by B J Richards
"Look, your fingerprints are all over the drug container. I can make sure the D.A. puts you away for a long time with that alone. You’ve got a choice here, kid. You can play fiddle with your father here and not answer my questions. Or you can play ball, and I can put in a good word for you with the D.A." Nathaniel knew what he was doing. He looked David dead in the eye… he was weakening.
"So, tell me about the tunnel you used for the drugs. That tunnel hadn't been used for anything since the 19th century. How did you find out about it?"
David shrugged. "We needed a secret place to move the drugs in and out without raising any suspicion. I found a picture of the tunnel a long time ago in one of the attics at home, so I thought I’d go explore it. It was cold and dark, but we figured we could make it work."
"Who is ‘we’?" Nathaniel asked. David’s face shut down immediately. He shrugged again and looked at his father. Whoever his partner was, he wasn’t ready to give him up.
"Where were you between 7pm and 8pm on Friday, June 21st?" Nathaniel asked.
"I don't know. My dorm room probably. I’m taking some summer classes." David furrowed his brow in confusion.
"I need you to be a little more specific. So think." Nathaniel wanted to know if this "we" David had been talking about was responsible for Sandra's attack.
"June 21st I was in college. You can ask my roommate. I think we were having a frat party or something."
Nathaniel wrote it down. He’d fact check it later. "If the drugs were being kept at the entrance of the tunnel, why did you guys dig up the inside of the tunnel too?"
"Dig up inside of the tunnel? Why would we do that? Dude, I don't know what you're talking about."
Nathaniel had been a cop for a long time. It was obvious David truly had no knowledge of the dig site where Sandra was found. He stood up from the interrogation desk, defying the cold stare of Matt Billamore as he went out. "Hey, Dickson. I need you to call David's roommate and check out his alibi."
It only took five minutes to confirm. The college roommate had Dickson check out his Facebook page. There were time-stamped photos from the frat party the night of June 21st, and David was in the middle of most of them. There was no way David was in the tunnel digging that night. He wasn’t the one who drugged and attacked Sandra. There went Nathaniel's theory of the drug dealers being the assailants.
"Shit." Back at his desk, he cursed underneath his breath. He was hoping this was the lead that would solve this whole mess, including the murders of the last three curators. But this wasn’t his lucky day.
Nathaniel sighed and called the D.A. to process David Billamore. He was guilty of drug trafficking, and they could get that charge to stick, without a doubt. But he wasn’t guilty of murder or assault, and he had to find a way to tell Sandra that. Whoever hurt her, was still out there.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"You mucked up everything! You idiots! I gave you very simple, clear instructions. Do not attract attention. But you couldn't do that. Idiots!"
The man raved as he paced in the cheap motel room outside Billamore. He hated living in such a dump, but it was the only way to keep a low profile until he got what he wanted from that blasted town.
All the time he’d spent tracking clue after clue. Eighteen months of hard work looking for the exact location. All the years of abuse he’d endured growing up came flooding back to him. Just as he was about to collect his true birthright, these idiots were mucking it up.
"I swear, sir, we found it right there. We covered it up with some bricks and dirt, no one can tell. We just need to go back and dig it out." He could hear the fear in the bald man’s voice, pleading with him for leniency.
"And you think you can get back in there now? With cops and police tape all over the entire tunnel?" He scoffed in disgust, as his eyes, one blue, the other green, shined of fury and frustration. "The only thing saving you, is that curator can't remember shit about that night. If she did, your asses would be in jail right now."
"So, we wait for the right time sir?" another voice suggested, dodging the motel clock his boss threw at him as an answer.
"I hate this!" He shouted before he punched the one who had asked in the stomach. "You hear me, I hate this!" and he punched him again. He was nothing but pure rage now, barely able to control his thoughts. He rubbed his hand across his temples, while the one that asked groaned on the floor in agony.
"We wait." His voice was cold and quiet now. "And as soon as those police tapes come down, we dig it up. And this time… if anything goes wrong… anything at all… consider yourselves dead."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sandra sat on her sofa going through Annabel's diary for the umpteenth time while Josephine made breakfast in her kitchen. Nathaniel had called yesterday and told her the drug dealers weren't her attackers. Now she was back at square one. And the fact she couldn't remember, or find a single clue to this mystery, made her more restless than ever.
"Here." Josephine handed her a cup of coffee. She’d slept over last night. They’d talked wedding details until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any more, but she wasn't sure Sandra had gotten any sleep.
"Thanks." Sandra gratefully, but absentmindedly, accepted the rich brew and continued to study the diary's page.
"What exactly are you looking for? Maybe I can help you search." Josephine hated seeing her friend this way. It was as if she’d lost her to the attack in the tunnel.
"Here." Sandra pointed to a passage in the diary. "She confirms there is a lock. And only that which Philip holds dear can open it. What do you think that means? It has to be a special key of some kind."
Josephine shrugged. "Should we be concerned about the key, when we don't even know where the locked chest is?"
