“Oh, darling, you are home, thank heavens!” she cooed sweetly. “Janice and Bill came back from rehearsal with me, and we’ve decided that we want martinis before we go out. Would you be a sweetheart and do the mixing while I change my dress?”
Paul stood up and checked his cufflinks. “Of course, dear.”
Chapter Twenty-Six: A Chance Meeting
The next morning, Victoria Bell stepped out of city hall and walked east. It felt wrong to be at home and wrong to be back at work. She had just made a foolish mistake, and it took her off-guard. She hadn’t slept well, and she needed fresh air. She felt ill. And remembering how Walter had treated her yesterday made her feel even worse.
It had rained most of the night, and the streets were still wet and clean. Large clouds sailed overhead, sprinkling light showers, then blowing on to reveal bright sunshine. Victoria had an umbrella, but she wasn’t using it. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but it felt good to be outside, to be moving. The fresh air might help her clear her head. Victoria glanced at her watch.
It was too early for lunch. And Pike Place market was too far away for a quick outing. Maybe she would buy some more stockings. She was down to her last pair, and there was no sense waiting until they had a run. She would buy stockings.
Riggs hadn’t telephoned her yet. But he would, and soon. Mrs. Abbott’s murder was on the front page again. The headline did not explicitly accuse the family, but it was coming. Perhaps she should have stayed in her office and waited for his telephone call? Maybe she should go to him first. No. Before she talked to him again, Victoria had to make a decision. He wouldn’t be taken by surprise this time. He wouldn’t let her walk off again. The next time they spoke, Riggs would be ready with questions, and Victoria needed to be ready with answers.
Victoria had just turned onto Fifth Avenue when a voice called her name. Freddy was sitting at a small cafe waving to her. He was with the woman Victoria had met at Julia’s house yesterday, Donna Holt. They invited her to join them, and a moment later, Victoria found herself sitting down at a small table under a red and brown striped awning, with the sunshine warming her back.
While they waited for the waitress to bring Victoria a cup of coffee, Freddy described Donna Holt’s work in such flattering terms that Donna finally cut him off and asked Victoria about her work. As soon as the waitress left, Freddy lowered his voice and asked, “So, Victoria, have you heard anything new about the case?”
“Me?” Victoria asked. “How would I have heard anything?”
“You helped the police with that forgery case last winter, so I thought that you might have an insider’s scoop or something.”
“I wish I were an insider,” Victoria explained. “But I’m afraid I’m very much an outsider. Especially in this case, since I am the prime suspect.”
“You?” Freddy stared in surprise. “But that’s ridiculous! What reason could you possibly have for murdering my mother?”
Victoria didn’t answer, and a moment later, Freddy blushed. “Oh, I see.” He sipped his coffee. “But wait a minute, you weren’t even there. Weren’t you away that weekend?”
Victoria looked down at her cup and frowned slightly. “Yes, until Monday morning.”
“Well, that’s good enough,” Donna said. “If you weren’t here, then you can’t have had anything to do with it.”
“It’s not quite as tidy as all that,” Victoria said. “But I will be alright. I’m more worried about the rest of you. Especially Walter. How is he holding up under all of this?”
Freddy added a spoonful of sugar to his cup but didn’t stir it. “I think he’s doing all right, all things considered. But he isn’t under any particular suspicion or anything. Paul is the obvious lightning rod, and I think I’m next in line.”
“But the police won’t suspect you.” Donna frowned. “You’re not even tied up with the family business.”
A man walked by the cafe. When Freddy saw him, he quickly lowered his head. Donna frowned, and Victoria whispered, ‘reporter.’
The man paused to check his notepad, and Donna ordered another coffee.
When the newsman had moved on, Freddy looked around to make sure no one was watching them.
“Has it been that bad?” Victoria asked.
“Day and night,” Freddy said. “Paul’s elevator boy stops them, but Julia and Marcus had to stretch a rope across their driveway.”
