was already getting paid for my job and I loved what I did. The reason we weren’t eligible for rewards was that they were afraid we wouldn’t work on any case unless there was a reward. The force worried about guys taking payoffs too.”
“Did you, at any time use information you received on the job, for personal gain, detective?”
Margaret asked.
Dallas thought about it for a moment. “I can’t say that I have,” he said. “Does eating free donuts count?”
Margaret laughed. “Well, I think a job is supposed to be rewarding. Both financially and emotionally. We both did what we did in life because we believed in that. But when you wake up one day, old and broke, you wonder what you worked all your life for. Personal satisfaction doesn’t pay the bills,” she said.
“Are we talking about the million dollars in the bedroom?” Dallas asked.
“We are talking about how we got our money. The money in the bedroom is on your shoulders, now, detective. You can give it to the authorities and they’ll put it in the trust. Ah, but wait. There won’t be a trust.” Margaret sipped her coffee and continued. “So where does it go?
The state will take it and pay for the kid’s incarceration for the next sixteen years, if the lawyers don’t eat it up first. And then there is the risk he’ll use the money to hire a very expensive lawyer and get off with a slap on the wrist. You have to decide also if you have enough money for yourself, already. If you kept the money, would you carry guilt with you about it or would you be able to justify it in your head and spend it? Have I raised enough questions for you yet?”
Dallas frowned. “You sure make things tough, don’t you?” he asked. Sandy sat quietly and after a few minutes, she set her cup down and gave her opinion.
“Well, I think it all depends on the kid,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Dallas asked.
“If the kid did it and it was an accident, then the money should go to him and the trust. If he did it and he was just after the money, then he shouldn’t have access to it at all, not even for a lawyer. Besides,” she added, “no one knows you even have it yet.”
“I know he did it with malice,” Margaret said. “He meant to kill them. That, I believe.”
“If we knew why, it would be an easier decision to make,” Dallas said. He took the coffee pot and cups into the kitchen. When he came back out, he stood by the fireplace and stared out into the rain.
Chapter Eight
“I want to see the boy,” Margaret said. They were at the breakfast table and the sun was streaming in. The rain had washed the world the night before and the day promised to be beautiful.
Dallas set his fork down. He looked at Sandy then at Margaret. “Do you think it’s a wise thing to do, Margaret?” he asked.
“I would like to sit down and just talk with him for a few moments,” she said. Wilma came in and set more food down on the table and disappeared again into the kitchen. Sandy shook her head.
“If he killed his mother and father, what makes you think he’ll just want to sit and talk to anyone about it?” she asked. “It’s not like he’s going to come right out and admit it.”
“Hold on, ladies,” Dallas interrupted. “The boy is a juvenile and the state protects him. He is in a center for juvenile offenders, not because he committed a crime but because he keeps running away from the foster homes they put him in. There is no family left for him. No one to adopt him and he has stated he will not be adopted, so now, he’s a ward of the state until he turns eighteen. No one can just waltz in and ‘talk’ to him.”
“And on his eighteenth birthday, he waltzes out the door and goes on his merry way?”
Margaret asked.
Dallas nodded. “Look,” he said, “the police have their suspicions and believe he had a lot to do with both of his parents deaths but without any proof, he stays where he is and no one can touch him. He is off-limits.”
“Let’s go for a ride, detective,” Margaret said. “Show me where he is. Please,” she added.
“Margaret, I can take you there, show you the place and maybe even get you inside the grounds, but as for being up close and personal with the boy, I highly doubt it.”
Margaret stood up. “Good,” she said and set her napkin down. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.” She headed for her room.
Dallas watched her as she went into her room and when the door closed, he looked at Sandy then back at his plate of food.
“Is she always like this?” he asked as he stood up.
Sandy drank her milk and smiled. “You’ll get used to it after a year or so.” She laughed and went to her room to get ready for the ride.
Dallas shoved a fork full of food in his mouth and shook his head. He left the table and got ready for the drive to Cadillac.