"I'm certain it's in that tunnel. I can feel it. Otherwise, why would those men spend hours digging the place up and risk getting caught? Whatever they’re after, it has to be important." Sandra paused and pursed her lips. "I need to go back in there again. Even Josh said it could help me regain my memory."
Josephine's face lit up as she raised a brow, taking another sip of her coffee. "So, it's Josh now?" Sandra blushed and turned her head, hoping Josephine wouldn’t notice. "Oh, my God! You're blushing!"
"No, I'm not," Sandra lied, denying it while smiling at the same time.
"He seems like a good guy.”
Josephine liked him, Sandra could tell. "Yeah, it's been good talking to him."
"So, he thinks going there can help get your memories back?"
Sandra nodded, giving her friend her most pitiful look.
"Then maybe we should go."
"But the police tapes…"
Josephine shrugged and grinned. "I've been known to bend a rule or two. Besides, if we go through the basement hallway where we found Annabel’s painting, we wouldn't technically be trespassing. The tapes are up at the tunnel entrance by the old port."
Sandra broke out in her most ecstatic smile. "Gosh, I love you." She jumped up to eat her breakfast so they could get dressed and go. "And if we find the lock, what do we do?"
"We call Nate. He’ll be mad, but we call him nonetheless.”
“Deal.” Sandra nodded in agreement, excited to be back in action. Besides, Nathaniel could never stay mad at Josephine. Not for long any way.
Gulping down the rest of her breakfast, Sandra raced upstairs to change. This could be what she’d desperately been hoping for. Maybe they’d finally solve this thing and she’d get her memories back.
***
The damp, chilly air of the tunnel engulfed Sandra the moment she entered. But this time Josephine was with her, pointing her flashlight in every direction, making sure they didn't have company. They’d both brought flashlights and cell phones. Sandra wasn’t taking any chances this go-around.
"Whoa," Sandra said as she looked around. "Who had any idea something like this had been hiding down here the entire time."
"The Billamore family," Josephine quipped as she stepped forw
ard to lead Sandra through the tunnel. It was evident that Sandra was yet to remember, and Josephine wanted to make sure the situation was as pleasant as possible for her.
"Hey, what's up with you avoiding the Annabel painting?" Sandra asked as she followed closely behind.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Come on. You used to stay in front of that painting and check it out for any slight change every time you visited. Now, you won’t even look at it."
"I don't know what to tell you, Sandra. I was wrong, okay," she said pausing in her tracks to look at her. "I really thought she was there to protect you or something. I know, I'm weird, but I was wrong."
Sandra eyes softened as she looked at her friend. "No, you're not weird. I might have given you a hard time about your belief in ghosts and the supernatural, but that was also a part of you I love. You were always willing to believe in the best and take a chance. Now it feels like that part of you is gone. And it hurts to see you're throwing all that away because I got hurt."
"I don't know if I've thrown it away. I'm just questioning right now."
Sandra nodded and smiled at her friend. "I get it… questioning is okay."
They continued walking in silence after that.
"Hey, we’re here." Josephine used her flashlight to inspect the area thoroughly before going any further. Then she and Sandra walked into the digging area where all the debris was. Sandra stood quietly, looking around, hoping she'd remember something… anything.
Taking a few steps away from the actual dig site, Josephine pointed her flashlight to an adjacent area. "And this is where we found you," she said softly.
Sandra pointed her own flashlight to the spot and walked over to it. She could see dried blood on the dirt floor. She’d clearly been there, but the memories still evaded her.
Sighing, she turned and walked back to the wall where the men had been digging. “There’s something about this area…” Her voice trailed off as she began to trace her hand across the wall. The dirt there was loose and gave way easily. “Look.” Her hand was resting now on one of the bricks that was sticking out more than the others.
"What is that?" Josephine shone on her light on the wall where Sandra was touching the protruding brick.
"I think these bricks were used to patch the hole back up.” Fuzzy memories were starting to come back to her, but were not clear yet.
Josephine continued to shine her flashlight with one hand, while helping Sandra dig on the loose bricks with the other. After they’d removed several of them, a significant sized hole had appeared.
“Shine your light in there, Jo.”
They gasped simultaneously! It couldn’t be! Staring back at them was a small antique chest. They could only see part of it, but they clearly saw a strange lock of some sort. It was unlike anything they’d seen before. At least it looked like a lock.
“We need more space to get it out.” Sandra quickly started searching the area with her flashlight. She was looking for the tools the men used to dig. “Got it.” She grabbed a small pick that was laying on the ground, then turned back to the hole in the wall and started in.
“Let me do that, Sandy. You’re not strong enough, yet.”
“I’ll be fine. Just hold the light steady for me, so I don’t damage the chest.”
“Okay, but you be careful.”
Sandra started hacking away at the edges of the hole. The sides gave way easily, having been severely compromised by the sledgehammer from before. It only took a few minutes before they could see the entire length of the metal box.
“I think that’s big enough.” Josephine’s excitement was adding to Sandra’s own. Still holding her flashlight with one hand, she helped Sandra brush away the extra debris from the crumbling wall.
