Shelley Freydont - Celebration Bay 03 - Independence Slay (23 page)

They raced to the employees’ parking lot at the back of the building. Ted beeped the doors and the three of them scrambled in. Ted was backing out of the lot before Liv even got her seat belt on.

“Call Bill and tell him to meet us there.”

Liv hit her speed dial; it went to voice mail. She left a message, told him about the call, and that they were going to the Gallantine House. “Meet us there.” She hung up. “Now what?”

“You’d better call Chaz, we may need backup.”

Chaz answered after the fourth ring, sounding sleepy, as usual.

“Focus,” Liv practically screamed into the phone. “Ted and I are on our way to Gallantine House. Hildy called hysterical, there’s some kind of altercation, Leo is there. Meet us there.”

He hung up on her.

She shrugged at Ted. “He hung up on me.”

Chaz’s Jeep was screeching to a stop when Ted pulled his SUV to the curb outside the Gallantine mansion.

“That was fast,” Liv said as they ran toward the door.

“That’s because I’m good,” Chaz said.

And she could see it. He was in reporter mode. And something else. Someone else. Someone who cared about the kid inside.

Hildy was waiting at the door. “Oh Lord, thank you. I don’t know what he was thinking. They’re all in there.”

She hurried toward the parlor, not even looking askance at Whiskey. Ted, Chaz, and Liv followed close behind. They all stopped in the doorway.

Whiskey rushed past the housekeeper into the room and made a beeline for Leo, who was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch.

Liv was hit by a heavy sense of déjà vu: Leo crouched against the parapet and Jacob Rundle lying dead on the roof.

Whiskey climbed onto his lap and licked his face, which Leo buried in Whiskey’s fur.

Henry’s nephew stood off to the side, holding a heavy brass candlestick, but Liv couldn’t tell whether he was planning to steal it or use it as a weapon. Either way, he wasn’t going anywhere. Ted, Liv, and Chaz were blocking his only means of escape.

Seated, stiff-backed in the wing chair, was George Grossman, his arms raised as if to ward off a blow.

Daniel Haynes, dressed in a sport shirt and slacks, and Henry Gallantine, in a satin smoking jacket, were standing face-to-face in front of the fireplace. Both red-faced and angry.

“Oh my God,” Ted said. “He’s gathered all the usual suspects.”

“You’re not getting away with this again,” Haynes cried, and before his astonished audience he grabbed one of the
Treasure Island
swords off the wall and brandished it at Henry.

Henry was out of reach of the other sword, but he jumped nimbly out of the way. “You fool. There are witnesses this time.”

“What do I care for witnesses? Justice will be served.” Haynes lunged. Henry took a step back.

“Justice?
You?
Talk of justice?”

Daniel lunged again. Again Henry jumped out of the way. Daniel began slashing at the air as he pressed Henry farther and farther back.

Haynes had backed Henry almost to the wall when Hildy wailed, “Somebody stop him.”

Ted and Chaz looked at each other.

“A couple of nutcases,” Chaz said.

“Agreed,” Ted said. “But Liv doesn’t want any more murders this month.”

“She’s no fun.”

Liv stared at the two men in disbelief. Were they just going to stand there and let Daniel Haynes kill Henry? Then again, what could the two of them do without risking serious injury or worse?

But just as they started forward, Daniel Haynes turned the sword in their direction. “Stay back. We’re going to settle this once and for all.”

Ted and Chaz stopped where they were.

In the brief distraction, Henry reached behind him and pulled a black umbrella from the umbrella stand.

“En garde.” He lunged at Haynes, who whirled about and just managed to deflect the umbrella with the sword blade.

And suddenly they were really going at it like the swashbucklers they were not. It was so frightening and ludicrous at the same time that no one could do anything but watch.

“I give up,” Chaz said, looking around and sitting in a chair to view the entertainment.

“Confess before it’s too late,” Hayes sputtered. He was already winded. As a lawyer, he probably didn’t get much fencing in.

“Confess?” Henry sneered. “Confess to what? To actually thinking you were an honorable man?”

“I’ll show you honorable.” Haynes feinted to the right.

But Henry was there with his umbrella to parry the attack.

“Tell me where you hid that document.”

