Bagels and Betrayal, page 6
“Okay, let's do that,” Julie agreed. “Let's assume that your mother was involved in the termination of Tracy Bates.”
“Well, mother doesn't sit on the school board, but she does donate quite a bit of money to the schools in Pine Lakes. That means she most likely would have caught wind of any foul birds flying around...like Tracy Bates.” Bethany grew silent for a minute and allowed her thoughts to start wandering around a few possible logical and practical possibilities. “Mother is a Christian woman who has fought to keep Christian values in the schools in Pine Lakes and the surrounding communities. A woman like Tracy Bates would have ruffled her feathers.”
“Which means it's almost certain Mrs. Lights, your dear mother, knew about Tracy Bates,” Julie added.
“Yes, that train of thought does seem practical,” Bethany admitted. Could it be that Julie struck gold? Julie certainly is a brilliant woman in my eyes. I think she's stumbled into a gold mine that we need to continue exploring. “Julie—”
A quick hand tapped the bathroom door before Bethany could continue. “I hear someone coming up the stairs!” Davy called out in an urgent tone.
“Oh dear.” Bethany ran to Julie. Julie snatched the bathroom door open and hurried back into the bedroom as Davy ran to the bedroom door. It didn't take but a second to hear the heavy footsteps sneaking up the staircase. Each stair creaked and moaned like a dying coyote. “Davy—”
“I'm ready,” Davy assured Bethany.
Bethany and Julie hurried to Davy, who checked the gun he was holding and waited. “If any shooting starts, you two get up that fireplace,” he whispered. “That's not a request, either.”
Bethany looked at Julie. Julie drew in a nervous breath and waited. “You, in the bedroom,” a voice hollered, “listen up!”
“That's not the same voice as before,” Julie quickly pointed out.
“No, it isn't,” Bethany agreed.
“We're listening! What is it?” Davy yelled through the closed bedroom door.
“If you want to live, do like I say!” Brad Griffin barked. “My brother is outside, so I have to make this quick. Just do like you're told and I'll make sure you live! I'm playing the game real good—and if you're smart, so will you. All I want is the money! I didn't kill that fella in the bedroom and I ain't going down for murder! Get it?”
“What's this all about?” Davy demanded.
“Just play the game and do what you're told!” Brad hollered. “I ain't stupid! But let me tell you something, boy, my brother ain't stupid, either. He ain't gonna let anyone leave this house alive, including me. So stop running your trap and do what you’re told. I'll step in when I can and save you...but so help me, if you don't tell me where the money is, I will go to prison for murder!”
“What money? What are you talking about—”
“Don't play stupid, boy!” Brad gritted his teeth so hard he nearly chipped a tooth. “My brother knows all about the money! Play smart, or die! I gotta get back downstairs. You've been warned!”
Brad glanced down the staircase to make sure his brother wasn't anywhere around. Yes, for the time being, he was playing the part of a money-hungry killer, but it was Walley Griffin who was the real killer...and Walley was only a puppet being controlled by a very cruel puppet master. Brad wasn't about to take the fall for a murder he didn't commit. No, Brad had his sights set on some buried treasure that was going to set him up for life. A nice tropical island and a pocket full of money sounded real nice.
“Play smart!” Brad yelled, and then rushed back downstairs to wait for his brother to return from the storm. Where Walley had gone, Brad had no idea.
Davy turned to Bethany and Julie wearing a confused expression. “What in the world is going on here?” he demanded as if the two women standing in front of him had all the answers.
“Money?” Bethany answered Davy's question with a question. “What money?”
“Well, love,” Julie spoke in a voice that nearly hit the floor, “looks like we've just had another ugly question mark added to this awful riddle we're trapped in.” She bowed her head and let out a heavy, exhausted sigh. “The next time we decide to leave Snow Falls, lock me in our cabin, love, and never let me leave.”
Chapter Eight
“We've got company!” Walley Griffin grabbed the sleeve of a greasy brown coat and shoved his brother into a large foyer. “Sheriff is on his way up!”
“Sheriff Murphy? How do you know that?” Brad asked.
