Mysteries of Billamore Hall Box Set

by B J Richards

  Nathaniel went to the coffee stand and saw that Sandra and Josephine were waiting in his office.

  "I suppose this isn't a social call?" he said as he closed the door behind him.

  "Sandra called when you got that call from Dickson. So, I heard the guys were caught," Josephine said with the excitement of a five year old meeting Santa.

  "Yeah, we got them. But they’re not talking yet," Nathaniel said and sighed.

  "The guy I saw at the museum, he's one of them, right?" Sandra asked.

  Nathaniel nodded, "Yeah, he is."

  "So how are you going to get them to talk?" Josephine asked.

  "By doing my job ma'am," Nathaniel said and winked. "They’re protecting someone. We’re certain one of them was at the murder scene of the last curator. I just need to get them to talk and get all of these guys off the street once and for all."

  Josephine stood up and went behind Nathaniel and began to massage his shoulder. "You've got this, detective."

  Nathaniel moaned. "Using my soft spot to manipulate me. It's working." A second later his eyes flipped opened. "That's it. I have to use their soft spot against them," he said and jumped out of his seat heading toward the interrogation room.

  "Dickson, can you get me everything you have on the suspects?"

  "What exactly do you need?"

  "Everything we know about them. Where they live… relatives... you know the drill," Nathaniel answered. He rapped nervously on a desk with his knuckles as he watched Dickson check the computer for more records.

  "Is there anyone with them in the interrogation room?" Dickson asked as he worked.

  "Nope, let them stew for now."

  "Okay, it says here that Fred's parents died when he was four and got bounced from foster home to foster home. First rap sheet was at 14 for petty theft. He’s been brought in for assault, armed robbery… the list goes on."

  "That's hard core. He won't give up the other guy. What about Toby?" Nathaniel asked.

  "Toby on the other hand has a fairly clean record with the exception on some shop lifting a few years back. His mother died of cancer last year and he has a brother on the Billamore football team. The brother is the only relative he has left."

  "Hmm," Nathaniel said, taking a sip of his coffee. "That I can use, but I'll hate myself afterwards."

  "That’s the job, my friend," Dickson said and slapped him on the back.

  ***

  "Changed your mind? Anything about the third guy you’d like to share yet?” Nathaniel asked as he got back into the interrogation room. He watched as Toby shrugged, still keeping mum as a mouse.

  Nathaniel sat opposite him, "Well then. That's a shame because I just looked through the school records of a Sam Grant." He paused and watched as Toby sat straight. His little brother was his weakness; the only family he had left.

  Nathaniel nodded with a straight face and continued, "Straight-A student, star boy on the football team. Well on his way to making something of himself. But unfortunately, he keeps bad company. Oh not you… David Billamore. He was arrested for drug trafficking a few weeks back. And do you know that Sam helps with his distribution channel?"

  Toby's eyes widened. Nathaniel had his full attention and he could tell Toby was breaking down.

  Nathaniel also figured Toby had been so busy digging in tunnels, he hadn't kept track of his brother and his friends. Which meant he had no idea Nathaniel was bluffing.

  "Yeah, if I snag him for that, I’m guessing he’ll do at least five years in prison with good behavior. But then his clean record would be gone. Any dream of going to college, getting a scholarship, making something of himself… all that would be gone. He’d end up just like you.” Nathaniel stood up and sat on the edge of the table. The effect was working and he knew exactly how to make the most of it.

  "But that’s only one side of how this could turn out. You could change his whole future. You could tell me who this third guy is... the guy I assume is your boss. Tell me who he or she is, and I’ll make Sam’s little problem go away, just like it was never there. And his record stays clean."

  "You'll never go after him?" Toby asked after some seconds of contemplation.

  "You have my word," Nathaniel said and stared into Toby’s eyes.

  "Okay, then. Whadda you want to know?"

  "First tell me, how you came to know about the chest in the wall."

  Toby shrugged. "I was hired some months back, given a location to dig and told there was something there. We weren’t told what, just we’d know when we found it. But it had to be done quiet like. The man said the money would be huge. And I needed the money. I’d be able to put Sam through college, pay off my mother's hospital bills and get the hell outta this town."

