The Curious Case of the Missing Figurehead: A Novel (A Professor and Mrs. Littlefield Mystery)

by Diane Noble

  It was for this piece of history—and for Max—that she’d clung to the figurehead when the thieves tried to pry her off. Her reasoning had been simple. If she stayed with the Lady, she wouldn’t be lost. It was a lark at first; she had been living out one of her favorite short stories, “Ransom of Red Chief.” But things had changed. As the thieves fell quiet, she smiled. No time like the present. Plan B, commence …

  Hyacinth filled her lungs with air, opened her mouth wide, and moved closer to the window. “Heavenly sunlight! Heavenly sunlight!” she sang. “Flooding my soul with glory divine; Hallelujah! I am rejoicing, singing His praises, Jesus is mine!”

  In the short pause before she began the chorus, her captors groaned in unison. She made certain to use her most piercing tone on the “hallelujahs,” and almost laughed as the men tried to cover their ears. When she wanted to boom, she could really boom.

  Lagasse turned on the radio, found a country music station, and cranked up the volume.

  Hyacinth sang louder.

  Lagasse pulled over, parked, and turned around to face her. “I’ve got duct tape,” he said. “I’m gonna use it if you don’t shut your yapper. I’ll put a piece right over your mouth, believe you me.”

  “Actually, we don’t have any,” Child said. “I looked for some a couple of days ago, but couldn’t find it.”

  Lagasse sputtered as he wagged his finger in Hyacinth’s face. “You stop this, you hear? You’re driving me crazy.”

  “Singing when I was frightened is a habit I picked up as a child.” She smiled sweetly. “I just happen to have a big, booming voice.”

  “We noticed,” Child said as Lagasse pulled back onto the road.

  She let them have a moment of quiet, as she hummed “His Eye Is on the Sparrow,” keeping it just above a whisper for herself alone.

  When they were sufficiently relaxed, she sat forward and belted out “When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder.”

  Both men jumped and grabbed for the radio controls. Together, they spun the volume knob to loud, as she fought to outsing someone who sounded a lot like Tammy Wynette.

  Lagasse pulled over at the next gas station mini-mart. “Earplugs,” he cried, as he leaped from the truck and ran inside.

  Child turned to Hyacinth. “What can we do to make you stop singing?”

  She opened her mouth to tell them to let her go, then thought better of it. When it came right down to it, she wanted to know where they were taking the Lady. She had to know. She’d come this far, why not go all the way? So she said instead, “Unlock the cuffs.” At least she might have a chance to run, should the need—and opportunity—arise.

  “Tell you what,” he said, “think you can outsing earplugs?”

  She grinned. “I can try.”

  “Good,” he said and winked.

  Winked? She sat back astonished. Maybe she would move to Plan C sooner than planned. “You have a grandma?”

  “Nah, never knew her.” He shrugged. “Don’t have much family.”

  “Aunts or uncles?” Her efforts to make a connection with him were not panning out.

  “There was a lady who raised me. I was a foster kid. Orphan, I guess you’d say. This lady didn’t adopt me, but I wanted her to. She seemed to care. Wrote to me when I was in Afghanistan.”

  “Do you still see her from time to time?”

  “She died while I was gone.” He stared straight ahead.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “She was old.” His voice had softened. “And had bad joints. She’s better off.”

  We fell quiet, then Child added, “Those songs you sing. I make a big deal of hatin’ ’em ’cause of my partner. But this lady, her name was Pearl, she used to sing the same ones. When it’s quiet, I hear you humming another one about a sparrow … I remember Pearl singing that to me when I was real little. It was about the nicest thing I ever heard.”

  “What do you want me to sing when Lagasse gets back?”

  He glanced back at her and tears pooled in his lower lids. “Do you know ‘Peace in the Valley’? Pearl loved Elvis and sang along when she played his records.”

  “I know it, though I’m not so sure it’s one to bellow out.”

