Cam - 04 - Nightwalkers

by P. T. Deutermann

  Hester looked like she was still considering shooting me right there and then, and the Lee family name be damned. She didn't say anything for a very long moment and then she lowered the shotgun. "Very well," she said. "Now take him away."

  The sheriff stepped forward and told me to stand up and put my hands together. Then he cuffed me.

  Valeria opened the front door so he could march me out. Hester followed us out onto the front porch, still holding that coach gun. The sheriff pushed me roughly into the backseat and slammed the door. As I leaned back into the seat, I could see Hester standing tall on the porch, looking resolute and perhaps a bit disappointed in not getting to use the coach gun. Valeria had disappeared back into the house.

  I wondered if Callendar was watching this little drama through one of the many curtained windows above the pillars. Then the sheriff got in and shut his door. He turned around in his seat, got himself all glary-eyed, and started yelling at me, letting go with all sorts of fulminations about not trying to escape, how I'd be shot down like a dog, and more ranting along those lines. In the midst of all the noise, to which Hester, watching from the front porch, was listening with fiery-eyed approval, the cuff key came flipping between the seats and landed in my lap. Then we drove off down the driveway.

  And I thought I did good Kabuki.

  "She had me worried back there for a moment," I said as I got the cuffs off. He turned right onto the two-lane, drove a half mile to one of the farm roads, and then turned left into one of the Glory's End side roads.

  "Had to get your interfering ass out of there," he said. "I believe she was serious about taking you downstairs to the basement and doing a Romanov on you. You think he's there?"

  "Valeria protested like it was all a figment of my imagination, but Hester went bipolar when I mentioned the will. If he's not there now, he has been."

  "Okay," he said. "I guess you've lit the fuse. Now let's go see if we can talk to Brother Cubby."

  In the event, Cubby was still in ICU and not available for questioning. Sheriff Walker sat down with Patience and explained the situation while I, her husband's shooter, made myself scarce. He did know them both and confined the discussion to the problem at hand, finessing the real reason why the Lees had been able to force him to help our mystery man. He also set up security precautions in the hospital until we knew we had our guy, because Callendar had threatened both of them. I called Tony to come pick me up at the county hospital, and the sheriff went back to his office. He was going to set up surveillance on the ruined plantation house and have one police boat with night-vision gear out in the river after dark in the vicinity downstream of the railroad bridge. I was to call in at six to brief them on the surveillance system we had set up and to discuss our movements for the night.

  Back at the cottage, Pardee was wiring in a single video camera to put surveillance of the lawns between the big house and the road over the millpond dam. The house at Glory's End had cameras set up to cover the back barns, the smokehouse, the springhouse, and the kitchen access to the basement. The central monitor would be set up in the cottage, where Pardee would be on watch tonight. He'd also replaced the batteries on the cell net transponder so we would have our private cell phone network back up. Ms. Hester hadn't actually evicted me yet. She'd need the sheriff to do that in any formal proceedings, and that wasn't going to happen tonight, if ever.

  Our plan was based on some assumptions, as most plans are. Hester Lee knew that I was onto the will scam. She was also aware that I, at least, believed she had been helping Callendar do his thing in the area, including gunning down the dog trainer across the way. That would make her an accessory to a homicide. We couldn't prove that yet, nor did the sheriff have sufficient grounds for a search warrant at Laurel Grove, but if we could spook Callendar into moving, we had a shot at catching him. He'd been using two bases that we knew of, but he might have another, like that mythical coal mine.

  I called Whatley Lee and asked how things were going with the title search. Slowly, he reported. There were many associated files and books he had to explore to cover the badly confused era right after the war. I decided to take a chance. I asked him about the will, describing the circumstances as best I knew them. I halfway expected him to laugh and say forget about it, but he didn't.

  "It would depend," he said. I groaned mentally; my lawyer friends were always saying that.

