The Maestro (Cold Hollow Mysteries Book 3) (2 page)

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Does Tom get along with his father?”

“Yes. Since our mail is no longer tampered with by Nazar, Tom writes to him regularly. It’s been far too long since he’s seen his father or sister. He can’t wait to see how she’s grown, and Liam is beside himself over having another grandfather and an aunt.”

The chief smiled widely. “It sounds like everyone is going to have a good time.”

“Yes. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, his father already rented out the entire top floor of the Bed and Breakfast for two weeks!”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, Myrna. If I were you, I’d write out a short list of things they can do while they’re here. With fall arriving, it won’t be hard. The place will be booming.”

“You’re right. I’ll get right on that tonight. Have a good day, Chief.”

“You too. I’m going to the farm to check on the new guy in town.” The chief got into his patrol car, started the engine, and exited his favorite parking spot at the front of the bakery.

Myrna shook her head and entered the bakery to see that the lunch crowd was contentedly eating and her staff was hard at work. She headed toward the kitchen, hung her pocketbook and jacket on a hook, changed her shoes, and donned an apron.

Donnie approached her as she was about to sit and enjoy another cup of coffee. He sat opposite her as Sarah bustled around the kitchen preparing more stock for the customers. He leaned forward over the table. “With Sarah back in school, I can pick up some of the slack for you so you can concentrate on your wedding. I can bake, Myrna. Sarah’s been teaching me, and I can prove it.”

Myrna studied his facial expressions. His jaw was tense, his eyes were pleading, and he was a boy on the brink of being a man. He needed to prove himself. She tilted her head, grinned, and said, “Go make me a batch of cranberry-nut muffins.”

He leapt from his stool and crashed into Sarah, sending a bag of flour pluming through the air like a snowstorm had arrived. Myrna belly-laughed as Daryl Borges began railing against his brother for messing up his perfectly clean kitchen. Donnie stammered and rushed to retrieve the broom. Sarah was blushing and sidestepping the two brothers as they cleaned up the mess. She stopped in front of Myrna and whispered, “He’s not lying. He can bake, and he’s darn good at it too.”

Myrna winked at her and smiled. She mouthed the words, “I know.”

Sarah’s best friend from school, Tilly Hughes, came rushing into the kitchen, waving a folder at Sarah. “I found it for you! You left it in the library this morning.” Sarah hugged Tilly and extended the folder out to Myrna.

Myrna opened the folder and gasped. There were five pictures of different wedding cakes with descriptions and the flavors of each written below. Myrna pored over the pictures and descriptions five times; she felt a breath over her right shoulder and saw Donnie’s finger pointing to his favorite. She snapped, “Muffins, Donnie! Make me the muffins!” Sarah and her girlfriend began tittering and rushed from the kitchen, whispering. Myrna didn’t know what they were whispering about but assumed it was boys.

***

Chief Hanover pulled into the driveway of the town farm and was welcomed by the woman who now ran the place, Fran O’Connor. She was a heavyset woman with calloused hands, but she had a beautiful face, long, auburn, curly hair, and a friendly smile. She shook his hand and offered him a snack and cup of coffee with fresh cream. Who was he to decline such an offer? He followed her inside the farmhouse and sat at the kitchen table with her. “So, how’s the new farmhand working out for you?”

She crinkled her face. “Too soon to tell, but I’ll be watching him. He has an attitude about him, as if he’s above working on a farm. It takes a special breed to tolerate the hard work and to care for and feed the animals the way nature intended.”

“I agree, but what makes you think he’s unhappy with the labor?”

“He mumbles a lot. My Mum, God bless her, told me that mumblers were plotters and to stay away from them. She also said to watch out for men whose eyes were set too close together. That meant they were untrustworthy.”

The chief chuckled. “Are his eyes set too close together?”

She grinned. “No, he has a pretty face and a charming smile. It’s the mumbling.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s out mucking the stalls and not too happy about it. Wait till I show him how to spread the manure on the pumpkin patches!”

The chief couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “How’s his hearing?”

She grimaced. “As far as I know, it’s good, but if he keeps listening to music through those headphones he wears, he won’t hear a thing creeping up on him. Why?”