  Without comment, he turned back to stare at the mini-mart. Lagasse trotted toward the truck, holding up two small packages of earplugs.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Mrs. Littlefield

  We’d arranged by phone when and where to pick up Enrique, but when we stopped, we nearly lost sight of the rental truck. The driver turned onto a dirt road and then took off like a bat out of the fiery furnace.

  “I have seen this road before, Mrs. Littlefield,” Enrique said from the backseat. “On a map. It leads to a rock quarry. It’s a scary place. People have died there.”

  “Let’s hope that’s not where they’re going,” I said.

  The truck screeched around a corner or two before practically flying through a maze of rural dirt roads. I hadn’t known a rental truck could do what the driver was making it do. But I tromped on the gas and hung back just enough to keep out of sight. The low-slung hills helped. Also the abundance of roadside foliage.

  “Some driving, Mrs. Littlefield,” Enrique said. “See, I told you so, Dr. Haverhill. Remember that?”

  It seemed like a long time ago, and it had been only last Friday.

  “I do,” Max said with a chuckle.

  I kept pace for a while and then fell back, catching a glimpse of orange from time to time. Max sat forward in his seat, concentrating on the truck, reporting when he spotted them. The chase went on for ten minutes or so, and then we glanced at each other and grinned. It seemed the thieves didn’t know they were being chased at all.

  Though they were a mile or two ahead of us, when we hit the top of a rise, we saw them slow for a turn.

  We followed but pulled off near the road they’d turned on and parked under the shade of a large tree draped with a fine crop of kudzu. The nondescript creamy beige of the Ghia blended into the dappled sunlight and shade. We opted to stay in the car, well hidden, I hoped.

  “Well, my goodness,” I said to Max. “That was a first. I’ve never been in a car chase before.”

  “I don’t think the driver knew he was being chased,” Enrique said. “It would have been more fun if he had.” He grinned.

  I handed him the binoculars. “Okay, now it’s up to you to see if we’ve followed the right guys.”

  He lifted them to his eyes and found a place between the kudzu vines to peer out.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Hyacinth

  Twice Hyacinth sang “Peace in the Valley” for Child, but she didn’t bother trying to boost her volume to be heard through their earplugs. She noticed Child hadn’t inserted his earplugs so she sang softly, just for him, while she aimed a little prayer at heaven.

  The truck flew around the curves, picking up speed as it went. She felt motion sickness coming on. Child reached into a plastic grocery bag and pulled out some sodas and candy bars, and handed Hyacinth one of each. She sipped slowly as they wound around some low-slung mountains before coming to a stop.

  She pulled herself up to her knees, and peered out as Lagasse and Child got out of the truck and started up the road toward a small farmhouse. Child carried a small nylon duffel. The meeting place, she supposed. But no other cars were around. Just fallow fields and a plethora of weeds.

  The place looked abandoned. Except for Lagasse and Child. And, she presumed, their boss. What she wouldn’t give to get close to the farmhouse, see who was inside.

  She examined the handcuffs, and for the hundredth time, tried to figure a way to break loose. As she sipped the soda, her gaze fell on the pop-top ring. With her left hand she worked the tab loose and then measured the broken end against the keyhole in the cuff. Too wide and too short. But the metal was soft. Pliable wi
th a tool. The only tool she had at hand? Her teeth. She could hear her mother scolding her for even thinking of such a thing.

  Sorry, Mom. She squeezed the tab attached to the metal ring with her molars and felt it bending to the shape she was going for—an object just long and narrow enough to pick the lock.

  It took three tries but finally, the lock clicked and she was free. She had no time to celebrate. Another vehicle approached. Drawing herself up to window level, she looked out. A black SUV with dark windows drove past the truck and parked near the farmhouse.

  A man wearing a white shirt and tie stepped out on the driver’s side, opened the backseat door, and grabbed his suit jacket. Shrugging it on as he walked, he rounded the back of the vehicle and then opened the door on the passenger side. He reached in and, a moment later, a woman emerged, holding his hand.

  Hyacinth squinted, hoping to get a clear view of their faces, but they were deep in conversation, facing away from her. Even so, something about them struck her as familiar. It was like seeing someone you knew out of context. The couple disappeared into the farmhouse.

