Murder at 221 Beacon Hill

By D. Howard H. Armstrong

Maggie Matheson, an advertising executive in New York City, is forced to put her career on hold when she discovers her fiancé has been brutally murdered in his Long Island mansion on Christmas night. What was supposed to be a romantic weekend turned into a hideous nightmare for Maggie as she sets out to vindicate his untimely death. She vows to make sure whoever killed her beloved Edward was brought to justice, even if it meant soliciting the help of a former Secret Service agent from Washington, DC. After arriving in New York, Maxwell Howard joins forces with Senior Inspector Morris of the NYPD to hunt down the diabolical killer that has eluded the police for months. As things unfold, Maxwell Howard follows the trail of art thieves to the back streets of New York and all the way to Miami Beach only to wind back up at the mysterious mansion of Beacon Hill. The thrills and suspense will lead you on an exciting adventure and keep you guessing who killed Edward. A family drama is intertwined throughout the search for a villain before they kill again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781642141894

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Murder at 221 Beacon Hill

D. Howard Armstrong

Copyright © 2018 D. Howard Armstrong

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64214-187-0 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64214-215-0 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64214-189-4 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

To David Atkins for his support, encouragement, and always being by my side throughout the writing of this book.

Chapter 1

There’s Been a Murder

The winter air was crisp as I eagerly slid out from behind the steering wheel. I had an eerie feeling as I started up the steps to the grand mansion overlooking the waves below, unaware of the shock that was facing me in the next few minutes. The soft snow blew down on the bare trees and the stone-lined driveway. It almost covered the hedge and the lawn all around the house; icicles frozen like crystals on the high eaves hung from the house two stories up. The night sky was dark; the wind picked up. It made me thankful that I remembered to bring my Christmas present from Edward, a warm black fur coat that the cold couldn’t penetrate. There were no sounds outside, just silence. The moon was bright as clouds moved swiftly by; there were no lights from inside the house. I was excited to spend some time alone with Edward at his country home. I was expecting he would already be there with a warm fire blazing in the huge stone fireplace and a glass of wine, awaiting my arrival. I could see the outline of the black Jaguar around the side of the house under the porte cochere. The silver hood ornament gleamed in the moonlight. There was another car behind Edward’s, a black Mercedes. It looked familiar, but for now it wasn’t important. Oh well, I will help him get things ready.

I decided to wear a little black cocktail dress that I knew Edward would like with four-inch Nova Glitter peep-toe Jimmy Choos. I was in the holiday mood and couldn’t wait till I was in his arms. I was imagining him holding me and kissing me so hard with his strong hand behind my head, pulling me close to him, like Jack Nicholson did with Diane Keaton in Something’s Got to Give on the bridge in Paris with snow falling. I love that scene. Eddie is romantic like that, and I could picture our evening; we would dance to soft music and drink wine and laugh and make love in that big four-poster bed upstairs in Edward’s room.

With my weekend train case and handbag and a Christmas gift for him beautifully wrapped in red paper and a big red bow, I hurried up the steps, my heart pounding. I hoped he would love his monogramed spa robe I selected from Bergdorf’s. I just want to make him happy; that’s the most important thing to me. I know I can make a good and loving wife even with my busy career. We had made lots of plans for our future.

As I reached for the door, I was greeted by a dark figure rushing out that almost ran right into me. As I looked up into frightened eyes and a pale white face, I recognized David. What’s going on? Why are you here? It seemed hard for him to catch his breath. Where’s Edward?

David is a tall handsome man with thick dark-brown hair and dark eyes. He is always well dressed with a calm nature. This was a different side of him than I had seen before. He seemed disheveled and stressed with beads of perspiration on his forehead as he stumbled over his words to explain why he was there.

Oh, Maggie, something terrible has happened. It’s Edward. He’s inside lying on the floor. I think he’s dead. There was blood, and I couldn’t get a pulse.

My heart was in my throat; I was frozen and couldn’t speak. Finally, I found some words, but it didn’t sound like my voice. Did you call the police or 911? I asked.

No, the phone is dead, and I can’t get a signal on my mobile phone. Try yours, David answered.

No, let me see him first. Maybe I can help him.

No, please don’t go in.

