Treasured Legacies (A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery) (11 page)

Mary sat on the couch; her feet curled up beneath her, a cup
of tea next to her and pulled out her laptop.
 
She glanced up to watch Bradley come down the stairs. “Is she asleep?”
she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, after you left I only had to read one more
chapter until she was fast asleep,” he said, sitting on the couch next to her
and pulling her into his arms. “How are you feeling?”

She leaned back and snuggled against him. “I’m a little
tired, but overall I feel good,” she said. “Today was a good day.”

“Well, good after you could escape the house from the fumes
of the noxious peppers and onions,” he teased, kissing the side of her neck.

“Don’t remind me,” she chuckled. “But dinner was amazing.”

“Yeah, it was pretty amazing, if I do say so myself,” he
boasted. “It’s amazing what these hands can do. Pick up a phone, dial a number
and then drive to Imperial Palace for take-out.”

Laughing softly, she felt herself relax against him. “Well,
I’ve been craving sweet and sour chicken,” she admitted. “So, you were my
hero.”

“It’s so easy to be your hero,” he said, reading over her
shoulder at the notes on the screen. “Now, tell me about the case you’re
working on, if that will be helpful.”

“Actually, yes, it would be great just to get things
straight in my mind,” she said.
“Dale Johnson; a really nice
man, great family, hardworking, salt of the earth type.
He winds up dead
at the bottom of a grain bin. The family decides to treat it like a farm
accident —that’s what they tell the Sheriff’s Office.”

“So, no investigation, nothing criminal?” he asked.

“Right, no law enforcement brought in,” she replied.
“Just one of those things.
But, it seems that in the back of
their minds everyone is suspicious of everyone else.
 
No one believes that Dale would close himself
inside a silo.
 
No one believes that it’s
merely coincidental that his death occurs just when it would be advantageous
for them to sell the property.
 
A sale that he was against.”

“So you have motive for murder,” he said, as he lifted his
hands and massaged her shoulders.

She purred softly. “That feels so good, but it’s really not
helping me concentrate.”

He chuckled into her ear. “Just relax and let the thoughts
flow freely.”

“Okay, but wake me when I start to snore,” she replied.
“So motive.
The banker whose job was on the line and was
dating the daughter said the sale was the keystone to the whole project.”

“So the banker is a suspect. He had motive and opportunity.”

“Yes, he did,” Mary said. “But he was awfully upfront and
offended by Jessie’s suspicions. She’s the daughter he dated. They broke up
after her father’s death because she either felt he had something to do with
the death or she just didn’t like the way his company took advantage of the
circumstances.”

“But they couldn’t have just taken the property. The family
had to agree to it.”

“Exactly,” Mary said, sitting up and turning to face
Bradley. “And Josh, the oldest son, was the driving force behind the sale.
 
Quinn, the banker, told me that the
incentives offered by Maughold were running out and they were offered close to
ten times more than the property was worth.”

“That’s a lot of money for farmland.”

“Yeah, it is,” Mary agreed. “I don’t know why they were
offered so much.
 
Maybe they had the
water access or the road access, but whatever it was, the Johnson farm was
vital to the whole project.”

“So Josh sold the land soon after his dad died.”

“And then the project died. So they got paid a fortune for
plain old farmland.”

“Do you know how much land was included in the deal?”

Mary leaned back against Bradley again and closed her eyes
for a moment, trying to visualize the sales contract she had reviewed that
morning. “I think it was 500 acres. Does that sound right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the average farm in the area is close to
400 acres, so that’s right in the neighborhood.”

“And the appraised value for the land was $2500 an acre,”
she said. “But, from what Quinn said, the incentive would increase that more
than ten times.”

“So, you’re going from about $1.25 million to $12.5
million,” he said.
“More than a ten million dollar
difference.”

“Okay, first, I’m impressed that you could do that in your
head,” she said, turning to face him. “So, you are in charge of helping
Clarissa with math.
 
Second, ten million
dollars is a lot of motive.”

“What’s your next step?”

