by Terri Reid
His blood running cold, Bradley staggered to his feet, his gun still drawn, and stumbled towards the door. He needed to get out of there. Needed to breathe fresh air. Needed to get help. Needed to protect Mary.
His movements were lethargic and he fell sideways against another stack of boxes. He could hear Copper’s laughter from across the room. “Oh, do stop your heroic antics,” Copper called. “You’re just going to hurt yourself and I’d much rather do it myself.”
Using the last of his strength, Bradley pulled himself to his feet. He knew he was not going to make it to the door. And he knew Copper was going to use him as bait to capture Mary and he couldn’t allow it.
Bracing himself against a support post, he turned back towards Copper and lifted his gun.
“Don’t be stupid, Bradley,” Copper taunted, as he stood and aimed his gun back at Bradley. “This isn’t the O.K. Corral and you’re not Wyatt Earp. Face it, you lost this time. I’m going to get the girl. And, quite frankly, I’m going to get away with murder.”
“You will not get Mary,” Bradley panted, perspiration dotting his face as he concentrated all of his will on his hands and his weapon.
Copper lifted his gun and aimed it at Bradley’s head. “Oh, I will, and I will enjoy every inch of her.”
A single gunshot echoed throughout the basement. Bradley fell backwards against the stack of boxes and the room went silent.
Chapter Forty-four
Ian had been watching Mary out of the corner of his eye for the past twenty minutes. She had cleaned out the dishwasher, wiped the tables and counters down, twice, walked over to the windows and peered out of them innumerable times and hadn’t been able to sit in one place for more than thirty seconds. He knew she was distracted, he just didn’t understand why. Finally, he sat back in his chair, pushed his laptop away and turned to her. “Do you want to tell me what you’re worrying about?” he asked.
She turned away from the window; her hand flat against her abdomen, and shook her head. “I can’t put my finger on it,” she said. “I just feel uneasy. Something’s wrong, but I don’t know what it is.”
She walked across the room and sat on a chair next to him. “Pretty stupid, huh?” she said.
“Oh, no, if there is anyone whose intuition I would trust, it would be yours,” he said. “Would talking about it help you?”
“I wish it were something as tangible as that,” she replied. “It’s right there, on the edge of my consciousness, but not quite close enough…”
He nodded. “Aye, I know the feeling well,” he replied. “I find if I lose myself in something else, it comes peeking out into clear view.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do,” she agreed. “But it’s clear I’m not very good at distracting myself.”
Smiling, he pulled the plate of cookies closer to them. “How about a snack?” he asked. “Food always distracts me.”
Grimacing, she shook her head. “No, my stomach is all tied up in knots. I couldn’t eat if I wanted. So, distract me Ian. Tell me about Gillian.”
“Now there’s a lass who distracts me even more than food,” he said with a wide smile and then he looked down at his watch. “And she’s landing any moment now in Chicago.”
“Oh, I am so sorry you can’t be there to greet her,” Mary said. “This has been so unfair to you.”
“Aye, Mary,” he replied sarcastically, “The next time you have a serial killer after you could you please arrange it around my social life? Quite inconsiderate of you.”
She actually felt a smile on her face. “Well, when you put it that way…”
“Besides,” he continued. “She has some meetings in Chicago for the next few days. So, I’d naught be but a distraction.”
“A welcomed distraction, I’m sure,” Mary said.
Ian grinned. “Well, I would hope so,” he said.
“So, what does Gillian do for a living?”
“Well, it’s a bit complicated and I’m not sure I have it all straight meself,” he said. “She works for the Catholic Church, something to do with history.”
“The church’s history?” Mary asked.
“And that’s the part I’m not as sure about,” Ian said. “It seems more about the history of the people they tried to assimilate into Christianity.”
“You’re going to have to explain that to me,” Mary said.