The chief leaned over the table and whispered, “He’s new in town, and I need to sneak over here when he’s busy and put a tracker beneath his car.”

Fran had a sparkle in her eyes and wore a sly grin. She slapped her hand down on the table and said, “I’ll be calling you at the station tomorrow when he’s distracted and busy.”

“Fran, you’re a fine woman. Someday, Mr. Right is going to come along and sweep you right off your booted farmer’s feet.”

She blushed and giggled as she swatted at him. “Oh, go on now and get out, you charmer. I’ve got chores to do.”

The chief pulled out of her driveway, waving his hat at her out the driver’s-side window.

CHAPTER 2

Maurice Gillette stood behind his home office desk with a phone in his hand. His face flushed, but his tone stayed smooth and calm. “You should be cautious when speaking to others, Laurence. I’ve noticed that ignorance tends to ooze from your tongue.” He placed the phone back into its cradle.

He glanced at his muscled driver, who was relaxing in one of the luxurious leather chairs beside the fireplace. “That was the imbecile who runs the home office. Every now and then, he becomes so incompetent that he leaves me wondering if I should just dispose of him.”

“Boss, you rely on him. You’ve said countless times that he’s indispensible. Maybe you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Since you began working from home, you never go to the office to supervise. I used to like it when we went into work each day.”

Maurice raised his finger to the ceiling in frustration. “Ever since Delilah became a problem, I dare not leave the mansion. She killed the last caregiver! It cost me a fortune to cover that up.” He ran his fingers through his long, thick, silver hair. “I can work from this office for now. Now that those cretins who tried to steal the casino contracts out from under our nose have been taken care of, I have everything I need. That entire slipup was Laurence’s fault. Actually, I enjoy the fact that Delilah knows I’m here because it frustrates her to no end. As for my sour mood, I assure you, Adam, I woke on the proper side of the bed.”

Adam stared at the ceiling. “She’s been getting loud lately. The chef is scared of her now.”

Maurice snickered. “Isn’t it divine, Adam?”

Adam crunched his nose up. “It makes me squirm.”

Maurice replied, “I don’t dare sleep in my own bedroom at night for fear I’ll wake up missing my eyeballs. Unlike we two, that woman most assuredly has an untamed dark side.” He shook his head in sorrow. An evil grin slid onto his face. “I find my little girl will soon be undeniably perfect.”

Adam had a smile that ran from ear to ear as he stared at his employer. “I thing it’s best to play it safe and sleep in your secure quarters, boss. As for her dark side, I agree. It’s hypnotic but needs training.”

Maurice sat behind his desk, and Adam watched as his fingers danced atop it. Adam knew he was thinking. The finger-dance was a common occurrence. He watched Maurice’s long fingers as they maneuvered on the desktop. When they stopped, Adam looked at his employer’s face to see him grinning. “Adam, I think I will go out today after lunch. I will relieve the chef of the unsightly task of bringing my daughter her meal and do it myself.”

Adam started to object, and Maurice held his hand up. “I know you fear for my safety, but rest assured, I will be fine.”

“Boss, as part of your security team, I feel I need to warn you to go in armed. Delilah has a way of forging weapons from the strangest items.”

Maurice’s eyes lit up, and he smiled. “Isn’t she delightful?”

“I would say a better word for her is inventive. It’s almost time for her yearly examination by the doctor. How are we gonna accomplish that?”

Maurice turned and stared at the walls of his office. He got up and pulled down an antique blowgun and went to his desk drawer for some loaded darts. He held them out to Adam. “Care for some target practice when I bring her lunch?”

Adam leapt to his feet and took the instrument from his employer. He held it to his chest, and his eyes brightened as he asked, “The usual dose?”

Maurice grimaced. “It would be best to double it.” He sat back down behind his desk. For what he had in mind, they needed Delilah to be unconscious for the remainder of the day. He reached for the phone and called their private physician. He also called an oral surgeon and a plastic surgeon. If need be, he would keep Delilah sedated for two weeks. She needed to learn self-control. Ever since she’d entered adulthood, she allowed her dark side to rule, and it had to be leashed. He had done well teaching his son Tom this and presumed his daughter would do just as well, if not better.