Victoria thought about Walter.
“Everyone knows that Paul didn’t get along with my mother,” Freddy continued. “My feelings about her may not have been common knowledge, but it wasn’t a secret either. I tolerated her, but I can’t pretend that I loved her. Too many people know better. Plus,” Freddy said with a deep breath, “my business hasn’t been doing so well lately.”
Victoria glanced at Donna, but she didn’t seem surprised.
Freddy lowered his voice. “On Saturday, my mother threatened to destroy my business and disinherit me. I was about to lose everything I’d been working on for years. And, unlike Paul and Julia, I don’t have an alibi for after the party.”
The three of them fell silent for several minutes.
“Did the rest of the family hear those threats?” Victoria asked.
Freddy nodded. “It wasn’t just me. She had an ultimatum for each of us.”
“She threatened Walter, too?” Victoria asked.
Freddy’s brow furrowed as he looked down and began tapping his fingers on the edge of his cup. Victoria didn’t press him for answers, but she had a pretty uncomfortable idea about what he didn’t want to say.
“I don’t think the police seriously suspect any of you,” Donna said. “They simply have to eliminate Mrs. Abbott’s family and everyone who was at the house before she died. That must mean that I’m also a suspect, and so is Rosemary and the cook.”
Freddy smiled at her. “I’m sure you’re not a suspect.”
“But consider the facts,” Donna said. “After all, the police don’t know any of us personally, and we were all there on Saturday night. I know that I locked the dining-room door, but they only have my word for that. And Mrs. Peabody found it unlocked on Sunday morning. Besides, I don’t have an alibi after the party broke up.”
“That’s true,” Freddy agreed. “But none of you have a motive, whereas I am free from an oppressive, overbearing mother. And thanks to my inheritance, the fate of my bookstore is secure.”
Donna shook her head. “You know, I always thought that rich families had it easy, but if my mother had money, she would probably use it against me.”
“Does she disapprove of your work?” Freddy asked.
“No, I think she is proud of my work, at least I hope she is,” Donna said. “But she didn’t want me to leave New York. I told her it wasn’t forever, just for a few years until I could prove myself and build my reputation. That was partially true, but I also wanted an adventure. I wanted my freedom. My mother thought Seattle was an unrefined wilderness, full of lumberjacks, fishermen, and Indians.”
“And she wanted to protect us from your beautiful interior designs?” Freddy smirked.
“Parents can be hard to please,” Victoria said. “But, I’m sure your mother will understand why you chose to come out here.”
“I hope so.” Donna smiled. “I try not to care too much, but I want her to be proud of me. Since I moved here, I’ve visited her every summer and Christmas.”
“I’m sure she’s proud of you.” Freddy grinned. “How could she help herself?”
Donna blushed again.
Victoria watched Freddy’s face for a moment, then she said, “I was in New York last week. I attended a conference on archival management systems. The modern world is getting very sophisticated about information and how it gets stored. It’s not just a room of shelves anymore. There’s a scientific method.” She sipped her coffee. “It was a busy week, but I did manage to see some of the sites; the Chrysler Building, the Statue of Liberty. Of course, I never imagined I would b
e coming home to…” Her voice trailed off. For several moments, her gaze wasn’t fixed on anything and she seemed to be lost in thought. Then Victoria whispered to herself, “Die alte Dame ist tot.”
Donna frowned. “What’s that?”
Victoria sighed. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about everything. I’m sorry it happened like this.”
“I’ve never been to New York,” Freddy said, reverting to the previous subject. He took off his glasses and began polishing them. “There are a lot of things I’ve never done. I always felt like I had to play it safe because I had so much to lose. Or maybe I was just scared. But I don’t feel like that anymore. I’m ready to start living my life. In fact, when all of this settles down, I’ll be ready for something big.”
“What sort of something?” Donna asked.
“When I’ve decided, you’ll know,” Freddy said with a smile. Then he turned to Victoria. “The lawyer is going to go over my mother’s Will today. Will you be there?”