“There were people living in Ireland and Scotland before Christianity arrived on the scene, who had beliefs that were not in keeping with the teachings of the newer religion,” he explained. “Some might call them Pagans, but that’s just grouping a whole lot of people under one umbrella, a catch-all for those who held other beliefs in early Celtic history.”
“Like Druids,” Mary said.
“Aye, some of the religions were earth-based and some were deity-based,” he said. “But most were practiced by the simple folk, the rural dwellers, the people closest to the earth. The term pagan itself comes from the Latin meaning ‘of the county.’”
“So, Christianity comes in and converts them?” Mary asked.
“Well, they were a wee bit more forceful than that in some circumstances,” he explained. “They wanted to remove them and establish something new. They didn’t want them to have a remembrance of their past, so they took many of the Pagan holy days and replaced them with Christian holidays. They built churches over some of their most powerful landmarks. They covered up the past and rewrote their history, disregarding their beliefs.”
“And so they’ve reconsidered now?” Mary asked.
“I get the feeling that rather than reconsider, they’ve found the pot they covered so tightly on those old religions is bubbling over and there’s been a bit of unintended consequences. From what I understand, Gillian is researching some of those old beliefs and helping them come to terms with them.”
“So, she’s an academic, like you?” Mary asked.
“Aye, we plan on spending many happy years locked away in some of the best libraries in the UK,” he said.
“That sounds wonderful,” Mary agreed.
The phone rang and Mary jumped. Ian raised an eyebrow, “So, I didn’t distract you as well as I thought.”
Mary smiled apologetically and reached for the phone. “Hello?”
“Oh, hello, Dorothy,” she said with an exhale of relief. “No, Bradley’s not here. He was going to check on a couple of rental houses. I’m sure he’ll be back here soon. Is there a message I can give him?”
She grabbed a notebook and a pen. “Okay, the Iowa plates are registered to Clyde and Elsie Casey in Dubuque. Thanks, I’ll let him know.”
She hung up the phone and turned to Ian. “Dorothy said that Bradley called in to the office about an hour ago. He wanted Dorothy to run the registration of a car he located and told her he’d call her back in fifteen minutes.”
“Was it an urgent request?” he asked.
Shaking her head, she stared down at the notebook in her hand. “No, she said he told her it wasn’t urgent,” she said slowly.
“But you have a bad feeling about this,” Ian said.
“A bad feeling about what?” Tracey asked, walking into the room with her arms filled with white bags from the deli.
“Bradley called in some plates and he hasn’t called back in to get the information,” Mary said. “It’s been more than an hour.”
Tracey placed the food on the counter. “Did you do a search on the information to see if you come up with anything?” she asked.
Ian started typing immediately. “Good idea,” he said.
Waiting for a moment, he scanned the responses and turned to Mary. “Elsie Casey was found dead this morning, her husband is missing.”
Mary felt the uneasy feeling explode in the pit of her stomach. “What else?”
“They had listed a car for sale online,” he replied. “And a middle-aged white man was seen driving their car away from the house late last night.”
“Copper,” Mary said, c
overing her mouth; she felt sick to her stomach.
She took a deep breath. “Where were the houses you sent him to?” she asked desperately.
Ian shook his head. “He tore them off the top of the list. I don’t have them,” he said. “I could search again.”
“One of them was on Shawnee Street,” Tracey said. “I remember that one; it was on the top of the list.”
Puzzled, Ian stared at her, “But I thought…”
“We’re looking for a Police Cruiser and a car from Iowa parked together,” she interrupted. “It can’t be that hard to find.”
Mary grabbed her purse. “Let’s go,” she said.
“Should we call the police?” Ian asked, following her.
“We can do it on the way,” she replied.
Chapter Forty-five
In less than ten minutes, they were in front of the house on Shawnee, next to Bradley’s cruiser and the sedan from Iowa. Mary and Ian dashed out of the car toward the house, using the old appliances as cover. Tracey, who had pulled up in her own car, followed them. “Wait,” she whispered, putting her hand on Mary’s shoulder. “Aren’t you going to wait for the police?”