  "There are state and federal reconstruction laws that may have a bearing on such a document, assuming it exists and the Lees can prove the provenance. Many of the ante bellum plantations ultimately were abandoned by their owners because they either no longer had the wherewithal to work them, or because the bulk of the men had been lost in the War. Women, as you know, rarely owned land in those days."

  "So if this fella, Callendar, could prove that his ancestor, Abigail, actually owned the land, then he'd have a claim?"

  "In my opinion, he would have a basis for bringing an action. Whether or not he could prevail is another issue, but it would make your purchase of the land moot for as long as it was in court."

  "What would that be worth to the Lees?" I asked.

  "In monetary terms? You yourself have defined that, Mr. Richter."

  So I had.

  "For that family, Mister Richter," he said, "Control of Glory's End might mean more to them than the monetary value. At least that's my general impression."

  "Are you related to them, Whatley?"

  "Me? No, sir. My family is descended from the Virginia Lees." His tone of voice made it clear that his ancestry was far superior to the strange crew out there at Laurel Grove. I asked him to keep plugging and hung up.

  Lawyer Lee might be onto something with his comment about the money. Hester and company didn't appear to be suffering from a case of genteel poverty. Cubby seemed to think that the name engraved into the kitchen mantel had a bearing on why the Laurel Grove Lees had such an abiding interest in Glory's End.

  We sent Tony into town to get some takeout while Pardee and I set about preparing our equipment for the evening's festivities. I tried not to think about the possibility that Callendar had already flown the coop. It would depend on whether or not he knew about Cubby's revelations to me. If he and Hester were in cahoots, and he was there, then she'd probably told him what I'd said about the will. On the other hand, if he ran, then they couldn't put the alleged will in play. Neither Hester nor Callendar seemed shy about removing obstacles. If I wouldn't back out gracefully in deference to my social betters, then I could join the dog trainer woman in the cold, cold ground, just like those contemptible train guards buried up on the hill.

  There'd been no sign of anyone leaving or entering Laurel Grove by the time the sheriff checked in with us. He had a surveillance team watching the place across the river, and I described for him the coverage of our video cameras. He told us he was on his way to execute the second phase of our plan, namely to inform Ms. Hester that a judge in town had forced him to release the notorious blackguard Cameron Richter for lack of evidence of any crimes committed. He would amplify that by telling her he had transported said Mr. Richter back to Glory's End, where he had said he was going to conduct a search for something he believed was secreted in or around the house. Mr. Richter had been ordered to stay away from the Lee ladies at Laurel Grove.

  "Now you realize," he said, "that none of that makes a whole lot of sense if they think it through."

  "Yeah, but consider the context," I said. "That old lady is living somewhere back in the past, and now I've come on the scene and threatened their noble existence."

  "I wish we knew what it is she's so exercised about," he said. "Anyway, I'm about to turn into the drive. When we're done here, we'll drive our way over to that quarry area and then walk back to the big house."

  "We?"

  "Yeah, I brought me along a little help. Case someone gets uppity."

  Willard.

  We watched the driveway to the big house up the hill light up with the sheriff's headli
ghts. The windows in the mansion were glowing with their usual candlelight, but the big front portico was completely dark. As I watched, the front door opened as the sheriff was coming up the stairs, revealing a figure in the doorway carrying a small hurricane lamp. Then the door closed. I could see Willard sitting in the right front seat; he looked like a tree in there.

  The cameras over at Glory's End were showing still lives of their objective areas, with nothing moving. Pardee had set up portable infrared floodlights from the house's porches, and the cameras were set for night vision. Our display was a study in greens and whites. All three shepherds were curled up in furry balls by the cottage fireplace. If they sensed our own tension, they weren't reacting. We had lights on in the cottage, so anyone watching would have to know someone was there. I told Tony to go outside and walk around in hopes that someone would see him when the sheriff left. There were three vehicles parked outside, so this should alert them to the fact that I was not alone.

  Ten minutes later the sheriff came out, turned around to say something to the figure with the lamp, and then drove away. I watched the windows of the house until I saw a new glow behind the curtains upstairs. Someone being given a debrief?

