Death by Lotto

by Abigail Keam

  I stepped inside the sanctuary and pulled out a gun from my coat pocket. “Hello,” I uttered. “I knew it would be you.”

  There stood Walter Neff, holding a tiny flashlight in his mouth, going through each hymnal looking for the lottery ticket. “This isn’t what it looks like, Toots,” he sputtered after spitting out the flashlight.

  “Yes, it is. I knew that you would be here at the first opportunity because you had figured out where Ethel might have put that lottery ticket.”

  “Aw, come on. It’s me. I’m just doing my job looking out for Miss Ethel.” He began creeping towards me.

  “Stop right there, Walter. I’m warning you.”

  Walter stopped with a greasy smile fixed on his face. “What do you think you know?”

  “It was you and Jubal who attacked Ethel, but that didn’t work out so well, did it?”

  “I guess we applied a little too much pressure. Is she okay?”

  “Barely, thanks to you two. It was quite a shock for her.”

  “How was I to know that a little excitement would be too much for the old gal?”

  “It’s not customary for ladies in their eighties to be man-handled, especially by their relatives and men they hire to protect their interests. Shame on you, Walter. That was very naughty. I’m pretty sure that type of behavior is not in the shamus book of rules and customer etiquette.”

  “I didn’t slap her or nothing. Just put a bag over her head. Didn’t even hurt that old mangy cat of hers. Just threatened. See?”

  “Unhuh.”

  “What gave me away?”

  “I knew Jubal was one of the intruders. He gave himself away with his clothes. His pants were stained and his boots were dirty. Charles told me that the two men ran through the fields. If Charles hadn’t seen that, then you and Jubal might have gotten away with it for some time, but I would have figured it out soon or later.”

  “But why me?”

  “It was only logical that the other man was you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you were in the room when Ethel suddenly decided to go home. When she made that fuss that she wanted to go home, your body language changed. You tensed up.”

  “That’s ’cause I was next to you. Come on. You feel the tension between us. I bet you’re fire between the sheets. Your type always is.”

  I continued. “You’re perceptive, just like me. We both figured that Ethel had finally remembered where she might have placed that ticket. That’s why she was so agitated.”

  “So what.”

  “I think it went like this. You went to Jubal, threatening him that you would tell Ethel he was the one who o sabotaged her brake line. She would have cut all ties with him and removed him from her will. Jubal couldn’t have that, so he made a deal with you. What was it? Thirty percent, forty?”

  “Fifty. I told him that I believed I knew where the ticket was and for my share of the loot, I would keep quiet.”

  “Blackmail. Tsk. Tsk.”

  “Blackmail is such an ugly word. I prefer to call it a business arrangement. How did you guess where the ticket was?”

  “I figured that you and Jubal had combed Ethel’s house and car. You wouldn’t have attacked her if you had found it.”

  “Not attacked. Interviewed. We just put the bag over Ethel’s head to frighten her a bit. We never planned to go farther. I swear it. We never meant to hurt that old biddy.”

  “The only other place that Ethel went on a regular basis was church.”

  “Ain’t you gonna listen to me, Josiah? I deserve a break here. Come on now, Toots. Listen to me. Would you just shut up for a moment?”

  I kept rattling on. “It would make sense that perhaps she used the tickets as bookmarks in hymnals as she did in her Bible.

  “But you couldn’t break into the church. If you got caught, you would have no explanation of why you were here and you needed lots of time to examine all the hymnals. So you waited for the next church service and, posing as a visitor, hid in the men’s bathroom until everyone had left. That would give you all night to search if you had to.”

  “But then you just had to drop by and spoil my fun. Come on, Josiah. Let’s make a deal. I know you could use the money. I’ll give you ten percent of my half. No? Okay. Twenty-five.” He inched towards me.

  “I’m warning you not to move again, Walter. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will.”

  “No you won’t. You’ll take the deal. Ethel’s old. She’s just gonna throw those cool greenbacks away on a bunch of nobodies. She doesn’t need the money, but you do. Your part will be millions. No one will know. Your reputation will be safe.

  “You can hobnob with your rich friends again, without feeling like the redheaded stepchild. Ain’t you tired of being poor?” Walter continued inching his way toward me. “You and I could go far. We’re both smart, savvy. With that money pooled together, we could do a lot for each other . . . for this community. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? We could set up a foundation. We could run this town together, you and me. Only we give the money away to people who count. You could be important like you used to be.”

  “What do you want me to say? Okay, Walter. Just as you want it. Straight down the line.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “You forget one thing, Walter. You weren’t picked because you’re so darn smart. You’re just a shade less dumb than the rest of the private dicks out there.”

  “I’m smarter than you, Toots. I’ve always been a step ahead.”

  “You’re dumber, Walter. And shorter. I never did cotton to short men.”

  Walter laughed. “Sure, Toots. Whatever you say.”

  “I mean it. A smart person would have called Ethel’s pastor and confirmed that Ethel sits in the same pew every Sunday. I figured she would. Old people usually keep the same routines.

  “If you had been smart, you would have called to ask the pastor the same thing, still pretending to work for Ethel. But you didn’t think of it . . . which is why I have the lottery ticket.”

