| |
AS BEDTIME DREW ON and most of the house retired, Joy and Arnie found a quiet corner of the great room to talk in private for a few minutes. Arnie was sober as he spoke. “Joy, first I should tell you that Robertson and his lying pal, Tom Percher, are both dead.”
Nothing could have shocked or surprised Joy more. “Wha—how?” she stammered.
“Percher was found poisoned in his jail cell about a week after the trial ended. His death caused quite an uproar. He had not been able to tell the law much, but evidently someone wanted him silenced. The law could not seem to catch up to Robertson either—until a maid found him, the day after Percher died, in a hotel room. He had been strangled.”
Arnie put his feet up on a box and stretched his legs. “And I did some digging and have discovered quite a bit about him since you left Omaha. You told us that Robertson represented a consortium called ‘Franklin and Chase Enterprises.’ We could not find anything on this business during the trial, but we did finally find them, or what had been them, last month.
“Seems the ‘consortium’ was really one man, a Shelby Franklin. He operated with a small, select crew. Franklin used threats to extract ‘protection’ money from local businesses and to acquire part ownership of lucrative ones. He had not been operating in Omaha for long but had already made considerable inroads into the business community. Apparently, Robertson worked for him.
“They expected that you would be easy to frighten and control. In refusing their intimidation, you threatened their plan to force the downtown businesses into their protection racket. They could not allow your resistance to go unchecked—they stood to lose a lot of money if others were to hear and follow suit.
“That,” he paused, “and they wanted your property, Joy. Plain and simple. We believe that if you had bent to their ‘partnership’ agreement, you would have found yourself out on the street with very short notice. The City is expanding rapidly in that direction. I do not know if you realize how strategically located your two lots were.”
For a moment Joy felt yanked back into the hopelessness of those few weeks. She had to shake herself to snap out of it. “How did you find this out, Arnie?”
Arnie’s mouth twisted into a shrewd smile. “I have a sympathetic friend who suggested that I hire some professionals to investigate the situation. He and others in our community did not like what was done to you, Joy.”
“Professionals? But who?”
“The Pinkertons.”
“What? Detectives?” Joy was astonished a second time.
“Yes, and they were happy to take the case. Seems Franklin’s activities were stirring up a lot of interest. You see, the other thing Franklin was into was investment fraud. He’s a clever one, let me tell you. On the one side of his ‘business’ he was nothing more than an upstart gangster and opportunist; on the other side he presented himself as a respectable financier with a finely appointed office and a slick and quite exclusive investment strategy. He brazenly targeted only the plums of Omaha society and suckered significant amounts of money out of a number of our most outstanding citizens through false investment opportunities.
“When the city auctioned your lots, Franklin had prearranged to snap them up. That is how we got a bead on him. He already had buyers from back east lined up—and as soon as he acquired your lots, he turned a substantial profit on your property.” Here Arnie looked pained.
Joy patted him on the leg. “It is all right, Arnie. Truly.”
Arnie shook his head in regret. “I just wish I had known sooner, Joy. Maybe I could have prevented all—”
“That was my fault, was it not?” Joy answered her cousin. “I am the one who was wrong. I thought I could do everything on my own. I was filled with anger and pride at the time. I should have asked for help the first time Robertson darkened my door. But I did not. I thought I could—no I wanted to handle it myself. I have repented of my prideful foolishness, Arnie. Now I have to let it go, as do you.”
“I understand, Joy. I am grateful that you are past that part of your life. However, just ‘letting it go’ may not be an option.”
“Why? What are you telling me?”
“As I said, Franklin defrauded some outstanding Omaha citizens. They did not take kindly to it, so the Pinkertons are still on the case. And this was arson, you know. We cannot let that go.
“More investigation by the Pinkertons uncovered a similar pattern of criminal activities in other major cities. Someone, using different identities in each city, had worked his way across the country from east to west. According to victims interviewed by the Pinkertons, a very genteel man with ‘sure-fire’ investment opportunities charmed well-heeled clients in each situation. The description of the man is essentially the same, city to city, and matches that of Franklin.”