  "What's the name of the guy who hired you?" Nathaniel continued.

  "I don't know his name. We just call him boss. He'd rather not say his name."

  "Can you describe him?"

  "Tall, muscular, blond hair. He’s got different eye colors. One blue, one green."

  Nathaniel's hair stood at edge at that description. "Is he a Billamore?"

  "Nah. He doesn't look like he's from town. Met him a few times at his motel."

  Nathaniel quickly brought out his phone from his shirt pocket. He searched for the picture of Daniel Billamore he’d taken from the Dorson Police Department files a few days back. He'd wanted a chance to check around Billamore for him, in case he ever felt like connecting. Now, he showed Toby the image. "Is this him?"

  "Yeah, that's him."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Nathaniel watched from his office as Daniel Carrigan was hauled in. The police found him at the bus station trying to get out of town. He’d left his motel room in a hurry. They found enough prints there to know Frederick Thompson and Toby Grant and been regular visitors. They also found another dominant fingerprint in the room, but couldn't tell whose it was or if it was even connected to the case. It was a motel room after all, with a lot of people coming and going.

  "Should I process this one? He seems like the big fish," Dickson asked Nathaniel as he poked his face into his office.

  Nathaniel stared into space for a few seconds. "Actually, I'd like to interrogate him myself."

  Dickson raised a brow, shook his head and walked off. “You got it, guy. Have fun.”

  ***

  "Why?" Nathaniel asked some minutes later as he sat opposite Carrigan. Daniel looked at him like he didn't have a care in the world. He was used to being in police interrogation rooms. What Daniel didn’t know, was the man interrogating him was someone he shared DNA with.

  Nathaniel didn’t let that sway him. He might share DNA with Daniel, but that was it... just DNA. Aside from that, they had nothing in common and never would.

  "Why what?" Daniel asked, the smug look on his face reflected in his cool countenance. Whoever this cop was, he’d done this before. And he wasn’t saying anything.

  "Why make Anthony Foley take the fall months ago?"

  Daniel grinned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "The pickup truck that you have at the mechanics. Yeah, we found it. The tire tracks match the skid marks of a red truck that almost ran the museum curator into the ravine," Nathaniel said calmly as he watched Daniel's mouth tighten.

  "You see what I don't understand is, were you trying to kill her that night or was it a delay tactic to get into her apartment?"

  Daniel shrugged. "What does it matter either way?"

  "You’re right, it doesn’t matter. You’re caught now. For once you did your dirty work when it mattered. Your DNA was found under the last murdered curator's finger nails. I’m guessing she caught you snooping around in the basement, you panicked and grabbed the closest thing you could find, which was that antique dagger that hadn’t been put on display yet. She struggled and put up a fight, but you killed her. Just like you murdered the other two curators before her… though you did try to make them look like accidents… rather unsuccessfully I might add. You
murdered three people in cold blood. And just in case you think keeping quiet about the other two murders will keep you from getting convicted for them, think again. Your buddy Fred already gave you up for leniency from the DA."

  Daniel’s face tightened and turned red. Nathaniel knew if Daniel’s hands weren’t cuffed to the table he’d be trying to lunge for him right about now.

  "But, I’m curious. Did you all of a sudden wake up one day and decide you were fed up with life in Dorson, and just decide to move to Billamore? Or did someone ask you to come?" Nathaniel’s question was pointing in the right direction and he knew it. This time Daniel had nothing to say.

  "You know your mom, Nancy, seems like a nice person. Working at that hospital as a nurse, all those long, hard shifts, trying to make ends meet. And you left her all alone to come to Billamore to find treasure."

  Daniel banged the table hard then. A vein popped on his fore head and his blue and green eyes widened in anger. "I came for my birthright! You can charge me with whatever you want, but not for theft. That chest belongs to me!"

  "Huh? Your birthright? Last I checked, the chest was put in the tunnel by Philip Billamore, the rightful heir of the day. He’d inherited it from his ancestor, Jonas Billamore. All of which is now the legal property of the current heir, Anne Billamore. And your name is Daniel Carrigan from Dorson. I'm not sure how that works."