  “You what?”

  “I came this afternoon and met with the pastor, explaining the situation. We went to Ethel’s regular seat and checked the two hymnals stationed there. In the second one, I found this.”

  I pulled a lottery ticket out of my coat pocket.

  “You’re lying. It’s a fake you’ve got there.”

  “I assure you, Walter, it is the real deal.”

  “Give it to me!” snarled Walter, his face a mask of fury. “Give it to me or I’ll kill you with my bare hands!”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re rotten,” cried Walter as he lunged for me.

  “You’re rottener,” I spat out as I pulled the trigger.

  23

  Don’t get your panties in a wad.

  I didn’t kill him.

  I shot him with my stun gun.

  He had a nasty headache and some burn marks.

  The ER nurse called the cops, but Walter and I concocted a fake story that Walter had been examining the gun when he accidentally pulled the trigger.

  Walter had a hell of a headache for several days.

  Why didn’t I tell the cop the real story?

  Ethel couldn’t have stood the attention that the story would have garnered. She was of the old-fashioned belief that a lady’s name should only be in the paper to announce her engagement of marriage and then her death. No. No. Publicity was out of the question.

  Besides, the pastor and several church members had been in the choir loft upstairs taping the entire conversation. He and his deacons read the riot act to both Walter, and later Jubal, to stay away from Ethel or else they would turn the tape over to the authorities.

  Both Walter and Jubal were neutered, if you wish to use that term. I certainly liked it.

  You lose some. You win some.

  Walter just happened to lose that time.

  It wasn’t that Walter didn’t play it smart.

  I
just played it smarter.

  24

  All of the accused were seated, with Lady Elsmere perched in an overstuffed chair that resembled a throne. And as any queen, she was going to pronounce judgment.

  I sat a little behind her, being there mainly for support. Nobody maintained eye contact with either Lady Elsmere or me, but looked out the window, at their shoestrings or their fingernails, suddenly discovering that they needed cleaning.

  There was Charles and his wife, their daughters and the three grandsons. Also sitting was Mike Connor, who kept glancing at the liquor cabinet. Beside him sat Giles tugging at his shirt collar. Then there was Sir Anthony, looking quite miffed that the help was allowed to sit.

  Lady Elsmere calmly looked at everyone’s frozen faces and felt a keen sense of delight that she could still cause people to pee in their pants. Not literally, of course.

  “It seems that I have caused pandemonium when I wished for harmony by trying to please everyone. And a person can’t please everyone.” She twisted in her seat to look at me. “Josiah, what was that Lincoln said about pleasing people?”

  “He said, ‘You can please some of the people all of the time, all of the people some of the time, but you can never please all of the people all of the time.’ ”

  “Exactly. I should have followed such sound advice. By not doing so, I have divided my own house. So the boom is going to be lowered and things set back to right. There will be no fussing or groaning. Do I make myself clear?”

  Sir Anthony started to speak but Lady Elsmere cut him off. “Don’t speak, Tony. I think it would be your undoing.”

  Thinking better of it, Tony clammed shut. Seeing that he was outgunned, he began picking lint off his trousers.

  “Charles,” began Lady Elsmere, “I thought I was doing the right thing by making you take over the farm, but I see now that is not where your talents lie. So starting today, you will move out of the main house into your little cottage and take over your regular duties. I was trying to incorporate you early into the big house, but I understand that it made you and your family uncomfortable. When I die, you may choose to live here or not. That is up to you, but I hope you do. This house needs a master.

  “I want to assure you that you remain my heir and the will is air-tight. I have made sure of it.”

  Charles nodded.

  I could tell that he was relieved.

  “Mr. Connor,”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “You are to oversee the running and maintaining of the farm and its livestock under my jurisdiction and then Charles after my death. I better have a Derby winner before I die.”

  With a huge grin on his face, Mike leapt to his feet. “You can count on that.”

  “Better hurry,” quipped Sir Anthony.

  “What was that, Tony?” asked Lady Elsmere.

  “Nothing, Aunt.”

  “Thought so.

  “I’ll do you right, Miss June,” promised Mike.

  Sir Anthony rolled his eyes. “She should be addressed as Lady Elsmere. Really.”

  “Mike. Charles. You all can leave. Tony – you stay with your man.”

  The DuPuys quickly left the room behind Mike and shut the door quietly, but I had no doubt that they were listening and peeking through the keyhole.

  “Tony, I have never liked the British system of allocating everything to one heir. I know they do it to keep the estates and wealth intact, but frankly, when there is an heir and a spare – the spare is a pain in everyone’s arse. And you have become a great pain in my backside.”

  “I resent that implication.”

  “Oh, shut up. The game is over. Now I don’t blame you entirely. When one is raised as a wealthy brat, that brat assumes that will be his life, but then the older brother gets the estate and the little brother is thrown out on his keister.”

  I was hoping that June would soon refrain from making allusions to one’s buttocks. I didn’t like where it was making me look.