Joy was both fascinated and repulsed by what she heard. “And Franklin now? Do they know where he is?”
“Franklin is no simpleton. He is well organized, and his schemes are all always short-lived, easily cashed out. He even turns a profit on his protection schemes by selling them to other outfits from back east—thus giving them a foothold where they had not operated before.
“We found that he never intended to stay in Omaha—just fleece as many as he could and then disappear. That has been his pattern in other cities. As soon as he sold your properties, he vanished. All the Pinkertons found was an empty office and a trail of indignant investors. Oh, and the bodies of Robertson and Percher. Since they had both testified at your trial, Franklin knew the police would eventually seize them and pressure them for information. Apparently, Franklin leaves no witnesses.
“The Pinkertons know he left Omaha with a sizable amount of cash. Reports are that he headed south, but they are also following a lead west. To Denver.”
Joy’s heart jumped into her throat.
“Not to worry, Joy. First of all, this is a man who lives in the shadows. He has nothing personal against you, and you cannot identify him. Besides, you are not in Denver and no longer go by the name of Michaels.”
Arnie changed the subject. “By the way, the City of Omaha is a little nervous about you.”
“About me?” Joy did not understand.
“It is more than apparent now that Franklin burned you out, framed you to take the fall for the arson, and then further defrauded you by orchestrating the sale of your properties at bargain prices. The City, when it jumped according to Franklin’s plan, became an unwitting accomplice to his crimes—that and a few city council members may have profited under the table from the arrangement.
“The judge who presided over your trial has been more than a little vocal, publicly taking the City to task for its overzealousness and raising the possibility of criminal behavior by a few officials. That investigation is ongoing. He has suggested that perhaps the City is liable to you for damages.”
Joy was stunned. Arnie withdrew a fine linen envelope from his breast pocket and extended it to her. Joy could not help it—she flinched from it as surely as if he had held out a scorpion. She doubted she would ever willingly touch a linen envelope again!
“It is all right, Joy. This is a letter from the mayor of Omaha. An apology—of sorts. And a little something more than that. In any event, you should know that you have been fully exonerated in the community’s eyes. You are welcome in Omaha, should you ever choose to return.”
He continued to hold out the envelope. At last Joy touched it, felt the smooth elegance of the paper, and took it in her hand.
She stared at it for several moments before opening it.
The letter was short but kindly written. What fell out of the letter into her lap is what truly amazed her. It was a check.
“The amount is the difference between what Franklin paid for your properties and what he sold them for—the fair value you should have received,” Arnie told her. “You will notice that the letter is carefully crafted. The City of Omaha does not take responsibility for what befell you or how you were treated. However, it is written with a conciliatory tone. I believe the check is meant to placate you, should you think of suing the City for how you were basically run out of town, even after you were found not guilty in a court of law.
“Oh. And as your attorney I have contacted your insurance company with the evidence the Pinkertons uncovered. I have formally warned them to pay on the policy forthwith.”
Joy nodded, still staring at the check. Her head was whirling. The amount was enough to cover what she had already laid out on Corinth Mountain Lodge and its refurbishment. It was as if she had spent nothing on it.
She met Arnie’s eyes and smiled a small, crooked smile. “You know, coming here and believing that the Lord is in what we are doing has been frightening and more than a little overwhelming. However, apparently God himself has paid for this lodge.” She looked down on the check again and thought about what Arnie had said regarding the insurance on the store.
She got a faraway look on her face. “Yes. God himself has paid for this place—and more. This is confirmation, do you not think? We are on the right track.”
—
ARNIE, DAVID, AND BILLY tackled unpacking the crates and boxes the next morning while Joy, Uli, and Breona determined how the furnishings would be arranged. David and Uli’s boys, Sam and Seth, carried the wood crates around back and stacked them by the kitchen door. There, Mr. Wheatley methodically removed all the nails and tacks and reduced the wood to kindling. Little Ruth Kalbørg ran simple errands and generally managed to stay out from underfoot as the pieces of furniture were uncrated.
Marit, already slowed by the weight of her growing baby, came to a complete standstill as the elegant pieces to a dining room suite were unpacked. Her hands stroked the polished woods.
