The Butcher (Cold Hollow Mysteries Book 5) Read online

  “How can you tell me that she wasn’t nefarious herself?”

  Samuel chuckled and shook his head. “Do you always answer a question with a question?”

  “Do you?” The chief was determined to stick to the basic facts with this man. “I don’t assume anything, Mr. Whittier. An explosion from a gas leak killed your sister. Read the official reports.”

  Samuel folded the reports and slipped them inside his overcoat. He pulled out a small notepad and pen and asked, “Where might I find the man who cared for my sister during her last days? I also need to find the man she was dating, Mr. Maurice Gillette.”

  The chief jotted down the addresses for both men and inquired, “What do you want from them?”

  “I only want to know how her state of mind was before her untimely demise. I want to know if she enjoyed her last days.”

  The chief sat back and stared at the man. Samuel Whittier was going to try and play the sleuth, but he’d play along. “I think you’ll like Maurice. Everyone in town does.” He stressed the word everyone as a warning, but it didn’t seem to faze Samuel.

  “What about her caretaker, this Bertrand fellow?”

  “He adored your sister. He used to call her ‘Madam.’ He was struck a hard blow when he found out about the accident. He hasn’t totally recovered from the loss. They were close.”

  Samuel referred to his notepad and asked, “Are there Italians in this town?”

  Chief Hanover’s face crinkled in confusion at the oddity of the question. “I think we’re done here. I don’t know the nationality of each inhabitant, nor do I care.”

  Samuel burst out in laughter and slowly ran the tip of his pen over his forehead. “You’re lying, Chief Hanover. It’s written all over your face.”

  The chief remained stoic and replied, “We’re done. Get out of my office.” He called out for Officer Cutler; he wanted Ted to escort Samuel to the Hummer and get a closer look at it. As soon as Samuel gathered his top hat and slipped his notepad and pen back inside his coat, he tipped his hat and said, “I wish you a good day, Chief.”

  The chief stopped him. “Samuel, the mayor would like to meet with you.”

  Samuel wore a smug expression. “I imagine he would.” He turned and left.

  The chief remained emotionless until the door to his office shut. When it did, he closed his eyes, released the breath he had been holding, and reached for his phone. He called the bakery. As soon as Myrna picked up, he said, “We got trouble again, Myrna. Samuel Whittier just hit town, and he’s a piece of work. Call the boys and arrange a meeting tonight at the back room of the tavern for seven o’clock. I have research to do, background checks, and more before we gather together. Also, I don’t think he knows who you are. I told him the mayor wanted a meeting with him, and he said, ‘I imagine he does.’”

  “It’s to our advantage, Chief. Patricia probably didn’t notify him of Nazar’s passing. Do me a favor: if you go to the next jurisdiction over, please research what we spoke about?”

  “About Bertrand Sweeney?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will do.”

  ***

  Myrna was in the back kitchen of the bakery, assisting Sarah Macy with a batch of muffins, when Donnie Borges came tearing into the room. He raised his hands in the air and shook his head. He was visibly trembling and stammered, “I-I done a lot for you, Muh-Mrs. Myrna, but I can’t do this!” He pointed to the front room, where customers were drinking coffee and enjoying their morning chatter. Myrna dusted off her hands, removed her apron, and went to the front of the establishment. She yipped when she saw what had Donnie shaking. A bald, massive man stood at the checkout counter. He was close to seven feet tall and was twice the size of Maurice’s bodyguard, Adam Petrone. His face was chiseled, and he was well dressed. She knew there was nothing but sheer muscle beneath his clothes, as the arms of his jacket pulled and fought to stay together. He appeared lost or confused; she couldn’t tell which. She swallowed and went behind the counter and flashed him her best smile. “Can I help you?”

  He pointed at his chest and said, “Ivan hungry.” Myrna immediately understood the dilemma. She rounded the counter, found a small table for two, and escorted him to it. Rushing for a clean cup, she filled it with coffee and placed it on a saucer before him. She then went back to the cases, chose a variety of breakfast items, and plated them for the man. After placing it on his table, she took a seat opposite him and watched as his eyes filled with delight at the variety.

