by Liz Bradbury
When I clanged onto the staircase, the flashlight whirled on me from a few steps above. My quarry pushed Nora toward me, dropped the flashlight on the landing, and reached in a shoulder bag.
A shot rang from the .25. I swung Nora around so she was behind me, but the unaimed bullet missed us both.
There in the dim light from the signs I saw the gun pointing more carefully in our direction. The trigger clicked but there was no shot. Now the gun was out of bullets.
“Hide,” I said to Nora as I raced up the stairs.
“She only had one bullet? Crikey!” said Nora incredulously.
“She might have another magazine. Get going.”
I made it to the top landing as the person who’d just shot at me got to the first door. I grabbed for an arm but a swing of the heavy bag knocked me back.
The first door flew open, flooding the scene with nearly blinding light. The killer screamed, because Samson Henshaw stood in the door with blood running down his face. The killer had thought Samson was dead.
The light from the open door illuminated everything. The killer stumbled, staring at Samson with mouth agape, then tripped back along the walkway toward the next door, grasped the handle, and pulled it open.
A cloudy white light seemed to seep out. The killer screamed like a squawking crow at what was in the doorway, then staggered backwards, hit the metal railing and teetered over the three story drop.
“No!” I shouted as she toppled over in slow motion. She caught onto the railing with one hand, dangling over the dark space.
“Let go of the bag!” I shouted when I got to her.
She shook her head, her hand slipped, and she dropped the bag. Silver coins pinged and jingled all over the floor of the tunnel. Her free hand snatched at the railing. Her flailing legs swung wildly.
I reached over and grabbed her coat collar, twisting to lever her back over the rail. When I turned, I saw what had frightened her in the doorway. The cloudy white light made the figure blurry, but I was sure it was Suzanne Carbondale and the red stain on her shoulder didn’t just look like blood. It was blood. The light got blindingly bright again and morphed Suzanne into Evangeline Fen. I distinctly smelled lavender. I was shocked into immobility for a second and wondered if everything that was happening was just another one of my dreams.
I tried to shake it out of my head. I fought to keep the struggling figure from falling to her death. Her weight, along with the extra weight of my bulletproof vest, made my feet leave the floor. She was pulling me over the edge with her, and there wasn’t much I could do about it other than drop her. I felt a flare of panic.
Suddenly somebody grabbed my belt and heaved me back. I was balanced again. I dragged the killer over the railing and onto the walkway floor. I flipped her over and kneeled on her back.
I swiveled around to look back at the door. There was no one in the doorway, but at my side was Kathryn. She’d saved me from going over the rail.
Kathryn whispered in my ear, “I saw her! Just now, at the door.”
“You saw her, too? Was it Suzanne or was it Evangeline?”
Kathryn shook her head in surprise. “No, no... I saw... Isabella Santiago!”
*******
Down in the tunnel the bright lanterns of the slightly late cavalry lit up everything. A puffing Ed O’Brien and an agile Marc Freligh joined me on the platform. Nora was with them.
“You daft, barmy...” said Nora addressing the killer who’d kidnapped her and dragged her through the tunnels as a hostage. “Really Maggie, she’s crazy, totally lost the plot. Be careful with her; she’ll kill you if she gets the...” Nora’s voice caught in her throat and she began to cry softly. She said, “Oh, my, I’m a wee bit jeeked.”
“Nora,” said Kathryn. “Come in here.” Kathryn reached out her hand to lead Nora into the library. I’d noticed once Kathryn was done rescuing me, her discomfort with heights had caused her to move away from the edge of the high platform.
I realized I was a little jeeked as well. I took a deep breath. Then I dragged the quivering figure through the archives door.
The killer turned from her fetal position and saw Samson Henshaw wiping ketchup off his head. The killer was shocked. She looked wildly around and then shouted at me, “Is Suzanne alive, too?”
Samson lunged, but I held him back.
Sgts. O’Brien and Freligh came through the door.
“Sorry we’re late. It took a while to figure out how to open that passage at Fen House,” said Freligh.
O’Brien took one look at the woman on the floor. “Who is it?” he asked.
