The Twelfth Child (Serendipity #1)(45)

“That’s a terrible thing to say! Why, Abigail Lannigan was as generous a soul as I’ve ever known.”

“Generous? Doling out a few hundred bucks every so often? Shit, I had to grovel just to get that!”

“She never made anyone grovel! She gave you every cent you asked for.”

“Ask? Why should I have to ask? That old bag had no right to the money! I’m the male Lannigan heir. Me! Elliott Emerson! By all rights, I should have inherited that miserable farm, and every cent that came out of it. If my mother’s stubborn-headed grandpa hadn’t screwed her over, I would have had it sooner! Dear old Auntie –”

Before he had time to finish the thought, Destiny lifted her hand and whacked him in the face. “Get out of here,” she shouted. “Out! And, don’t ever come back!”

“Fine! Just fork over the name of the lawyer handling the estate probate and I’m out of here!”

Destiny pushed hard against Elliott’s chest. “Out!” she repeated. “I’d sooner die than see you get one cent of Abigail’s money!”

“You?” Elliott sneered. “You, Little Miss White Trash, have nothing to say about it! Your days of free-loading are over!”

Destiny punched Elliott in the chest with such force that he lost his balance, tumbled backward and landed on the coffee table with a crashing thud. “You pig!” she shouted and turned away.

As soon as he got to his feet, Elliott snatched hold of Destiny’s ponytail and yanked her head back. “Just wait,” he snarled, “I’ll get you for this! Get you good!” He turned and stomped out the front door, slamming it so hard that the vibration caused a lamp to topple from the end table.



When you’re looking at things from the other side, you can see the truth of what is in a person’s heart and when Destiny started bawling like a baby I knew it had nothing to do with money or material possessions. I also knew that the poor girl was in for a rough ride, because I’d seen the meanness in Elliott’s face.

Two days later, was when Elliott marched himself into the Middleboro Police Department and said he wanted to report a crime. Tom Nichols was the detective on duty that day, which is something I have come to be thankful for. One glance at Detective Nichols and a person would right off think, now here’s a man who has the look of fairness about him.

I could tell by the expression on Elliott’s face that he thought this fellow was going to be a pushover. Of course, Elliott was always misjudging a person, which was part of his problem – that and being so greedy. “I suspect this woman, Destiny Fairchild, has done away with my beloved aunt,” Elliott told the detective. “Abigail Anne Lannigan, she’s my great aunt on the maternal side.” He lowered his head in a most sorrowful way.

“Done away with?”

“Yes indeed. This woman is a neighbor, but she’s taken over my aunt’s house. She claims my aunt just up and died, but before anyone could ask about what happened, my aunt was planted in the ground!”

“How old was this aunt?”

“Old. Eighty, ninety. Maybe one hundred.”

“Hmm.” Detective Nichols pitched his eyebrows down like he might have doubted the truth of what was being said. “Your aunt was well along in years. What makes you think her death wasn’t from natural causes?”

“I think she caught this Fairchild woman stealing from her – she’d been doing it for ages! My aunt probably got wise to the scheme and ended up dead. All that money should go to blood relatives.”

“Are there other relatives?”

“No, just me. But I was close, real close, to my aunt.”

“When was the last time you saw your aunt alive?”

“Let’s see now,” Elliott had practiced exactly what he was going to say but he had not anticipated this particular question so he stumbled over his thoughts for a minute, then said, “I believe it was two years ago last November.”

“You haven’t seen this aunt for two years?”

“Um, I could be wrong about the date.”

“Less than two years, maybe?”

“Possibly more.”

“So, you haven’t seen this real close aunt for two years?” Detective Nichols waited for a moment but when it appeared that an answer wasn’t forthcoming, he asked, “During that time did you speak to your aunt on the telephone?”

“I can’t say that I recall a specific conversation.”

“When does this neighbor claim your aunt passed away?”

“As far as I can tell, it was about six months ago. Destiny Fairchild is an extremely belligerent woman and when I tried to inquire as to the circumstances of my aunt’s passing, she physically assaulted me. I tell you, Detective, she’s hiding something. Why, she’s taken over my aunt’s house, stolen her car, writes checks on her bank account – a while back the woman actually had me cashing checks for five hundred dollars, obviously, that was money she was stealing from my aunt’s account. I cashed the checks, of course, but I thought the money was for poor Aunt Abigail.”

That was when Elliott whipped out the typewritten list of things he claimed Destiny had stolen from my house. The detective read down the list item by item and every so often he’d stop to ask about something. “A cherry wood chest,” he’d say, “you’re sure it’s missing?”