“Don’t be so sure,” Sophia cautioned Eleanor. “Eleanor, perhaps this man wants the best of both worlds. Your money and the paintings.”
“Oh my,” Eleanor frightened by Sophia’s words. “I never considered that possibility. The letter was mailed from London. I assumed that’s where this man is now.”
“He must know you have the paintings,” Sophia told Eleanor as her eyes looked through the dust and dance of the beautiful brush strokes that created magnificent paintings. “Eleanor, are the paintings in this room worth twenty million dollars?”
“No dear…but very close. I would have to cover the final expense out of my own pocket,” Eleanor confessed.
“This man must know that too,” Sophia whispered. Her eyes focused a painting of a lost woman standing beside a stormy seaside between the eyes of day and night, calling out to the sea to return her lost husband.
Eleanor watched Sophia begin to pace. “What are you thinking, dear?”
Feeling fear and anxiety stir in her, Sophia turned to Eleanor. “I have a friend who worked for the FBI. She’s retired now. I worked for her Uncle who lives in France. We met there while she was taking vacation. It’s been a few years, but I’m sure she will help me.”
‘What did your friend do with the FBI?” Eleanor asked.
“She worked with the gang task force division. She has lots of experience and I think she may be able to give us some direction,” Sophia explained.
“Oh dear, I never thought it would come to this. It seems so unreal.”
“We are going to get to the bottom of this. This isn’t the usual assistance a professional organizer would call for, but I think we need the support,” Sophia said comforting her. “Eleanor, please do not leave your home. And after I leave, set your security system.”
“Where are you going dear,” Eleanor asked alarmed. “I would prefer not to be left alone.”
“I need to run home. You don’t have internet here and I need to use my computer. I won’t be long, I promise. With the grounds workers on the property, I don’t think the man outside would try anything dangerous right now. He seems to only be waiting and watching.”
As if feeling faint, Eleanor sat back down in the old chair. “What will you tell this FBI friend of yours? Will you tell her about my husband’s father and all he’s gone through?”
Sophia quickly knelt down before Eleanor. “No,” she promised. “Your husband’s name will not be disgraced, I promise.”
“Oh, you are a friend,” Eleanor began to cry.
Sophia gently hugged Eleanor with nervous arms. “Let’s hope that I am,” she thought as her eyes drifted back to the dusty paintings. Memories, some bad, some good, but they always remain nonetheless. And every memory, it seemed, held a secret.
Chapter 3
Catching a Crook
“No Julia,” Sophia spoke as she tucked a cordless white phone in her ear. Sitting behind a modest, but brilliant, chestnut desk holding a large computer screen she waited as her slow internet connection came to life. Down below, Sophia’s two cats roamed around her feet wondering what was upsetting their owner. “I can’t give a name, I’m sorry. What I need to know is who is Lionel Quinn?”
“Sophia you’re asking a lot of me, girl. I’m retired now. I’m living out in the country with the cows like you are,” Julia replied. “This woman isn’t interested in seeing the ugly face of reality again.”
“Please,” Sophia pleaded looking around the den she had made into her office. To the public eye her office appeared intelligent and well designed with light brown carpet, cream colored walls, and light green shades that complimented the shape and form of the office. But to Sophia, her office still needed some color and character. “This man is using blackmail like a hard fist. If he has stooped to this level, he can’t have a very honest life in London.”
“Senators black mail people, girl, and appear like saints to the public. This Lionel character could be anyone. No all crooks and criminal’s look the part.”
“Okay okay I understand that. The man I saw didn’t appear to be a criminal. But he gave me a very bad feeling,” Sophia pushed forward. “When I left my friend’s home I searched around but was unable to spot him. I did tell a few groundkeepers to keep a look out for anyone suspicious.”
“Listen, Nancy Drew, you need to go directly to the police.”
“Julia, the police in Piney Woods has better luck at catching a wild animal than a criminal. I love my home, but Piney Woods seems to draw some pretty eccentric people into its valley,” Sophia objected. “The Sheriff is a retired baker from Des Moines. His major is culinary arts. He only wanted to become Sheriff because it seemed fun.”
“Girl, if those words would have come from anyone else I would have called them a liar,” Julia laughed. “Okay, listen to me, I’ll make a few calls and see what I can do. Give me an hour.”
“Oh thank you, Julia!” Sophia exclaimed. “I’ll be next to the phone.”
“Okay,” Julia told Sophia. “But you owe me. It’s been a while. I want to see you and so does Andrew. Do we have a deal?”
“We have a deal,” Sophia promised.
After hanging up her call with Julia, Sophia focused on her computer. “Alright, Mr. Quinn, let’s see what I can dig up on you.”
For the next hour, Sophia fussed with her slow internet connection. She was frustrated but grateful that she was able to work from the privacy of her home instead of having to travel to a public library. “Ah,” Sophia said as she read an article. “Listen here, guys.”
Down below, Sophia’s cats looked upward with curious faces.
“This article states that Lionel Quinn was the major in some town in England called Longford, a town south east of London. It seems that Mr. Quinn suddenly resigned his position and moved to London without reason or notice. That was six months ago. Hmmm.”