  When he glanced up at her from the platter, she pointed at herself and said, “Myrna.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “I call you Red Lady. I like hair.”

  Myrna laughed as she ran a trembling hand over her head; she swore her heart had not stopped racing since she’d laid eyes on the behemoth. Donnie arrived and brought her a cup of coffee and a fresh croissant from the back room. She pulled at his shirtsleeve and said, “Donnie, this is Ivan.” She extended her free arm across the table, indicating the man who was delicately eating a muffin.

  Ivan dusted his fingers off on a napkin and extended his hand out to Donnie. Donnie shook it and noticed the man’s hand was three times the size of his own. His breath caught, but he managed to choke out, “G-good to meet you, Ivan.”

  Ivan replied, “Da, it’s good.” He resumed staring at the platter and dug in, as Donnie hotfooted it back to the kitchen.

  Myrna watched Ivan devour his food, and she refilled his coffee cup as needed. She ate her croissant. When he was finished, he sat back, rolled his eyes, and gave her a million-dollar smile. She tittered and asked, “Are you in Cold Hollow alone?”

  He shook his head. “Boss Sam is busy.” He checked his watch and added, “He back soon.”

  Myrna’s brow knitted together as she tried to decipher what he’d said. “Your boss’s name is Sam? Where is he, and why did he leave you here?”

  Ivan leaned on the table and took his time answering. “Boss Sam with politsiya. Big business.”

  Myrna’s blood ran cold. She knew he meant Samuel Whittier. The man had brought a heavy to town, and she was sitting right across from him. She strained to keep smiling and asked, “I hope nothing is wrong.”

  He shook his head. “Not yet.” He seemed to be running things through his mind for a few minutes, but Myrna remained patient. “Ivan never know with Boss Sam.”

  She reached out and patted his massive hand. “Did you ever go to school? Can you read English?”

  Ivan looked sad and shook his head while mumbling, “Keep Ivan dumb.”

  She slammed back in her chair and shook her head. “No, Ivan is not dumb.” She pointed at him. “If you are in town tomorrow, you come here…alone, for breakfast. I’ll have something special for you.”

  Ivan agreed. He saw her engagement ring and wedding band. “I hope good man snatched you!”

  Myrna laughed. “He is a good man, Ivan, just like you!”

  Ivan shook his head in sadness. “Ivan not good. Ivan can be good.”

  Myrna waved a hand before her. “Everyone has the potential to be bad, but things can always change if the person wants to.”

  Ivan stood and replied, “Da.”

  He reached for his wallet, and she objected. “First meal at my bakery is on the house, Ivan.”

  His eyes went wide and then narrowed at her. “Tomorrow Ivan pay.”

  She agreed and watched the giant lumber out of the bakery. He waited on the shoveled sidewalk perhaps five minutes until someone driving a Hummer picked him up.

  ***

  Maurice Gillette was on the phone behind the bar of the tavern when a man wearing a top hat entered the establishment. He pulled the phone away from his mouth and addressed the man, “I’m sorry, sir, but the tavern isn’t open for business yet.”

  The man in the top hat was followed inside the tavern by a massive man. The monstrosity stood beside the door as the man removed his hat and leaned his walking cane against the bar. He slid onto a stool and stared a
t Maurice. Maurice’s lips tightened as he spoke into the phone once more: “I’ll have to call you back. It seems someone requires my attention.” Turning, he replaced the phone in the receiver and gave the man his attention while keeping an eye on his escort by the door. Maurice revealed a forced smile and asked, “What can I do for you?”

  The man extended his hand out over the bar. “My name is Samuel Whittier. I’m looking for Maurice Gillette?”

  Maurice shook his hand and replied, “You have found him.” He pulled a bar stool out from under the counter and took a seat opposite Samuel. “Can I interest you in a drink?”

  Samuel’s eyes scanned the top shelves. “I do believe I’ll have a brandy.” He twisted around to Ivan and asked, “Vodka?”

  Ivan stared straight ahead and replied, “Da.”

