The Tycoon Murderer

by Maureen Driscoll

  “No. Do you?” He pulled her closer as they turned.

  “Of course, I don’t know anything about it.” Josie felt the heat rise between them. But she had to keep her head. “Do you think Lucy might have had anything to do with him getting shot?”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “To be free to be with someone else, like Kurt Franklin. Or maybe you.”

  “I barely know her.”

  “But you are one of the richest men in the country.”

  “Why Miss Matthews, I’m all aflutter to know you think the only way I can attract a woman is with my fortune.”

  “I didn’t say it was the only way you can attract a woman.”

  “Really? How else am I to attract them?”

  By being this smoking hot. “You’re a passably good dancer.”

  He turned her again, dipped her, then brought her up so they were face-to-face, their chests only inches apart. “Only passable?”

  “Perhaps a tiny bit better than passable.”

  “Whatever you think of my dancing skills, I can say Lucy isn’t my type. Were you thinking of warning her off as well?”

  “No. She seems happy with Mr. Corrigan.” As Remington backed her around the floor, their lips were so close she could feel his breath on her. “What is your type?”

  He moved his lips close to her ear. “I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.”

  The music continued, but they stopped dancing. He was still holding her close and for a moment, Josie thought he might kiss her. And she thought she might let him, despite him being a possible-murderer.

  But they were interrupted by Madame Racine who was incensed and, perhaps, just a bit drunk. “Shut off that racket!” she said, motioning to the Victrola, as the butler complied with her order. “Everyone, listen to me! I know who shot Mr. Corrigan! I also know that before this night is over someone will die in this very house!”

  A maid screamed.

  Lucy sighed. “Just what this party needed. More yakkin’.”

  Madame looked offended but continued. “Tonight, we will hold a séance.”

  “Oh, goodie,” said Lawrence. “I was beginning to worry the party didn’t have enough drama.”

  “Do you think that’s wise, Madame?” asked Constance. “I’ve read about the odd things which occur at seances. They’re said to be the work of the devil.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” said Kurt.

  “Nor do I,” said Tanner.

  “The devil is already here,” said Madame Racine. “All I will do is expose him.”

  “David,” said Constance, coming to his side and not liking the fact that Josie was standing so close to him. “Do you really think this is wise?”

  David stepped away from Josie, as if only realizing he’d been that close. “I think it’s too late for wise,” he said slowly. “So, we might as well give the devil his due.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was just before midnight when the guests gathered in the ballroom once again. A large table had been placed in the middle of the room and the wall sconces had been turned down low. A few candles around the room cast a flickering light. As someone who’d seen more than her share of reality shows busting supposed paranormal experts, Josie wasn’t all that impressed. But even she had a weird feeling when she stepped into the ballroom that night.

  There was what appeared to be a home-made Ouija board on the table. There were letters on the board, as well as a few words, including “Yes” and “No.” There was also plenty of alcohol, and most guests had been drinking the entire evening. Josie took a martini from a passing waiter and sipped.

  “This is pretty good,” she said to Dora.

  “It should be. Lawrence said David gets the best booze straight from Canada.”

  Josie looked around to see where he was – to thank him for the liquor, of course – then saw him a few feet away, standing with Constance.

  “I can’t believe Madame Racine believes someone will be murdered tonight,” said Constance. “It’s dreadful. And terribly common.”

  “I died in a movie once,” said Kurt.

  “Someone almost always dies in one of my plays,” said Lawrence.

  “Who kills them?” asked Kurt.

  “Critics.”

  Madame Racine clapped her hands. “Take a seat, if you dare. If one of you chooses not to participate, you must leave now. For once we begin, there will be no leaving for any of you and no way out.”

  That gave everyone pause except for Barker who dropped into a chair at the table. “Let’s get this over with so I can go to bed.”

  Everyone sat at the table, looking around to see if everyone else was there.

  No one was missing, though there were varying degrees of skepticism on people’s faces. Lawrence and Dora looked like they were anticipating a great show. Farnsworth looked bored, while Lydia stole a few glances at Barker, who was mostly concerned with his drink. Mikey Corrigan was as skeptical as Lucy was a true believer. Franklin looked a bit confused, but from what Josie could tell, most things seemed to confuse him. Tanner was seated next to Franklin and was eyeing everyone at the table with suspicion. David Remington was studying Madame Racine with a calculating look, while Constance looked like someone had just asked her to clean bathrooms.

  Madame Racine addressed them. “After thinking about this...”

  “Thinking or drinking?” asked Dora.

  Madame glared at her but continued. “Ever since Mr. Corrigan’s unfortunate accident...”

  “It wasn’t no accident,” said Mikey. “Someone tried to kill me.”

  “Silence! I was reflecting on your incident when the spirits came to me and said death is all around. Then they told me something shocking!” She stopped, waiting for a reaction from the others.

  No one said anything. Barker continued studying his drink.

  “I’ll bite,” said Lucy. “What’d they say?”

  “They said death will visit one of us this very evening!”

  “You said that earlier,” said Lucy. “Did they finally tell you who it was or do we gotta see this through to the bitter end?”