Walley stared into a young face that resembled the perfect mountain hillbilly. Brad Griffin was a 27-year-old high school dropout who spent his time changing tires at a rundown tire service center in Raleigh. Black teeth from years of neglect and chewing tobacco complemented Brad's rough, dumb face. A mop of messy brown hair sitting under a camouflage hunting cap completed the full costume.
Walley, on the other hand, was decked out in a fancy gray trench coat that complemented a handsome, clever face that was fighting to break free from a backwoods family. Sharp black hair and deep green eyes filled with more street sense than book smarts carried Walley's appearance into the form of a strikingly handsome leading man—but no matter what, no matter how many desperate measures Walley took, he still sounded like a backwoods hillbilly.
“I set a line across the road about five miles down,” Walley explained. “The line is connected to the phone line. If the line is crossed, a low current is sent through the line and will cause the phone to let out a low buzz. Clever, huh?”
Brad had to admit that he was impressed. “I guess that college education you got in the navy paid off.”
Walley didn't have time for his younger brother to puff him up. Brad was pushing thirty. His life was passing by, and it was time to grab some gold and live the good life. “Get outside and stay in the woods. When Sheriff Murphy shows up, plug him real good.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” Brad objected as Walley began to open the front door. “Walley, I ain't killing Sheriff Murphy. I ain't no killer. You're the one who killed Patrick Brakemyer, not me. I ain't no killer.”
“Listen here, boy!” Walley grabbed his brother by the throat. “You better do what I say, or I might kill you myself, do you hear me? I ain't—I'm not—in the mood for back talk. I brought you on board because I want you to live the good life with me, but if you go against me...do you want to go against me?” He narrowed his pair of vicious eyes and glared into Brad's scared eyes. “Do you?”
“No, Walley, you know I'm grateful to you...but I ain't got the guts to kill no man. Even if I wanted to plug Sheriff Murphy I couldn't...I ain't got the guts. You'd have to shoot me to make me pull the trigger—just ain't got the guts for it, you know that. When we were kids, I couldn't even shoot a deer. Just never had the guts. Remember how our old man used to always call me a no-good coward?”
“Yeah, and our man wasn't too far off in his speaking, either!” Walley shoved Brad against the front door and let go of his throat. “I'll have to kill Sheriff Murphy myself. Stay in the house.”
“Uh, Walley,” Brad pleaded, rubbing his throat. “Maybe you shouldn't kill Sheriff Murphy? I mean, look, we can just kill the lights that are on and lock the doors. Sheriff Murphy is probably doing one of those welfare checks—”
“Maybe our guests upstairs figured out a way to contact Sheriff Murphy? You ever think about that?” Walley hissed. “I didn't cut the main phone line, stupid. I only cut the lines to the phone downstairs and took all the phones upstairs away.”
“Did you see anyone else other than Sheriff Murphy?” Brad asked.
“No, but—”
“Well, it would make sense in my head that if those people upstairs managed to get a word out, Sheriff Murphy would be charging up to this house with some reinforcement. I mean, that's how my mind sees it, Walley. I don't mean no disrespect and all.” Brad glanced down. A cheap hunting rifle was leaning in the corner of the foyer.
Walley stared into his brother's eyes, and then lifted his left hand and rubbed a sharp chin. “You know, Brad, you aren't so stupid sometimes. You actually just made a good valid point.” Walley quickly considered his options. “Look, Brad, Tracy and her new...fella...think they're in control. They think they hired two stupid hillbillies they can write off when this is all over. They've got another thing coming, trust me, but right now we have to worry about Sheriff Murphy. If we can't kill him, then maybe we can wait him out? Maybe Sheriff Murphy will leave? If he doesn't...” he reached into his trench coat and pulled a hostile Glock 17 from a hidden shoulder holster. “I'll plug Sheriff Murphy myself.”
“Yeah, okay, but Walley, don't you think this is going too far? I mean, we agreed to bring Patrick Brakemyer up here and hold him until Tracy Bates arrived. I didn't know you were going to kill—”
“Look!” Walley snapped, “Tracy Bates thinks Patrick Brakemyer is still alive. She doesn't know I forced the guy to give me the goods on her new fella. I've got everything under control, do you hear me, boy?”
