Darkest Journey (Krewe of Hunters #20)(46)

While visitors could rent rooms at the others, the Hickory Plantation had never operated as a B and B. Guests could come for the day and see the downstairs, which was the heart of the plantation—the master’s office, music room, grand parlor, dining room and ballroom. Outside, they could tour the smokehouse, the two remaining buildings from what had been slave quarters, and the stables. But there was also a private outside staircase, which led up to the balcony and an entrance to the second floor. There, Hickory had raised his son. His wife had passed when Jefferson, aka Jeff, Hickory was only a child, so Farrell had lived there with his son, and, according to Jefferson, it had been a happy life.

Ethan and Randy met with Jeff, who had come home from Harvard to arrange his father’s funeral, in the upstairs parlor, which in actuality was simply a wide hallway that ran through the middle of the upstairs. The living quarters consisted of four bedrooms, one of them turned into an entertainment center, an office, a living room and a small kitchen that opened on to a dining area.

“Dad was a good guy,” Jeff told them. He was earnest and direct and, at twenty-three, as clean-cut as a marine. “He was so proud of our family history. Naturally one of my great-greats was a Confederate officer in the Civil War. But Dad was proudest of the fact that his father marched for Civil Rights in the sixties. He was dedicated to keeping the house open to the public. Thought it was important for people to remember history so we wouldn’t repeat it. I think we probably came out about even, what with the costs of operating and what we brought in.” He let out a deep sigh. “I wish I could help you find out who killed him.” Suddenly his control slipped, and tears filled his eyes. “I loved my dad.”

“We’re so sorry for your loss,” Ethan said.

Jeff nodded. “Thanks. I know you’re doing everything you can, but why Dad and Uncle Albion? Why in God’s name would anyone want to hurt either one of them? They never did anything but good for anyone.”

“Uncle Albion?” Ethan asked. “You called him uncle?”

“Sure. They were best friends. Oh, my God, did those two like to argue. Albion didn’t have a family. I want to bury him near Dad, in the Grace Episcopal graveyard. When I can,” he added softly, glancing over at Randy.

Ethan knew that the bodies hadn’t been released yet. For this kid’s sake, he hoped they could take care of that soon.

“He was proud of me for getting into Harvard,” Jeff said.

“I’m sure he was,” Ethan said. “When was the last time you talked to him?”

“He called me every Sunday. We’d talk for about an hour,” Jeff said.

“What did you talk about?” Ethan asked. “The last time.”

“I told him about a girl I’ve been seeing and promised that it wasn’t interfering with my studying,” Jeff said, smiling. “Told him about one of my classes he would have loved—an elective, on the history of Boston and the Cambridge area. He told me they’d had a great time doing some special reenactment on the Journey, said he and Uncle Albion had gotten into a major-league shouting match over some historical point until their boss—a friend of theirs named Jonathan Moreau—stepped in and told them to cut it out.” Jeff shook his head. “Dad said they provided the best excitement of the day and gave people something to talk about. But he was glad that Jonathan stepped in.” He started to smile, and then his expression grew sad again. “God, I still don’t believe...”

“Jeff, could we see your father’s office?” Ethan asked him.

“Sure. Come on back.”

Jeff led them to a room with a handsome antique desk but no computer.

Ethan glanced questioningly at Randy.

“We’ve got his laptop down at the station,” Randy said. “I told you, we checked everything.”

Ethan sat down at the desk. He wished Farrell would materialize in front of him.

No such luck.

Ethan looked carefully through the drawers. He found one drawer filled with key chains and magnets. “What are these?” he asked Jeff.

“Souvenirs from Dad’s charities. They usually give some goodie or other to the sponsors. Dad gave to save abandoned animals, save the wetlands, all that kind of thing.”

“Okay if I take these?” Ethan asked. “I promise I’ll bring them back.”

“Sure. You can take anything you think will help. I guess I shouldn’t believe in the death penalty, and I’m not sure I did before, but...some bastard stabbed my dad in the heart. I don’t know what will happen to that person, but I sure as hell don’t want him walking this earth free.”

They stayed a while longer, but Jeff had absolutely no idea who his father had gone to meet the night he’d been killed or why he’d worn his uniform.

“I’ll tell you what, though. I graduate at the end of the semester, and then I’m coming right back here. Dad’s death isn’t going to stop me from keeping his dream—and this plantation—alive. Dad left me this place and a hell of an insurance settlement, so I’ve changed things up a bit. I’ve hired security. And they’ll damned well know where I’m going whenever I go out.”

As they left, Ethan and Randy passed a tour group and overheard the guide mention the recent murder of the former owner.

Randy shook his head and then turned to Ethan. “What the hell do you think you’re going to learn from that collection of junk?”