I hoisted her to her feet and pulling off her scarf I said, “It’s Piper Staplehurst, from the museum.”
Chapter 22
“It smells like Turkey Day,” said Sara as she hung up her coat.
It was Sunday morning at Farrel and Jessie’s. Buster lolled at Amanda Knightbridge’s feet. Cora Martin and Judith Levi were in their usual places. Nora were there too. The air was heavy with the aroma of wonderful food.
“We felt like we had a lot to be thankful for,” said Farrell. “Where’s Emma?”
“My dedicated law partner is meeting a client,” said Sara.
“Pretty?” Farrel asked.
“No that wouldn’t be enough to miss a brunch like this. It’s a serious case. Pro bono. And she’s going to have to clean up a lot of the mistakes the previous lawyer made,” said Sara.
Jessie brought a squash filled with cornbread and pecan stuffing to the table, while the rest of us helped carry in a casserole of praline-topped sweet potatoes, a basket of homemade rolls with Jessie’s special honey butter, a huge salad, and a big platter of roasted vegetables.
Cora couldn’t contain herself. “Tell us everything, Maggie. Everyone is asking me, dahling. From the TV news, I couldn’t tell anything.”
“In Jane Austen’s time, this would have been a story all of you could have dined out on,” said Judith Levi. “You as well, Amanda.”
“I was merely in the right place at the right time. Yes, do tell us, Maggie, has Piper Staplehurst confessed?”
“My police contacts say Piper’s made a deal. She’ll get life in prison rather than the death penalty,” I said. “She’s confirmed all the details. I don’t think the Fenchester police have ever dealt with anyone like her before. She has a criminal history that’s as staggering as her list of aliases. She’s had a dozen different hair colors in as many years and her heavy make-up was far more disguise than fashion statement.”
“Explain how you knew it was Piper Staplehurst all along. And why she was the steel drummer,” said Kathryn.
“Well, ever since Farrel told that subway story about the steel drummer, the drunk, and Larry Storch, everything kept reminding me of it.”
“Yes, I felt that somehow that story held the key,” said Amanda.
I nodded. “Then Kathryn gave me that animation cel of Cool Cat and Colonel Rimfire for my birthday.”
“What did all that have to do with anything?” asked Sara.
“Because Larry Storch did the voices for Cool Cat and Rimfire. Larry Storch was doing all the voices. That’s the point. He did all the voices. As Mickey said, he did the good guys and the bad guys. Get it?”
Everyone looked confused except Amanda Knightbridge, who was nodding at me contentedly.
“See, the cel was just a reminder that the steel drummer and the drunk were working a classic scam together. People might be ambivalent about loud steel drum music on its own, but if it’s chasing away a threatening drunk, it’s suddenly worth a lot of tips,” I explained. “And Kathryn, when you told me about Bolton Winpenny arranging that other professor’s hysterical fit so that Bolton could suggest you all end the retreat. Well, it was the same kind of plan. You even called Bolton the steel drummer.”
“The steel drummer suggested the wrought iron gates,” explained Amanda.
“Yes, exactly. There was real concern about gangs in the cemetery but Gabe’s reaction
ary idea of cementing up the crypts was offensive to nearly everyone. Then Piper Staplehurst shows up with the wrought iron gates plan. People might have balked at the gates if they’d been just presented on their own, but in contrast to Gabe’s ugly cement idea the period gates were brilliant. Of course Gabe and Piper were working together. The hero and the villain were the same team, kind of like Larry Storch doing the voices for all the characters,” I explained.
“The drunk was a fake?” Farrel laughed shaking her head. “And he went right on into the next car and then the steel drummer followed him. They must have made a fortune that day!”
“But what happened with Suzanne?” asked Jessie.
“Suzanne was working on a book about Victoria and Evangeline. She found Victoria’s archived papers in the library. There was information about Victoria’s studio and the money. Suzanne had also found the passage under Fen House too. After all, Suzanne lived in Victoria’s house and it wasn’t hard for me to find the passage, once I began looking for it.”
“But then Suzanne made her fatal mistake. She consulted the wrong expert,” said Farrell sadly.