“Never. It’s safe; that’s all you need to know.” Henry lashed out with his umbrella. The tip of Haynes’s sword stuck in the fabric. There was a brief tussle, then Haynes ripped the sword away, leaving a piece of black fabric fluttering from the frame. Henry looked down at his torn weapon. “Now you’ve made me angry.” He feinted with the umbrella, fabric whipping in the air.

Ted sat down, crossed his arms, seemingly content to wait for them to tire themselves out.

“You killed Rundle to protect your family’s reputation. I won’t let you get away with it.” Haynes lunged.

Sword struck umbrella, parried, struck again.

“I know it all,” Haynes huffed. “Rundle came to me, said he had found the chest, and he would sell it to me for an exorbitant price.”
Whack, whack.
“It would prove Henry Gallantine’s guilt. But I refused to buy it. It was despicable to me. I thought at last you would tell the truth. Instead you killed the man. Betrayal must run in your family’s blood.”
Slash, whack.

“My family?” Henry looked genuinely nonplused and dropped the tip of his umbrella.

“Yes. I have you now.” Haynes lunged again, but Henry jumped onto the couch, ran along the cushions, and jumped down on the other side.

Liv started getting some not-very-happy ideas. Henry Gallantine was in terrific shape.

“Lies. It wasn’t my family. It was yours.”

Haynes almost dropped his sword. “My family? General Haynes was a hero.”

“Not according to the document I have. You fool. Rundle found the document during one of the few times he actually did any work around here. He would have taken it if I hadn’t caught him. He never had the chest in his possession. I took it. I hid it. I would never have betrayed your ancestor.”

“My ancestor?” Haynes repeated, bewildered.

“His ancestor?” Grossman jumped from the chair. “No. It proved Henry Gallantine to be the real traitor—” He broke off.

“Why is it so important to defile my family’s name?” Henry asked.

Grossman didn’t answer, just sank onto the chair and hid his face in his hands.

“Because his ancestor was the real traitor,” Chaz said.

Everyone looked at him, including Liv. When had he discovered that? While she was asleep? Damn the man.

“He wasn’t,” Grossman cried. “He was framed by one of them.” He pointed to the two combatants, then turned his attention to the remaining sword on the wall. Fortunately, he was too short to reach it.

“You mean you never intended to buy the property for the museum?” Henry asked. “You were here to uncover what you thought were lies about your own family?”

“Who are you?” Haynes asked, his sword still pointed at Henry Gallantine.

“I’m George Grossman, great-grandson of Hezekiah Jenkins.”

“Who the hell is that?” Henry asked, his umbrella at the ready.

“You probably haven’t heard of him. He was the man who was accused when Gallantine was exonerated. Your families prospered; mine lost everything.”

“That’s preposterous,” Haynes said. “I’ve never heard of anybody named Hezekiah Jenkins in the war.”

“It’s public record,” Chaz said. “The man was tried and convicted. Whether because of additional evidence or as a scapegoat. He managed to escape before his execution, but he lived in poverty and exile for the rest of his life. His family never heard from him again, but he left a son. And the rest is history.”

“He wasn’t guilty,” Grossman repeated.

“Guilty or not, I think George here came to get revenge.”

“I did. But not by killing anyone. I found the hollow wainscoting the afternoon I was here taking inventory. I was sure the proof of Hezekiah’s innocence must be in there. But Ms. Montgomery never left me alone long enough to get it out. So I came back. I took the chest out and placed it on the table, but before I could open it, someone hit me over the head. And when I woke up, the chest was open and the document was gone.”

He turned on Henry. “Unless you hit me and took it.”

“I didn’t hit you. I didn’t take anything out of the chest. It was never in that chest; just some old play money and plastic junk. That chest is a reproduction of the pirate chest from
Treasure Island
, the film I made back in 1962. I put it in the false panel because… well… it just seemed like a perfect place for a pirate chest.”

“I would have found it.” Leo, all but forgotten in the skirmish, pushed Whiskey from his lap and stood.

Henry spread his hands. “It was a fun game we played. Not a real treasure, is it, Leo?”

Leo looked confused. “Not the real treasure, just our treasure.”

Henry looked up abruptly. “Leo, you didn’t think—you didn’t—no, you wouldn’t.”

“Or course he didn’t, but somebody did,” Chaz said.

Suddenly Leo shambled toward Henry. “Mr. Henry, you’re bleeding.”

