Butler Did It

by Donna McLean

  “Hey, I’m the journalist here!” Pearce Allen teased.

  “You know all the official statements. I want to know the behind the scenes stuff! Like the real motive. Why did good Edison Farlow bump off the evil blackmailer, Victor Aldric?”

  Tilda poured herself a cup of coffee. “Bless his heart. It’s kind of sad, really.” She took a sip while the young couple looked at her expectantly, their forks frozen in midair.

  “Well?” Addie urged.

  “It goes all the way back to when they were young ’uns, I reckon. Him and Maybellanne, back when she was Edith and Edison was a wild, rebellious youth. He had always been sweet on her. And she probably cared about him a great deal, too. Both of them grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak. And they struggled to survive that kind of life. I expect a strong bond grew up between them. Edison has always felt protective of her, even though Maybellanne looked on him like a brother. Nothing more. Edison told Douglas he couldn’t stand by and let that man ruin Maybellanne’s happiness, not after everything she’d been through when they were young, after everything she has overcome since.”

  Tilda took a forkful of cake. Addie asked, “How did he end up at the bottom of MacGuffin’s secret staircase with a broken ankle?”

  “Land sakes! He is lucky that’s all he broke. Falling down that rotted old thing in the dark. I reckon it’s partly our fault, Addie.” Tilda looked a bit guilty. “Remember when we went to the hardware store to fetch some investigating tools? Edison heard us say we were heading over to the mansion to look for the gun. And he figured he better get over there quick and get to it before we did! It turned out that we got there a few minutes after he arrived. He told Douglas he was in the parlor when he heard us walking into the house. He opened that hidden door real quick like, the one that was covered with the ditzy wallpaper, and said he meant to stand there real still in the dark until we left. But that rotted wood just gave way and he fell all the way down the steps!”

  “And so the weird noises we kept hearing were Edison, calling out for help?”

  “Yep, that’s so.” Tilda broke a cookie in half and tossed it to Puddin’.

  “Oh, I do feel bad about that, him lying there for days, hurt and unable to get help,” Addie said, and took another nibble of the delicious cake. She looked across the table at Tilda MacArdan. This lady sat with the sunlight streaming in through the window behind her. Addie saw flighty pale brown hair floating around the woman’s head, a benign expression on her rather plain face and a bright light in her hazel green eyes. A sudden thought occurred to the young woman. “Tilda MacArdan! When we went to the hardware store that day, you already had a hunch that Edison was the killer!”

  “I would call it a sneaking suspicion, that’s all. And at the time I figured if somebody put a bug in the man’s ear, well then, he just might lead us straight to that gun! So I went along over there and kind of mentioned it to Whit, knowing Edison would most likely be there and overhear us, or hear about it from the old farmers who hang out over there. They gossip more than Delcie and her gaggle of geese! But then Edison disappeared and that threw me for a loop. Thought maybe somebody else killed Aldric and that Edison was done in by whoever that was. Or maybe Edison got just plain scared and skipped town, and we might never find that gun, in which case some innocent person was likely to be charged with murder. It’s a good thing you were working on things from a different angle, Addie.”

  “The clues old man MacGuffin hid on the tombstone and the chess set,” she said.

  Pearce Allen resumed the story. “Edison had some kind of run-in with Aldric years ago, when he was a teenager. He left Sparrow Falls for a short time, got into trouble here and ran away. He ran all the way to New York City. Back then Aldric was a small time hood. He took Edison under his wing, supposedly, but that only got Edison into even more trouble. Eventually Farlow decided to leave the big city and he came back to Sparrow Falls. He got a good job at the hardware store, got his life straightened out.”

  “He’s been an upstanding citizen ever since! Whit says Edison is the best employee he’s ever had.” Tilda shook her head sadly. “He has a temper, though, always has. I think that’s what got him into trouble this time around. Don’t you agree, Pearce Allen?”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s exactly what I think. Edison spotted Aldric as soon as the man got into town. Just a crazy coincidence, I guess, because Aldric wasn’t trying to draw attention to his presence here. Only wanted to meet his blackmail victims, collect the money and leave. But Edison had a feeling Aldric wasn’t any ordinary tourist. Farlow followed him, learned pretty quickly what Aldric was up to, and that the crook’s target was Maybellanne Motley.”