“Uh huh. Piper Staplehurst came to Fenchester Museum looking for things she could cleverly steal and turn into cash. That’s her M.O. She even lucked out by having a door to the underground tunnels just a few feet from her own desk. I’m sure she figured they would give her access to all sorts of lucrative places. But then a sinkhole cut off her easy access to the underground infrastructure just a day or two after she arrived in town. That must have frustrated her. All that was left was a small hole at the top of the pile of fill the city had dumped into the sinkhole. It was just big enough for her to squeeze through, but not a space she could have moved anything of any size back out.
“She was hoping for a big score, but not having much luck when suddenly Suzanne Carbondale shows up right in Piper’s office, happily telling her exactly where Victoria’s studio and money were and that there were passages to it under Fen House and under the crypt.”
“Suzanne showed Piper the studio on Christmas Eve. And Piper killed her so she wouldn’t tell anyone else and just left her there,” Jessie said softly.
“You knew Piper was the killer all along, didn’t you Maggie? How?” asked Kathryn.
“At the neighborhood meeting she was the one yelling out about gangs from the back of the room. I thought that was strange. When Farrel told us about the steel drummer and the drunk I knew they were a scam team, and everyone was saying that Piper was like the steel drummer. I began to think of her as someone with an ulterior motive,” I explained. “Her silver sucket fork was the murder weapon. When I saw that the wound in Suzanne’s neck looked like a square-toothed vampire bite, I thought of Piper’s two-pronged fork. She’d told us she carried it with her everywhere. Even in my dream, the steel drummer was eating fruit with a long fork. That’s exactly what you use a sucket fork for. But there just wasn’t enough motive and I certainly didn’t have proof.
“So Piper wanted the gate over the crypt entrance to keep people from finding Suzanne’s body?” asked Farrell.
“That’s one reason.”
“But what about Gabe? How did he get mixed up in all this?” asked Sara.
“Gabe was the one person who would know Suzanne hadn’t just gone away. She’d have never left her dearest things behind. Piper didn’t want Gabe searching for Suzanne and she also knew there was an entrance to the tunnels in Gabe’s basement, which she needed. So she decided to use Gabe. The minute he got back from England, Piper took him to the studio and showed him the sculpture and boxes of antiques that could be turned into money. They opened the first box and looked at what was inside. That’s what Frankie found when he followed Piper’s trail to the studio.
Piper made sure Gabe left his fingerprints on anything that could implicate him in Suzanne’s death. Then she told him Suzanne was dead and that her body was in the studio, and he’d be blamed. She made Gabe help her arrange to gate up the crypt and I think she promised him some money too. So Gabe went along with Piper in sending emails and Facebook messages to make it seem as though Suzanne was still alive. Piper had already used Suzanne’s phone to send texts to Jessie and Samson right after she’d killed Suzanne,” I said.
“I’m pretty sure Gabe was afraid of Piper too. I don’t think he realized that Piper had ruthlessly murdered Suzanne herself until Piper shot Frankie in the cemetery. Gabe wasn’t acting when he threw up there. It took all of his Shakespearian skills to convince me and the police about what he’d seen. He was especially frightened after Piper phoned and threatened him later that day, when I was in his house. What Gabe didn’t realize was that by being in England when Suzanne was killed he had a solid alibi for her murder.”
“That daftie Piper was maniacal whilst dragging me through the rabbit hole,” said Nora. “Maggie, I don’t think I’ve really thanked you for saving my life.” Nora bowed to me like an actor taking a curtain call. I smiled.
“So the motive was Victoria’s money?” asked Sara. “Are we talking about actual hidden cash or simply the value of the art and antiques?”
“Oh, there was cash. Remember the twenty silver dollars a day that Merganser had to pay Victoria? Well, that’s what Piper was looking for, and she found it. Victoria had been stashing those coins away for sixty years.”
“Where?” asked Farrell incredulously.