Rushing inside past David’s black cashmere overcoat, I saw blood on his right hand. There was a small lamp on the desk with a faint yellow glow that gave just enough light for me to see a curvature of a body on the floor in front of an unlit fireplace. A chill ran through me to the bone, and my body went limp. The house was cold and dark. Dampness hung in the winter air. I could see my breath in front of me as it curled up in front of my face and disappeared like smoke from a cigarette. It seemed odd that in an eight-bedroom house, no lights were on, or heat. Edward should have gotten there a couple of hours earlier before I arrived, yet nothing was prepared for our weekend. I dropped what I had in my arms to the floor, and as I fell down beside him to check for signs of life, I could see blood in his blond hair and a puddle on the wood floor. The collar of his white dress shirt was stained with blood, and he still had his long camel hair overcoat on over a charcoal cashmere sweater. As tears ran down, my mascara left black streaks on my face. My heart was almost beating out of my chest as I called his name in desperation over and over and kissed his face as though this might help bring him back to me. I started shaking and shivering with a knot in my stomach. I thought I was going to be sick. I felt a strong hand pulling on my arm. It was David pulling me up from Eddie’s body. There’s nothing you can do. He’s gone.

He can’t be dead. I can’t lose him this way. David, what are you doing here? Edward and I were supposed to have a quiet holiday together.

David said, Ed and I were working on a business deal and didn’t reach a decision this afternoon. He told me he was going to the country. I thought if I drove out this evening we could put the deal to bed and I could call the owner of the Miami company first thing in the morning that offered to buy us out. They are pushing me for our answer. They didn’t want it to go past the end of the year for tax purposes. I arrived only a few minutes ago and found him like this. I guess we better call the police now.

Yes, I said. I will call them. I went onto the front porch that stretched across the large home to get a mobile signal and dialed 911. I was shaking, and with all the courage I had, I spoke into the phone. I need to report an accident or a death. I struggled to find the words through my sobs. That’s right, my fiancé has been killed. I went on to give my name and the address. 221 Beacon Hill, just off Overlook Drive. Yes, that’s right, Beacon Hill, a large white brick house.

David walked away toward the back of the house and said, I will check the house and make sure no one is still here. I want to check out the back. I was about to do that when I heard your car pull up in the drive. I thought he probably needed time to compose himself. As I was on the phone, I noticed no other cars pulled away from the house, and I saw no one walk toward the gate at the main road. The moon reflected off the snow, so it would have been easy for me to see someone trying to make a getaway from the property.

Oh, my poor Edward. Why would someone kill him? He is such a kind person and no enemies in the world. As I sat there numb and in shock, not knowing what to do, David came back into the room where Edward’s body lay, and he said, Maggie, let’s get you into the living room, and I will light a fire, and both of us could use a brandy.

As we walked out of the study where Eddie lay, I noticed two glasses on the bar with a little liquor still in them. So someone had a drink before they killed him. As he led me out of the library, he said, I’m so sorry, Maggie. I know what a shock this has been, as he put his arm around me. We used to date a year or so ago before Edward, but we grew apart when I had to go back home due to my father’s ill health. I stayed with my mother until his passing, and when I returned, he was seeing a friend of mine, Camille; that is about when I met Edward. When we met, it was like love at first sight. He and David owned a trucking company together and were currently in negotiations to sell to a large company in Miami, Florida. The last time I spoke to Eddie, he said he wasn’t sure about the deal and needed time to think it over. Now that he is dead, I feel uneasy as to why David is here. David was all in on the buyout, and maybe there was a disagreement between the two of them and he killed him. David and Eddie met in college. Eddie’s eccentric family had money, and David didn’t have two dimes to rub together, so he was after the big money this sale would finally bring him. He would be on easy street. It seemed to me that he stuck to Edward like a remora, hoping his success would rub off on him; at least he was along for the ride. I think I had his number after a couple of months of dating when I had to go back home to Virginia. They made a pretty decent living running the company as it is. Eddie was considering keeping the company because he wanted to keep busy and not retire.

He actually enjoyed working, making deals, facing challenges, and solving problems. If it was worth $15,000,000 now, it would be worth that and more later on when he was ready to give up the rat race. He wasn’t going to let anyone pressure him to sell.

David said the back door was unlocked and there were footprints in the snow, but he wasn’t sure if Eddie had made them getting firewood or if someone left through the back door. I guess it’s better to leave it up to the cops to investigate.

About ten minutes had passed, and we heard the doorbell. Three men stood outside the door. One was an Inspector Morris visiting Long Island from the Manhattan office with two officers. The inspector wore a tan overcoat, a man of approximately fifty with a five-o’clock shadow and black wavy hair but a kind face. They showed their IDs and badges and said, May we come in? Are you the lady that called, Miss Maggie Matheson? There was a murder, ma’am? I need to see the body and one of my officers will take your statements.

Yes, I called, but David Simpson found my fiancé dead before I arrived.