“I want to meet with the children and see what they say,”
she said. “It sounds like suspicion has really pulled the family apart.”

“I can’t believe they let a little money destroy our
family,” Dale said as he appeared in front of them in the middle of the living
room.

Mary reached over and touched Bradley’s hand. “Can you see
him?” she asked, wondering what Bradley would think of Dale’s broken and
twisted body.

Bradley nodded. “Yeah, not a nice way to die,” he whispered.

“Ten million dollars,” Dale scoffed. “It don’t mean nothing
if you don’t have family. Do you really think my kids killed me for ten million
dollars?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “I do know that the land was
sold and a lot of money was made. I know that although there was never an
investigation, there is a lot of suspicion. They are protecting each other, but
not trusting each other.”

“I thought I taught them to be better than this,” he said.
“I thought I raised them to be honest and loyal.”

“Well, they have the loyalty part down,” Bradley said. “In
fifteen years they haven’t betrayed each other.”

“You can see me?” Dale asked, surprised by Bradley’s
comment.

“Yes, when he and I touch, he can see ghosts too,” Mary
answered. “Dale, this is my husband, Bradley. Bradley, this is Dale Johnson,
the ghost I was telling you about.”

Glancing down at his wife, Bradley smiled. She had no idea
how odd that sentence was, and yet, for her it was as common as introducing a
next door neighbor.
 
He looked up and met
Dale’s eyes and felt a mutual understanding pass between them.

“Not every day your wife introduces you to a dead person in
your living room,” he said.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Bradley answered with a grin.
“Life with Mary is anything but boring.”

“But worth every minute, I’d guess,” Dale said.

Bradley nodded. “Oh, yes, every minute,” he replied. “So,
Dale, are there any other people, other than your immediate family who could
have murdered you?”

Dale ran his fingers down his broken and narrowed chin.
“Well, now, I haven’t given that much thought,” he said. “This whole idea of
being dead and murdered is fairly new to me.”

“That’s a good point, Bradley,” Mary said. “Are there any
other people who benefited?”

“Well, the obvious one is Maughold, but I don’t think they’d
send a hit man out to do me in just because I wouldn’t sell my property,” Dale
said. “There were plenty of other farms just as big as mine that would have
worked for them.”

“But Quinn said your place was the keystone farm,” Mary
said. “Without your farm the whole deal was dead.”

Pausing and staring at Mary for a moment, Dale shook his
head. “That doesn’t make sense at all,” he said. “My farm was no different than
the farms across the road. I never heard anything about being a keystone
property.”

“According to Quinn, Josh
got ten
times what the property was worth,” Mary said.

“Ten times,” Dale exclaimed. “Why in the hell would they do
that?
 
There’s something not right here.
They didn’t find oil or gold underneath my land, did they?”

“No, the project got voted down, so your land is just
sitting there,” Mary said.

“Sitting there?” Dale cried even louder. “Like set
aside?
 
No crops, no
plowing, nothing?”

“As far as I know, nothing,” Mary replied.

“My dad and granddad would be rolling in their graves if
they knew their land was just barren and wasted,” Dale said, shaking his head. “You
need to find out the story and you need to get someone farming my land.”

“I’ll do my best,” Mary promised.

“Well, you do that, but take care you don’t do too much and
hurt that little bundle you’re carrying,” he replied.

“You know?” Bradley asked, looking at Dale and then he
turned to Mary. “He knows?”

Mary nodded. “Well, he witnessed me not at my best,” she
said.

“She was puking like a geyser,” Dale added, with a kind
smile. “Same thing happened to my Greta every time she was pregnant.”

“Dale was nice enough to point me in the direction of the
bathroom.”

“Seemed like the smart thing to do at the time,” he said.
“The carpeting looked new.”

Bradley choked and then grinned. “Well, thank you for helping
her.”

“No problem and congratulations, young man,” Dale replied
and then, as he started to fade away, looked at Mary. “Thank you for all you’re
doing.”

“My pleasure,” Mary said, as she watched Dale disappear.