“In the plaster and clay bags. It hit me in my dream when Victoria found the coin under her foot in the studio. The money was in the only place it could have been, under her studio in the storage room. The bags in front had real plaster and clay in them, but farther back were over 600 seventy-five-pound sacks of dimes, quarters, fifty-cent pieces, and silver dollars. Buster nabbed one of those dollars out of Piper’s hand at gunpoint. And all along I was finding Piper’s dusty footprints.”
“Explain about Frankie and Red,” said Kathryn.
“OK, Piper was trying to turn some of Victoria’s silver into working cash while she arranged for trucks to bring in the wrought iron gates and then take out the bags of coins. By the way, that was her main reason for gating the crypts, so that trucks under her control could legitimately be in the historic cemetery. All those bags of coins were very heavy. Anyway, she saw Frankie at a flea market peddling Victoria’s possessions. She went back to Victoria’s studio and found that one of the boxes of antiques was gone. She figured correctly that Frankie had followed her into the tunnel through the crypt, and she knew he’d be back to get more for the next market. There’s one in Gloversville on Monday morning, isn’t there?”
Farrell nodded.
“So she hid in the crypt on Sunday, ready to kill Frankie the minute he showed up. She really is ruthless. She was also the one in the van chasing us. The police found it near her apartment. She was trying to get rid of anyone who might have known about what was in the studio.”
“How many silver dollars?” asked Cora.
“Over 500,000,” calculated Farrel.
“Crikey!” said Nora.
“500,000 dollars, Maggie? I know it sounds like a great deal of money, but in today’s economy it isn’t such a huge amount,” said Judith.
“I agree, Judith,” said Kathryn, leaning back in her chair. “All that planning, arranging that grant, getting the van, three murders, staying in Fenchester when she was on the verge of being discovered. The risks were so high. I just can’t see why Piper Staplehurst would go to this much trouble for five hundred thousand dollars. She could have converted some of Victoria’s sculptures into cash. She couldn’t flood the market with a blizzard of Snows, but she could have sold a few and made half a million from them. So much work for such a small amount of money.”
Everyone was nodding, except Farrel and me.
“No, Kathryn, you’re forgetting something important,” I said.
“What?” asked Kathryn.
“That Victoria saved over 500,000 dollars in silver, based on the face value of the dollars, quarters and dimes,
” I said pointedly. “But each silver dollar is close to an ounce of silver. And in the current market silver has been fluctuating between 30 and 40 dollars an ounce. So... it’s not 500,000 dollars we’re talking about; it’s over 500,000 ounces of silver. That’s well over sixteen million dollars!”
Awe settled over the room.
“For a professional thief, sixteen million dollars of stolen merchandise, or even hot paper money, probably has a cash value of less than ten percent, and even that’s hard and dangerous to get. But these silver coins could be cashed in at any one of those We Buy Gold shops. There are a dozen of them just in Fenchester. Some of the good shops even pay ninety-five percent of the current market value. This silver wasn’t hot either. She probably would have taken most of the sculpture as well. She had the trucks for it. It would have been the perfect crime, if she hadn’t had to kill three people.”
“Piper also nearly murdered Samson,” said Sara.
“Right, but that wasn’t quite as pre-meditated. Piper used Suzanne’s cell phone to fake texts from Suzanne to her friends. But then Gabe broke his cell when it dropped into Buster’s water dish. So Piper gave him Suzanne’s phone to call her in case anything was up. Later she took it back to send more fake Suzanne texts. Samson thought he saw Suzanne leave Fen House. When Samson dialed Suzanne’s phone he heard his own ringtone coming from Piper’s pocket and followed her,” I said.
“He followed Piper into the crypt and along to the studio,” said Kathryn. “Samson told us he’d seen someone get a hand truck from a van and take it into the crypt. Piper must have wanted to use it to move the heavy bags of coins and couldn’t fit it through the narrow passage under Fen house. In the studio, Piper heard Samson coming. She set up a candle on the steps to decoy him and then hit him with a plaster mold.”
“Kathryn, you’re catching on to this private eye stuff,” said Sara.
Kathryn shook her head. Then she said, laughing, “Not exactly, Sara. I got the motive wrong, and up until Maggie pulled down Piper’s scarf, I thought the killer was Lois Henshaw!”