Victoria shook her head.
“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” Freddy said. “None of the old things matter anymore. All we have to do is wait for the police to either catch her murderer or give up.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Last Will and Testament of Francis Abbott
Mr. Phillip Randolph Sr. Esquire did not look like a man who had just abandoned a vacation in Europe and flown halfway around the world. He also did not look like a man who had spent the better part of the night reviewing the late Mrs. Francis Abbott’s Last Will and Testament. And he certainly didn’t look like a man who considered himself to be mediocre at his job.
He was a perfectly decent lawyer, but Philip Randolph knew perfectly well that was not the reason for his success. Any good legal mind can be a good lawyer, but Mr. Randolph’s talents went further than law. Mr. Randolph’s wealthy clients employed him—and paid his prodigious fees—because he possessed an elusive characteristic that very few people could recognize, let alone put into words.
Mr. Randolph’s great success hinged on the fact that he was a subtle snob.
He discreetly followed each family’s scandals so he could reassure them. He resolved matters tactfully behind the scenes, and whatever the law said, Mr. Randolph made it clear that he understood—as all good people would—that his clients were victims of circumstance. They deserved understanding and discretion because they were essentially blameless.
The Abbott Family was very blameless.
When they arrived at his office on Thursday, Mr. Randolph greeted each of them by name, even though he hadn’t seen them for ten years. When the last person was comfortably seated, the lawyer sat down behind his large mahogany desk and moved an expensive envelope three inches to the left. This was the first stage of the proceedings, and he began it in his usual, well-polished way.
“Firstly, I’d like to offer each of you my sincerest condolences on the loss of Mrs. Abbott,” he announced solemnly. He paused to emphasize the deep respect he felt. This was received with general appreciation, and he waited several moments before continuing.
“Secondly, I would like to thank each of you for taking time from your busy schedules to come here today. I have provided each of you with a copy of Mrs. Abbott’s will, in its entirety. Additional copies will be provided to other beneficiaries, should they request them. As this is no doubt a very difficult time for each of you, I can give you my personal assurance that every stipulation of your late mother’s Will will be handled properly, legally, and in a timely manner.
“Naturally, since you are all mentioned in your mother’s will, I am happy to read it aloud. However, since it is a rather lengthy legal document, most families simply prefer to have me summarize the main points, legacies, benefactors, and so forth, after which I can answer any specific questions that you may have.”
By this somewhat lengthy introduction, Mr. Randolph was not only establishing himself as the conductor of the meeting but was also providing a respectful shortcut that would allow the bereaved family to skip directly to the paramount question: How much do I get?
The lawyer paused to let them all consider their options. Julia looked first to Walter, but he was staring downward and wringing his hands. She looked around at the rest of her family and announced, “I don’t think we need to read it all the way through. After all, you’ve just given each of us a copy.”
“Yes, I say we stick to the basic rundown,” Paul agreed. “It should be straightforward enough, so there’s no point in beating around the bush.”
Freddy nodded, and Marcus agreed with his wife and the others.
“Well then, we have a consensus,” Mr. Randolph began. He put on his heavy black glasses and paused to increase the sense of decency. “The late Mrs. Abbott’s Will is, as you rightly supposed, very straightforward. There are a few charities and two sizable legacies which are stipulated, but the bulk of the Abbott wealth, including cash and ownership shares in the Abbott Enterprises, are to be divided equally between her four children. Mr. Walter Abbott, Mrs. Julia Abbott Shrubb, Mr. Paul Abbott, and Mr. Freddy Abbott.”
Paul whistled. “So, she didn’t disinherit me, after all!”
Mr. Randolph shook his head seriously. “Oh, no. It was never within Mrs. Abbott’s power to disinherit any of her children.”
Everyone stopped.
“What do you mean?” Freddy demanded.