“Pretty posh, eh?” Breona joked in her usual merry manner. Marit shook her head in wonder as each piece was revealed.
Under Joy’s direction, the men laid carpets in the clean guest rooms and set up bedsteads and mattresses. Later they hauled chifforobes, dressing tables, and men’s valets to the rooms, shifting them about as Joy and Uli discussed the optimal positioning of each piece. David, ever the diplomat, pointed out Arnie’s reddening face to Uli as he struggled to control his impatience. Joy and Uli exchanged amused grins.
“Over there, please,” Joy commanded Arnie. It was the third time he had muscled the same piece of furniture to a new location. Joy and Uli both burst into laughter as Arnie sputtered and tried not to explode.
Joy, her eyes still laughing, added in a pacifying tone, “Cousin, you will be sleeping in one of these beds this evening and not on the hard floor. Think of how it will feel to be soothed by Egyptian cotton sheets and warmed by a silk-covered goose-down comforter tonight.”
“Sounds good, now that you mention it,” Arnie replied, his normally even nature restored.
After the bedroom furniture had been placed, they laid carpets in the great room and set the parlor furnishings on one end. Two dining tables and their chairs were placed on the opposite end nearer the kitchen. All of the men lifting together moved a majestic china hutch and matching sideboard against a wall in what was to be the dining area.
Marit was beside herself when Joy asked her to unpack two beautiful sets of dishes and an elegant tea service and place them in the hutch. Breona helped her arrange tablecloths, napkins, serving pieces, and silver in the cavernous drawers and cupboards of the sideboard. Breona was accustomed to handling fine things for the families she had worked for, but Marit, who had neither seen nor touched such richness, handled each piece with both fear and wonder.
In the morning, the entire household went to church together. It was a long walk, and the air was crisp, but the women in particular enjoyed the security and freedom of movement that having three men in the group afforded them. It was probably too long of a walk for Marit in her condition, however. Joy determined, with her new influx of funds, to buy a wagon and two horses as soon as suitable ones could be found. And somehow, they would have to afford a more genteel conveyance for guests when they began arriving.
Marit seemed to look forward to Sunday services. She had made a few friends and, although the situation was awkward, was beginning to believe that she might be accepted in the church as a mother without a husband. Because David and Uli had explained her circumstances to the pillars of their church, no one had asked Marit embarrassing questions.
Breona, on the other hand, was a continuing puzzle to Joy. Although free to make her own choices, she took part in morning devotions and came along to church—all the while holding herself aloof. Normally gregarious and social, Breona stood off to the side before and after services, her snapping black eyes daring anyone to speak to her. Joy wondered if she came only to watch over Marit. She was a few years older than Marit and perhaps half her size, but Breona was something of a mother hen to the sweet, simple girl, and would not allow anyone or anything to hurt her if she could prevent it.
Joy and the girls rode back home in the Kalbørg’s wagon while the men and David and Uli’s boys walked behind them. Sunday dinner was a happy though disorganized event. So much of the house was still in disarray. Their party of eleven squeezed in around the larger of the two dining tables that normally seated eight. They dined on roast beef, potatoes, carrots, and thick, rich gravy over Marit’s hot biscuits, mixing fine china with a cast-iron Dutch oven. Dessert was apple pie and slices of cheddar accompanied by sweet coffee—served in tin cups.
Plain or elegant, it did not matter: The meal around that table was a festive affair. Breona teased Samuel and Seth, and little Ruthie imitated Marit in all she did. While the conversation flowed, a contented light danced in Mr. Wheatley’s tired old eyes. And although Billy did not say much, Joy was glad to see he was the same good natured young man she had known before.
“As much as I have enjoyed these few days, I will need to return home soon,” Arnie announced over coffee.
“But you only arrived Friday evening!” Uli protested.
He nodded. “I will stay another day—I can see how much still needs to be done—but I need to start home Tuesday. The important thing is that Anna and I can be more assured about Joy’s little endeavor here in Corinth.”
“Little endeavor?” Joy bristled but laughed too. “We shall see.”
~~**~~