Leaning back in Bradley’s arms, she sighed. “He seems like
such a nice man,” she said sadly. “How could anyone kill him?”

Bradley wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of
her head. “I have no doubt that you will be the one to figure that out.”

The prestigious accounting firm was housed in the historic Lincoln-Douglas
Building on the corner of Galena Avenue and Exchange Street.
 
Mary walked up the stone steps of the 1890s
Italian Renaissance style building with its partial ionic columns flanking the
doorway and pushed open the door. The tiled entryway had been remodeled to
reflect the building’s illustrious history and immediately brought you back to
a different era when Freeport had been a bustling insurance capital.
 
Pressing the worn black button to summon the
vintage elevator, Mary hoped that only the façade was vintage and that the
mechanics were updated and working smoothly.

The elevator slid smoothly to a stop on the second floor and
Mary stepped out, walking the few yards to the door advertising the accounting
firm. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, she stepped inside an office space with
polished wood floors, built-in oak bookcases and Oriental rugs on the floor.

The accounting
business must be doing well,
she thought as she walked over to the oak
reception desk. “Hi, I have an appointment with Jessie Johnson,” Mary informed
the young woman behind the desk.

“Just a moment, I’ll let her know you’re here,” the woman
replied with a pleasant smile.
“Your name please?”

“Mary Alden.”

“Please have a seat, Ms. Alden,” she replied. “I’m sure
Jessie will be out momentarily.”

Mary walked over to the small waiting area, examining the
magazines on the desk,
Money
,
Fortune
,
Journal of Accountancy
and
Martha
Stewart,
and smiled —they certainly had an eclectic customer base.
 
Looking beyond the waiting area into the long
hallway that housed the offices, Mary noticed a quick flash of shadow. Watching
carefully, she saw it again.
 
The ghost
of a diminutive man with large, heavy glasses and a dark suit jacket whisked
back and forth through the walls of the office. He had a pencil stuck behind
his ear and he seemed to be frantically searching for something.
 
He stopped in the middle of the hall and
stared at Mary.
 
She glanced at the
receptionist, who was busy with her computer and then turned back to the
ghost.
 
As inconspicuously as she could,
she pulled her hair back over her ear and nodded pointedly.
 
The ghost reached up and retrieved the
pencil.
 
With a wide smile and a wink, he
bowed to Mary and then faded from sight.

Been there, done that
,
Mary thought.

“Ms. Alden?”

Mary jumped a little and turned to see a fairly young woman
standing behind her. “Sorry, you startled me,” Mary said. “I guess I expected
you to come from that direction.”
 
She
pointed towards the long hallway she’d been watching.

“Oh, that’s for the senior accountants,” she said with a
smile and then she added with a whisper, “I’ve heard once they make it to the
long hall, they never leave.”

Mary chuckled. “You just never know about those things.”

“I booked the small conference room for our meeting,” she
said, leading Mary down an adjacent hall. “I’m so sorry about the lien. I can’t
imagine what that’s for.”

She opened the door to a small room that held a table and
six chairs.
 
In the corner was a smaller
table that held a phone and a coffee maker. “Would you care for anything to
drink?” she asked Mary.

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Mary said, taking a seat and waiting for
Jessie to sit before she began so she could watch her expression. “Actually,
I’ve been doing a little investigation of my own about the lien.
 
I thought it might be helpful.”

“Oh? Who did you meet with?” Jessie asked.

“Quinn. Quinn Edmonson,” Mary replied, watching Jessie’s
face. “He was very helpful.”

Mary was not surprised to see the same emotions wash over
Jessie’s face that she had seen the day before on Quinn’s.
 
But this time, the one that lasted the
longest was regret.

“So, how’s he doing?” Jessie asked. “Quinn.”

“Well, I just met with him for a few minutes, but he seems
to be doing well,” Mary replied. “He remembered your property immediately.
 
He told me that he really liked your family
and made a…a personal connection.”

Jessie nodded. “Yes, we became quite close to Quinn when he
was representing Maughold.”