“Well, sparing you the legal jargon,” Mr. Randolph explained calmly, “you may remember that the vast majority of your mother’s wealth was held in a trust from your father’s will. Naturally, she was free to use it during her lifetime, but she was not able to alter the original document, which she and Mr. Abbott had written together before his death. That document clearly specified that the Abbott estate would ultimately be divided equally between the four Abbott children.”
“What?” Julia demanded. “But that’s not possible!”
Mr. Randolph was about to elaborate when Marcus leaned forward in his chair and buried his face in his hands. His body swayed, and in a pained whisper that was loud enough to be audible, he groaned, “Oh, my God. If only I’d known.”
Julia looked at her husband, and for a brief moment, her brow furrowed into something that might have been shock or perhaps it was anger. But a moment later, the expression was gone. She pulled out her handkerchief and dabbed both sides of her neck. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Randolph, you see, our mother gave us a very different understanding.”
“That is often the case,” the lawyer nodded delicately. “That’s why it’s so useful to discuss these things candidly.” He pressed a button on his desk, and a moment later, there was a gentle tap on the door, and a poised secretary rolled in a cart with a coffee service.
“Thank you, Miss Stewart. Would anyone care for a cup of coffee?”
The conversation lapsed into small talk while Miss Stewart filled the cups and handed one to each person. Mr. Randolph had learned through years of dealing with distraught families that a well-timed interruption could relieve tension and overt a brawl. He led the conversation, casually talking to no one in particular so that everyone had a chance to think things over privately and get their minds settled. That was really the point of the will reading, after all. When Miss Stewart had finally finished, he thanked her politely, and they all waited until she exited the room.
“Mr. Randolph,” Freddy asked thoughtfully, “is it possible that my mother didn’t know about the original will?”
But the older man gently shook his head. “That is generally a possibility, of course, but I can personally assure you that in Mrs. Abbott’s case, she was fully aware of the terms. As a matter of fact, we met only a week before last Monday, and we reviewed the details of both wills.”
Julia looked up at the ceiling. She took a deep breath and dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.
Mr. Randolph continued, “The original will specified that there would be five hundred thousand dollars which would be solely at Mrs. Abbott’s personal discret
ion, but that’s all. Naturally, as beneficiaries, your father’s Will has been available to each of you since he passed away. As I recall, only Walter Abbott requested a copy.”
Paul turned angrily to his brother. “Walter, is that true? Then why the devil didn’t you say anything?”
Walter started to speak, but the words failed him. He shook his head slightly and turned toward the window.
“You selfish bastard!” Paul went on. “You must have known what it meant!”
Mr. Randolph frowned. Perhaps this would have been a better time to serve coffee.
Walter turned away, and Mr. Randolph continued diplomatically as though Paul’s remark had been nothing but a polite observation. “Now, I understand that this is an extremely distressing time for each of you. Mrs. Abbott’s passing is a hardship and a profound loss,” the lawyer said. “Not only for you but for the entire community. But while these times are never easy, you may rest assured knowing that your mother’s final wishes will be respected. There is nothing else that you need to do at this time, and so if you have other pressing matters which you wish to attend to—”
Julia stood up, and Marcus was obliged to stand up and follow her lead. She quickly thanked Mr. Randolph for his time, and then she and Marcus were gone. Walter stood up and said he should probably be leaving as well, and with a rigid and formal farewell, he left.
Neither Paul nor Freddy motioned to leave, so Mr. Randolph moved the meeting into what he personally called: stage two. The first stage almost always unsettled people, and as most of them wanted to leave his office as soon as they could. But whoever hesitated had different needs. These people understood the will, and now they needed a comrade or a confidant. And since wills generally related to money issues, they might also require some less conventional suggestions.
Mr. Randolph walked over to a cabinet. “Would either of you care for a drink?” Mr. Randolph suspected from the stories he read in the newspapers that Paul was a scotch and rocks man, and the lawyer was already pouring.
The Charlatan Murders Page 14