***

Maurice carried Delilah’s meal tray up the stairs to her bedchamber with care. Adam was right behind him, door keys in one hand, loaded blowgun in the other. When they reached her door, they found she had gone silent. There was no telling what she had been up to; she had been screaming earlier that day. Adam slipped the key into the lock and turned it. As the door creaked open, Maurice kicked it wide, Adam left the keys in the lock and had the loaded blowgun poised before his lips.

Maurice noticed a lump under the heavy covers of her bed. He said, “Delilah, dear, what have you been up to? Come from beneath the covers and see Daddy. I brought your meal for you today.”

In a flash, she popped from a lying position to a standing one upon the mattress. She had fashioned claws out of bent silver spoons, and she swiped one of her hands at her father. He backstepped with the tray still in his hands as Adam let a blow-dart fly. It struck her right breast, and she grimaced. In two seconds, she was holding her clawed hand out before her; she asked sleepily as she swayed from side to side, “Daddy, didn’t you like my surprise?”

“Not particularly, darling. Go to sleep.” He glanced at Adam and nodded. Adam shot her with another dart, and she collapsed in a heap atop her covers. He placed her meal tray atop her dresser and approached her sleeping form. Her nightgown was soiled and filthy. She had been refusing to bathe, and her once-beautiful, flowing blond hair had become a matted, filthy mess. He yanked the bent and sharpened spoon tips from her fingertips and pocketed them. Maurice shook his head. “Summon the maid staff while I run a hot bath, Adam. This is going to take some time.”

He heard Adam beat feet from the room and shout below for the maids on duty. They rushed up the stairs and cringed at the condition of Delilah’s room. One of them expediently began stripping the bed of its linens as a second helped Maurice carry the drugged Delilah to the bathroom. The third maid ran from the room for fresh towels and cleaning supplies. Before leaving the bathroom, Maurice murmured to the maid, “I’ll get the scissors from my bedroom. You are to trim her hair after it’s cleansed and conditioned. Scrub her body until it shines. We’re expecting several physicians today, and I won’t be embarrassed by the state of my own daughter.”

He heard her reply timidly, “Yes, sir.”

He left the bathroom to find Adam standing there, awaiting his orders; he still had the blowgun in his hand. “Keep that handy in case we have trouble with her while the physicians are here. Moreover, open the windows in this room to let some fresh air in. It smells most foul.” He left the room to retrieve his grooming scissors, his long, silver hair swinging along with his strides as he walked the long corridor to his secure bedroom with determination. Delilah’s retraining would begin on this day. He was a man who had become accustomed to situations going his way. If the circumstances needed a little nudge or two, that was fine with him.

***

Once the physicians had each examined Delilah, they reported to Maurice in his office. They provided a list of necessary equipment, diagnoses, and prescription slips, and suggested he turn one of his guest rooms into a small operating suite. Maurice obliged their every whim and said he would see that each physician was paid in full once he was satisfied with the result. They left, eager to begin Delilah’s reconstruction the following day.

Maurice made all the necessary phone calls to the medical supply facility and rented or bought the needed equipment. He instructed the maids which room in the mansion to empty and sterilize, and sat contentedly. He stared at Adam and twirled a pen between his fingers. “Are you ready to go out to eat? The physicians assured me our sweet little cherub will be out cold for many hours. After our meal, we can pick up her prescriptions.” He waved the slips in the air before him.

Adam twitched, squished his lips together, and moved them from side to side. Maurice asked, “Let me guess—you have questions again?”

Adam’s eyes were downcast. “Sorry, boss. I do, but I can ask them while I drive you to the restaurant.”

Maurice popped up from his seat and smiled. “Stellar idea, Adam. I am in full agreement.”

The two men left the office, donned their overcoats, and left through the front door of the mansion. The sky had clouded over and threatened rain. Maurice lifted the collar of his overcoat and slid into the backseat of the vehicle as Adam held it open and then shut it behind him. Adam took up his usual position behind the wheel and started the engine. Maurice asked, “Would you mind terribly if we delay your questions until we arrive at the restaurant, Adam? I do love dinner conversation.”