Henry looked down at the sleeve of his smoking jacket. “Well, Leo, I believe you’re right.”

Daniel Haynes jerked around, his sword unintentionally slicing the air.

Everyone ducked.

“Oh my God, did I do that?”

“Just a lucky hit,” Henry assured him. “I’m usually not so maladroit with an umbrella. Isn’t that right, Leo?”

“Mr. Henry’s real good with an umbrella. We fight with them when we look for the treasure. Sometimes he lets me win, though.” They smiled at each other, comrades at arms, playmates in fantasy. Liv wasn’t sure it was a good thing for Leo. She knew it couldn’t be healthy for a man past middle age.

“You mean this thing is real?” Haynes asked, incredulously.

“Of course it’s real.”

“I thought it was a prop.”

“It was, but it’s a real sword.”

“Good Lord, I could have killed you.” Haynes dropped the sword and sank into the nearest chair.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Henry asked.

“Of course not. I just wanted you to tell the truth.”

“Ah, but what is truth, really?”

“I have half a mind to run him through myself,” Ted said sotto voce.

Liv cut him a look.

“I’ll toss you for it,” Chaz said. “I’m not altogether maladroit with an umbrella myself. What a nutcase.”

“Now to the real problem at hand,” Henry said.

“What’s that?” Grossman asked.

“Who killed Jacob Rundle?”

“The gardener?” Grossman shook his head.

“Yes. In my absence, someone killed Jacob Rundle, who was standing in for me at the reenactment. That’s why I asked you all here tonight.”

Hildy descended on him. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing? I was scared out of my wits. I thought you and Mr. Haynes were going to kill each other. I even got Ms. Montgomery to come hieing over here to help me save you.

“How dare you!” Hildy reached behind her back and, before Liv could scream, “Watch out!” Hildy yanked at the back of her apron. The apron slid off; she wrapped it in a ball and threw it at her employer.

“I quit. You’re a selfish man. You don’t care about what your shenanigans do to other people. Leo’s had a bad time of it ’cause you had to go traipsing off to Hollywood. Well, they didn’t want you, did they? Did they?”

Slowly, Henry shook his head.

“It’s about time you stopped living in your glorious past and came down to earth with the rest of us.”

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. Leaving everyone openmouthed.

“Hildy?” Henry asked—mainly to himself, Liv thought. As if enlightenment had finally dawned. She hoped it had, because his actions had caused a lot of trouble and they still hadn’t caught the killer.

She looked around the room. He had assembled all the probable suspects, just like a detective in an old movie. But maybe for once he’d done something useful.

With Henry being able to prove he was in LA, and Grossman in the bleachers, Haynes on his horse, the only other invited guest was the nephew. And…

“Mr. Grossman, when you met Frank down by the lake the afternoon we were here, was that a planned meeting?”

“What?”

“Did you plan to meet him after you’d finished work that day?”

“No, I just, uh, wanted to look around the property.”

“Mr. Grossman,” Chaz interrupted. “There are laws against misrepresentation.”

“I didn’t plan to meet him.”

“But you saw him out by the boathouse when you were looking out the window, didn’t you?” Liv asked.

“Well, yes. And to tell you the truth, I was curious. I’d seen him take an object off the table when he left.”

“The figurine.”

Grossman’s eyebrows raised. “Yes.”

“You little thief,” Henry said, but without much surprise or anger. “I wondered what happened to that. I was afraid Hildy had broken it.”

“He’s lying,” the nephew said. “He’s just trying to keep the attention off himself. He probably killed old Jacob.”

“I am not. And I did not. When I confronted you, you offered to cut me in.”

“That’s a lie,” Frank said.

Grossman turned on him, stretching up to his full height. “Did you really think that once I was in possession of Gallantine House I would steal from the museum for some paltry commission to help a common thief?”

Slowly, they all turned toward the nephew, who had been gradually edging toward the door.

“That’s total bull. I only came here in the first place because you were missing and mother was frantic with worry. I’ll tell her you’re alive and well. And I thought maybe you could lend me some more money to tide me over.”

“Lend you money? I’ve never
lent
you any money. When you loan money you have an expectation of getting it back. I knew you would never pay me. I gave you that money. The more fool me. Because in spite of all your promises, I knew I would never see any of it again. But you’ve seen your last penny from me. And your last stolen artifact. Get out.”