  "I’m a Billamore! I’m a goddamn Billamore. And I swear I'll kill you if you touch that chest!"

  "Well, the chest is locked and not even our best men can open it. Of course, we could try to force it or blow it open, but then the contents would probably be destroyed in the process. I'm guessing whoever told you where that chest was in the first place, is hiding the key. Maybe you’ve been a pawn all along. Just like Anthony Foley and Fred Thompson and Toby Grant. Someone out there didn't want their hands dirty, but doesn’t care if you rot."

  Nathaniel watched as Daniel grew silent. His anger withdrew in silent calculation and his lips went thin from the realization he’d been played. "Montgomery," Daniel muttered.

  "What did you say?"

  Daniel raised his head, his eyes went cold with rage. "John Montgomery. That son of a bitch!"

  ***

  "Are you sure?" Sandra asked for the umpteenth time. She still found it unbelievable that John Montgomery had been the mastermind of the whole tunnel operation.

  "Yes. I know he looks like the innocent professor, but he’s guilty as sin. Once we brought him in for questioning, we got his prints off the coffee cup we offered him and matched them to the prints found in Daniel’s motel room. It was a perfect match. There’s no way John could say he wasn’t there. And when Daniel found out he’d been used and would go to jail for life and never see a dime, he spilled the beans and told us everything."

  Sandra sighed and let her head fall back. She couldn't believe it was finally over and she was going to get her life back.

  "But how did he find Daniel?" Josephine asked from where was lying on her sofa.

  "He researched. He's a history professor and I'm guessing from Mattie's letters and the rumors of Jonas Billamore’s treasure, he figured there had to be something there. Then he found a direct descendant of Annabel’s who was desperate for money and gullible enough to follow him.”

  "But why not approach you. For one, you live in Billamore."

  "Because he didn't know. I have blue eyes," he said and winked at Josephine. "He probably thought the person with the Billamore blood in the Murphy family died already."

  Josephine sat up then and grabbed Nathaniel's hand. "About that. Does it mean the kids we have are doomed? What about the story that one generation of Billamore dies and the next one survives?"

  Sandra was silent. She’d worried about the same thing for Josephine and Nathaniel. And from the look in Nathaniel’s eyes, she could tell he was worried about it, too.

  Before anyone could say anything, Nathaniel’s phone vibrated. "It's a text from Anne Billamore’s butler. She wants to see me."

  ***

  "I heard you've had an interesting week, Detective." Anne Billamore smiled from where she sat in her wheelchair. She was a striking woman, her long gray hair pulled back into the perfect bun, shimmering blue eyes and always impeccably dressed.

  "Nice to see you again, Mrs. Billamore," Nathaniel said shaking her hand. "The Chief told me your jewelry has been returned and you’re now in possession of the Billamore treasure. Is there another reason you wanted to see me?"

  "You tell me," Anne said with a smile still pasted on her face.

  "I'm afraid I don't follow."

  "You know the last time you came, I thought you looked familiar. I knew I’d seen your face someplace, but couldn't pinpoint it. But I remember now," Anne said and began to wheel her chair to the north corner of the room.

  "Is there something I can get for you, Mrs. Billamore?" Nathaniel asked.

  "Nonsense. Call me Anne," she said and stopped in front of a long curtain. Reaching over to the side, she pulled a cord and the drapery withdrew revealing a painting hanging on the wall. “Look familiar?” she asked as she rang for the butler.

  "He'd have wanted you to have this. My God, you look exactly like him. Except for the eyes of course."

  Nathaniel stared at the painting in front of him. It was a man who was his mirror image, except he was dressed in eighteenth century garb. Under the painting on a brass plate it read: “Philip Billamore, 1877”.

  Nathaniel had a hard time swallowing. His eyes stung with the nostalgia he felt and a sense of belonging to people he never knew, but whose blood ran through his veins. He nodded softly. "Thank you for this, Anne."