Yes, Inspector Morris, come this way. As David led the inspector toward the library, I sat in front of the fire and gave my statement to the officer.

I’m afraid I won’t be much help as I just arrived a few minutes before I called your office.

Officer Davis asked, What is the deceased name, and how do you know him?

It’s Edward Myers. He was my fiancé. I spoke to him about five this evening before I left the city to drive out here.

He wanted to encourage me to leave on time so I wouldn’t have to drive too long at night since the Weather Chanel predicted snow, and with the temperature dropping, the roads would become icy. As he took notes, he kept firing questions at me. Where do you live and work, Miss Matheson?

I work in Manhattan at an advertising firm. I also live in the city. My secretary, Fiona Baldwin, helped me finish a presentation before I left the office approximately five fifteen.

As I answered all of his questions, I thought this young man must have just graduated from the academy in training to become a detective under Inspector Morris. He was tall, blond, and you could tell he was built up under his uniform and about twenty-five years old. I heard someone else arrive through the front door. It was the coroner. After they checked for fingerprints and all around the house, they took Eddie away on a stretcher. I broke down. This was for real; I would never see or talk or hold Eddie again. It’s over, all our plans and future as a couple. As I stared down at my diamond engagement ring and unconsciously turned it around on my finger, I felt despair. The officers checked outside for clues—tire prints and footprints. It was determined it wasn’t Eddie’s footprints in the snow. They took lots of pictures of the scene.

The officers dusted inside for fingerprints and bagged some evidence. There was a light dusting of snow since 5:00 p.m. I noticed they also bagged the drink glasses. They weren’t overlooking anything since it may lead to who had been with Eddie before he died. The coroner determined that he had only been dead approximately one to two hours. They asked that we both come to the police station in the city tomorrow morning in case they had more questions. They seemed very interested as to why we were there and about the takeover by the company in Miami and if either of us had any insight as to the details of the business transaction. Of course, David would be able to explain their offer.

I told them of Edward’s reservations about selling his part of the company. Did anyone touch the body tonight? the inspector asked.

I said, I kneeled down to see if I could help him, but he was already gone. There was nothing I could do. He was cold, I said crying.

How about you, Mr. Simpson. Did you touch him?

No, I just checked for a pause but nothing.

You didn’t remove anything from his pockets? We feel something has been removed as there was money, a pack of money with a band from a bank around it, approximately $10,000 under the body, quite a lot for walking around money. Miss Matheson, since you are his fiancée, did he normally carry that much with him several thousand in cash?

I don’t think so, but I can’t be for sure.

Do you know if he was meeting anyone else here tonight? It could have been a payoff, asked the inspector.

No, we were supposed to be alone this weekend. I was surprised to see David here.

Mr. Simpson, how did you gain entrance to the property?

The front gate was open.

How about the front door? Did Mr. Myers let you in?

No, I rang the bell several times, but when there was no answer, I tried opening the door since Edward’s car was in the drive. That’s when I walked in and found him, David explained.

What time was that, sir?

I would say a little after 7:00 p.m., just before Maggie came. I tried to ring for help but couldn’t get a signal. I almost ran into her on my way out. David answered one question after another.

Were you going to leave, Mr. Simpson?

I was planning on going for help, at least back to my car to see if I could get a signal on my mobile.

As he was being questioned, David was perspiring; he must have been nervous because it was freezing in the house.

In a murder like this one, we will need to search both of you and your luggage, Miss Matheson.

No problem, go right ahead.

What do we have here? One officer searched David.

Mr. Simpson, do you normally carry a handgun?

Sometimes I do when I am on the road or carrying money.

And how much money do you have with you tonight?

About $2,500. I withdrew it for the holiday weekend.

Do you have a license to carry a firearm?

Yes, I do.

Do you have it with you?

Yes, here it is in my wallet.

Okay, Mr. Simpson, I will see you tomorrow at the station. Here is my card, Inspector Morris said.

There was so much going through my mind—all of our future plans. His sister Cassie would have to be told. Yes, I need to call Cassie. What does all of this mean? Losing someone you love is heart-breaking enough, but for them to be murdered? I need to get out of this house and back to the city. An overwhelming sense of loneliness came over me as I tried to keep my shaking hands gripped to the steering wheel through the dark and blowing snow covering the streets back to Manhattan.

