Heart of Evil

Page 32

Whitney smiled at that. It was an honest smile. Ashley thought that she and Jake really were just friends. Caring friends, but no more. And it was easy to understand. Whitney was impossible not to like.
“I’ll roll some tape. It’s interesting,” Whitney said.
She hit a button on her remote and directed Ashley to watch the top screen. She did so. The screen captured the area between the stables and the cemetery.
Shadows seemed to undulate on the screen.
“What is it?” Ashley asked her.
“The past?” Whitney queried in return. “It’s hard to say. Skeptics would swear that you’re seeing movement because of clouds and the moon. I think it may well be the movement of ghosts.” Whitney looked at her; she wasn’t joking. “It seems that sometimes energy remains—energy from a particularly traumatic event, such as men dying in battle. Some people believe that such hauntings are repetitious—it’s just the energy, running in the same pattern over and over again. Then, of course, there’s what they call an intelligent, or active, haunting. That refers to a ghost or ghosts who still have their wits about them. And they don’t repeat an action over and over. They move about and watch the world.”
“Oh,” Ashley said simply.
Whitney smiled again. “So, what kind of haunting do you know best? I have a feeling about you. You’re like Angela—you just don’t know it yet.”
“Pardon?”
“Everyone is afraid at first,” Whitney told her.
“Afraid?”
“Of ghosts, of course,” Whitney said.
Ashley just stared at her.
Whitney continued. “The thing is, most of the time, they just want to help. They’ve made their mistakes. They want to keep others—especially their descendants—from making the same mistakes. I know that this house is haunted, but ghosts, in my experience, don’t want to meet everyone. I believe, though, that the ghosts very much want to meet you. They love you. They want to shield you from all danger, and they want to preserve Donegal Plantation, too, because it carries an important lesson. The place is all about the path that we’ve taken as Americans, the good things and the bad. The sane among us don’t want to repeat mistakes of misunderstanding, cruelty to our fellows or war.”
“I believe we do a good job with education here,” Ashley said. She realized that her voice sounded raspy. She took a long swallow of her coffee, afraid to say anything else.
Whitney smiled and shrugged. “Anyway, that’s what I believe,” she said softly. Then she added, “Hey, that was great last night—the music, I mean.”
“Jake and I played together…before,” Ashley said.
“That was obvious. You’re really good together,” Whitney said. “In many ways.” She set the remote down, stood and stretched. “Hey, want to introduce me to the horses? I love horses, and I never get to ride. I’d love to meet them. We’re certainly safe enough—the place is surrounded by cops at this moment, and besides, Angela is here. She made some of the best scores ever at the target range back when she was a cop.”
“It’s hard to believe Angela was a cop,” Ashley said.
“That’s like a fairy-tale princess in a patrol car, huh? But, hey, even Disney princesses are toughening up these days. We’re all capable of many things, right?”
“So I like to believe,” Ashley said. “Is it all right to leave the screens unattended?”
Whitney nodded. “Everything is taping.” She hesitated. “Okay, so half my job today is to make sure you’re safe. We might as well enjoy it, right?”
Ashley smiled. “Yes, and I love our horses, too. Come on out and meet them.”
It was obvious Hank Trebly wasn’t pleased to see Jake and Jackson—he left them sitting patiently in his waiting room for an hour.
He nodded curtly to them after emerging from his office and motioned to them to follow. He didn’t shake their hands, even though he’d known Jake before, just as Toby Keaton had known him, from the days when he had been at Donegal Plantation constantly.
“I don’t know what you think I can tell you,” Hank said, pulling out the chair behind his desk in his office and taking a seat. “I was there, yes, of course. But I didn’t see anything. And I told that to the police. They sent a man around right after, you know—right after they found the poor bugger’s body.”
“You weren’t particularly fond of him, were you?” Jackson asked.
Trebly immediately took a defensive tone. “What was to like or dislike? He was O’Reilly’s stepson, and he didn’t really belong. I mean, he never even took his stepfather’s name. He was…just this big nothing, always there, always wanting to be a part of it all. He didn’t have anything to add to any of our conversations in a roundtable. It was his place to play a Yankee, but he whined so much Ramsay gave him the role of Marshall Donegal. But I didn’t hate him. And, sweet Jesus, I could never do that to another human being! I mean, why in hell would I?”
