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  Maybelle’s Affair

  A Finders Mansion Mystery (Book 2)

  The Further Adventures of Mary O’Reilly

  by

  Terri Reid

  Maybelle’s Affair

  A Finders Mansion Mystery (Book 2)

  by Terri Reid

  Copyright © 2019 by Terri Reid

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  The author would like to thank all those who have contributed to the creation of this book: Richard Reid, Sarah Reid, Peggy Hannah, Mickey Claus, and Terrie Snyder. And especially to the wonderful readers who are starting this whole new adventure with me, thank you all!

  Contents

  Finders Mansion – Book Two

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Chapter Sixty-two

  Chapter Sixty-three

  Chapter Sixty-four

  Finders Mansion – Book Two

  Chapter One

  Markus Harrington sat back in his leather recliner inhaling the rich scent of the new leather smell, even after three weeks, the chair still had its just store-bought smell. He looked around his home, so much had changed in the past month. First, there was the surprising knock on the door and the stranger who gave him a check for more money than he’d ever seen in his life. Something about a bank error years ago that they were finally fixing. He still couldn’t figure out how a bank error could end up earning him so much, but if that were the payback on an error, he’d be happy to have the bank make a few more of them.

  He looked at the old wedding photo sitting on the brand-new shelving unit the interior designer had picked out for him. That was the only argument he’d had with the fancy designer from the furniture store. She’d wanted him to update the frame, something black and slick to match with the rest of the new décor. But he knew his Sophie wouldn’t have wanted it changed. The old, slightly tarnished metal frame had been good enough for them when they were struggling to make ends meet; it will be good enough now that the tide had turned.

  His eyes got a little misty as he thought about Sophie. He wished that she had lived long enough to enjoy this money too. He would have made her get some new clothes, something from one of those boutique stores downtown. She would have made a fuss, but he would have insisted. She deserved something nice; she deserved the best.

  He pulled an old kerchief from his pocket, wiped his eyes and blew his nose. He missed Sophie. He missed her every single day of his life, and no matter how much money was in his bank account, it would never fill the hole that was in his heart.

  He took a deep breath and reached over to pick up the tall, Styrofoam cup that held his coffee. He sipped and smiled as the smooth combination of coffee, cream, and flavoring slide down his throat. Sophie had always called fancy coffee a waste of money and a sin against the institution of real coffee drinkers. Those fancy latte, macchiato, caramel drinkie things were desserts, not morning fuel. But, he smiled with satisfaction, he had one there on Sophie. He didn’t have to pay for his fancy morning dessert drinks. No siree, he got his coffee free every morning at the investment club he joined. Free coffee. Free breakfast. And free advice on how to turn his newfound bonanza into an even larger sum.

  Sophie would be so proud of him, he thought, hobnobbing with those highfalutin banker types. They would have never given him or his the time of day a few months ago; now they were all “Mr. Harrington this” or “Mr. Harrington that.” He smiled, took another sip of the cup, and smiled. Yes siree, he was finally living the good life.

  Suddenly Markus felt a sharp pain in his right side. He gasped and groaned, the cup dropping from his hand onto the expensive new rug underneath his chair. He tried to reach for his phone, but he couldn’t get his hand to cooperate. The pain increased, and tears slid down his cheeks. He struggled to catch his breath, struggled to move against the pressure in his chest.

  Finally, he laid back against the fancy leather upholstery of his new recliner. Markus Harrington was dead.

  Chapter Two

  “It may surprise you to learn that we’ve been able to give away six million dollars in the past eight weeks,” Bradley Alden, Freeport’s Chief of Police said about the treasure trove they had discovered in the mansion across the street. “But, that’s just a drop in the bucket to what we still have to do.”

  Stanley Wagner, the retired owner of Wagner’s Office Supplies, raised his hand, and Bradley acknowledged it. “Stanley.”

  “I’m thinking we need to get more disguises,” he said.

  “Disguises?” Bradley asked.

  “Darn tootin,” Stanley replied. “Iffen I keep going to folks’ homes with a cashier’s check and saying I’m from a lottery no one ever heerd about
, people are gonna get mighty suspicious. I know we got to return those funds back to the relatives of the one what lost ‘em, but this keeping it secret stuff is getting harder and harder.”