They looked at each other excitedly. “This is it... you ready?” Sandra took a deep breath, and reached in with both hands, while Josephine used her free hand to help pull from the other end. Then carefully, they lifted the chest out of its century-old resting place.
Now resting on the ground in front of them in its full glory, the importance of the moment swept over the two women. It was sheer awe, compounded by the adrenaline rush of the year.
"My God, Sandy, you were right…" Josephine was credulous at this point.
Sandra, too, couldn’t believe what they’d found it. She bent down with her flashlight and started examining it closely. "I think I may have an idea how to open this," she said as she removed her necklace… Annabel's necklace. Her grandmother had given it to her early, once she understood everything that had happened.
The pendant at the end of the necklace looked like a mirror image of the lock. Taking a deep breath, Sandra held the pendant up to the lock. It almost flew out of her hand and attached itself to the chest. It was magnetic… the pendant was the key!
They watched in anticipation as Sandra turned the pendant and the lock clicked. Almost holding her breath, she carefully lifted the lid of the chest.
Jonas Billamore's treasure stared back at them… his very blood and sweat… everything he’d worked his entire lifetime to preserve.
Josephine knelt down beside Sandra and squeezed her hand. There were no words to describe what they were looking at. Only complete reverence.
Deep appreciation welled up inside Sandra. She knew the honor of this auspicious moment.
The riches of a powerful family, and of the legacy of the town itself, now lay at their feet. It was more than a past, it was a man’s dream for the future.
THE LOST BILLAMORE
Mysteries of Billamore Hall Series
Book Three
BJ Richards
Amazon Kindle Edition
CHAPTER ONE
Sandra looked at the opened chest of unbelievable wealth before them. The chest contained paintings she was sure were worth a fortune… paintings that hadn't seen the light of the day since the seventeenth century. Art critics all over the world would die to see even one of these. Stacked together with careful precision, there were bars of gold and a bag of diamonds carefully arranged beneath them across the bottom of the chest.
She picked up a large diamond from the black bag and stared at it, oblivious to Josephine’s conversation with Nathaniel only a few feet away. She was sure it was an Indian diamond. In the seventeenth century, that was the most likely place a diamond of this caliber would’ve come from.
Now she understood why the tunnel was not on the town map. It was Jonas Billamore’s own private smuggling tunnel. The contents of the small chest were worth killing for, and it was no surprise that someone was so desperate to find it. Sandra marveled at Philip Billamore’s clever mind in devising the sophisticated lock and chest, with the pendant he had gifted Annabel, as the only key.
"Did Nate say he was on his way?" Sandra asked. Once Josephine had recovered from the shock of actually finding the fabled Billamore treasure, she’d dialed him up right away.
"Huh, huh." Josephine paced nervously, her mind in a whir. "Do you really think we should be staying here? What if those thugs come back? They already tried to kill you once, and if they find us here with this, it won’t be pretty."
"If we move the chest, we’d be tampering with the evidence," Sandra countered. She could see how frightened Josephine was and didn't blame her one bit. Parts of her memory had come back after finding the chest, but it was mostly feelings… especially those of the fear and desolation she’d gone through after being clubbed by the thieves.
"Josephine?" Nathaniel's voice called out from the entrance of the tunnel, interrupting her pace.
"In here." Josephine heaved a sigh of relief.
"What did you say you found on the phone?" Nathaniel asked after he gave her a quick kiss.
"Take a look for yourself," Sandra cut in. Nathaniel looked in her direction and saw the open hole in the wall and then the chest she was kneeling over.
Walking over to the chest and shining his flashlight on its contents, Nathaniel whistled i
n amazement. “I have to say. I’ve been on the police force a lot of years and seen my share of loot. But I’ve never seen anything like this. And these paintings... how come they’re still intact after all these years?"
"They’re oil paintings. And they’re incredible works of art. There’s no way to be sure who the artists are until experts check them. But from what I already know, we’re looking at master paintings considered lost for centuries."
Looking closely at the lock on the chest with his flashlight, Nathaniel turned to Sandra. “Look at all these interlocking hinges and slots layered around the edges like some kind of puzzle. How did you get this thing open? And this lock. One-of-a-kind doesn’t even begin to describe this.”
“The lock is magnetic. See this pattern here around the edge. It’s the exact duplicate of Annabel’s pendant, which fits perfectly into all these deep grooves. After the pendant is attached, when you turn it, the chest unlocks,” Sandra explained.
“That’s brilliant. And this is no ordinary chest. Looks like it’s reinforced layers with some kind of internal mechanized workings. With this set-up, it would be almost impossible for anyone to open it without that pendant. They’d have to risk destroying the chest and everything that was inside. Whoever thought of this was pure genius.”
“It was Philip Billamore. He wanted to keep all this out of the hands of his greedy brother and sister-in-law. He knew they’d squander it and sell everything off for personal gain and Jonas’ legacy would be lost,” Josephine chimed in. “But now what do we do? Do you call this in and have it moved to the station?"
“I have an idea, but I have to run it by the Chief, first.” Nathaniel turned and walked back to the entrance of the tunnel, dialing his phone on the way. A few minutes later he returned.
