A strange look crossed the young man’s face. “St. Clair? I’ve heard of them. Very wealthy, aren’t they?”
“That’s right, son, very wealthy and very snooty. Young Gerald St. Clair just got married and his wife is a real looker. They’re all staying up there right now. Gerald and his bride and that tarantula of a grandmother.”
The old man looked around to see if anyone had overheard him. Then he picked up a pen and wrote something on a piece of paper. “Here’s the address. 21445 Field Point Circle. Go around to the tradesman’s entrance and tell them you want to see Benny. Tell him Willy at the station sent you. Oh, and what’s your name?”
The young man hesitated. “Dan...David. It’s David Kaufman.”
The old man smiled and pointed across the street. “Okay, Dan David. Well, off you go. You’ll have to find your own way out there. It’s out at the end of Field Point Circle, right on the ocean—about a thirty-minute drive. Biggest place out there. There’s a taxi stand right over there. I think it’s only five bucks to get to St. Clair’s. You got any money?”
The young man nodded. “Sure, I got some money...”
“But not a lot, right, kid?”
The young man grinned and shook his head.
The old man reached in his pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Here, this will get you out there and tide you over until you get paid.”
“I can’t take that, sir...”
“The name’s Willy, and you can take it. I’m bettin’ you’ll get the job and then you can pay me back. I’m not going anywhere, so you know where I am.”
The young man stuck out his hand and the two men shook. Willy pressed the money into the young man’s hand.
“It’s very kind of you, Willy. I’ll pay you back soon.”
Willy looked back down at his paperwork. “I know you will, son. Now get goin’ or somebody else will get that job.”
*****
Forty minutes later, Daniel walked through the delivery gate at the St. Clair mansion. He asked a man shoveling snow by the gate where the stables were, and the man pointed silently toward the back of the property. In a few minutes, Daniel stood by the stable door, looking around at the magnificent estate. Off to the right, a huge stone house stood under sweeping elm trees. Meticulously tended grounds surrounded the house and everything seemed perfect and in order. Daniel looked in the wide front doors of the tall, white wooden barn. The long hallway inside ran the length of the building, and there must have been fifty stalls opening off the corridor. Daniel could hear horses nickering and the occasional whistle of a stallion.
Just then, a thin, wiry man with a ferret face walked briskly around the corner of the barn. He saw Daniel and stopped. “Wadda ya doin’ here, buddy. Lost or somethin’?”
“I’m looking for Benny Peterson. Willy sent me. He said you were looking for some help.”
The ferret-faced man looked at Daniel and then turned away. “Nah, we don’t need any help. I don’t know why Willy is always sending me charity cases.”
Daniel stepped forward. “But he said you were looking for help. You are Benny, aren’t you?”
Just then there was a loud crash from inside the stable. Someone shouted. Daniel and Benny ran inside. Down the long hallway they saw someone lying on the ground trying to hold onto the reins of a kicking, bucking horse. The animal had already knocked the door of his stall half off, and the man on the floor screamed for help. Benny pulled up short and grabbed Daniel. “Criminey, it’s Diablo. I told Johnnie not to mess with him. That stallion is crazy.”
Benny shouted at the man on the floor. “Johnnie! Don’t try to hold him! Just get up out of there.”
But the man on the floor stayed where he was. Then, before Benny could stop him, Daniel ran forward and grabbed the reins out of the fallen man’s hands. He began to speak quietly to the excited animal as it reared up again. The man on the floor scooted away, leaving Daniel alone with the big stallion. Still speaking softly, Daniel inched closer to the horse. The animal began to calm, and soon he stood still. Then Daniel reached out slowly and put his hand on the stallion’s face. The big horse snorted and then nickered. He stood still while Daniel began to rub his face and behind his ears, all the while talking in a quiet voice. In a moment, the huge animal was completely quiet.
Daniel looked at Benny. “Do you want him back in his stall?”