  As Maurice poured the drinks, Delilah came bouncing down the stairs from their apartment. Her hair and makeup were freshly done, and she wore a sky-blue silk shirt tucked into gray dress slacks. She also wore the silver-and-aquamarine necklace and earrings Timmy had given her at Christmas. Her spiked heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she approached the bar with a radiant smile on her face. Samuel nearly fell off his stool as he rushed to stand and greet her. Maurice noticed this and said, “Samuel, this is my daughter, Delilah. She was a friend of Patricia’s.”

  Samuel approached her, grasped each of her hands in his own, and raised them to his lips. He kissed the top of each one and said, “It’s a pleasure beyond all compare, my dear. You are a radiant delight to behold.”

  Delilah blushed, and her eyes darted to her father and back to Samuel. She maintained her smile and replied, “It’s a genuine pleasure to meet you as well, Samuel.” She glanced over his shoulder and noticed Ivan. Pulling her hands from Samuel’s grasp, she approached the monster standing beside the tavern door and extended her hand out. “My name is Delilah, and you are…”

  Ivan’s eyes roamed to his boss and back to her. He wanted to kiss the top of her hands too because she was such a pretty lady, but he didn’t dare. He gently shook her hand and said, “Ivan.”

  She tugged at his hand and escorted him to the bar where his vodka awaited him. “You sit and get comfortable. There is no need to stand guard. Not in my tavern.”

  Samuel returned to his stool and replied, “Is that so?”

  Maurice answered, “Yes. Although the tavern is not yet open for business, it’s already well guarded.”

  Curious for an actual answer, Samuel asked, “How? I don’t see a security system.”

  Maurice sat once more behind the bar and placed his elbow atop it, staring at Samuel. “I don’t think our security system is what brought you here today. I do believe you came to town to pick up your sister’s remains. Am I right?”

  Samuel swirled his drink around in its glass. “Yes. I also came to discuss her last days. I wanted to be sure she enjoyed her final days on this earth.”

  Maurice noticed that Ivan immediately downed his vodka after the statement. He refilled it for the beast. As he did this, he said to Samuel, “I think it’s a rather sentimental conversation perhaps you and I should have over supper tonight. There is a delightful restaurant in town. You need to experience at least one meal there before you return home.”

  Samuel nodded as he sipped his brandy. “Thank you for reminding me. I need to secure lodging for at least one night before leaving. The drive here was arduous, and I dare not venture back without rest.” He stared at Delilah until she became uncomfortable and began fussing with a stack of napkins. He noticed this and apologized, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Delilah. Your beauty is as astounding as my sister’s once was.”

  He heard another voice, coming down the stairs. “Yeah, she’s a looker all right.” Timmy Two-Toes holstered his gun as he slipped into his suit coat.

  Samuel and Ivan went on alert as Maurice clucked and said, “Relax. This is Timmy. He is my daughter’s boyfriend.”

  Samuel stared at the man’s scarred mouth in awe. The injury had to have been done with a meat cleaver; he just knew it. He stared at Timmy and said, “I’m sorry for our reaction at your sudden appearance. You have the stealth of a snake, silent and deadly. You must understand we’re in a strange town and not accustomed to our surroundings…yet.”

  Timmy dismissed his excuse. “Not a problem.” He advanced to kiss Delilah on the cheek while whispering, “I’m gonna have a cup of joe in the kitchen so you guys can talk.”

  Samuel noticed his accent and commented, “Are you Italian?”

  Timmy turned toward the kitchen and shouted over his shoulder, “Yep, and damn proud of it too!”

  Ivan polished off his second glass of vodka slowly as Samuel finished his brandy. Samuel said, “Thank you for the hospitality. What time shall we meet at the restaurant tonight?”

  Maurice smiled. “I think seven o’clock would be fine.” He gestured to Ivan and added, “Feel free to bring your companion. I think he would enjoy it as well.” He slid a business card to Samuel with the address and phone number of Carla’s Fine Cuisine.

  Samuel snatched it up and responded, “Feel free to bring your companion as well.” He gestured toward the kitchen.

  Maurice glanced in that direction and said, “He’s not my companion. You will meet mine tonight.”