  Madame continued with a flourish of her ring-bedecked hand. “I have placed a spirit board on the table and we shall use it to learn who looks at the world with the cold heart of a misanthrope.”

  Lawrence took another drink. “Well, if that’s all you’re after, I’m guilty as charged. But very little worth reading was ever penned by someone who liked people.”

  “Madame Racine,” said Mikey, “if you’re lookin’ into the future, I’d like to know who’s gonna win the next Kentucky Derby.”

  Everyone laughed at that and even Constance tried to get in on the joke. “I always put my money on War Admiral.”

  “Silence!” said Madame Racine, who was swaying just a bit from the spirits – probably the alcoholic kind instead of the ghosts. “You should take this seriously because life and death hang in the balance. It will be life for most of you but death for one of us.” That seemed to quiet everyone down. With an approving nod, Madame continued. “I need you all to put your hands on the spirit board’s disk. Just a light touch is all you need.”

  Everyone reached out to the disk on the board, some hesitantly at first. But eventually, everyone’s hands were close to touching.

  “Excellent!” cried Madame. “Now I must have all of you open your minds to the mysteries beyond the grave, beyond the veil, into the unknown.”

  “What a bunch of whoey,” said Mikey.

  “Stop that now!” said an outraged Madame Racine. “If we have even one non-believer among us the spirits will refuse to speak.” She looked around the table and everyone now seemed serious about the endeavor, if only to find out what would happen next. “Good!” She closed her eyes and began to sway, chanting a verse in another language.

  Josie had to admit the woman was putting on a good show. Most people in the room had probably never seen an act like this. She vaguel
y wondered how Madame Racine would stage the visit from the dead, given the lack of an accomplice.

  Madame cried out. “Now I ask the spirits around us. Is the person who shot Mr. Corrigan at this table?”

  Suddenly, the disk began to move. Lucy screamed. Everyone else watched as it slid to “Yes,” before returning to the neutral position.

  “How did it do that?” asked Kurt.

  “How do the spirits do anything?” answered Madame Racine, before resuming her pleas to the netherworld. “Oh, spirits! Will this person try to kill Mr. Corrigan again?”

  The disk moved again to “Yes.”

  Mikey stood up and yelled at the group. “All I can say is if you try again, you’ll be the one who dies, not me! Whoever you are can go talk to the spirits in person!”

  “Mr. Corrigan!” said Madame Racine. “Do not break the circle. Sit down and put your hands on the disk before the spirits depart. You do not want to disturb them.”

  “They’re already dead! How can I disturb ‘em more than that?” Reluctantly, Corrigan did as instructed, but he studied each person at the table. It was clear that whoever wanted to kill him was up against someone who wouldn’t die easily.

  Madame swayed some more and moaned. Josie thought it was a bit much and wondered just where this was going.

  “I am telling you that...” began Madame Racine, but then the disk began spinning around the board quickly – so quickly that even Madame Racine was surprised. It started spelling a word using the alphabet on the board: F-R-A-U-D.

  “I am not a fraud!” cried Madame Racine, turning an alarming shade of red and having difficulty breathing from being so upset. Her accent had also become distinctly more American. “I don’t know if this is someone’s idea of a joke, but I don’t find it amusing in the least!” Madame then stood, stiff as a board, with her eyes bulging out. A moment later, she started speaking in a deep voice right out of The Exorcist. “She is from the future. She will fall into a great depression. She must pay!”

  The disk then flew off the table and hit a wall, as Madame collapsed. Lucy screamed again and Kurt pulled her into his arms.

  “Get your mitts off her!” said Mikey, as he pulled them apart then punched Kurt, who fell to the floor.

  “Do that again and you’ll answer to me!” said Tanner, before ducking out of Corrigan’s reach to help Franklin get up.

  “This is much more entertaining than even one of my plays,” said Lawrence.

  “You can say that, again,” said Dora.

  “Darling, do try to recognize when I’m being self-deprecating.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to tell,” said Dora, kissing her friend on the cheek.

  “Oh, Mikey,” said Lucy as she went into his arms. “I’m so scared for you!”

  “You’re soakin’ my tie with tears, you dizzy dame.” He gave her his handkerchief as she continued to cry.

  Barker stood, his patience at an end. “Tom Mix ‘n Cement and all good dogs go to heaven! This is the screwiest night I ever spent. It’s obvious this old broad Racine is pulling your legs. All of you. Next thing you know, she’ll be asking Mikey for money so she can bring back the spirits to say who’s out to kill him. And I don’t know what the heck she was talking about with some broad being from the future. It’s more whooey! As for me, I’ve had enough whooey for a lifetime!”

  Josie was afraid she knew exactly whom Madame Racine had been talking about. She hadn’t thought the séance was real, but now was wondering if there really had been spirits in the room.

  Barker continued his tirade. “There’s no big mystery about someone trying to ice Mikey. I’m sure back in Chicago it happens every day with a vowel in it. One of those bootleggers simply followed him out here and tried to top him. Now let’s end this boondoggle before I arrest you all for drinking!”

  “Might I remind you that you’ve been drinking, as well?” asked Remington.