Benny’s mouth hung open. He snapped it shut and pointed to an empty stall on the opposite side of the hallway. Daniel led the now quiet stallion inside and then closed the stall door and latched it. The big horse put his head out and Daniel stroked his face some more. Benny walked up. “Say, kid, where’d ya learn to do that?”
Daniel grinned. “I grew up on a farm. My dad raises the finest workhorses in Pennsylvania. Been around them all my life.”
Benny put his hand to his chin. “What else do you know about horses?”
Daniel shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve been around them all my life. Anything that has to do with horses, I can do.”
He turned to go. Benny quickly took him by the arm. “Hey, where ya goin’, kid?”
“You said you didn’t need anyone, so I better get back to town and see if anyone else is looking for help. I need a job.”
Benny put his arm around Daniel’s shoulder. “Now don’t get all excited, buddy. How did I know you were some kinda horse whisperer? I actually could use another good hand, and if Willy liked you then I guess you’re okay with me.”
Daniel laughed. “He liked me well enough to loan me twenty dollars until I get paid.”
Benny slapped Daniel on the back. “Okay, kid, you got the job. If Willy will part with a twenty, you must be all right. Get your gear and follow me. I’ll show you where we bunk. Not real fancy, but the rooms are warm and the beds are comfortable...and we got our own kitchen. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t, but it’s David—David Kaufman.”
“Okay, Davey-boy. We’ll get you settled in and then you can get to work.”
Daniel looked around. He breathed a silent prayer.
Danki, mein gnädiger Gott.
Daniel heard a soft voice answer back in his spirit.
You are welcome, Daniel.
*****
Rachel sat at her desk, writing. She sighed and stopped. Then she crumpled up the paper and threw it in the wastebasket and started again. Then she sighed again and put her head down on her arms.
How can I tell Mama what has happened to me? I’m so ashamed. And besides, I’m shunned. They won’t even open the letter.
The room suddenly seemed oppressive and close. Rachel’s stomach churned. She got up and walked into her closet.
I need to get out and get some air...
She slipped on some jeans, a sweater, and a warm jacket. She wrapped a woolen scarf around her neck and pulled on a pair of warm, fur-lined boots. Then she went out through the French doors, onto the veranda outside her suite. The sun shone wanly through the clouds that hung in the gray sky. A few random flakes of snow were drifting down through the trees, carried in the arms of a brisk breeze, and the cold air slapped at her face like dead hands. Still, she felt better than she had in the overheated rooms of the mansion.
She walked along the path that led toward the tennis courts. A few leaves that had long passed beyond the flaming colors of fall were still clinging like dried pieces of skin to the branches of the trees. The snow had crusted, and the wind had sculpted the surface into haphazard hummocks. Away beyond the stables she could see someone working one of the horses in the exercise ring. For a moment she considered going over to the stables, but thought better of it. She wanted to be alone.
She had discovered a place earlier in the fall, an old caretaker’s cottage that no one lived in out on the back part of the grounds. It had a wood stove and comfy old couches—much more to her taste than the overdone mansion. She headed toward the woods that surrounded the cottage. As she went past the trees that lined the entranc
e to the overgrown path, she saw a set of footprints in the snow. They were headed in the direction of the cottage.
I wonder who else knows about this place.
The last rays of the afternoon sun filtered through the trees, and the light in the woods grew dim. As she followed the footprints, she saw another trail of footprints come in from a side path to join the first set. She looked ahead through the trees and saw the cottage. Light shone in one of the windows.
A sudden caution gripped her and she stopped, wondering whether she should turn and go back to her rooms. But something pressed her on and she walked quietly up to the window and peeked in. At first she didn’t see anything, but then movement caught her eye. Someone came out of the back bedroom. She ducked down and scooted behind one of the junipers that grew wild around the old cottage. She stayed that way for a moment and then she peeked up again. A man stood with his back to the window, looking toward the bedroom door. She couldn’t see his face but she knew it was Gerald.