  Alex Boettcher, Stephenson County District Attorney, nodded. “That’s true,” he agreed. “But I don’t know if we need disguises.”

  “I brought some with me,” Stanley continued. “So’s you can see.”

  He slid his chair back, reached under the table to grab a shopping bag next to his feet and pulled out an item. Then he bent forward, placed the item on his head and sat up.

  “Stanley,” Mary O’Reilly Alden exclaimed, muffling her laughter. “That’s a mask, that’s not a disguise.”

  “Same difference,” Stanley said behind the large rubber mask.

  “Stanley, you look very handsome,” Rosie Wagner, his wife, said with an approving sigh.

  “And you look like our president,” Alex added. “I don’t think it’s going to work.”

  “Two things,” Stanley said, his voice slightly muffled by the rubber. “First, it was on sale, so I kept expenses low. Second, if anyone were going to be handing out money, it would be him. He’s got plenty.”

  “But you don’t sound like him,” Bradley tried to reason.

  Stanley pulled the mask off, his face wet with perspiration. “I can get a recording,” he improvised.

  “You don’t think someone in a mask of our president giving away tens of thousands of dollars isn’t going to cause a little commotion?” Mary asked.

  Stanley sighed. “Well, I ain’t thought of it that way,” he said. “But we gotta do something if we want to keep this on the down low.”

  “Stanley’s right,” Alex said. “We do need to keep this quiet, not only for Maybelle’s sake but also for all of your safety. We don’t want the wrong people to think that suddenly all of you have come into a lot of money.”

  “So, what do you suggest?” Mary asked.

  “Do you have a list of the people who are owed money?” Alex asked.

  Mary shook her head. “No, Maybelle keeps bringing me one file at a time,” she explained. “And I have no idea where the files are coming from.”

  “Maybe you could talk to her about looking over all the files,” Alex suggested. “At least that way we’d have some idea of how long this process is going to take.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Rosie inserted.

  Mary smiled at Rosie and nodded. “Okay, I can do that,” she said.

  Alex turned to Stanley. “And, in the meantime, I like how you’re thinking.”

  Stanley grinned and turned to Bradley. “See that; the District Attorney likes how I’m thinking.”

  Then Stanley turned back to Alex. “So, what’s our next step?” he asked.

  “Well, we need to change things up, so no one gets suspicious,” Alex replied. “I don’t want to bring any more people into this situation, but we might have to.”

  “Naw, you give me a toupee and a fake mustache, and I can fool the best of them,” Stanley countered.

  “You probably could if you weren’t Stanley Wagner,” Alex replied. “Everyone knows you, and they know that you’re friends with Mary and Bradley. A couple of times, it might work, but in the long run, we have to consider safety.”

  Stanley nodded and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Never realized what a popular guy I was,” he said. “But if you’re thinking no to the costumes…”

  Alex nodded. “I’m definitely thinking no to the costumes,” he replied. Then he looked over at Bradley. “Do you have the names of the people you’ve paid so far?”

  Bradley nodded. “Yes. The Claus family, the Hannah family, the Johnson family, the Harrington family, the Laramie family, the McDaris family, the Snyder family and the Tremont family. I can send you their names in an email.”

  “Yeah, that would be good…” Alex said slowly.

  “What?” Mary asked.

  He shook his head quickly and smiled at her. “Probably too many hours at the office and not enough sleep,” he said. “But there is something about a couple of those names…”

  “Like they’re familiar or something?” Stanley asked.

  Alex nodded. “Yes, really familiar.”

  “Well, we did talk about them at the other meetings,” Rosie suggested. “Maybe you just remember them from that.”

  Alex turned to Rosie and smiled. “You’re probably right,” he said. “That’s the most likely reason.” Then he turned to Mary. “Do you have the next name?”

  “No,” Mary said, shaking her head. “I have to go over there today and talk to Maybelle.”

  “And get started on the painting,” Bradley added with a smile.

  “Yes, getting rid of all of that turquoise is the first item on the list,” she agreed.

  “You need any help?” Stanley offered.

  “Thank you, Stanley,” Mary said, “but Katie Brennan is going to go over with me this afternoon after I pick up the paint.”

  “What color are you going with?” Rosie asked.

  “For starters, we’re just painting primer over everything,” Mary said. “That turquoise is so dark; I’m afraid it would bleed through anything else.”

