The Maestro (Cold Hollow Mysteries Book 3) (3 page)

CHAPTER 3

It had been three days since Delilah’s reconstruction, and Maurice stood over her bed and moved some stray hair away from her eyes as she slept. The doctor had been in for some simple blood tests to check on her anemia and the drug levels in her system. He cut back on one of her pain pills and one of the sedatives. She would soon rouse for short periods of time, and Maurice saw his little girl finally coming back into being. The plastic surgeon had repaired both of her cheeks and was pleased with how her healing was progressing. The oral surgeon had repaired her teeth and capped each one of them. Delilah had always had a beautiful smile, but now it would be captivating. He sighed as he ran his right hand down her face and whispered, “Come back to me whole, Delilah. I need you and am here to help you.”

He watched as her eyes blinked open; she tried to smile but winced at the discomfort from the bandages on her cheeks. He quelled her with: “Don’t try to speak yet. You have been through quite an ordeal, my dear. However, the physicians are impressed with your strength and healing capabilities. You have made your father so happy.”

He reached over to her nightstand and grasped a small chalkboard he had purchased and handed her a piece of chalk. “Write your words down, precious.”

He held the small board for her and watched as she held the chalk and scratched a few words on the opposite side. He flipped it and saw that she had asked, “Where is Tommy? Is he home yet?”

Maurice smiled and gently sat beside her. He spoke softly. “I believe the pain medication has affected your thinking, darling. Your brother is away right now, but we will be reunited with him soon. Our reunion depends on you.”

She tapped the board, and he reversed it for her. She wrote, “Why does it depend on me?”

He smiled. “You need to mend, and unfortunately, I must put you to the test.” He looked deep into her eyes and continued, “You are no longer a child, and you are well aware that each of us has a dark side. You allowed yours to overrun your light side, and this must change.”

She scratched out, “How?”

He chuckled. “That’s what I am here for. I will teach you, just as I taught your brother. Your past disdain for your physician must change, and you must listen to his instructions and take your medicine daily. I am here to make sure that you do. I am also the one you will run to when you feel your dark side rising. I will help you feed it and eventually conquer it.”

She scratched at the board in a rush: “How long do I have? How long will it be until I see Tommy?”

He laughed. “I am pleased you’re anxious, so I will answer you and tell you of the most blessed event our family has had the opportunity of participating in, in a long time.”

She wrote out, “Tell me!” and tapped the board.

He chuckled again and leaned forward. “He is getting married! He is enlarging our family! I received an invitation and a rather lengthy letter from him. I do believe he would like you to be in his wedding party. We have less than three weeks before we leave for New England.”

He watched her eyes widen and her extremities shake in excitement. Her eyes searched her bedchamber, and her expression changed to sadness. He understood and consoled her. “We had to remove most of your décor, dear. You were harming people with it. Do not fret; we will go on a shopping spree before leaving for the big event.”

She scratched out on the board, “New clothes too?”

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “You are abusing your status as my only daughter?”

He heard her giggle as she nodded her head.

He smiled and leaned over for a glass of water with a straw in it. He then opened a medication bottle, took one pill out, glanced at his watch, and said, “Open wide. You need to rest some more. The sooner we begin, the sooner you and I get to see Thomas.” He turned to find her mouth open; he deposited the pill and held the straw for her as she sipped with some visible discomfort. He stayed with her and discussed his company business until he saw her eyes slowly slide shut. She fought it as long as she could, but eventually her breathing was slow and steady. He put the chalkboard back on her nightstand, along with her water, and left her bedroom.

He found Adam by the fireplace in his office. “How goes my security, Adam?”

“Doing great, boss. I took the liberty of visiting the home office and informed Laurence that all new contracts are to be passed by you from now on. No one is to touch them until you’ve read and signed them. I also informed him that he’s no longer allowed to make financial decisions in your stead.”

Maurice patted his shoulder as he passed by to go to his desk. “Did you also inform him that I would be at the home office in a week or so to check on progress?”

“I sure did.” He paused for a moment and turned to Maurice. “I gotta tell you, boss, your place is bustling. I’m kicking myself in the ass for not getting into the liquor distribution business when I was young.”