“No problem, boss, but I usually grab something to go and eat in the vehicle while you dine alone.”

“I’m beginning to find that habit tedious and uncalled for. Besides, the times they are a changin’. Or so they say.”

“Who says?”

“They, Adam. ‘They’ say.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

“I’ve no clue.”

Adam laughed and took a right toward the finest restaurant the town had to boast. It was pricey, but Maurice loved it; he said the chef knew what he was doing and never disappointed him.

As they entered the establishment, they were escorted to Maurice’s private table. A waiter appeared within seconds and made his recommendations for their meal. Maurice quickly selected steak tartare with all the sides, and Adam ordered the prime rib. The waiter put their order in and retrieved their desired drinks for them. Maurice twirled a glass of wine before him, and Adam sipped from his imported beer.

“When the meal arrives, we may begin with your questions, but I must warn you. We only speak between bites and never with a full mouth.”

“Agreed, boss. My mother, God bless her soul, taught me well.” He made the sign of the cross with his right hand and stared at Maurice.

“Ah, yes. Mothers are a godsend, of that I’m certain. I think Delilah would have benefited from her mother’s presence, but my lovely wife just could not bear the second childbirth and perished. To this day, I’ve not found another suitable bride.”

“You never know, boss. One may just pop up someday and surprise you. Do you think you’re ready to marry again?”

“If one appears before me and possesses the right qualities, I would court her and decide. This type of commitment should never be rushed and should be given great consideration.”

“So, if a buxom beauty happened to meet you, and she had curves in all the right places, a polite attitude, and said all the right things, you wouldn’t jump on that?”

Maurice sighed. “Adam, buxom women often suffer from back issues, and no, I would not ‘jump’ on that. That’s assuming it’s your term for sexual intercourse.”

Adam laughed. “You get me all the time, boss.”

Maurice smiled as their meals were delivered. Neither man hesitated, and they dug into their food with gusto. Between bites, Adam began his line of questioning. “You never age. How do you do that?”

“I do indeed age, Adam, just as you age. It’s just not as evident. I’ve had genetic testing done and have been told my DNA takes much longer to break down than most individuals’. They haven’t found out why yet.”

“So, the geneticists are still researching for you? I assumed you fired them.”

Maurice shook his head. “No. I only fired one of them. The man was obviously inept.”

“Did they look into your enhanced strength too?”

“They most assuredly did. They said I had genes similar to a Greek god from Olympus and to thank my parents for them.” Adam laughed and sipped his beer and resumed eating for a while. As Adam chewed, Maurice continued, “While doing routine blood work, they also said I had a particular type of anemia.”

Adam swallowed. “Like the doctor said Delilah has?” He leaned forward and spoke in a whisper, “You don’t suppose you two are vampires, do you?”

Maurice winced and waved his hand before him. “Oh, Adam, don’t be gauche. Of course, we’re not vampires.” He could not help the chuckle that escaped his lips.

“Do you think she inherited your strength too?”

Maurice’s eyebrows rose. “I’m going to assume she did, given the way she bats around the staff when angered. Nevertheless, come to think of it, each of us has a dark side. Delilah’s simply requires training. I believe her to be a perfect replacement for me at the office when I retire. I am beyond pleased my son did not acquire this anemia the two of us have. However, he too has a dark side that he keeps under remarkable control.”

“I wish I had met him. The way you talk about him makes me want to meet him.”

“You will someday soon, Adam. I promise.”

Adam smiled and finished his meal and beer and sat silent until Maurice was satisfied.

As they left the establishment, Maurice wished Adam would live forever. He was the perfect bodyguard, chauffeur, and companion. The reason why Maurice confided in the man was because he had been tested. His loyalty to his job and to the family was ironclad. He also knew what would happen to him if he ever betrayed Maurice.

The ride back to the mansion was calming and quiet, except for one question that Maurice threw at Adam. “Adam, would you ‘jump’ on a buxom blonde if given the opportunity?”

“You bet your ass I would. Any opportunity to get my pipes cleaned is a good thing.”