  “Well, iffen you need help,” Stanley added. “I’m your man.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll remember that!”

  Chapter Three

  Bradley was waiting at the front door when Mary came down the stairs from the second floor.

  “Is he asleep?” Bradley asked, keeping his voice low.

  She smiled and nodded. “Finally,” she whispered back.

  She looked tired, he thought, and he didn’t know how she kept it up. He would hear her get up in the night, quietly, trying not to wake him and take care of Mikey’s needs. He knew she hadn’t had a full night’s sleep ever since Mikey was born. Even though she put up a cheerful front, he realized she must be exhausted.

  He walked over and embraced her. “You should go upstairs and take a nap,” he said. “I know he didn’t let you sleep most of the night.”

  She smiled up at him and shrugged. “I’m good,” she said, biting back a yawn. “I’ve been on stake-outs before; this is nothing.”

  He shook his head. “You have never been on a stake-out that’s going to last at least two years,” he replied. “I’ve been reading on the Internet, and the experts say that moms rarely get enough sleep. This is your chance.”

  She smiled up at him. “You’ve been reading on the Internet about me?” she asked with a wide smile. “How sweet.”

  He shrugged. “Well, this is my first time around with a newborn,” he said. “I want to be sure I do it right. Now, about that nap.”

  The thought of a nap almost seemed like a decadent luxury and, she had to admit, it made her feel a little guilty. “But I have so much to do,” she argued, as much with herself as with her husband. “I have to go to the bank, pick up paint and supplies, and then go back to the new house…”

  He kissed the top of her head, then turned her around towards the stairs and gave her a gentle shove. “I will help you with whatever you need to do when I get home this evening,” he promised. “Besides, a nap will actually make you more productive in the long run.”

  She looked over her shoulder and grinned at him. “I love when you win me over with logic,” she said.

  “Go to sleep,” he tenderly ordered. “And I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

  She nodded. “Okay, be safe out there.”

  “Promise,” he agreed.

  He watched her walk up the stairs, love for her brimming in his heart. “I better make sure she’s not disturbed,” he said, as he opened the front door to step outside. Once he closed the door behind him, he called out, “Mike. Mike, we need to talk.”

  Mary slowly walked up the stairs and heard the front door close and lock behind her. “I really shouldn’t…” she murmured to herself, but once she walked into her bedroom and looked at the large, comfortable bed,
she was convinced. “It’ll just be for a few minutes. I won’t be able to sleep for very long anyway.”

  As she began to climb under the covers, Mike appeared at her side.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, immediately concerned.

  He shook his head and smiled. “No, nothing’s wrong,” he teased. “But I was just asked by a very concerned husband to let you know that I am watching over Mikey while you sleep. So, you have nothing to be worried about.”

  “You guys are the greatest,” she yawned, climbing into bed.

  “We aim to please,” he said. “Now get some sleep.”

  As soon as her head hit the pillow, Mary was sound asleep. And not too many more minutes later, she was dreaming.

  She walked into the front door of the house and was greeted by a bespectacled young man with a dark suit and a nervous manner about him.

  “If you just wait in the parlor, Mr. Finders will be with you soon,” he said, ushering her into the parlor.

  “But this is my house,” Mary replied to him. “And Mr. Finders is dead.”

  The man shook his head nervously and took Mary’s arm, guiding her into the parlor. “He’ll only be a few minutes,” he promised. “Really, it will be worth the wait.”

  “But…” Mary stopped arguing once she stepped into the room. The parlor walls were lined with benches, and nearly every seat was filled with someone waiting to see Mr. Finders.

  “Why are they all here?” Mary whispered to the young man.

  “They all want to be wealthy,” he whispered back. “They all want to realize their dreams.”

  “And Mr. Finders can do that?” Mary asked, knowing full well that Mr. Finders had been a cheat and a thief.

  The young man looked at Mary, his eyes earnest and filled with hope. “Yes,” he said with assurance. “Yes, I believe he can.”

  Suddenly the door behind them opened, and a beautiful young woman entered the parlor. “Gilbert, would you please tell my father that there is a telegram for him?”

  Gilbert reddened slightly and nodded at the young woman. “Of course, Miss Maybelle,” he stammered. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Maybelle shrugged daintily. “Since you are an associate of my father,” she replied coolly. “I require absolutely nothing else of you.”