After everyone was settled in the golf cart, Dallas started the drive down to the garage. Margaret marveled at the birds and squirrel in the woods and Sandy tried to memorize every flower and tree. After they got in the vehicle and Dallas started driving, Margaret pulled a marble from
her pocket and held it in her hands. The gloves were in her lap. Cadillac was only an hour away and as Dallas drove, he and Sandy talked about the woods and the island. Margaret dozed in the back seat, the marble still in her hand.
Dallas found the detention center easily enough and when they pulled up to the gates, they were met by a guard. Dallas showed his credentials, even though he was retired and after the guard made a call to the office, he let the SUV in through the gates. Dallas was instructed to follow the drive to the main buildings and when he finally parked, he woke Margaret.
“Let me try this alone,” she said. Margaret straightened her dress and put her gloves back on. She let the marble drop back into her pocket and as Dallas helped her out of the car, she hobbled slowly to the office doors. Dallas opened the doors for her and watched the old woman shuffle along down the hall. Her slippers made a swishing noise as she walked. He went back outside and waited with Sandy at the car.
Margaret was met in the hall by a receptionist who asked her who she had come to see.
“Which child is yours?” the woman asked.
Margaret answered quickly, “William Shelton.”
The woman stopped. “William has no one,” she said. Then added, “wait right here, please.”
She went down the hall into another office and when she came back out, another woman was with her. The second woman extended her hand as she approached.
“Hello. I am Gloria Baine, the director of this facility.” Margaret did not shake her hand. Instead, she slid off a glove and for a brief second held the woman’s fingertips. Gloria couldn’t help but notice the arthritic fingers. She tried not to stare. Margaret smiled. “I,” she started, “am Margaret Cobilet.” She waited and when she saw Gloria smile, she knew the woman had heard of her.
“Please, Miss Cobilet,” Gloria was ecstatic, “Please, come in and have a seat.”
Margaret was ushered into a large office and offered a seat across from the desk.
“I am so glad to meet you,” Gloria was saying. “You have been on the news for weeks. I can’t believe you are right here in my office!” Margaret could tell the woman was excited.
“Please, tell me what brings you here and how can I help you?”
Margaret had read the woman briefly when their hands touched and now, she used the information she had gathered.
“I am happy to know that you know who I am,” she started. “I haven’t been out in the public in years, until lately and as you know, I recently came back from New Mexico…”
The woman jumped in. “I know! And after all those years, you found the children! You are amazing.” Her eyes suddenly showed a great sadness. “I am so sorry,” she said. “That must have hurt so much for you. I can’t imagine what you have been through.”
Margaret waved that away and interrupted. “I am here because of Billy Shelton,” she said. Gloria stared at Margaret. “What has Billy got to do with the children in the desert?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Margaret said, “but, I just found out about his past and wondered if I could speak with him about his family.”
Gloria shook her head. “Whatever for? The boy has been through so much in such a short time and what could you possibly want to talk with him about?”
“Well, I heard he has been in and out of foster homes and keeps running away. The state has made him a ward and now, like a criminal, he is being held here until his eighteenth birthday, is this not true?” Margaret was pulling at her gloves as he talked. Gloria put her head down and slowly turned to look out of the window. It was a large window behind her desk with iron mesh over it along with steel bars. From here, Margaret could see a large fenced area with bleachers and a ball field. Boys were playing in the field and as Margaret looked, Gloria whispered to her.
“I recommended his stay here,” she said. “The boy is scary. He has threatened to kill people and says things that makes one wonder.” She turned to look at Margaret.
“I know all about you, Misses Cobilet and what you do. I also know you held my hand and already know I am afraid of that boy.”
Margaret nodded.
“But I am an officer of the state and have to abide by those rules. I know they suspect Billy of having something to do with his father’s death and I think he may well have been a part of it, but no one can prove anything and until they do, my job is to protect boys like him from harm.”
She sounded as though she were reading her own job description from a manual.
“I understand this,” Margaret said. “I would never ask you to do anything that would jeopardize your job or the welfare of a child. What I am asking is, is there a way that I can just talk with him?”