  “The lady Edison had been carrying a torch for all his life!” Addie said.

  Ms. Tilda’s voice held a wistful tone. “I do believe he really loves her. Do you know why he went to the mansion that night? He got there just after James left and before Maybellanne arrived. Told Douglas he wasn’t planning to do anything to Aldric, just wanted to make sure she was safe. Said he confronted the blackmailer and told him to lay off the mayor. That’s all. He left the room, but he didn’t leave the mansion. He hid in the adjoining room—”

  “The room where we found the gun!” Addie said.

  Tilda nodded. “Yes, that’s the room. He hung around to see if the blackmailer would give Maybellanne the pictures and let her go without doing any harm. And Edison Farlow, bless his heart, knew all about that sliding panel. He opened it so he could watch what happened!”

  “How did he know about the panel?” Addie was surprised. “Took us long enough to find it!”

  Pearce Allen explained. “Same way he knew about the door that was concealed behind Tilda’s ditzy wallpaper. Farlow used to go in and out of that old house all the time, back when he was a kid. He said he liked exploring it, trying to figure out all the tricks that old man MacGuffin had created a century ago. He used to look for the hidden treasure, too, although he says after a while he figured that was just another one of MacGuffin’s jokes. There probably never was a treasure.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Tilda MacArdan remarked, and her hazel green eyes twinkled. “But Edison did explore the MacGuffin Mansion back when he was a young ’un, and I expect he was the source of the rumors about the place being spooked. People saw his flashlights or candles or whatever he used, and maybe even heard something once in a while.”

  Addie reflected. “Magda told Delcie she saw lights in the mansion a couple weeks ago.”

  “That must have been when Aldric first arrived. He was opening an office for blackmail,” Pearce Allen commented wryly. He leaned toward the strawberry blond and said, “You have fudgy frosting on the tip of your beautiful nose, Addie dear.”

  Tilda giggled.

  Addie leaned forward and Pearce Allen dabbed her chocolate covered nose. “Okay, let me get this straight. So the night of the murder, Avery James goes to the MacGuffin Mansion. He goes into the murder room, pays the blackmailer and leaves with the mayor’s picture accidently stuck to the envelope that contains James’ dirty laundry—”

  “Enter Edison,” Pearce Allen continued. “He confronts Aldric, who apparently says whatever it takes to appease his old pal, but Edison doesn’t take the rat’s word for it and decides to hide out until Maybellanne arrives.”

  Tilda said, “He remembers the sliding panel and goes into the adjoining room so that he can watch what happens.”

  “He takes a gun with him?” Addie asked.

  “Yes, he took his own gun when he went to confront Aldric, just in case. Told Douglas Winton he never intended to use it, only wanted to threaten Aldric and make him see he meant business. But then Maybellanne got scared—”

  “She said she heard a noise! I’ll bet it was Edison opening the panel!” Addie said.

  “Yes, that’s what I think, too, Addie. Anyway, Aldric thought Edison was long gone. He refused to let the mayor off the hook, and he started calling poor May
bellanne all kinds of ugly names. Douglas Winton wouldn’t tell me what they were. But I can just imagine! And Maybellanne got scared and ran out of the house.”

  Addie said, “Aldric followed her to the door. Maybe he thought he’d heard something too, because he shut it, turned the key and locked himself in the room. Edison was watching all this through the secret opening. Edison saw him go back to the desk and sit down—”

  “And shot him through the opening in the woodwork. Says his temper got the better of him.” Tilda paused, remembering the friendly but troubled young boy she used to know. “He always had a short fuse, poor kid, and he’d had a tough life. But everybody liked him just the same. Edison left the gun there, figuring that was the safest place for it. Figured nobody would ever find that secret panel!”

  Pearce Allen’s dimple deepened in a mischievous grin. “He underestimated the lovely lady sleuths of Sparrow Falls!”

  “Oh, Pearce Allen, you are a jaybird!” Tilda’s eyes crinkled in merry laughter.

  Addie poured another cup of coffee all around. She placed the coffeepot on the table and frowned. “Wait a minute. What about the silver candlestick? First it was in the murder room, then it wasn’t, or should that be the other way around?”