Rachel heard him say something to someone in the bedroom. Then she heard another voice—a woman’s voice. She watched in dismay as the woman walked out of the bedroom, dressed only in her underwear. The woman stopped in front of Gerald and stood seductively for a moment before pulling a sweater on. It was Monique!
Then the maid walked up to Gerald and put her arms around his neck. His hands began to run over her body familiarly, and suddenly Rachel wanted to throw up. Gerald and Monique began kissing. They kissed for a long time and then Gerald pulled away, said something, and left Monique standing there as he headed for the door. She smiled after him and then bent down and picked up a pair of jeans from the floor by the bedroom door. The front door latch clicked and Rachel had just enough time to duck behind the bushes before Gerald came out.
From her hiding place she watched him as he glanced around and then headed off through the woods toward the mansion. Rachel watched him go and then peeked back in the window. Monique finished dressing. She had a satisfied smile on her face as she pulled on her coat and scarf.
Rachel couldn’t stand it any longer. She turned and ran into the woods. She ran and ran. Branches whipped at her face and the trees loomed up like sentries, reaching for her as she ran and ran. Suddenly, her foot caught on an unseen root and she sprawled, face-first, in the snow. She lay there for a moment and then she threw up. Uncontrollable retching wracked her body. Finally, her stomach stopped churning and she got to her feet. The woods were dark and silent. The cold reached into her and she began to shake.
“Oh, God, oh, God, what have I done? Help me, please, help me. I need you so much!”
She felt weak and leaned against a tree. Then, softly and quietly, the words came.
I will never leave you nor forsake you.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Double Cross
The black BMW with the smoked windows drove up a hidden, tree-lined private driveway behind the St. Clair mansion. The snow creaked softly beneath the tires, the only sound to violate the perfectly still morning. The car eased to a stop and Gordon Randall stepped out. The sub-zero early November cold struck him like a fist, and he pulled the long, black cashmere coat tight around him to ward off the chill.
His professional gaze took in his immediate surroundings, and he instinctively looked for anyone hidden among the trees. Satisfied, he opened the back door, lifted his briefcase from the seat, and then walked briskly down a narrow paved path through the shrubbery to a small door set in an alcove in the side of the house. He glanced up and noted the small surveillance camera above the door. One of the wires attached to the back was hanging loose and Randall smiled to himself.
Amateurs!
Then he knocked twice. Augusta St. Clair opened the door. She smiled at him. The smile reminded Randall of a crocodile about to pull a wildebeest off the bank of an African river.
“Well, a personal greeting from the lady of the house. I must be moving up the food chain.”
Augusta’s smile disappeared. “I thought it would be best if you came in unobserved, since our business is so...personal. I gave most of the staff the day off. Please come in, Gordon.”
Augusta motioned for Randall to enter and then led the way down a windowless hallway to a dark wood door. She opened it and ushered Randall in. She came in behind him. As the heavy door clicked shut, Randall felt a slight change in air pressure in his ears. Augusta motioned him into a chair and then went around the large oak desk and sat down. The room was paneled in dark wood with heavy beams crisscrossing the ceiling, and there was a small fire blazing in an iron-grated hearth in the wall. Books lined the shelves and there was a small, over-stuffed couch against the back wall with a side table and a reading lamp beside it.
“This is my private office. The window behind me is triple-pane glass and the door is hermetically sealed. The room is completely soundproof, so we can say whatever needs to be said in here.”
Randall squeezed the handle of his briefcase and then set it on the floor next to his chair. He took a small notepad and a pen out of his pocket. “So, how may I be of service, Augusta?”
Augusta tapped her fingers on the desk for a moment. “This is a very delicate situation. I think you know most of the details since you were instrumental in helping us locate Robert St. Clair’s heir. But to bring you up to speed, once we established that she had the Key and was the heiress, we were able to work out an arrangement with her.”
“Yes, I followed the whole episode with interest. Rachel married your grandson and that allowed you to inherit the money.”