  Seconds later, the pop of a gunshot reverberated across the field. Followed by two more.

  Shocked, Hyacinth flinched and cowered closer to the floor.

  Lagasse and Child raced down the dirt road and hurled themselves into the truck, Lagasse in the driver’s seat.

  “Move it,” Child yelled, and slammed the opposite door. He flung the duffel onto the floor. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Lagasse cranked the engine, threw the truck in reverse, stepped on the gas, but the vehicle sputtered and stalled.

  Stunned, their faces gray, they looked at each other helplessly.

  “Try it again,” Child yelled. “Hurry!”

  “Do you have the .45?” Lagasse yelled at Child. When there was no answer, he growled, “Get it out. Now. We’re gonna need it.”

  A .45? For self-defense? Or did the boss tell them to do her in? Hyacinth’s heartbeat picked up speed. Dizziness hit, and the inside of the truck spun. She closed her eyes as fear hummed into every fiber of her body. Oh, Lord … She heard the rustle of Child opening the duffel bag, followed by the cocking of the trigger. At that moment, Lagasse got the engine started.

  Hyacinth breathed easier. As the truck backed down the road, she opened her eyes and rose to her knees again to peer through the sliding window.

  Movement near the farmhouse caught her attention. The couple she’d seen earlier now hobbled from the porch to the car, both bent low as if injured, moving at an angle that kept their faces hidden.

  Even so, the familiarity she’d noticed earlier struck her again. She was still pondering the sensation when two men emerged, scanned their surroundings, and hightailed it to the same SUV.

  Hyacinth sat back in shock, then blinked to clear her vision. Surely that wasn’t—? She looked at them again to be sure and then gaped as she recognized Bubba and Junior Sutherland.

  She rocked back on her heels. Of course they were involved. Had to have been from the beginning. Their positions at The Butler had been a setup … by their godfather. Her eyes opened wide. Silas Sutherland. Was he the boss Child and Lagasse had been speaking with? Was he still inside the farmhouse?

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Mrs. Littlefield

  The rental truck had parked on a dirt road, about a half mile between us and a farmhouse. Two men got out of the rental truck, one on either side. Their backs were toward us as they walked toward the farmhouse in the distance. One was tall, the other short. I shot a glance at Enrique. He grinned, still holding the binoculars to his eyes.

  “Yes, they are the same men. See the blond hair on the tall one? Sticks out even without his mask.”

  I didn’t plan to wait. If Hyacinth was in that vehicle, I wanted to get to her now. I studied the rear of the truck, considering our options. Before I could decide, the sound of another vehicle came from behind. The car, an SUV, passed us and turned right onto the dirt driveway leading to the farmhouse.

  I drew in a deep breath and turned a steady gaze on Max. “I’ve been so focused on Hyacinth that I almost forget you’ve got something of incredible value in that truck too.”

  “True, but not as valuable as Hyacinth.” He gave me a quick hug. “And believe me, I haven’t forgotten.”

  I got out of the car to get a better view of the SUV, pulling back a few strands of kudzu. By the time I got into position, I saw only someone’s back as he or she entered the house.

  “I’ve got to get to the truck to see if Hyacinth is in there,” I said.

  “I’ll go with you,” Max said. “We’d better get a move on while the kidnappers are inside the house.”

  I nodded.

  “And I will have the getaway car ready,” Enrique said.

  I grabbed a small tool kit from the backseat, and with Max at my side, hurried toward the truck. Ducking low, we made our way to the cab on the side facing away from the farmhouse.

  I reached for the door handle but halted at the sound of gunfire. So many things happened simultaneously my head could scarcely take them in: a man and woman running out of the farmhouse, Enrique backing the Ghia toward us in record time, Max catapulting me into the backseat … But one image stood out: Hyacinth. She was facing away from me when I peered in, but I’d seen her, alive and well.