  “Blow it out your ear, Remington.” Barker went around the table and shook Madame Racine, whose head was on the table. “Wake up, you old Fraud Bag!”

  Madame Racine was quite wobbly as she tried to rise to her feet. “How can you accuse me of being a fraud? You saw with your own eyes what the spirit board wanted to reveal! There is a murderer among us!”

  “And a lady murderer from the sounds of it,” said Lawrence.

  Mikey spoke up. “And there’s one broad at this table who nobody ever heard of until she showed up at this party. What exactly are you doing here, Miss Matthews?”

  All eyes turned to Josie, including Remington’s. “I didn’t shoot you. I was with people at the time.”

  “That don’t mean you didn’t pay someone else to do it.”

  “Why would I? You and I have never even met.”

  Lucy chimed in. “Maybe you’re one of them crazy broads hopped up on dope who don’t even know if she’s going to kill someone until she goes and does it!”

  “Do I look like one of those crazy broads hopped up on dope who doesn’t even know if she’s going to kill someone until she goes and does it?”

  “Now that you mention it?” asked Dora. “Yeah, I can see that. No offense.”

  “Miss Matthews isn’t a crazy broad hopped up on dope,” said David Remington. “Nor was she an unexpected guest. The truth is she’s my cousin who decided to stop by for a visit.”

  “Really?” asked Constance icily. “Then why did you claim not to know her when she arrived? And why are we only hearing about this now?”

  Remington took a sip of his martini, likely giving himself time to come up with a believable lie, which he certainly hadn’t done a moment ago. Josie watched him with fascination, wondering what he would say next. “I didn’t say anything because she was recently released from a sanitarium after having a nervous breakdown and I was embarrassed. I regret that now. Welcome, dear cousin.” He then raised his glass to her.

  Lucy gave it some thought. “But don’t that make it more likely she’d murder someone?”

  Josie nodded at Remington. “And that is the logical question someone would ask after what you just said.”

  “But, Cousin Josie, you made a full recovery and you were with people when Mikey was shot.”

  Kurt studied Josie, then turned to Remington. “Are you sure she ain’t still missin’ a few marbles?”

  “I’m positive. Now I suggest we retire for the evening.”

  There was general agreement on that suggestion, as everyone got up to leave – being careful not to get too close to Josie. Soon, she and Remington were alone. “Why’d you do that for me?”

  He studied her with those unnerving eyes. “I’m not quite certain, though I don’t think it would have been good form of me to allow people to accuse you without any evidence.”

  “So, you were just being polite? A good host?”

  “I am a polite man and an excellent host. Should I have been rude and allowed them to continue thinking of you as a murderer?”

  “They still think I’m a murderer, but one who’s criminally insane, as opposed to just plain evil.”

  He smiled. “That’s somewhat better, isn’t it?”

  “Not really. But thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “But couldn’t you have come up with a better excuse?”

  “I’m quite certain I could have, but that one was more fun. Good night, Miss Matthews. Please don’t murder anyone in their sleep.”

  * * *

  Josie looked out her bedroom window, wondering how her life had become this mixed up. There was a knock at the door and for one wild, misguided moment she hoped it was Remington. “Come in.”

  The maid, Betsy, poked her head inside the room. “May I come in, miss?”

  “Of course.”

  Betsy entered, carrying a folded pair of men’s silk pajamas. “Mr. Remington sent these to you since they kept all your clothes at the sanitarium given how nuts you were.”

  “Was that an exact quote?”

  “As
much as I can remember, miss.”

  “Thank you.”

  Betsy bobbed a curtsy, then hurried out. Great. Now all the staff would think she was dangerous and mentally unwell.

  Josie held up the pajamas and tried not to think of Remington in them. They were navy blue silk and looked to have been tailored for him. She wondered what it must be like to have so much money you got your pajamas altered.

  She put them on. They were big but would do the trick. And there was nothing like wearing clothing from a man you really liked, even if one day the entire world would think he was a murderer. It was funny that she was having more and more doubts about his guilt. She also realized this was the first man she’d been interested in since her ex-husband.

  Too bad he was surely dead in her own time period. Life certainly had a way of throwing curve balls at her love life.

  With that depressing thought, she got into bed and turned off the light.

  Sometime later a scream woke Josie from a deep sleep. Disoriented, she sat up in bed, unsure if the scream had been real or simply a dream. But then she heard it again.

  She ran out into the hall, where several of the guests and most of the staff were milling about. She saw Remington enter a room up the hall and hurried to it. She entered to find Madame Racine dead on her bed, with Remington, Constance and Agent Barker beside it. Madame Racine’s nose looked to have been broken, possibly by having a pillow pressed into her face. The one next to her had what looked like dried blood on it.

  Remington motioned to his hovering butler. “Call the sheriff.”

  “Do you think that’s necessary?” asked Constance. “Think of the scandal.”

  “Madame Racine is dead. We have to call the authorities.”

  “But we have a federal agent right here.”

  “I don’t care. It’s the right thing to do,” said Remington with finality.

  Constance looked a bit irritated, but then smiled and kissed his cheek. “Whatever you say, darling.”

  “What happened?” asked Josie, though she had a pretty good idea, given the body and the pillow.