Maurice sat behind his desk and chuckled. “Adam, you are right where you are supposed to be. Do you wish to be wealthier?”

Adam shrugged his shoulders and looked at the ceiling. “Doesn’t everyone? I have to admit, though, that I am horrible with money. I have dreams, but I don’t have the brains to see them through.”

“Stick with me, Adam, and you’ll be just fine.”

Adam smiled. “You got it, boss.”

Maurice arranged papers on his desk in a particular order and spoke as he continued to move things with peculiar speed. “I require one of your men to go and secure the beach home and lock it down for hurricane season. We leave for New England in three weeks. I have already secured our lodgings there.”

“New England? Why are we going there?”

Maurice stopped his motions and glanced up at Adam, grinning. “You are finally going to meet my son, Thomas. He is getting married.”

Adam leaned forward with bulging eyes and mouth agape. He snapped his mouth shut and asked, “What about Delilah?”

Maurice sat back and laced his fingers atop his desk. “She is beginning to come around faster than I assumed. She is aware she has three weeks to  recuperate with my assistance of course. Once her scars are healed, we will take her shopping and then to the home office on a daily basis. I will monitor her every move.”

Adam popped up from his chair and clapped his hands together. “This is great, boss. This is just great! I’ve been away from New England a long time. It’ll be great to meet your son and to smell the apples and maple sugar in the fall.”

Maurice guffawed. “That’s what you look forward to? Apples and maple sugar?”

Adam leaned over the desk. “The ladies too. They have some pretty ladies in New England, boss. We may just find the next ‘Lady Gillette.’”

Maurice winced. “Isn’t that the name of a razor?”

Adam held his hands out beseechingly. “Who cares, boss? I’m excited!” Maurice laughed as he watched Adam carry his bulk from his office with a skip in his step, mentioning something about getting a haircut and getting some maintenance done on the Cadillac Escalade for the trip. Maurice admired Adam’s hair. He had the thickest black haired mane he had ever seen. It went well with his mocha brown eyes.

Maurice shook his head and began working in earnest. Running a liquor distribution company was tricky. It was a game to be played, and Maurice always won.

***

One week passed, and Delilah had made remarkable strides in her recovery. The plastic surgeon had removed her bandages, and the remaining marks only required a daily application of ointment. Her mouth was healed, and she could eat, albeit soft food. She was ambulating and moving about the mansion with ease. When she took her meals in the dining room with Maurice and Adam, they watched over her and made sure she took her medication after breakfast and one pill after lunch. This left one pill for her to take at bedtime. She balked when Maurice insisted on checking her mouth and under her tongue after the pills were swallowed but relented. Now that her exterior was back to normal, Maurice had to work on her mental status; he helped her daily to resist any dark urges she might have.

On this particular morning, Delilah wished to go out shopping.

Maurice held his fork before his mouth and asked, “What is it you wish to shop for today?”

She twirled a long strand of her blond hair around her forefinger. “I want to buy my new nephew a surprise, and I want to get Tommy and Myrna a nice wedding gift.”

Maurice chewed and swallowed the last of his breakfast and nodded. “We will do just that. However, what is the signal you must give me if you have a dark urge?”

She rolled her beautiful blue eyes and said, “I have to take your hand and squeeze it.”

He smiled. “Perfect.” Noticing she was done with her meal, he pushed a delicate aperitif glass filled with dark-red fluid to her. Adam noticed it and kept his mouth shut.

The men watched her sip it, her eyes roll, and a smile blossom on her face. Her eyes brightened, and she said, “I have to go and dress appropriately for our outing.” She pointed at the glass. “I want to bring that glass with us for the trip.” She sprang from her chair and left the dining room. Her movements were graceful, and she had finally blossomed into a striking woman. She reminded Maurice of his wife.

Adam reached out and poked his arm. “What was in that glass, boss? You give her a tiny amount of something after each meal, and I’ve noticed that you decrease the amount each day.”

Maurice wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and replied, “Warm butcher’s blood. I obtain it from the chef. She craves the taste of blood, and it soothes her nerves. It serves no medicinal purpose.”