“What happened?” Mary asked. “I mean, if you don’t mind me
asking.
 
He seems like such a nice man.”

Jessie stared past Mary for a moment, gathering her
thoughts. “My father passed away, suddenly,” she said. “And the family was
pretty torn up about it.”

“Not torn up enough to keep the land in the family,” Dale
muttered as he appeared in the room next to Jessie.

Jessie shivered and rubbed her arms with her hands. “I’m
sorry, it’s suddenly cold in here,” she said. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, pleased to know that Jessie was
sensitive to paranormal visitors. It might end up being very helpful. “You
mentioned your father passed away. Had he been sick?”

She smiled sadly. “No, my dad was never sick a day in his
life,” she said. “He always said he didn’t have time to be sick and, really, I
think the germs obeyed him.”
 
She sighed
softly. “Everyone obeyed Dad.”

“Sure, just ask her about the time she used my razor to
shave her legs,” Dale grumbled.
“Nearly destroyed my face the
next day.”

Mary smiled to herself. “So, he sounds like he was pretty
stern.”

“Oh, no, he just grumbled a lot,” she said. “He had a soft
heart and would do anything for anyone. He was the one who stayed up all night
with a sick calf; he was the one who rescued the barn kittens when their mothers
abandoned them.
 
He was the one who sat
up and waited for me to get home from my dates when I was in high school.”
 
Her voice broke and she brushed away a tear.
“He was a great dad.”

“It was easy when you have a great daughter,” Dale said, his
voice thick with emotion.

“So how did he die?” Mary asked.

“Well, everyone said it was a farming accident,” she
replied. “But it was really hard to believe. Dad was never careless. He taught
us to practice safety rules all the time.
 
He told us that farming was one of the most dangerous occupations you
could have, but mostly because people got careless. I just don’t believe he
closed himself into a grain silo.”

“What did the police say?” Mary asked, knowing the answer.

“There was no investigation,” Jessie said. “I guess we
decided it was better to be thought of as an accident.”

“Better?”

Jessie shook her head. “I’m sorry; you don’t need to hear
our family’s history. You’re here about the lien. So, what do you need from
us?”

“I need your signature and the signatures of the rest of
your family stating that you will be responsible for the lien,” Mary said. “I
know the original contractor is dead, but you can never tell if someone from
his estate would try to pursue this.
 
If,
as your mother said, it’s just a mistake, then it’s no big deal.
But, just in case, I’d like to have all my bases covered.”

“Well, of course,” Jessie said. “I can sign it and then I
can have Josh and Abe sign it too.”

Mary opened her briefcase and took out the fake document. “I
hate to be a bother, but my lawyer said that I needed to be present when it’s
signed,” she said. “So no one can claim they never saw it.”

Reaching across the desk, Jessie picked up the paper,
skimmed the contents and quickly signed the bottom.

“She writes like her mother,” Dale said, looking over
Jessie’s shoulder.

Jessie looked up instantly. “Did you say something?” she
asked.

Mary shook her head. “No. What did you hear?”

Shaking her head, she smiled sadly. “It’s funny how your
mind plays games with you,” she said. “I thought I heard my dad.”

“I’ve had that happen to me,” Mary said. “And sometimes I
feel like maybe there’s a message in it for me.”

Meeting Mary’s eyes, Jessie paused.
“A
message?”

Mary nodded.
 
“Well,
it’s worked for me,” she said. “Who knows, your dad might be trying to help us
get the house sold.”

“No, he wouldn’t be helping with that,” she said decidedly.
“Dad wanted the house and the land to stay in the family.
 
That was his greatest wish.”

“Oh,” Mary replied. “Then, can I ask, why you are selling
it?”

“I can’t walk through the house without thinking about him,”
she said. “And, you’ll probably think I’m crazy, but sometimes I think I
actually see him or hear him.”

“Are you saying your house is haunted?” Mary
asked,
a teasing tone in her voice.

“Only by my memories,” Jessie said.