“No,” Mary said firmly, and pulled away. “Stay in your car and tell them where we are.”
“Like hell,” Tracey said, joining them as they ran to the house.
Mary and Ian reached the side of the house and, with their backs against the outside wall, made their way to the front porch. Mary turned to Ian. “Ready?” she asked.
He nodded and they both ran up the stairs and tried the front door. Ian grabbed the knob and pulled, but the door held fast. “I can probably kick it down,” he said. “It’s not like we’re going to be surprising anyone at this point.”
Mary was about to agree with him when she saw Tracey moving alongside the house towards the back by herself. “Crap!” she whispered. “Come on, we’d better follow her.”
They crossed the porch and hurried along the side of the house; Mary watched Tracey stop, and carefully looked around the corner before proceeding. They quickly followed her and were surprised to see her begin to climb down the cellar steps.
“Tracey, wait,” Mary jumped and pulled her backwards, away from the entrance.
“Are you nuts?” she rebuked quietly. “Copper could be in there with a gun. You could have gotten yourself and the two of us killed. Now, stand back and let me go first.”
Mary moved toward the entrance and pulled her gun out of her waistband. Backing against the far end of the cellar opening, she sidled down the steps, Ian right behind her. Moving quickly, she darted into the room, her weapon in front of her and nearly fell over Bradley, lying motionless on the floor.
“Oh, God, no, please no,” she cried, dropping to the floor next to him, sheltered by a wall of boxes. She immediately placed her hand on his throat to feel for a pulse.
“Is he…” Ian asked.
Tears streaming down her face, she looked up at Ian. “He’s alive,” she wept. “He’s still alive.”
Wiping the tears from her face, she shrugged off her coat and carefully placed it under his head. Getting him to safety was going to have to wait until she determined there was no further danger, but at least she could make him more comfortable.
She repositioned her weapon and moved further into the basement, keeping cover behind the furniture and boxes. As she got closer to the old freezer, the ghost of an elderly man appeared next to it.
“Did Maggie send you?” he asked.
“Maggie?” Mary whispered. “Maggie Brennan?”
He nodded. “She told me she would send someone to let me out,” he explained. “Would you thank her for me? Tell her that I can see the light now.”
He started to fade, and then he became more solid again. “The fellow you’re looking for is over there,” he pointed across the basement toward another pile of boxes and then he motioned to Mary’s gun. “And I don’t think you’re going to need that.”
He faded away as Mary and Ian made their way across the cluttered basement. In the far corner, in a pool of blood, Gary Copper lay. His hands still clutched around his gun. His eyes open and an expression of surprise on his unmoving face, a small bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.
Mary slumped against Ian. “He’s dead,” she whispered. “He’s finally dead.”
His arm around her shoulders, he bent over for a closer look. “And all it took was one shot,” he said, releasing Mary and bending closer. “That’s amazing, pinpoint accuracy.”
Mary turned around and looked at Bradley’s inert form and then back at Copper. “What the hell happened here?” she asked.
“Well, it’s obvious your Bradley got his man,” Peter said, appearing in the midst of the clutter.
He glided over and peered down at Copper. “And his aim was point on,” he replied. “Sharp-shooter precision.”
Looking slowly around the crime scene, Mary noticed a shower of dry limestone flakes on the top of some of the scattered boxes. Stepping past the dead body, she examined the ancient limestone foundation. Embedded in the stone was another bullet. She dug it out and slipped it into her pocket. Did Bradley shoot twice?
“What have you got there?” Ian asked, coming up behind her.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “It could be a piece to a puzzle.”
“Well, our next dilemma is finding a way to get back to Bradley without having to pass the freezer,” Ian said. “The smell is overwhelming.”
Peter floated to the freezer and looked down. “Poor fellow,” he said. “Trapped in there like that…”
He paused. “Hello.”