“Yeah, Walley, but, did you have to kill him? I mean, he gave you the goods—”
“No one is leaving this mountain alive, is that clear?” Walley told his brother in a tone that caused Brad's blood to turn cold. “I've got everything under control.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the staircase. “Mr. Private Eye is dead, but he gave me the goods. Kid thought he was smarter than me. But was he? No. No one is smarter than Walley Griffin.” He continued to eye the staircase. “I don't know how Tracy Bates did it, but she found out that the mother of Bethany Lights is stashing millions in cash up here. Bethany Lights is going to tell us where the money is.” He threw his head back at his brother. “If you had killed Davy Gray instead of being a yellow-belly coward, we would have only two scared women upstairs! Remind me to skin you alive and make you regret your choice later.”
“But you said maybe I did right by letting Davy Gray live because you can use him against Tracy,” Brad said shakily.
“Maybe I did, and maybe I'm right? We'll wait and see. In the meantime, get all the lights out and stay out of sight. I'll be outside.”
“Don't kill Sheriff Murphy, Walley, I'm begging you. Killing a law man won't be right. Besides, if Sheriff Murphy doesn't show back up in town, that'll mean more law men will be coming up this way,” Brad pleaded.
Walley's arrogant mind had not considered that fact. If he killed Sheriff Murphy, the man's death would only draw more vultures wearing badges. Walley despised it when his brother pointed out intelligent facts that he failed to recognize.
“Alright, boy. Just stay out of sight. I'll be outside watching Sheriff Murphy. If he gets too close, I'll plug him. Let’s hope for his own good that he goes away.” With those words, Walley snatched open the front door and stepped out into a frigid night. “Get the lights off and stay out of sight!” he snapped to Brad, and then vanished into an icy darkness.
Brad rapidly closed and locked the front door. “Yeah, go play cowboy. You're the one that's going to end up six feet under. I ain't got the guts to kill, but I'm sure gonna find the guts to kill you.” He snatched up his hunting rifle. “I've got a bullet with your name on it, Walley…no, wait.” A strange and sudden idea struck Brad's limited mind. “Maybe I'll let Sheriff Murphy deal with you!”
Without wasting a second, Brad darted upstairs. “You—in the bedroom!” he yelled once he reached the top of the stairs. “Come on out...I ain't gonna hurt you. I swear. You got my word!”
Bethany, Julie, and Davy all tensed up. “What do you want?” Davy yelled.
“Sheriff Murphy is on his way up the mountain road. My brother went outside to kill him...hell, maybe he will and maybe he won't!” He ran down the hallway that led to the bedroom Bethany and her friends were trapped in like a dumb bull. No matter. Brad had a plan, and his dismal mind had to act while the time to act was good.
He slid to a stop in front of a locked bedroom door. “Listen to me, now!” he yelled. “We ain't got time to be arguing with each other. We can either help each other or die—your choice. You better be smart about this because we ain't got a whole lot of time!”
Bethany looked at Julie and at Davy. “What have we got to lose? We did hear the front door open and close, and we did hear some shouting take place downstairs.”
“I agree with Bethany.” Deep within her heart, Julie felt the need to support Bethany. Why? Julie sensed that Bethany was the type of woman who possessed a clear mind and thought matters thoroughly through before acting. In her past, Julie had known friends who depended on knee-jerk reactions that resulted in catastrophic consequences. It was rare to find a friend who relied on patient, critical thinking skills.
“You best think fast because we might not have much time!” Brad yelled.
Davy took in the tone of Brad's voice. The man sounded anxious and downright urgent. “Bethany, I think you're right.”
“Alright,” Bethany lowered her voice to a whisper. “Davy, open the door. I'll go out first and Julie will follow. You step out right behind Julie and keep the gun behind your back. Stay behind Julie in a way that will hide most of your body. If you see the man out in the hallway try to harm anyone, shoot as fast as you can.”
Davy was impressed. Bethany was a quick-thinking woman who clearly understood offensive strategies. “If we live through this, remind me to check your background and make sure you're not working for the CIA,” he joked, and then drew in a deep breath. “Ready?”
Bethany and Julie nodded their heads.