  My cell phone went off. It was Sheriff Walker.

  "How'd they react?" I said.

  "They were not pleased," he said. "My chances for reelection have been severely damaged."

  "Who took the message?"

  "Ms. Hester," he said. "No sign of the other one, Valeria is it? Hester still had that coach gun, sitting right there on the coffee table. All candlelit inside; just a little bit spooky."

  "Do we know they don't have a phone in that house?"

  "I can find that out from the central office in town if they have a landline, but probably not until tomorrow. Cell phone will take longer. Why?"

  "If Callendar's not there, she'll want to get a message to him. No phone, they might use the major. I'm going to go out and watch that back barn where they keep his riding stuff. I'll keep my guys here in the cottage; they can reach me if they have to."

  "Roger that. Our guys are watching that house on the other side of the river. I'm going to the office until I hear something."

  I explained my plan to the guys, rousted the two operational shepherds, and went out onto the front porch to get my vision adapted to the darkness. I'd set my cell to vibrate for any text messages. I wore the SIG on my belt and carried my autoloading shotgun. Pardee had rigged some SWAT Kevlar helmet liners with night-vision goggles, so if I ended up across the road I could take advantage of those IR floods.

  I kept to the shadow of the big trees as the mutts and I went up the hill and then slanted across one inside paddock to reach the back of Cubby's shop and the horse barn. There was some weak moonlight, and the occasional flicker of what I hoped was just heat lightning way out to the west. The back windows of Laurel Grove were dark, but there was still some light in that side window. It could have been Hester's bedroom for all I knew, and she was up there reading a book. I'd asked Tony to text me if he saw any new lights come on in the big house.

  We took up a position underneath a large apple tree whose limbs hung down almost to the ground. From there I could watch the shop, the horse barn, and the walkway leading up to the house. Behind the horse barn I could hear the horses making soft noises, but that didn't mean the major's horse was out there. He could already be inside in a stall, already saddled and ready to go. Or he could have left an hour ago. The dogs were now aware that something was going on. Frick had assumed the down position I'd commanded, but Kitty refused to lie down. She'd decided to sit and then fidget. Lots more training was in order for Kitty, but I couldn't indulge in that now without making a lot of noise. I just hoped that damned barn cat didn't make an appearance, because if he did, there was going to be lots of noise.

  My phone vibrated. The text read LIGHTS DOWNSTAIRS. I acknowledged and then pushed Kitty down into the grass. When she made to get up again, I flicked my finger against her ear and told her to lie down. This time she obeyed. Moments later I heard a door up at the house open and then shut quietly. There were no lights, but they didn't need any. A single figure appeared out of the gloom and went into the horse barn. A cloud passed over the moon about the time I should have been able to see his face, but it looked like the major. The difference was that there was no hat or cavalry saber that I could see.

  We waited under our tree. I got both shepherds up and ready. There was no way I could follow the major with him on horseback and me on foot, and our utility vehicle wasn't suitable for following anything but another utility vehicle. My plan was to step out and confront him and try to find out where my bad guy was holed up. Then I'd call the sheriff and we'd muster up a posse to take him down. I was strangely disappointed that the major was in on all this; I think I liked him better fully crazy.

  Ten minutes later the barn doors swung open and a horse came out. The rider had to duck to get under the door frame. When the horse reached a spot about twenty feet in front of me, I sent the dogs out with a command to bark. Kitty was new to this, but Frick wasn't, and the noise was amazing. Once Frick lit off, Kitty got the idea and joined in. To my amazement, however, the rider didn't panic or even stop. He swung that horse around 180 degrees, which allowed the big animal to start kicking out at the dogs with lightning snaps of its hind legs, any one of them powerful enough to take a dog's head right off. That I couldn't stand, so I stepped forward and fired two blasts from the shotgun straight up into the air. The horse reared, and the rider went down with a thump and a distinctly female grunt of pain.

  Female?