  “I have talked to your brother and convinced him that it is wrong to deny you part of your father’s fortune, so he is going to settle two and a half million pounds on you, to be paid a part every year until your death or it is paid out. I am going to settle three million U.S. dollars on you now. Here is the check.” She handed Sir Anthony the check.

  “Now, that won’t make you fabulously rich, but it will keep up appearances so that you can hobnob with your friends and not have them make snobby comments behind your back.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Aunt,” Tony said, his lips quivering.

  “You should thank Charles, as he agreed to let go of some of his inheritance to make a settlement on you. Tony, don’t go yet. I’m not finished. You may live here as long as you like, but you are never to make trouble for Charles and his family again.”

  “I don’t know what you mean?”

  Lady Elsmere smiled and pulled a pocket watch out of the folds of her skirt. “I believe this belongs to you.”

  “My antique pocket watch. Where ever did you find it?”

  “Where you had your man, Giles, put it – in Amelia’s room. She gave it to Josiah last week after she discovered it in a shoebox.” Lady Elsmere gave Tony a wicked smile. “We colonists are not the idiots you take us for. Josiah called her daughter to do a background check on you and your man. We found out that Giles is not really Giles, a gentleman’s valet, but Liam Doyle. He is what we call, here in the states, a grifter.”

  Liam made a run for the door but found that it was locked.

  “Hey, what goes on here?” sputtered Liam.

  “Calm down,” cautioned Lady Elsmere. “No one is going to call the police. If you wish, you may stay as Sir Anthony’s valet, but you are to leave your wicked ways outside the door. That is, unless I need you to do something for me.”

  “Blackmail is it then?” Liam accused.

  “What an excitable little man you are. You can try your luck elsewhere.”

  “And just the occasional odd job?”

  Lady Elsmere tilted her head. “Well, here you eat steak but you’re welcome to eat baloney elsewhere.”

  “I won’t kill nobody. I won’t!”

  “Get out, you silly little man. No one is going to ask you to murder. Get out. Have a cup of tea to settle your nerves.”

  Lady Elsmere picked up the phone and called on the servant’s line. “Charles, you can unlock the door now. And Charles? Will you be serving dinner tonight? That sounds grand.” She put down the phone, smiling. “No more bickering. Back to normal.”

  “Are you finished with me, Aunt?”

  “Are you staying, Tony? You may find a rich widow to marry. Who knows what the future may bring.”

  “I think for awhile. At least till I get my bearings.” He looked down at the check. “Thanks for everything.”

  “That’s what family is for. Now put it in the bank. Don’t gamble it away because there won’t be anymore.”

  He nodded and followed Giles out of the room. I heard Giles, in the hallway, asking for his wages, which apparently hadn’t been paid in quite some time.

  Lady Elsmere poured herself a whiskey. “Want one, Josiah? How you think that went?”

  “The world is back in balance.”

  “You know what makes me so damned mad? I don’t want to die. I’m having much too much fun, but this body is giving out. I’m just wise enough now to know how to be happy. Ain’t that a kick in the pants.”

  I accepted a glass of whiskey. There was that butt allusion again. “Here’s to your health, June.”

  “And to yours, my dear friend.”

  25

  Walter Neff was nursing a drink at Al’s Bar on Sixth and Limestone. He intended to do more than nurse it. He was going to get stinking drunk.

  Neff was bitter. He was bitter because he had been cheated out of millions by a dame he liked. It was hard to lose the money, but the money and the woman both? It made him feel like a worthless chump. Neff just hated to come up empty.
r />   His mind raced with a thousand schemes. The money was lost, but maybe he could still have the dame. It was worth a shot.

  Anger and jealousy gnawed at him. He knew deep in his heart that the woman was out of his reach.

  Neff slammed the bar countertop in frustration with his fist.

  “Whoa there, partner,” drawled a handsome blond-haired man. He looked like Tab Hunter. “Got problems?”

  “None of your business, pard-nar,” sneered Neff.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, partner.”

  Neff turned to get a good look at his companion. “What makes you say so?”

  “I would say that we have mutual friends. Perhaps mutual experiences as well?”

  “Sure we do, buddy.” Neff turned back on his stool and took another sip of his drink.

  The blond man leaned in closer. “I’m very serious. I’m always serious with people who have been burned by a certain redhead.”

  Neff faced the younger man and wavered for a moment. “Okay. I’ll throw caution to the wind. What’s your pitch?”

  “I know that a woman with red hair and green eyes cost you millions of dollars. Money that is now being wasted on Lexington’s terminally down and out.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I make it my business to know. Let’s just say I’ve had previous experiences with the lady in question.”

  Neff squinted while tapping his forehead. His mind was fuzzy but still worked when he concentrated. “I know who you are. You’re that loser that went crazy and tried to . . .”

  “If I’m a loser, so are you. Perhaps you would like to discuss how to become a winner. I have a plan. Would you like to hear it?”

  Neff hesitated for a moment but his anger was stronger that his common sense. “Let's talk where there ain’t so many ears.”

  “That’s all right with me. By the way, my name is O’nan. Fred O’nan.”

  Neff shook his hand. “I have the feeling that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

  “So do I,” cooed O’nan, studying Neff like a wildcat does a careless rabbit. “So do I.”