Sophia fell silent as she studied the article. The article, she knew, was a puzzle that offered her the answers she needed. But first she had to put the pieces of the puzzle together. “He must have found out about Eleanor.”
Hearing her phone ring Sophia snatched it up. “Okay, here is what I have,” Julia spoke in an urgent voice. “This guy isn’t a small fish, girl. He’s head of a known mafia group in London.”
“Go on,” Sophia took a deep breath.
“Lionel was elected mayor of Longford, England, when his opponent was found dead. But curiously, six months ago, he resigned and relocated back to London. It’s been quiet. It seems like this guy is laying low.”
“I believe that Lionel Quinn is at my friend’s home,” Sophia told Julia.
“Girl, stay away from him. There’s nothing to arrest this thug on. All the local police can do is nab the guy for trespassing.”
“But the letter--“ Sophia pleaded.
“Lionel Quinn has enough money and power to control your friend for the rest of her life.”
“If he has money and power then why is he blackmailing Eleanor…I mean my friend?”
“Simple. He wants revenge,” Julia told Sophia. “Girl, I’ve dealt with the mafia. Those people are soulless, and they do have a code they go by. My guess is this guy is out to avenge his father. Also, he signed his name to the letter. It didn’t occur to me until after we hung up that if someone serious about blackmail would not sign their name.”
“I didn’t consider that,“ Sophia confessed miserably. “He intends to hurt my friend then?”
“It’s possible, yes. But until a crime is committed there is nothing the authorities can do.”
“I understand,” Sophia replied as her hands began to shake. “Julia, I need to go. Thank you for help. I’ll call soon and we’ll arrange a time for me to come and visit.”
Before Julia could answer, Sophia ended the call and stormed to her feet. Without saying a word to her cats she ran from her office. Running to her jeep she sped away to Eleanor’s estate. Even though the birds were chirping and the day was beautiful, Sophia fe
lt cold and gray inside. If anyone harmed Eleanor she would never forgive herself.
When Sophia came to a stop in her jeep in front of Eleanor’s home, she quickly threw the driver’s side door and jumped out. Breathing hard she began turning around in a circle allowing her eyes to search the grounds. Unable to see anyone, she hurried up to the front door and rang the doorbell. Eleanor opened the front door a few seconds later. “Eleanor, we have to--“
Sophia stopped speaking. Eleanor’s face was pale and sickly. Her eyes held fear and alarm. Before she could speak, Lionel Quinn appeared behind Sophia holding a gun in his right hand. “Inside now,” he hissed at Sophia in a thick English accent. “You are a very meddlesome person. You have forced me to act hastily.”
“Alright…okay,” Sophia agreed in a scared voice. With legs that felt weak and unstable, she stepped through the front door. Lionel shoved her into the foyer and slammed the front door shut.
“Alright ladies, I want the paintings,” Lionel Quinn said in a cruel tone. Narrowing his criminal eyes, he aimed the gun in his right hand at Eleanor. “Old lady, lead me to the paintings or your friend dies. I am bloody serious. If you buck up against me I will give you both a slow and very painful death. So play nice, huh.”
“Please, don’t hurt her!” Sophia begged for Eleanor’s safety. “We’ll take you to the paintings.”
“Yes you will,” Lionel glared at Sophia with savage eyes. “I had a man follow you after you left. He heard you mention the paintings to your FBI friend. I was going to create an orchestrated robbery tonight, but you have interfered. Now I’ll just have to take what is rightfully mine and leave this country very quickly. And don’t worry old lady, you may be broke, but later I will get the twenty million I have demanded from you, one way or the other.”
“You had me followed,” Sophia asked in disbelief. “Oh, Eleanor, I’m so sorry. It was foolish of me to race off so suddenly.”
“I’m the one that is sorry dear. I should have never involved you,” Eleanor told Sophia in a whisper. “And this man is right. I am almost broke. Maintenance of this estate is very costly as well as my doctor care. My husband’s millions have become very thin, that’s another reason I wanted to sell the paintings.”
“You were planning on selling what is rightfully mine,” Lionel hissed in disgust over hearing the ladies. “And just how were you going to get away with that? Oh, you are a tricky one old lady, just like your husband.”
“I had no other choice,” Eleanor told Quinn flinching back from his anger. “You forced us to pay you to remain silent. I have to continue protect my husband’s name.”
Sophia dared to threaten Quinn hoping to protect Eleanor. “If you harm us the FBI will know it was you. You’re in a no-win situation here. Give yourself up.”
“I don’t intend to kill you,” Quinn pointed his gun straight at Sophia. “My intentions are to take what should be mine. Once I have what I want, I will leave peacefully. I’m sure this old lady will not report me. That is, if she wants to keep her husband’s honor intact. If you object, however, I might be forced to turn very violent. And trust me, I’m not afraid of the authorities. I do, however, prefer not to stick my nose under their radar. Now take me to my paintings. My man is waiting around back in a van.”