Adam sat back, content with the answer, and shook his head. “Makes no matter to me. Delilah’s almost back to normal, and I’m relieved about it. You don’t think she’ll slide backward, do you?”

Maurice shook his head. “Not if I can help it. I found she reacts well when she has a goal to reach. She wants to see her brother above all, and she’s working hard to reach that goal.”

“Once she does, what will her next goal be?”

Maurice grinned. “I have several goals lined up for her.” He reached out and patted Adam’s hand. “Don’t worry so much. It will only end up giving you untimely facial wrinkles.”

CHAPTER 4

Tilly Hughes’s mind wound backward in time to explain her current predicament. She remembered going hiking at night with some friends from school and meeting that nice hunk from the farm. For some reason she couldn’t comprehend, Reginald had shoved her. She fell, and she expected to feel the ground beneath her but didn’t. She didn’t know how far she had plummeted, but when she’d landed, she felt a bone snap in her left leg. The pain was excruciating and had forced her to black out.

When she came to, she had no idea how late it was. Her parents would be worried. She screamed out in pain when she tried to move. Old, mossy furniture, rocks, and debris surrounded her. She searched for the flashlight that she’d had in her hand before she fell and found it beside her, upside down. She hoped the batteries hadn’t died while she was unconscious. She shook the flashlight, flicked it on, and tried to shove herself to the side of the pit with her right leg while dragging the left one along. Each movement caused the pain to rocket through her body, and she screamed again, hoping in vain that someone would hear her and come to her rescue, but she doubted any of her friends were still there. She finally reached the edge of the pit and rested her back against its stone sides.

Her screams were heard all right, but not by any human. She could hear rustling and low-pitched growls surround her from on high. Panicking, she shone the flashlight beam on her injured leg to see if there was any blood and saw that her skin had split wide open; she thought she could see bone but wasn’t sure. She wasn’t a dullard and knew that wildlife was attracted to the scent of blood, yet she had nothing to wrap the leg with. She placed the flashlight on her abdomen as her hands searched the ground surrounding her for any type of cloth she could use, regardless of its cleanliness, to wrap the leg. She found an old, torn, filthy bedsheet, ripped it, and haphazardly wrapped her left leg and knotted it tight. It caused her pain, but she gritted her teeth and stifled another cry. Grasping the flashlight with her trembling hands once more, she thought of her next step. She had to know what she was up against, so with an iron will, she pointed the flashlight upward and to the right and left. What she saw caused tears to leak from her eyes. A pack of wolves circled the top of the pit, and two of the largest ones were making their way down the sides. With no weapons available to defend herself, Tilly knew her time was precious. She said a quick prayer, closed her eyes, and screamed. Tilly Hughes screamed with every ounce of energy that remained in her body.

***

Myrna Bradbury had rushed out the door of her home, late for work. She dropped a pile of loose papers she had notes written on and had to chase them around the front yard in frustration. The wedding date was closing in on her, and she had so much to do it made her mind swirl with panic. Chasing down the last paper and slamming her foot atop it, she jammed it in her pocketbook and made her way to her vehicle. She turned briefly to the front door to wave good-bye to Liam and Tom, who had been watching her with smiles on their faces.

She drove from her house to the bakery to prep for the usual crowd that would show up. With the tourist season approaching, the morning crowds would swell in number, so she had been gradually increasing the amount of baked goods she made to meet the demand. Sarah had been such a godsend; she had been working an extra hour each night prepping. Myrna found out that Donnie had also been baking, and she had to admit, the boy had talent. She allowed the two to bake as much as she dared, so this left her with only two hours of baking to do each morning. She was determined to get through the remaining items on her wedding list before their out-of-town guests arrived.

As she unlocked the bakery door, she smelled freshly made croissants and shouted out, “Hello? Who’s here?”

Donnie peeked around the corner of the kitchen and smiled. “Good morning, Ms. Myrna. My momma said I should surprise you and give you a small break this morning. I hope you’re not angry.”

Myrna shucked off her coat and headed toward the kitchen. “No, I’m not angry, Donnie. Thank you. I’ll be able to help you in a minute, but first I have to get some things in order.”

“For the wedding?”

“Yes, I think I’m going insane. I have too much to do and not enough time to do it in.”

