“You did well tonight, Josiah. Your heart softened when it counted the most. And now it’s time for you to meet your king and to receive your reward,” the angel said. And then they entered the spiritual portal and headed for heaven, leaving earth behind.
Chapter 34
Inside the VFW hall, volunteers picked up folding chairs and placed them in wheeled carriers. Other volunteers picked up trash and balloons and helped the custodial staff spruce up the place.
The presidential candidates had long ago climbed aboard their campaign buses and moved on to the next campaign stop, and the audience had also filed out, no doubt their opinions generally unchanged by anything spoken during the debate.
Newton Laskey pulled out his cellphone. He needed to call his wife and tell her he was on his way, and that he’d be home in forty-five minutes to an hour.
His longsuffering wife was a gem. She’d put up with his crazy working hours for way too long. She kept bugging him to take some time off and go on a vacation with her. She wanted to see Europe. He supposed he should relent. Their anniversary was coming up soon anyway. Maybe I should surprise her and buy some plane tickets, he thought.
The FBI boss started to punch in his home number, but stopped when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned and saw Otis Grant, one of his special agents. The troubled look on Grant’s face told him his night just took a detour. “Is there something the matter, Otis?”
Grant nodded solemnly. “I overheard one of the deputies talking. A Copeland Police officer has been shot.”
“That’s terrible. Is he going to make it?”
Grant balled his fists. His muscular shoulders strained at his suit jacket. “He died calling for backup. And it gets worse, Newt. The shooting was at the Whitcomb Bed and Breakfast Inn. That’s where Annie lives with her husband. The cop said there were hostages inside when he called dispatch.”
“Let me guess, Annie is a hostage. She has a knack for getting kidnapped.”
“We should go over there, Newt. I miss Annie. The pretty lady has moxie. Besides, the Copeland Police force is a two man operation—the chief and one other officer. They’re down to only the chief now. They could use our help.”
Laskey scowled. “The Iberville Parish Sheriff’s Department will be running the show now.”
“We’ve worked with Lester Tubbs before,” Grant said.
Laskey pursed his lips. “Sheriff Tubbs is okay, I guess. But if you ask me, Tubbs doesn’t read a crime scene very well.”
“So are we going or not?” Otis Grant asked, pressing for an answer.
“Of course we’re going. Annie is still family. Where’s agent Brubaker?”
“He’s outside smoking.”
“I thought he kicked the habit.”
Grant rolled his eyes. “He made it two days. He’s back to chain-smoking.”
“Well, go round him up and meet me at my car. I’ll drive us over there.”
Otis Grant turned and jogged for the door. Newton Laskey watched him exit the building. He then finished dialing his wife. He hated to tell her she would have to sleep alone again tonight. He’d promised her he’d be home at a reasonable hour tonight. Once more she would think he was only lying to her. Laskey shook his head. Sometimes I hate this job.
****
Arcadias and Damien stood inside the kitchen pantry and looked at the cement wall. Puzzlement soured their faces.
“Someone sure went to a lot of trouble to hide the treasure,” Damien said.
Arcadias rapped a fist gently against the cement. “Is this a structure-bearing wall?” If anyone would know it would be Damien. His brother had worked in construction all his life.
“No, I don’t think so. There’s really no reason for it to be here. Behind it is the servant’s staircase. The wall looks like it’s simply a barricade to me, Arcadias.”
“It can only mean that the doubloons are stashed behind this wall somewhere.”
Damien shrugged. “There’s no way to tell for sure without searching back there.”
“You think if we cut a hole in the ceiling we could climb over the wall?”
“Yeah, I think we could. We would need a reciprocating saw to do it though,” Damien said.
Arcadias smiled craftily. “I brought one. It’s up in the Rose bedroom. We have to be careful with the cutting blade though. I don’t have a spare blade to switch it out.”
Damien looked at Arcadias. “Cutting a hole big enough for us to climb through is going to take at least an hour, valuable time we could use to get away. We’re going to screw around and get trapped in this house.”
“I don’t want to go to prison any more than you do, Damien. But no one knows for sure what is going on inside this house. Neither you nor I have criminal records. If the police show up they’re not going to know who to suspect. So let’s cut a hole in the ceiling and find what we came here for.”
Their two-way radios suddenly crackled to life. Iris’s shrill voice cut through the static. “Police are here! I see several cars parked out front. Their lights are flashing.”
Arcadias brought his radio up to his mouth. “I’ll be there in a second, Iris.” He placed a hand on Damien’s shoulder, gripped it tightly. “Remember, the police don’t know who the perpetrators are. We don’t need to panic just yet. But we do need to get behind this cement wall. So fetch the saw and start the demolition.”
Chapter 35
Newton Laskey pulled his government-issued Grand Marquis to the side of the long driveway, parking it an out-of-the-way spot between two magnolia trees. He and his two agents climbed out from the car. Red and blue lights flashed from multiple vehicles parked in the circle drive and cast strobes into the sky and trees.
A deputy trotted up to them. He shined a flashlight directly into their faces. “This is an ongoing crime scene, gentlemen. You’re going to have to leave. We have a violent hostage taker inside the house. He’s already killed one person. Please clear out.”
“Deputy, we’re from the FBI. Can you please tell Lester Tubbs that Newton Laskey is here with two special agents? We’re here to help if Sheriff Tubbs will have us.”
“I’ll need to see some identification,” the deputy said.
Laskey pulled out his wallet badge from a pocket inside his suit coat. Agents Brubaker and Grant followed his lead and produced their FBI badges. The deputy dutifully studied the badges and corresponding ID cards for several moments. He finally handed their identification back to them. “You just happened to be in the neighborhood and popped in?”
“We were working the town hall debate in town. A stalker to one of the candidates was thought to be in attendance. After the debate we heard about a policeman being shot and killed at this address. Since we were so close we headed over,” Laskey explained.
“Wait here. I’ll pass along your request to the sheriff.”
“Thank you, Deputy,” Laskey said. His gaze fell on the plantation house. The extraordinary home looked too genteel to host a crime spree. In Laskey’s experience domestic violence commonly occurs in rundown homes in impoverished neighborhoods. But there were exceptions. Human emotions fueled by alcohol and drugs could trigger violence anywhere, even in affluent homes.