Krewe of Hunters 8 The Uninvited (26 page)

Jason had been at work. But how long had he been there? Had he
just started his shift? He wasn’t going to ask Jason; he’d ask Evan
McDooley.

Nathan Pierson denied any knowledge of snakes.

Annette didn’t have an alibi; sleep had never been one.

Allison and the Krewe went back to the Tarleton-Dandridge
House, where they discussed the evening, pointing out the merits of the various
suspects.

It came time for bed at last. Tyler reminded Allison to keep
her door ajar so he could hear her and watch out for her.

Kelsey gave a loud sigh of exasperation.

“What, you think we’re all blind?” she demanded. “Keep Allison
really
safe—stay in the same room. Don’t bother
with this pretense. Lord, please, spare us from those who think we’re idiots and
don’t know what’s going on!”

Tyler looked at Allison.

She laughed. “I don’t think any of you are blind or idiots.
I’ll get my things,” she said to Tyler.

He felt like a college kid. But Sean had already waved
good-night, and Jane and Kat had gone into the room they were sharing.

“See you in the morning,” Logan said, shrugging as if to
disavow any connection with his fiancée’s outburst.

He walked into Lucy Tarleton’s room. A moment later, Allison
joined him.

And all he could do was smile.

15

A
llison caught herself humming as she went
down to shower the next morning. Everyone knew where she’d been all night, but
they all seemed pleased that she and Tyler were happy in each other’s company,
or they didn’t consider it any of their business.

She met Logan in the kitchen after her shower. He brought her a
cup of coffee and asked, “Allison, what’s in the second article by Martin
Standish?”

“I printed it out after I talked to him yesterday,” Allison
said. “It’s an interesting piece on the conflict of loyalties in the colonies.
Many people wanted to stand up for their rights—no taxation without
representation—but they
didn’t
want to split from
the mother country. Of course, most schoolchildren know that a lot of those
Loyalists either returned to England or went to Canada. The article talks about
the way we tend to think of Philly as a city that was occupied. We forget that
there were people here who accepted it, saw it as a done deal. They gave up
their loyalty to the fledgling United States and welcomed the British. Angus
Tarleton was no spring chicken when they occupied the city. According to the
Standish article, he was old and tired and wanted to live out his life in peace.
Most of their friends tended to sympathize with the patriot cause, and, whether
it was official or not, Lucy had been with an ardent patriot, Stewart Douglas,
who’d left to fight with the American forces. But, as Standish points out,
there’s no mention of Stewart Douglas having been at Valley Forge. Some
historians suspect he was going in and out of Philly, stealing supplies,
listening for information and secrets. But whether or not he saw Lucy before her
death, no one knows. The article hints that Lucy might not have been
pretending
her affection for Beast Bradley. There’s no
question that she started out using him for whatever information she could
gather for the forces, but she might have fallen in love with him and suffered
serious conflicts because of it.”

“Until he killed her,” Tyler suggested from the doorway. “That
doesn’t bode well for an affair. Remind me of the exact date Philly was
occupied,” he said as he walked into the pantry to pour himself coffee.

“September 26, 1777,” she answered. “There’d been a lot of
jockeying between George Washington and Howe, but Howe got around Washington
after a few skirmishes. Usually, in war, when a capital city is taken, the war
is over—but the British didn’t count on the patriots continuing to fight. The
British general Cornwallis surrendered on October 19, 1781, at Yorktown. There
were skirmishes after that, but it was the last major battle, although the
Treaty of Paris wasn’t signed until September 3, 1783, officially ending the
war.”

Tyler and Logan looked at each other, grinning.

“Hey, I teach this stuff,” Allison said. “In fact, I do a
course on the history of American government, comparing the Revolutionary era to
our modern politics. Not that much has really changed since those early days.
They all had different opinions back then, too. Not everyone worshipped the
ground Washington walked on. He had his critics.”

“Okay, but the British got here on September 26, 1777,” Tyler
said. “And when did they leave?”

“On June 18, 1778. That’s when they evacuated
Philadelphia.”

“And Lucy Tarleton died on what date?” Logan asked.

“It’s believed she was killed just before the British
evacuated. According to the stories we have, Beast Bradley murdered her in the
grand salon hours before leaving the city. Angus was apparently found cradling
his daughter’s body by Tobias Dandridge, the man who would later marry
Sophia—and the artist who painted the likeness of Bradley in the study.”