She sat at the prep table after clearing a spot for herself and plopped her pocketbook down. She took a seat and began going through the papers she had dropped. She organized them according to priority and reviewed all of them. She felt her blood pressure rising, and her lips formed a tight line. Puffing her cheeks, she slowly blew some air out. Donnie watched with interest and set a cup of coffee beside her. There was a knock on the back door, and he allowed the chief inside and served him two freshly baked muffins and coffee.

Myrna ignored the chief, continued reviewing the lists, and felt the panic surging and churning in her chest, all the way up to her throat. She began panting, and Donnie raced to her and began rubbing her back. “Don’t worry, Ms. Myrna. It will all get done. Daryl and I can handle things just fine here. You should go and lock yourself in your office at the town hall and don’t come out until you finish everything on your list. The chief is here and will make sure we do everything right. Isn’t that true, Chief?” He looked at Chief Hanover with a determined expression.

The chief cleared his throat and mumbled, “Yep, no problem.”

Without saying a word, Myrna stood, grabbed her coat and pocketbook, and left the bakery. Donnie followed her to the front of the store and watched her cross the street and enter the town hall. He turned to the chief and said, “Gosh, I hope no one upsets her today. If they do, I pity them.”

The chief chuckled. “Yep, she’s working on her last nerve, that’s for sure.”

Myrna stalked across the street and tore open the doors to the town hall. The town financial office was open, and Amanda Borges and Artie Lavoie were already hard at work. As she passed the office, she abruptly stopped. Her nose curled in disgust. The entire area smelled foul. Someone had passed wind, and it reminded her of what her abusive husband used to stink like after a night of heavy drinking. The disgusting creature was long gone now from a blow to the head delivered by her two hands. She turned to see Amanda behind her desk with a tissue covering her nose. She noticed Artie Lavoie at his desk, restraining laughter. Myrna’s mouth twisted into an ugly snarl as her blood pressure rose and she slowly unhinged. She growled, “Hey, Artie, guess what? Guess where I was this morning?”

He sheepishly glanced up at her. “Where?”

She inhaled a deep breath and began roaring. Her voice increased in octaves along with her anger. “I was in my fantasy world. You know the one. It’s where every woman is beautiful and each male is burly and loaded with enough testosterone to take down Godzilla with a single swat of his hand. It is the world where men are built to please and protect their women above and beyond mortal comprehension.”

Artie glanced at Amanda with a confused expression but turned back to Myrna as she continued railing on.

“I go to my fantasy world because—let’s face it—in the real world, men can be beasts! They are the beings who, after living with you for a few years, decide it’s time to let their flatulence fly.” She pounded her fist on the room divider and continued, “Yes, I said flatulence, the stuff that makes your toes curl, your throat gag, your eyes water and roll. Yes, it’s the stuff of a six-pack of beer blended with the sublime aroma of three chili-cheese dogs. If that’s not your scent of the week, then try on some Johnnie Walker Red blended with spicy guacamole and nachos supreme. I don’t care, but men seem to take particular pride in their individual ass emissions. I’m talking about the scent of primordial ooze. They find it grand and belittle you for trying to pathetically ‘squeak’ one out from time to time, as though it was not adequate!” She thrust her hand down upon the room divider again, and Amanda and Artie assumed she was done, but no, she wasn’t. She was on a tear, the likes of which she rarely displayed. Her hair was a mess, and her face was flushed. Perspiration was beginning to bead on her forehead.

“I seriously doubt that Yankee Candle has even considered these scents! If they did, men would flock to the stores and buy them by the truckload to compare their scents to those of their gaseous comrades. They would fight to get the last ‘Jack’s Ass’ in the sixteen-ounce size, or the ‘I Shit My Pants’ scent of the month! This is the one where you must try to guess what that particular person ate that day to achieve such an aroma.” She wagged her forefinger at Artie. “No cheating—the answer would be hidden on the bottom of the jar. Beer-swilling men would buy them by the score.”