“Well,” Jake said, “there’s that bid you made to take over the Donegal property.”
“What?” Trebly said, sitting up straight. His eyes narrowed. “Frazier Donegal told you that?”
“No, actually, Frazier didn’t tell me,” Jake said. “It’s public record. Right after Frazier’s son, Patrick, died, the property fell into bankruptcy. You went to the bank, trying to coerce a sale.”
“I—well, that’s just pure bull!” Trebly said, but his face had gone pale. “Look, I was willing to help Frazier out.”
“I don’t think so,” Jake said. “There were also plans on file to expand the sugar mill and the sugar fields.”
Trebly sat back and stared at them hard. Then he dug around in his desk for a business card and tossed it over to Jackson. “I’m done speaking with you. If you need anything else from me, you can call my attorney.”
“Thank you,” Jackson said, rising. “We’ll do so.”
Jake stood behind him. Trebly didn’t rise; he looked like he was going to explode.
“You shouldn’t have come back here, Jake Mallory.” His voice broke. “You’re not wanted in the area. That was obvious after Patrick died.”
“This is what I do,” Jake said.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” Trebly repeated.
Jake shrugged and started out. He was surprised when Jackson lingered. “Is that a threat, Mr. Trebly? Because if so, you just threatened a government agent. I could actually have you brought in for that.”
Trebly rose at last. “I didn’t do it, damn you, and I don’t know anything about who did. I didn’t like Charles Osgood, but Ashley was probably the only person who felt sorry for him—or even felt genuinely bad that he was dead. Hell, yes, we could have used that land, but I didn’t force the issue. Old Frazier pulled it together. We aren’t expanding, and I didn’t kill Charles Osgood!”
“Thanks for your time, Mr. Trebly,” Jake said.
“Jackson?”
Jackson turned around at last and they left the offices and the mill building.
“The man is an ass!” Jackson said.
“Maybe. But I believe him. I don’t think that he did it.”
Jackson shrugged. “Right now, I can’t really tell. He was shaking, and he looks as if he might have really high blood pressure. He’s not in the best physical shape, and we are looking for someone with strength and dexterity.”
“Let’s move on to Beaumont,” Jake said.
Jackson nodded. “We’ll pick up Frazier and Beth, drop them back at the plantation. I don’t want them deciding to get back some other way.”
Jake didn’t reply. Jackson was worried about the plantation household.
So was Jake.
As long as the cops were still on duty, treating the entire plantation as a crime scene, the plantation itself seemed safe.
But that’s where Charles Osgood had been found. Safe was the last word he’d use.
“This is my favorite, my mare—even though she gave me a toss last night!” Ashley said, stroking Varina’s soft nuzzle. “On this side, next to Varina, you have Jeff—after Jeff Davis, of course—and at the end, down there, Bobby—for Robert E. Lee.”
“A true Southern stable!” Whitney said.
“Not really. Across there you have Abe—for Abraham Lincoln—and then Nellie and Tigger. Go figure. We just weren’t consistent, I’m afraid. Actually, Jeff is Nellie’s offspring, so we did name him, but we named him Jeff because we already had a Varina!”
“They’re beautiful,” Whitney said. “I wish we could go riding.”
“We can go riding,” Ashley said. She saw Whitney’s face. “Oh, that’s right. I’m not allowed to go riding. It’s light out, though. So can I go with you?”
Whitney was thoughtful for a minute. “I’ll give Jake a call.”
“I thought Jackson was the head of the unit.”
“Jake gave me the order.” Whitney grimaced.
“Look, I went out late yesterday afternoon, and I shouldn’t have, but honestly, I didn’t think Varina would throw me. And nothing happened, really. We just all scared each other.”
“And Toby Keaton showed up, and no one trusts the man at the moment,” Whitney said.
“And Cliff,” Ashley added.
Whitney watched her, nodded, and slowly smiled. “You think we’re full of it for suspecting Cliff, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. He is a suspect.”
“Right, so I’ve been told—because he has access, he has motive,” Ashley finished.
Whitney drew out her cell phone. She turned away from Ashley, putting through her call. Ashley could hear Jake’s voice on the other end of the line, but she couldn’t make out his words.