“Okay, we're coming out...stand back.”
Brad took a step back to wait and glare down the dark hallway. Only the light coming from the main hall hinted at any life in the area. He watched the bedroom door his prisoners were standing behind, and then tensed up when the door slowly opened. Bethany carefully stepped through the door, Julie quickly followed, and Davy took up the rear, staying behind Julie just enough to make it difficult for Brad to see his entire body.
Brad waved his left hand at everyone. “Come here, hurry, we ain't got much time.”
Bethany glanced over her shoulder and focused back on Brad. He was holding a hunting rifle in his right hand in a nonthreatening tone. “Careful,” she whispered to her friends, and then began easing forward up the hallway. “What do you want?” she asked Brad.
Davy peeked over Julie's shoulder. He spotted Brad holding his hunting rifle in a position that was extremely weak and vulnerable. It was clear the guy wasn't interested in harming anyone, but Davy wasn't about to take any chances.
He used his left hand to thrust Julie to the side and charged past Bethany, raising the gun he was holding into a clear firing position.
“Drop the rifle! Put it down now!”
Bethany and Julie froze in their tracks as Davy bravely raced forward. For a mere second, Bethany feared a bloody shoot-out might take place. But to her shock, Brad didn't freak out and try to shoot Davy. As a matter of fact, Brad didn't even pay any attention to Davy's threat. “Stop acting stupid, man. I told you I ain't here to kill you. My brother is the dangerous one. Now everyone, get up here!” Brad waved his left hand at Bethany and Julie again. “Hurry!”
Davy stopped about six feet from Brad, keeping a clear aim at the guy's chest. Bethany and Julie glanced at each other and rushed forward.
“What do you want?” Bethany asked Brad nervously, squinting at the bright light controlling the main hallway.
“Look, it's like this,” Brad began hurriedly, glancing over his shoulder. “There's a whole lot of rats chewing on the same cheese. My brother is one of those rats, and he intends to kill everyone...including me. Sheriff Murphy is on his way up the mountain. My brother went outside to watch him when he arrives. Not sure if he's gonna plug Sheriff Murphy or not. Told him not to, I ain't no killer…I didn't kill that fella in the bedroom, either—my brother did.” Brad looked back at everyone with anxious eyes. “Look, my brother threatened to kill me if I turned on him. If he knew I was talking to you, I'd be a dead man right now—”
Before Brad could finish speaking, a single bullet lashed up the stairs and struck Brad between his shoulder blades. Brad's body lurched forward, and then crumbled down onto the hallway floor, mere inches from Davy's feet.
“Down!” Davy yelled.
Bethany and Julie hit the hallway floor. As they did, Walley Griffin slammed the front door closed and made a clean escape into a—yes—dark and stormy night, leaving his dead brother lying dead inside of an old Victorian house.
Bethany heard the front door slam closed. “I think the shooter went out the front door!”
Davy crawled forward a few inches and checked on Brad, who was lying on the floor dead silent. The bullet Walley had fired had entered Brad's heart, causing instant death.
“I think he's dead. I can't get a pulse.”
Bethany moved forward toward Davy and checked Brad's neck for a pulse. “No pulse in the neck...he's dead.”
“Stay here. I'm going to check the downstairs!” Davy stayed low, crawling to the head of the stairs and looking down. He didn't spot a single soul. “Looks clear. I'm going down.”
Bethany grabbed Brad's hunting rifle. “Let's go, Julie. We're a team.”
Julie tried not to look at Brad's dead body but failed. She spotted a lifeless face lying sideways on the hallway floor.
“How quick life is snuffed out. That could have been any one of us, Bethany, at any second. Here, and then gone.”
“I know, honey...trust me, I know.” Bethany dared to stand up. She lowered her hand to help Julie stand. “Davy, I think the killer fled. If Sheriff Murphy is really on his way to the house, all we can do is wait.”
“Let's go check the downstairs.” Davy eyed the bottom of the stairs and began a downward passage on cautious legs.
Bethany and Julie followed. Bethany felt that any immediate threats had departed from the house—yet she felt that the man who killed Brad wasn't finished by a long shot. A high body count was still on the agenda.