“Which brings me to another topic for the newbie of relationships.” Her eyes bored into Amanda’s. “God forbid you do their laundry. Your strength will be tested. Never, under any circumstances, take a long look at their underwear. It will leave you scarred, if not blinded. Trust me! Just shove it in the washer and pray to the gods of cleanliness that your task will be successful. It will spare you some heart-crunching despair. Also, see to it that your partner has a good grooming tool. If not, only OxiClean can help you now!”

Her arms were flailing around in frustration, and she spouted, “It’s no wonder I basically live in my fantasy world. I like it there, and everyone there likes me too. It is a world free of flatulence!” She glared at Artie and through gritted teeth demanded, “Go and get some spray air freshener if you know what’s good for you. And I’m warning you, don’t enter my office today!” She stormed off and went down the hall and up the stairs to her office. They heard her scream, “My fiancé never farts!” Her office door slammed, and they heard the lock engage.

Alice Dumont peeked around the corner of her day care, staring at Amanda and Artie in shock, her fingertips raised to her lips. It took all of three seconds before they began cackling like hens. Amanda whacked Artie in the arm and giggled. “It was your entire fault.”

He grinned, chuckled, and said, “I think I better get out the air freshener.”

Upstairs, Myrna plopped down behind her desk and sat back, staring at the ceiling. She ran her hands over her face, pulled her long red hair back into a ponytail, and dove into the pile of lists for the wedding. As she worked, she took time out to grab a bottle of water from the small refrigerator and turn on some soft music on the radio. As she made phone calls, accomplishing each task on her list, she scratched the task off and went on to the next. The seamstress was hard at work making Alice Dumont’s gown, and Amanda’s and Delilah’s bridesmaid dresses. Tom had promised he would take care of the tuxes for his father, Wally Dumont, Liam, and Artie. She was racking her brain, trying to think of gifts to present to the parents of the bride and groom, not to mention her bridesmaids. Tom was taking care of his father’s and Artie’s, but Myrna was lost as to what to get Wally and Alice. She was officially stumped, but she would ask Liam. The boy spent a great deal of time with them and would have greater insight, she was sure of it. The cake tasting hadn’t been scheduled yet, so she was somewhat grateful that it was one less thing she had to worry about.

When she was three-quarters of the way through her lists and pleased with her accomplishment, there was a soft knock on her door. She grimaced, got up from her chair, and unlocked the door. The chief was standing there. He pushed past her and sat in his usual seat. She followed suit and sat in her own, glaring at him. He raised his arms in surrender. “Don’t bite my head off,” he said. “I came with some disturbing news that couldn’t wait.”

Myrna sat back in her chair and growled, “I swear, Chief. I won’t tolerate any shit happening in town this close to my wedding. I just won’t.” Her hands formed clenched fists.

“Hold on, Missy. I’m just here to report that Sarah’s friend, Tilly Hughes, was reported missing by her parents this morning.”

“Poke around. Sarah told me that a group of kids was going out hiking last night. Find out who went and who returned. More importantly, get a hold of Hugo. He knows those paths and can smell something rotten a mile away.”

“Done and done. I also went to the farm and asked Fran O’Connor what time Reginald left for home last night. She said he left early because he had plans for the evening. She also said she spied a cute young girl, about Sarah’s age, poking around the farm lately, flirting with him.”

Myrna sighed. “Teenage girls can be so careless. She may have wandered from the group without a flashlight and got lost last night. Did you ever get a tracker on his car?”

The chief chuckled and laughed as he explained, “Yep, and we have a new sleuth in town. Fran is something, Myrna. She called me when it was safe to come by, stood guard, and watched out her farmhouse windows to make sure I wouldn’t get caught while doing it. She even had goddamn binoculars!”

Myrna grinned. “She’s a fine woman.”

“I checked the tracker, and he never left home using his car, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t go anywhere by foot. One thing I do know: Robert met him and doesn’t like him at all. The guy flirted with his daughter, Becky, and you know Robert. He just wanted to punch him. The funny thing was, he didn’t like Reginald’s charming smile either. Just like you.”

Myrna stared at Chief Hanover. “Reginald’s hiding something. We need to step this up. Try to get his fingerprints or a blood sample. Doesn’t the FBI have a print and a DNA database? While you’re at it, you might want to flatten some of his tires until Tilly shows up.”