Augusta nodded. “Yes, she did marry Gerald. The terms of the will dictated that any female heir who is not a St. Clair must marry an eligible St. Clair male to keep the money within the family. Gerald was that male. But you are wrong about the other assumption. Gerald does not have direct access to the money. His new wife is in control of where and how the money is dispersed. Of course, I have been able to act as her advisor on several matters but for the most part, she controls everything. And since this was originally Robert’s mansion, she is now the owner. If she ever divorces Gerald, we will be left with a pittance while she takes this house and the town house in New York City, not to mention several other properties of great value and the bulk of the income from the estate.”
Randall nodded and made a note. “Well, Augusta, I’m beginning to see how difficult your situation is. I’m sure it’s infuriating for you to have to go begging to a little country bumpkin every time you want to indulge your penchant for luxurious living. And isn’t it true that if Rachel has children, Gerald is even further out of the picture?”
Augusta nodded again. “Yes, and despite our hopes when we met her, she has proven to be strong-willed, intelligent, and an independent thinker.”
“In other words, you have discovered that she is not the simple little Amish girl you thought she was, and, contrary to your designs, you cannot manipulate her or control what she does with the money.”
“You are as perceptive as ever, Randall. She and I have already had some clashes, and she is also discovering what kind of a person Gerald really is. I think she regrets her decision to marry him. I wouldn’t be surprised if she decides to move out of here soon. So our dear, simple little Rachel has become a burdensome stone, as the Bible says.
“And you need to take that burdensome stone from around your neck, am I correct?”
“You are correct.”
Randall made a note on his pad. “So, let me just put this as succinctly as I can. Instead of being your tool, Rachel has become an impediment to your plans to get your hands on the St. Clair fortune, and you wish me to devise a solution to your problem that will remove the impediment...permanently?”
“Yes, Randall, that is correct.”
Randall closed the notepad and looked at Augusta. “Very simple problem, very simple solution—almost traditional in these cases. Arsenic poisoning. Small doses added to her food and in two to ten days she’s gone.”
Augusta scowl
ed. “I’m not sure I like that idea, Randall. Won’t people get suspicious?”
“When you contact me to solve problems, I cover all the bases.”
Randall reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded it on Augusta’s desk. It was a newspaper clipping from The New York Times. He began to read:
U.S. Health Agency Declares Flu Epidemic
The Centers for Disease Control declared yesterday that a nationwide influenza epidemic exists and that it is the most widespread outbreak of the disease since 1984–85.
The flu, predominantly a strain called A-Shanghai, has been identified in every part of the country, and major outbreaks have been found in 35 states, epidemiologists at the centers say. Since reporting began, there have been 130 deaths attributed to the A-Shanghai flu nationwide.
‘‘We’re in an epidemic,’’ said Dr. Walter Benson, a specialist in viral diseases in New York City.
__________
“So you see, Augusta, it’s simple. Rachel comes down with what looks like a flu bug, and five days later, she dies of A-Shanghai flu. You get your doctor to certify the cause of death and nobody is the wiser. You do own a doctor, don’t you?”
“Yes, Randall, I ‘own’ a doctor. But usually he handles Gerald’s miscalculations with married women. And what about her family? Won’t they ask for an autopsy?”
“As I said, it’s all very simple. Most Amish families will refuse or hesitate to solicit an autopsy of the deceased. Her parents will wish to have the body returned home as soon as possible so that family members can prepare it for burial. Then they perform the service and interment themselves. In three days she’s buried and gone.
“As far as the means of death, arsenic has a somewhat sweet taste and a small amount can be added to food or drink without the victim noticing a thing. It’s available commercially as rat poison, so you could keep it here on a large estate with horses and barns without suspicion. A very simple scenario: your granddaughter-in-law appears to catch the flu after a trip to the city, and five days later, your problem is solved.”
The Amish Heiress (The Paradise Chronicles Book 1) Page 17