Logan and Tyler looked at each other again.

“What?” Allison asked.

“September to June. Nine months—give or take a few weeks,”
Tyler said.

“Are you saying—”

“Suppose history has it wrong,” he went on. “What if Beast
Bradley moved in and Lucy fell for him right away? Or, even if she wasn’t in
love with him, what if she was willing to use him for information, as you said?
And willing to sleep with him to keep her family safe? According to all the
stories, she played at being attracted to him. So, what if she had a child with
him—and she was killed because of that child?”

Allison groaned. “And one of my ancestors was that child? I
don’t know—they would’ve had to begin their affair immediately. And the child
had to have been born just before she died. And if
she
was killed, why would someone let the child live?”

“I imagine it’s easier to kill a woman who’s angered or
betrayed you than a helpless infant,” Logan said. “The murder might have been
because he was furious, a crime of passion.
If
Beast
Bradley killed her.”

Allison was thoughtful. “Okay, wait,” she said after a moment.
“You think maybe Lucy
did
care about Beast Bradley,
and that she had an affair with him—and a child. So someone else killed her.
Who? Angus? Because his daughter had, in his view, betrayed him and her country?
And, of course, the baby was innocent, so he asked the Leigh who would’ve been
my ancestor to take the baby in?”

“It’s possible,” Tyler said. “And I think it’s a theory we can
investigate when we go to Valley Forge. I want to hear what Martin Standish has
to say.”

“Allison, did he come to his theories and conclusions because
of letters in his possession?” Logan asked.

“Yes. But it’s difficult to prove those theories because the
letters might not be signed. Or they’re signed with initials or just a term of
endearment. This would be for the protection of both the writer and the
recipient.” Allison paused. “The war was a hard, sad time for many. Some letters
were written by soldiers and sent out. Others were written by friends and
relatives and smuggled in to them.”

“Valley Forge is only twenty miles northwest of Philly,” Tyler
said. “But our appointment with Standish is at two this afternoon. Since we
don’t know what we’ll find out or how long it might take, I suggest we plan on
staying overnight if need be.”

“I wouldn’t mind being out of the city for a night,” Allison
murmured.

“You feel you need to get out of this house for a while?” he
asked her.

“Yes, but I also have a feeling there’s something in Valley
Forge we need to know. Maybe you’re right and we have the history all wrong,”
Allison said. “We’ll have to do some cajoling to get Martin to really help us.
He was pretty angry about that phone call of Cherry’s.”

“And who more than Cherry would receive a comedown if it was
proven that
Allison
is a descendent—not just of the
house, but of Lucy Tarleton,” Logan remarked. “What’s your feeling about
Cherry?” he asked Tyler.

“I agree that she stands to lose the most,” he said. “But I
don’t know….”

“Martin Standish is passionate—and possessive!—in regard to his
letters,” Allison told them. “He admits there’s no way to
prove
who wrote them, but according to the article, he believes they
belonged to ‘heroes and heroines who dared not write their names.’”

“How did he get hold of these letters?” Tyler asked.

Allison shrugged. “He hasn’t said. It can be big business, you
know. There are many letters from all periods of history in private hands.
Sometimes people don’t even realize they own them. They find them when they’re
cleaning out an attic or a basement. Anytime you go to a reenactment, you’ll
generally see collectors buying and selling historical items and letters.
There’s nothing illegal about owning them. Sometimes, what happens is that
children inherit collections or letters, guns, even articles of clothing—and
they don’t have a real appreciation for those objects.” She gave another shrug.
“So they might have them appraised and sell them. That’s how some of them came
on to the market. In Martin Standish’s case, he’s a true lover of the era, and
his collection is precious to him.”

“You think he’s just going to let us rummage through
everything?” Tyler asked her.

She smiled. “Not
rummage.
I think,
if I approach him in the right way, he’ll let us study his documents. You do
realize they won’t be in a stack on his desk. He’ll have done everything
necessary to preserve them.”

Tyler clapped his hands. “Road trip. Let’s get started.” He
turned to Logan. “We keep coming back to that painting of Beast Bradley in the
study. With the overlays Jane’s done, we probably have a truer image of the man.
But that doesn’t help with what we’ve heard about the painting—from Julian, from
the Dixon family, from Ethan.”

“I’ll get Sean on it again,” Logan promised.

* * *

They took their time driving to Valley Forge.