  Tilda stirred sugar into her cup. “Edison told Douglas all about that, too. Said he knew people had been traipsing through the parlor rooms and he figured somebody had touched something, and he wanted to incriminate somebody other than himself. So the day he used the glass cutter and opened the door to the locked room, he waited until the coast was clear and he put the candlestick in there on the desk next to the body. Said he didn’t know it would incriminate the mayor! But wouldn’t you know it, it’s just like Mayor Motley to put his hands all over everything, and so it was his fingerprints that showed up at the crime scene.”

  “But Pearce Allen and I were there the day he unlocked the door. We all left when Officer Campbell ordered us out!”

  Tilda shook her head. “Y’all only thought Edison had left. He was about to leave when he overhead Joe Smyth mumble something about going to the truck. That Joe Smyth, he is awful bad to talk to himself! And when Edison heard that little comment, all he did was step into the next room, wait until Joe went outdoors, grab the candlestick—he was still wearing those thick work gloves, he said—and put the candlestick on the desk next to the body. Then he skedaddled out of there!”

  Addie made a wry grimace. “So old man MacGuffin wasn’t the only one who was clever with smoke and mirrors!”

  “Edison was awful good at misdirecting everybody, that’s for certain. Poor Maybellanne didn’t even know he knew a thing about the extortion scheme. She’s just heartbroken that he would go to such lengths to protect her, even after all these years, even when he knew she would never love him the way she loves Hubbell Motley. Saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Why, do you know, he told Douglas Winton that when he fell down those steps, he thought his life had come full circle. Started out rough, made good for awhile, turned out bad in the end. Like a room with a staircase to nowhere. No escape.”

  They fell silent, pondering the sadness of it all. Tilda sighed. “Unrequited love, it’s a tragic thing.”

  “Unrequited love,” Pearce Allen said, feigning sorrow. “Drives a man to all sorts of grief. Another piece of chocolate cake, quickly, Ms. Tilda.”

  The spry senior laughed and shot a shrewd glance at Addie. “Unrequited love isn’t anything for you to worry about, young man!”

  The strawberry blond picked up her fork and snatched a piece of golden boy’s cake. “Share chocolate with me and your love will definitely be requited. Speaking of love, Tilda, the story of Belle and Alfred is one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard.”

  “Sad, yes, but it is said that true love goes on forever. Maybe they are happy now, together in the sweet by-and-by. Their letters sure do indicate that their love for each other was lasting.”

  Addie put down her fork with a plunk. “Letters? What letters?”

  “Why, the treasure, of course!” Tilda replied.

  Addie’s emerald green eyes lit up with sudden recognition. She looked at Pearce Allen.

  He said, “The papers that were in the secret hiding place where the gun was found! A stack of folded pages, tied with a faded ribbon!”

  “And that was the treasure he left clues for someone to find. The key to the King, the chess piece, the carved flower on the mantel. The letters were his treasure!”

  Ms. Tilda smiled and nodded, her eyes twinkling. “The letters are between Belle and Alfred, written during the long sea voyage. And after she was lost at sea, why, that Alfred MacGuffin just kept right on writing to her. Letters written every week, for the rest of his life, telling her all the little ordinary everyday things that lovers share. Hopes and dreams and plans for a happy future together. Declaring his undying love for her, just as though she were still alive and could read them and respond. But it’s appropriate, don’t you think? As though all those letters were waiting all these years to be found by two young people in love.”

  She placed the stack of letters on the table, the untied, faded ribbon loosely beside them, and rose from the chair.

  Pearce Allen reached across the table and grasped Addie by the hand.

  Tilda winked at Puddin’ as the little dog trotted out the door beside her. The kindhearted lady glanced back, and suddenly felt a sharp pang when she remembered Mr. MacArdan, dead seven lonely years now. Then she shook off the sadness and smiled at the couple holding the stack of love letters. “Love never fails,” Tilda whispered.

  The young man’s golden brown hair next to the young woman’s strawberry bond waves, their heads close together, bent over the poignant letters written to a long lost love.

  Together, they began to read.

  About the Author

  Like Addie McRae, author Donna McLean grew up far from her roots in the small towns of the Sandhills area of North Carolina. She discovered her Scottish heritage through the true stories and tall tales told by relatives on both sides of the family tree. Butler Did It! is the second book in the Sparrow Falls Mystery series, featuring the eccentric but lovable denizens of fictional Sparrow Falls, North Carolina. Donna also blogs about and reviews clean books on her author website, comfycozybooks.com.