  We weren’t out of danger yet, any of us. Even so, I couldn’t stop smiling as we flew out of the driveway, rounded a corner, found another bunch of draped kudzu, and hid the Ghia once more.

  We had just switched drivers and I was again behind the wheel, when the rental truck shot out of the dirt road, turning right without a glance our direction. Soon after, the SUV roared from the driveway, hesitated, and then followed the rental truck.

  The truck now headed southwest, with the SUV in hot pursuit. I followed slowly to avoid being noticed, though truth be told I figured we already had been. My mind had already played out a few scenarios, the most concerning of them in which the vehicles were in cahoots and playing a game of cat and mouse with the mouse—us—bringing up the rear as they led us into a trap.

  I glanced at the gas gauge and my stomach dropped. “We’ve got a problem,” I said. “We’re almost out of gas. Less than a quarter of a tank.”

  “Not a problem,” Enrique said from the backseat. “If you can find an old car, I can siphon some out.”

  Except for the truck and the SUV at least a quarter mile ahead of us, the terrain seemed empty and barren. No vehicle of any kind. No farmhouses or man-made structures. The ground seemed less fertile and more rocky. I sensed we were near the rock quarry, which didn’t exactly bring me comfort. I’d seen photos of the huge gaping hole in the ground, the water at the bottom so deep it made me dizzy just thinking about it. Enrique was right; it was a scary place.

  I leaned back into my seat, trying to come up with a solution. Even if we could see a gas station, when we stopped we’d lose both the SUV and the truck. But running out of gas out in the middle of nowhere was not a good option. We needed to make a decision.

  I met Max’s gaze. He looked as worried as I felt. I noticed him fingering the cross that hung around his neck.

  “I think we’d better try the quarry,” I said reluctantly. “We might find some old equipment with gasoline, maybe even a gas pump.”

  We bumped along the road, the truck and SUV still in sight ahead of us. Reluctantly, I cut my speed and let them go. If they were playing some sort of cat-and-mouse game, I didn’t want either vehicle to guess where we were headed. I nibbled my bottom lip.

  “The quarry is to our left,” Enrique said.

  The sheriff hadn’t called and I didn’t know if he’d retrieved my earlier message about the license plate. And now we couldn’t get a signal. I was getting more nervous by the minute. No one knew we were following the thieves.

  About a
mile farther on, we hit the next unmarked road. I turned left, and we traveled along for a couple more miles, the rocky landscape becoming bleaker by the minute. We came to a rise, giving us a better view of what lay ahead.

  “There it is,” I said. “Abandoned, though I guess we expected that.” But as we drew closer, I noticed recent tire tracks leading to a large wooden gate, which was open. Someone had been here recently. A good thing, I told myself.

  I shifted into low gear and bumped along the damp rock-strewn road to the entrance.

  Max was unusually quiet, and I wondered if he was having the same second thoughts about stopping here that I was. The giant hole yawned before us. It had no guardrail or barrier around it. A shiver traveled up my spine.

  I couldn’t think about standing near the edge without my toes curling and my stomach getting queasy.

  Hands clenched on the wheel, I drove into a large open area that had probably once been used for parking. Hulks of rusting rock-crushing machinery dotted the landscape. No vehicles. No gas pumps. Nothing.

  To put as much distance as possible between the Ghia and the edge of the quarry, I did a three-point turn so we would face the gate. If nothing else, we could make a quick getaway.

  I made the last of the tight turn and stopped dead, the Ghia’s engine still running.

  The dark SUV blocked the exit.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Max pull out his cell. “One bar,” he said and tapped the screen.

  “No time,” I whispered.

  He looked up. “We need to get out. Fast.”

  “Hail Mary, full of grace. Our Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou …,” Enrique whispered from the backseat.

  The SUV moved slowly toward us. I sat there, stunned, as if watching someone else. My mind couldn’t grasp what was happening. “What’re they doing?” My voice came out in a squeak.

  “I don’t know, but I think we need to get out of here.”

  “They cannot do this!” Enrique yelled. He shook his fist at the SUV. “Hey! You cannot do this!”