  The dogs had scattered when my gun went off, and the horse was now dancing around the figure lying on the ground, who still, amazingly, had hold of the reins. Finally she let go and the horse trotted right back into the barn, where it began making long snorting noises through its nostrils. I approached the figure on the ground, and then the moon came back out. It was Valeria, and she was definitely not pleased to see me. She was even less pleased to see my shotgun, because she'd opened her mouth to yell at me and then snapped it shut again when she saw the gun.

  "Where is he?" I asked, dispensing with the usual formalities.

  "You go straight to hell," she spat as she struggled to sit up and catch her breath. She was dressed in what looked to me like a gaucho outfit, all black, with blousy-legged pants and a short dark jacket. The shepherds were watching from a semisafe distance, eyeing the shotgun the whole time.

  "Listen to me," I said. "You and your mother are accessories to murder. That means you will both get the same sentence he does for shooting that woman."

  "What woman?"

  "The one who provided the big black dogs," I said. "He shot her in the back of the head when the dogs fucked up."

  "That's not true!" she shouted. "He sent her away, her and her dogs. She was useless!"

  I went down on one knee so that I was right in front of her. "He sent her away, all right, but with a nine-millimeter pistol. She had a surprised expression on her face and a bullet pushing the skin out on the side of her head. He turned the dogs loose, and we captured them over by the brickyard. He's a homicide fugitive, Valeria, and if you've been harboring him, guess what? Now: Where. Is. He?"

  "Not true," she muttered, wiping the dirt out of her hair. "None of it. You're lying."

  "Why should I?" I asked.

  She looked at me, blinked, but couldn't find an answer. At that moment I saw movement up on the path. Someone was coming. I hoisted Valeria off the ground just as Hester came to a stop halfway down the path, screamed out an unintelligible epithet, and then fired off that damned coach gun in our general direction.

  She was at least a hundred feet away and the coach gun was probably more than a hundred years old, as probably was its ammunition, which is what saved both of us. It didn't entirely save Valeria. I actually felt some of the pellets hit her, and she cried out and then slumped in my arms. Something tugged at my sleeve, and then I felt th
e sting along my upper right arm. The back of Valeria's head was suddenly all wet, and she was moaning.

  "Where is he?" I asked her again.

  "Who?" she asked in a faint voice. She was trying to stand up, but it wasn't happening.

  "Callendar."

  "Oh, him," she said. "He's in the bridge." Then her eyes rolled back as she fainted.

  Up on the walk I heard the unmistakable sound of the coach gun's action being closed. She'd reloaded.

  "Hester, you damned fool," I yelled. "You've shot Valeria. Put that goddamned thing down!"

  "You lie, you godforsaken Yankee bastard!"

  "Come see for yourself, Hester. Come see her body. Come see what you did!"

  "Body?" Her voice changed all of a sudden, transitioning from banshee to mother. "Body?"

  I heard the shotgun drop to the ground, and then she was there, an old lady now, immediately starting up with the hysterical wailing and crying. I actually didn't think Valeria was dead or, for that matter, even that seriously injured, given the range, but she'd been pincushioned pretty good and there was a lot of bleeding. As I backed away from the suddenly anguished mother, I heard a horse go blasting out of the barnyard paddock behind me. I whirled around and caught just a single glance, but the hat was unmistakable: The major was away.

  Holy shit, I thought. Had Valeria been just a decoy?

  An hour later the grounds of Laurel Grove returned to some semblance of normalcy. The EMS crew had packaged Valeria up and transported her to the hospital. One of the techs confirmed that she had mostly flesh wounds, with some of the pellets still visible right under her skin. Lots of pellets, though, so there'd definitely be some surgery and then some really good drugs required. I'd alerted the sheriff, and he now had Hester up in the big house for a combination of consolation and some embarrassing questions. My guys had come running when I'd fired the first shots and then had wisely taken cover halfway across the lawn once Hester opened up with that ten-gauge antique. The shepherds were cowering safely back under the apple tree, probably wondering why any of us ever left it. I realized I had yet another training issue: guns and their noise.