“What?” Mary asked, working her way back to Bradley through the clutter.
“There’s a canister with a pressure switch imbedded in the corner of the freezer,” he said. “Looks like the freezer was booby-trapped.”
Tracey came down the steps. “Is it safe to come down now?” she asked, not waiting for their response to enter the basement.
“Yes,” Mary called, “But be careful…”
She paused when Tracey easily avoided Bradley.
“The police are here,” Tracey said. “The paramedics are with them.”
“Who called the paramedics?” Mary asked.
Tracey turned to her and shrugged. “I did,” she said. “Just in case someone was wounded.”
“Good idea,” Mary said.
A young police officer came running down the steps and Mary leapt in front of him to stop him before he stepped on his boss. “Careful,” she said. “I don’t know how badly he’s hurt.”
He backed up quickly. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t seem him. Is anyone else hurt?”
“There are two bodies down here,” Mary replied. “One pretty badly decomposed and one that’s been dead for about an hour or so.”
“I’ll call the coroner,” he said. “But first we need to help the Chief.”
“Thanks,” Mary said with a smile. “I’d appreciate that.”
Within minutes, Bradley was loaded onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask on his face, and was about to be carried out of the basement. Mary stood beside him, grateful to see the natural rise and fall of his chest and his color returning to normal. She bent over, kissed his forehead and stealthily slipped his hand gun into her jacket pocket.
“There are a couple of things I have to do here,” she said to the paramedics. “How long until you leave for the hospital?”
“At least ten minutes, Mary,” one of them said. “We want to take his vitals and call things in before we transport him.”
“Okay, I’d like to ride along, if that’s okay,” she said.
“The coroner and the forensic team will be here in about fifteen minutes,” the young officer interrupted. “Is it okay to leave you all here?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, we’ll be okay,” she said. “We just want to try and figure out what happened.”
After the paramedics carried Bradley out, Mary placed her hand over her
nose and walked back to the freezer. She shone a flashlight on the canister. “Nitrous oxide. What does that do?”
“Well, depending on how much you inhale, it can knock you out pretty well,” Ian called from the doorway. “It will certainly make things woozy for a while.”
“It seems that Copper didn’t want anyone to find the body and be able to walk away and tell someone,” Peter conjectured, as he looked over Mary’s shoulder.
Mary walked away from the freezer and stood where they found Bradley. Then she turned and studied the scene. “So, Bradley comes in and opens the freezer, because no one else would have opened it, right?”
“Right,” Ian said. “It’s not like Copper would have been checking on him.”
Nodding, Mary stepped forward to the pile of boxes closest to the freezer and noticed something peeking out from underneath one of the boxes. She bent down and picked up a leather glove. “This is Bradley’s glove,” she said. “So he must have fallen here too.”
“Bradley inhales the gas and stumbles back to there,” Ian said.
“Copper comes down the stairs and stays on that side of the room, so he doesn’t inhale the fumes,” Mary continued. “He’s armed and he wants to kill Bradley.”
“So far everything seems plausible,” Tracey agreed.
“Then Bradley turns, and shoots and kills him,” Mary finished.
“Aye, that man of yours has a will of steel,” Ian said. “To be under the influence of the gas and still hit a target across the dark room with that kind of accuracy. It’s miraculous.”
“Yes. Yes, it is,” Mary agreed.
“Miss O’Reilly, are you okay?” the young officer yelled from the yard. “I’ve got another call. Is it okay to leave?”
“Yes, thank you,” she called to the officer and then she turned to Ian. “Would you mind driving my car to the hospital for me? I’m going to ride with Bradley.”
He nodded. “Aye, I’ll be happy to do that,” he agreed. “Is there anything else you need?”
She walked over to him, gave him a hug and slipped him the gun. “Thank you,” she said. “I just need a moment or two down here to collect my thoughts and figure everything out.”