“The paintings belong to my husband,” Eleanor stared deep in Quinn’s eyes. Suddenly her face changed from fear into bold anger. “Young man, I admit that my husband owed your father at one time for lending money to my father-in-law. But your father was a simple drunk who cared more about the bottle than his work.”
“Shut up!” Quinn roared. “Old lady, you know nothing.”
“I know that my husband completely paid his father’s debt, but your father kept insisting we owed you more. My husband was defending the lives of those he loved by moving to the U.S. He did not want his artwork going into the hands of criminals. And now, I will honor his noble intentions. I will not let a criminal take my husband’s artwork from this house today or ever. You may go public if you please. I’m putting my foot down as I have had enough!”
Staring at Eleanor in surprise, Quinn licked his lower lip. “Listen to me,” he warned, “I’ll put a bullet through you and your friend here if you do not give me those paintings. I know you have them stashed in this house somewhere. I’m going to have them either way, whether you are dead or alive. The money from those paintings is going to allow me to destroy any opposition I have remaining against me in London.”
“You mean the money from Michael Beaman’s paintings is going to allow you to hire thugs to kill and hurt people,” Sophia corrected Quinn.
“My husband’s paintings will not become blood money,” Eleanor promised Quinn.
“Enough!” Quinn yelled. “I don’t need to stand here and get a life lessons from a bunch of small town ladies. I will go where I know I can get money easily. I know that you will do anything for your husband’s reputation, which is why you are an easy target. I’ve personally killed many men and I won’t have any qualms about killing you two.”
“You have no soul,” Eleanor told Quinn and then fainted back into Sophia’s arms.
“Eleanor,” Sophia cried out. “No…Eleanor.”
“What is it,” Quinn asked annoyed. “Don’t tell me the old hag is kicking the bucket?”
“Shut up,” Sophia cried as she eased Eleanor down onto the floor of the foyer. “Oh, Eleanor, please don’t die.”
“Seriously?” Quinn fussed. Without thinking he walked over to Sophia and knelt down in front of her. “Hey, old lady, wake up…don’t kick the can yet, huh?”
“She has a bad heart,” Sophia cried. Cautiously she raised her eyes just enough to see Quinn lower the gun in his hand down and next to Eleanor’s limp hand.
“Too bad,” Quinn told Sophia studying Eleanor’s pale face. “Well, it looks like I’m going to have to find those paintings on my own.”
“What do you mean?” Sophia asked.
“It means it’s time for you to join this old hag,” Quinn replied and began to raise the gun in his hand.
Before Quinn could raise the gun in his hand, strength flushed back into Eleanor’s hand. As if she was a young woman again with the power of ten people and the stealth of a soaring eagle, she snatched the gun from Quinn’s hand before he could shoot Sophia. Without hesitating, she threw the gun to Sophia.
“Hey,” Quinn yelled and tried to bolt to his feet. As he did Eleanor wrapped her arms around his ankles causing him to fall allowing Sophia to get to her feet and step back to a safe distance.
“Hold it,” Sophia yelled at Quinn. “One move bucko and you’re a dead man.”
Freeing his legs from Eleanor’s grip Quinn snarled up at Sophia. “Go ahead, shoot me. You don’t have the guts. You don’t even know how to use that gun.”
“Dare to test me and find out,” Sophia warned Quinn.
“Yes,” Quinn yelled and scrambled to his feet surprising Sophia. Stepping backwards she tripped over her own feet and tumbled down. As she hit the floor, the gun in her hands went off with a loud bang. Quinn let out a loud cry and grabbed his shoulder, as his eyes grew wide.
Sophia watched as Quinn dropped to his knees, with his hand still holding his shoulder. He suddenly tumbled forward, and collapsed onto the floor. “I…the gun…”
“It’s alright dear,” Eleanor promised Sophia.
“He’s alright?” Sophia asked staring at Quinn while he moaned and groaned on the floor.
“I believe so,” Eleanor agreed. With trembling hands she reached into her dress pocket and took out a bottle of medicine. “Help me to the living room, dear, and then get me a glass of water. I’ll feel better shortly.”
“Yes, of course,” Sophia agreed dropping the gun. Hurrying to Eleanor she gently helped the woman to her feet. “You faked your death.”
“I took a bit of acting as a young woman,” Eleanor forced a smile at Sophia. “Now come, let’s call for help.”
“Wait, there’s
a man in the back,” Sophia said alarmed.
“I’m sure when the police arrive he’ll be taken care of. But just in case, pick up the gun and take it with us,” Eleanor told Sophia.
Eleanor helped Sophia into the living room and remained tense, expecting the man in the van to come bursting into the house at any moment. But to Sophia’s relief and surprise, two young ground workers were the ones that burst into the house, dragging an unconscious man in with them. They explained they found the man sitting in the van and when he tried to run they made sure he didn’t get away.
“What now?” Sophia asked Eleanor watching take a sip of water from a clear glass. “I mean, once these men are taken care of by the police, what will you do about your husband’s paintings?”
Angela Agranoff - Sophia O'Malley 01 - Organized Blackmail Page 3