  Samuel and Ivan stood. Samuel put his top hat on and tipped it to Delilah and Maurice. “Until we meet again, I bid you a good day.”

  Ivan blushed as he looked at Delilah. “Da.”

  When the tavern door shut behind them, Delilah rushed to engage the dead bolt. She put her back against it and stared at Maurice, slack jawed.

  CHAPTER 3

  Bertrand Sweeney was pacing his living room, practicing for his first parole meeting at the town hall. As he walked, he asked himself questions and answered them accordingly. Just when he was confident he could finish the meeting to the parole officer’s satisfaction, a knock came at his front door. He answered it to find a man wearing a top hat; he also wore a long black wool overcoat and carried a walking cane.

  The man had a small notepad in his hand and glanced at it and back at Bertrand. “I’m Samuel Whittier. Are you Bertrand Sweeney?”

  Bertrand stepped back and allowed the man inside. When he did, he noticed a black Hummer parked before his home. A large man was sitting in the passenger seat, staring at Bertrand. He turned, shut the door, and entered the living room with Samuel.

  Bertrand began, “I wish to give you my condolences; however, I’m at a loss for words. Madam meant the world to me.”

  Samuel perused the living room and pointed at a painting. He smiled and said, “My sister must have adored you as well. Her work was close to her heart.” Samuel knew his sister. He also knew her artwork was pricey; there was no way under the sun and moon she would give such a gift to a servant.

  Bertrand stood beside him, admiring the painting. “Yes, she was filled with talent. I often praised her work.”

  Samuel then did something odd. He reached out and admired Bertrand’s silk tie. He flipped it over to reveal the designer name on the tag. He stared into Bertrand’s eyes stating, “My sister used to give me one of these ties every Christmas. She used to say it was a special holiday tradition meant just for me.”

  Bertrand began perspiring and swallowed before saying, “There is a high-end store in town that carries them. Fortunately, I was able to grab one during their after-holiday sales.”

  Samuel patted Bertrand’s chest and replied, “Yes, it was very fortunate for you.” He sat down in a comfortable chair, and Bertrand sat opposite. Bertrand offered the man a refreshment, but Samuel stated he had just been to the town tavern and was content. Samuel pulled his gloves off and rested his cane beside him. “I’ve come to speak of my sister’s final days on this earth. I wish to know about her mental status.”

  Bertrand understood. “She was involved in a few holiday events and enjoying herself. Her mental status was stable as long as she took her medication, whi
ch I did my best to make sure she took on a full stomach, as the directions suggested as much.”

  Samuel stated, “Let me be more specific. Tell me about the man she was dating. His name is Maurice Gillette.”

  Bertrand was taken aback but held his own. He would not, should not, and could not implicate himself in anything going on with Gillette. His only alternative was to lie, so he did. “Madam went on three dates with the man. She enjoyed his company a great deal. He was always a gentleman with her. If you are concerned he mistreated her, I can assure you he didn’t.”

  Samuel leaned forward. “What I want to know is if she enjoyed his company or if she was being coerced to go out with him.”

  Bertrand shook his head. “No one could coerce your sister into doing anything she didn’t want to do. As you should know, she was a headstrong woman.”

  Samuel chuckled. “Yes, she certainly was.” He paused and tilted his head as he stared at Bertrand again. “She was happy?”

  “I would use the word ‘content.’ Yes, I believe Madam was content with her life.” Bertrand hated this and glanced at his wristwatch. If he didn’t rush this along, he’d be late for his first meeting with the parole officer.

  Samuel abruptly stood and said, “I can see by your demeanor I am keeping you from something important. I apologize if I’ve intruded upon your day, but I just wanted to assure myself my sister was happy.”

  Bertrand stood and shook the man’s hand. “I can assure you she was.”

  He then escorted Samuel to the front door and watched as he tipped his hat and said, “Until we meet again, I wish you a fine day, Bertrand.”

  Bertrand stood there trembling. The words “until we meet again” roared in his mind. He didn’t want to meet the man again, not in this lifetime. After stepping back and closing the door, he rushed for his overcoat and car keys and slid his new wallet, another Christmas gift pilfered from Patricia’s home, into the back pocket of his pants.