Chapter 6 - THE BLOODY COAT
The sounds of a brutal struggle erupted in the hallway.
Fists met bone with sickening thuds. Arthur grunted in pain, followed by the heavy crash of a body slamming against the wall right outside Leo’s bedroom door.
"Daddy!" Leo cried, trying to wriggle out of my arms.
"Stay here, Leo," I commanded, my voice firmer than I had ever used with him. I shoved him deep into the closet and pulled the wooden folding doors shut. "Do not come out until I say so."
I grabbed the heavy brass lamp from the floor, my hands shaking violently.
The struggle outside intensified. I could hear Adrian panting, his voice tight with exertion and rage.
"You killed my wife!" Adrian roared.
"She was in the way!" Arthur spat back.
Another heavy thud, and then the terrifying sound of the gun skittering across the hardwood floor.
I couldn't hide in the room while Adrian fought for his life. I unlocked the deadbolt and threw the bedroom door open.
The hallway was a nightmare.
Richard lay motionless on the floor a few feet away, blood pooling beneath his shoulder. He was unconscious, but I could see his chest rising and falling shallowly.
Directly in front of me, Adrian had Arthur pinned against the ornate wooden railing overlooking the grand foyer. Adrian’s face was bruised, his crisp tuxedo shirt torn and stained with blood. He had one hand wrapped around Arthur's throat, pressing the older man over the terrifying drop to the marble floor below.
Arthur was laughing. A sick, breathless, bloody laugh.
"Do it, Adrian," Arthur wheezed, his hands clawing weakly at Adrian’s grip. "Drop me. Become a murderer just like me."
"Adrian, don't!" I shouted, stepping out into the hallway, still holding the brass lamp. "The police are here! They're coming up the stairs!"
It was true. From the foyer below, the sweeping blue and red lights of police cruisers flashed through the front windows. Heavy boots were pounding up the grand staircase.
Adrian looked at me, his chest heaving. His eyes were wild, consumed by grief and adrenaline.
"He killed Clara, Margaret," Adrian choked out, tears finally spilling over his bruised cheeks. "He took my son's mother."
"I know," I said gently, taking a cautious step forward. "And he is going to spend the rest of his miserable life in a concrete box. Don't give him the satisfaction of ruining your life, too. Leo needs you."
At the sound of his son's name, the murderous tension in Adrian's shoulders broke.
He yanked Arthur away from the railing and threw him roughly onto the hallway floor.
Three armed police officers crested the stairs, their weapons drawn.
"Nobody move! Hands where we can see them!" the lead officer shouted.
Adrian immediately raised his hands, stepping back from Arthur.
The officers quickly secured Arthur, rolling him onto his stomach and clicking heavy metal handcuffs around his wrists. Another officer checked on Richard, calling for a paramedic over his radio.
I dropped the lamp and ran to the closet, pulling the doors open.
Leo practically launched himself into my arms, sobbing.
Adrian walked into the room, falling to his knees. I handed Leo to him, and the father and son held each other in a desperate, unbreakable embrace.
"I've got you, buddy," Adrian wept into his son's hair. "It's over. The bad men are gone."
I stepped out of the room to give them a moment.
In the hallway, Arthur was being hauled to his feet by two officers. Despite the handcuffs, despite the blood pouring from a split lip, he looked at me with a venomous smirk.
"You think you won, Margaret?" Arthur sneered as the cops dragged him toward the stairs. "You think finding some old letters and locking me up fixes anything? The money is still gone. Victoria might have protected the real estate, but the cash Clara found? It’s buried deeper than you’ll ever find."
I watched him go, a cold pit forming in my stomach.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the child's drawing. The map Clara had drawn before she died.
I walked downstairs. The foyer was a chaotic scene of police, paramedics, and the remaining dinner guests giving statements.
Victoria was sitting on a velvet bench near the front doors, perfectly composed, speaking quietly with a detective.
I approached her.
"Mrs. Moretti," I said gently, interrupting the detective. "I need to show you something."
Victoria excused herself and looked at the drawing I placed in her hands.
"Leo had this," I explained. "Clara gave it to him. I think it shows where she hid the evidence of Arthur's embezzlement. The real ledgers."
Victoria adjusted her glasses, studying the drawing of the Aspen cabin and the large oak tree.
Her expression didn't change to relief. It changed to absolute horror.
"Margaret," Victoria whispered, her hands trembling. "This isn't just a map."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
Victoria looked up at me, her eyes wide. "That oak tree... it was struck by lightning and burned down twenty years ago. Clara couldn't have drawn this. She never saw that tree."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"If Clara didn't draw it..." I started.
"Thomas drew this," Victoria realized, her voice barely a breath. "This is Thomas’s handwriting disguised as a child's."
"But Leo said his mother gave it to him," I argued, confused.
"Clara must have found it in Thomas's belongings after he died," Victoria said. "She thought it led to the ledgers."
"If it doesn't lead to the ledgers," I asked, "what did Thomas bury in Aspen?"
Victoria stood up, gripping her cane. "I don't know. But I know what Thomas was wearing the last time he went to that cabin."
She walked briskly toward the hall closet, pushing past a police officer.
"Mrs. Moretti, wait!" I called out, following her.
She opened the heavy wooden door of the closet and began tearing through the winter coats. Finally, she pulled out a heavy, moth-eaten wool coat. It had belonged to Thomas. It hadn't been worn in years.
Victoria laid the coat on the foyer table and began desperately patting the pockets.
"Here," she breathed, finding a lump in the lining.
She reached into the torn pocket and pulled out a small, tarnished silver key.
"This is the key to the lockbox in Aspen," Victoria said, looking at me. "Thomas never let me see what was inside it."
Suddenly, the front doors of the mansion burst open.
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Vanessa, who had been escorted outside earlier, broke free from a distracted officer and lunged back into the foyer. Her dress was ruined, her hair wild.
"You can't have it!" Vanessa screamed, tackling Victoria to the marble floor.