Chapter 2

Running Away

I drove over two hours until I reached my apartment building. My eyes were beginning to swell from crying. In a way, the quiet time by myself helped me think through what had happened, but I didn’t come up with any resolution; I couldn’t bring Eddie back. The city was festive with Christmas decorations; the window displays were like a winter wonderland, alive with stunning gifts, glitter and fashions, twinkling lights everywhere. Hotels were lit up and busy while horse-drawn carriages took young couples for rides up and down the main boulevards. You could hear the click-clack of the horses’ hoofs and the jingle bells attached to their harness with plumes of white feathers on their heads. White twinkling lights lined the carriages, and there were burgundy-and-navy-checked wool blankets for the passengers to keep warm from the winter chill. Snow fell lightly over the city, and the wheels made tracks in the fresh snow. The handsome cabs were a part of NY as long as anyone could remember.

At that moment, I didn’t know if I would look forward to the holidays ever again. I just wanted to take a sleeping pill or a . . . Wonder if I have any valium left from my prescription. My head ached from crying. We had been dating about six months when we decided to marry the next spring. I was envisioning us together, his strong arms and shoulders, blond curly hair, and soft blue eyes. I always thought he looked like a young Nick Nolte with his square jaw and sexy smile. No one understood me like Eddie. We were like soul mates. I need to find out what happened to him. Who would gain by his death?

After I reached home and unlocked the door, walking in, I felt strange. What am I doing back here when I am supposed to be with my fiancé for a beautiful holiday weekend? Boy, can life play tricks on you. You think you have a handle on your future, then the rug gets pulled out from under you. I called Cassie and told her the bad news. It was hard for her to understand me through my hysterics; I could hardly catch my breath. I get even more emotional when I try to put it into words. She started firing questions at me. I could tell she was very upset. I told her I was so sorry to have to break the news to her over the phone, but I wanted to prepare her before she heard from the police and assure her I didn’t know exactly what happened, but her brother Edward had been killed at the Beacon Hill house. I told her what I knew.

We agreed to meet the next day to discuss the horrible tragedy, and she would also accompany me to the police station to get some answers from Inspector Morris. He had been on temporary assignment in Long Island but would be investigating the case from the city. Cassie and Edward weren’t close, but she would be the one person to tell their parents the shocking news. They were in their early seventies and live in New York City. The country home we were meeting at is a family estate in Long Island that has been in their family for many years. Edward was given the property, including five acres a couple of years ago as part of his parents’ estate planning, and he took over the responsibility of the upkeep. Edward was his parents’ right hand and handled a lot of their business since his dad’s retirement. His sister was to inherit the family’s art collection worth several million. Cassie had no interest in the old country home as she liked the city. There was some sibling rivalry growing up, but they went their own way in the world and were fairly successful in their own right. Now with Edward’s death, Cassie will inherit the family’s remaining fortune upon the death of her parents. She is an editor of a fashion magazine in the city, and there had been talk about a boyfriend named Franklin Martindale that made some bad investments and left her needing money. He was a drain on her financially. They argued most of the time over his gambling and always asking her for money. They soon parted, but he continued his bad luck streak and didn’t pay her back. It was rumored that not too long ago he had had a close brush with the law.

The last time we spoke before today, she told me she was going to sell her apartment and find a more affordable address. I told her I was sorry to call so late and that I tried to call earlier before I left Long Island, but she didn’t answer. She said she was out for the evening and appreciated my concern and felt bad for me as well for the loss of Edward. She seemed to be in shock as her voice trailed off, saying, I will see you in the morning, Maggie, and hung up.

When we arrived at the police station the next day at ten, everyone was buzzing around with activity, processing the arrests from the night before. It was a very uncomfortable place to sit along the wall on a hard wooden bench, waiting to be called in. Finally, we were directed in to see Inspector Morris. He told us there were some new developments and that they had information that some other suspects had been to the house last evening.

Miss Matheson, before we go into any details, I have to ask if you have lost one of your earrings at the house the night before.

No, I don’t think so. Why do you ask? I said.

The officers bagged a gold half-carat diamond solitaire last night along with their other clues. I was wearing diamonds, white gold, but I have both of mine. I actually was wearing mine and showed him. We plan to take it by a local jeweler to verify that it is in fact a real diamond.

We found a receipt from a local market and the name of the delivery man, Josh Johnson, that had dropped off groceries and a liquor order of brandy and Scotch earlier that day.

A handyman, Juan Hernandez, had been out to the property the previous day to take care of some maintenance items. There were always things to be done with five acres and such a large house. He checked to make sure there was firewood stacked inside the house, so it was determined that it wasn’t Mr. Myers who went outside for wood for the fire. The telephone service was not turned on by the time Edward arrived. Juan had worked part-time for the family for fifteen years. He lived close by with his wife in a small cottage and seemed to be trustworthy enough.

Rose Huntley, a housekeeper that is regularly called in, was due to report