Tyler enjoyed the trip. Being with Allison was like being with
a personal guide; she pointed out landmarks along the way and memorials to
events that had taken place. The patriots hadn’t just abandoned Philadelphia.
The British had won the Battle of Brandywine. There’d been a rain-out, basically
a draw, at the Battle of the Clouds.

They stopped at the site of the Paoli Massacre and spent an
hour walking around the pristine grounds where the British had routed Anthony
Wayne’s troops on September 20, 1777.

Looking out over the beautiful countryside, just touched by the
gentle breeze of the late-summer day, Tyler found himself seeing the era that
had given them their country through Allison’s eyes.

“You told me once that courage wasn’t about not being afraid,”
she said. “I still marvel when I think about the fight these men waged. Every
man who put his name on the Declaration of Independence knew that doing so made
him a traitor, and if the war was lost and he was captured, he could be
executed. They
had
to be afraid. Only an idiot
wouldn’t be. The British had the most powerful fighting forces in the world at
the time, and those men—Washington, Jefferson, all the others—still signed that
piece of paper. Washington’s army faced near-starvation, a lack of supplies,
lack of clothing…and, of course, some did desert. But whenever I think about it,
I’m in awe that we have a country. They were routed again and again, but they
prevailed in the end.” She smiled mischievously. “And there
were
a few victories in there! The Americans did win against the
British general Burgoyne during the Battle of Saratoga. And once Lafayette
arrived and Pulaski helped whip our men into fighting shape, the army was in
much better condition.”

He slipped his arms around her, pulling her close. “You make me
see the world in a whole new light,” he whispered.

She leaned against him. The sun was shining down on her hair,
which made it look as dark and glossy as a raven’s wing. He had to remind
himself that they weren’t on a date—or sightseeing.

“So, there’s action all around Philly, even after the British
occupy the city,” he said pensively. “When they do, our Lucy, who’s friends with
a number of fighting men, immediately begins her flirtation with Lord Brian
Bradley. Whenever she gains information, she rides out. Sadly, I guess neither
she nor any other patriot spy reached this particular battlefield in time.
Sounds like it was a horrible massacre.”

“The Americans repulsed the British at Whitemarsh,” Allison
said. “Lucy might have been able to get information to someone about that.”

“Washington retired with his forces to Valley Forge in
December, right?” Tyler asked.

“December 19,” Allison replied. “We should move on. You can see
some of the landscape around there before we meet up with Martin Standish. The
old stone farmhouses that were used as headquarters still exist and they’ve
built replicas of the wooden huts the soldiers used to survive the winter.
You’ve never been there? On a school trip or a family vacation, maybe?”

He shook his head. “No. But I can tell you the story of the
Alamo with every detail and every argument about the deaths of our Texas
heroes.”

“‘Don’t mess with Texas!’” she said, smiling.

They made the drive to Valley Forge, and once they arrived,
Tyler was even more impressed. There had been no fighting at Valley Forge; there
were still fortifications and cannon and all manner of defenses. At the time,
the Americans hadn’t known the British wouldn’t chase them to the valley.

But despite the lack of fighting, there had been many, many
deaths. Two thousand had died from the harshness of that winter and the diseases
that riddled the troops.

They stopped to see George Washington’s restored headquarters,
and Tyler felt humbled as he studied the general’s maps and other artifacts.
From beyond the little house and the hill on which it sat, he saw an exceptional
view of the Schuylkill River.

At quarter to two, they came to an old corner brick building,
where a small sign announced Standish House: Open upon Appointment.

Tyler had barely knocked when Martin Standish opened the door.
He was a wizened little man with Ben Franklin glasses, wispy white hair and a
round belly.

Indeed, he looked like an older Ben Franklin.

“Come in, come in,” he said, hustling them inside and locking
the door behind them. “No one followed you, did they?”

Tyler was surprised. “No one knows we’re here, Mr. Standish,”
he assured the man. “This is Allison Leigh. You’ve spoken to her online and on
the phone. And I’m Agent Tyler Montague, with the FBI. Why are you afraid we
were followed?”

“I received several calls this morning, from people asking to
see my collection.”

“What people?” Allison asked.

“Young lady, if I knew that, I wouldn’t be so worried. But
considering everything that’s happened, I don’t trust too many people. In fact,
after you two leave today, I’m going out of town for a while. This is all making
me very nervous,” he said.