  The butler entered the room and waited for Anne to acknowledge him. “Please remove the painting and have it put into Nathaniel’s car. He’ll be taking his ancestor’s portrait with him,” she instructed. Nathaniel could see she was enjoying the moment of repressed shock on the butler’s face.

  "So, what are you going to do with the treasure he left behind?" Nathaniel was more than just a little curious. After all, his best friend almost died finding it.

  "It wasn’t his treasure, it belonged to Jonas. And Jonas meant it for the town. Miss Peterson explained the paintings she’d found in Jonas’ office and I agree. That’s why they never found a written will from him. He’d painted it. And I intend to see his will is carried out. The treasure belongs to the to the town, now. The Town Council will decide how to use it."

  Anne Billamore smiled softly at Nathaniel and continued. "I want you to know I consider you a member of this family and are always welcome in this home. And if you ever consider taking an active role in Billamore politics, you must let me know. I’ll recommend you take my seat on the Town Council after I'm gone. It would aggravate Matt to no end, but it’s my decision to make. And you're just as much a Billamore as he is."

  Nathaniel felt a warmth on his face, as he returned her smile. "Thank you for the offer Anne, but I'm also a Murphy and politics have never been my forte." He paused then, his thoughts racing to his Billamore genetics.

  "What is it?" Anne asked, sensing his hesitation.

  "The Billamore Curse. The one about a generation dying because of an anomaly in their genetics. How true is that?"

  "Oh that. I was afraid of that when I married my husband, too. It is true the Billamores had a weakened genetic code. And in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries with little advance in medical knowledge, many died, presumably due to that weakened condition. But that isn't the case anymore. Look at my son Matt and his son David. David might be in jail, but he’s still very much alive. My husband died in an accident, not from illness and weak genes. The effects of intra-marriage the Billamore family had in its past has waned. So you have nothing to worry about."

  "But my father died of natural causes when he was young," Nathaniel protested even though he wanted what Anne was saying to be true.

  "Probably coincidental. But Nathaniel, even if the curse still exists, I wouldn'
t let fate stop you from creating something beautiful. You love this girl, yes?" Anne asked.

  "Yes, I do."

  "Go make beautiful babies then. It’s the best thing you could ever do."

  EPILOGUE

  Sandra raced through the throng of guests who were making their way to Abigail Peterson's backyard. The gardens were in full bloom and the mansion grounds had never been more beautiful.

  It had been a month since the arrest of Daniel Carrigan and his cohorts, who were now in jail awaiting trial without bail. It had also been a long month of intense wedding planning that Sandra was hoping not to screw up at the last hour.

  "Hey… where’s my favorite bridesmaid racing to?" Josh asked as he met Sandra on her way upstairs. Sandra smiled as she saw him in a tuxedo. He was one of the groomsmen and Dickson was taking his rightful place as Nathaniel’s best man.

  Sandra leaned in and gave him a kiss. "I'd love to do this all day long, but I have to find Nate now, or Jo will have my head if I'm not at her side in the next two minutes."

  "She's not breaking up with him, is she?" Josh asked with his eyes wide.

  "No, silly! Where is Nate?!"

  "Third room to the left," Josh said as Sandra turned to race up the stairs. Calling after her he laughed and added, "You didn't tell me you grew up in a mansion!" Sandra stopped at the top of the staircase and blew him a kiss. She really did have a lot left to tell him.

  Spying the third door on the left, she knocked and walked in.

  "Sandra. What are you doing here?" Nathaniel asked as Sandra barged into the room. Sandra waved to Dickson who was fumbling with his bow tie.

  "I have to give you something. I forgot to tell you about it all this time with all the other drama that was going on. Besides, it just came in yesterday."

  "What is it?"

  "A ring."

  "A ring?" Nathaniel said, obviously perplexed.

  "For Josephine, silly." She opened the box and laid the ring in his hand. “When Anne Billamore found out about the wedding, she insisted. But she wanted it to be a surprise. It’s a diamond from the chest. Anne said Philip and Annabel would want you to have it for your bride. Evidently the Town Council insisted she keep some of the diamonds for her personal use, and she refused all but this one."