Gloria opened her desk drawer and pulled out a folder. She flipped it open and slid her finger down the list of names.
“Let’s see,” she said. “Ah. Here it is. William Shelton. Visitors requested, none.”
“What does that mean?” Margaret asked.
“It means he has requested that no one be allowed to visit him. I have to follow the rules. All I can do is go to him and ask if he’ll see you and I assure you, he won’t. He’ll see no one.”
“No one?”
“No one,” Gloria said. “I can force him to have a doctor examine him and that’s it. Unless he is incapacitated or injured, no one is allowed access to these children. He has a room, food and time outdoors. The rest is up to him and he has been very adamant about not going outside or into the facility for anything. He doesn’t watch much television and never talks to the other boys. It is rare that he comes out of his room. He goes to his classes and straight back to his room. He sits and stares out of the window most days and I really can’t go into detail about anything in his records so, for that, I am sorry. I am afraid you have wasted your time. He won’t see anyone.”
Margaret got up slowly and smiled.
“I thank you for your time,” she said as she slowly shuffled to the door. Gloria came around her desk and walked back down the hall with her to the main doors.
“I am so glad I got to meet you,” Gloria added as she held the door for Margaret. Margaret turned and smiled.
“One other thing,” Margaret said. She searched her pocket and pulled out a red marble. She handed it to Gloria.
“Give this to William and ask him nicely if I can have a visit.” She handed the marble to the woman.
“I’ll call tomorrow and see what he says.” Margaret went out the door. Gloria held the marble in the palm of her hand and stared at it. As she watched the old crippled woman shuffle to the waiting car, Gloria wondered what this little round piece of glass had to do with Billy. Margaret made her way back to the car and after she climbed back in, she grinned.
“I believe we can head for home tomorrow, detective. If that’s alright with you.”
Dallas looked at her in his rear view mirror. “No luck, huh?” he asked. Margaret didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to stare out of the window. Dallas drove them back to the island and after they parked the golf cart again, Margaret went to her room for a nap. Dallas and Sandy hadn’t talked and now that they were back, both headed down to the dock to fish. Wilma got up from her nap and started on a late lunch.
“Is she always this way?” Dallas asked. He cast his line out into the lake. Sandy leaned on the rail.
“Dallas, Margaret is an eccentric and she has been trying very hard to teach me how to be like her. I know some of the things she does may seem rude to some people but she always has a reason for doing what she does and she is very seldom wrong. She is up to something. That, I am sure of. If that kid is guilty and all three of us believe he is, then if there is a way to get him, she’ll find it. She does not give up. You should know that. You are a lot like her. Neither one of you ever gave up on New Mexico, did you?”
Dallas had to agree. He just wasn’t used to the personal side of Margaret. All he ever really got to see was the glitz and glamorous woman she used to be.
“I think we both coul
d take lessons from her.” Dallas laughed. Sandy turned to look back at the house behind them. Margaret was on the deck, holding a cup of coffee.
“She’s up,” Sandy said as she waved to Margaret. Dallas turned around and as he lifted his hand up, several marbles ran past his feet and plunked into the lake. Just as they hit the water, his line started to dance.
“Maybe there is some truth in what she said about marbles attracting fish!” he said and started to reel in his catch.
Sandy went back up and sat with Margaret. By the time Dallas had his fish reeled in, Wilma had a lunch set out on the deck and Margaret announced they would be leaving the island the next day.
“Tonight,” she said, “Rain or not, we roast marshmallows on the fire and tell ghost stories!”
The afternoon went smoothly. Dallas fished, Sandy napped and Margaret lay across her bed with the bag of marbles in her hands. Wilma kept busy packing quietly and as the evening came on, they ate a quiet supper and Dallas started a small fire on the deck. The stars came out and as the crickets called in the night, Margaret came out wrapped in a blanket, her marshmallows in one hand, coffee in the other. Sandy went into the woods to find roasting sticks and when she came back, Margaret inspected each and picked one for her first marshmallow.
“I have always wanted to do this,” she said as she slipped a fat Marshmallow on the stick.
