Gracie Greene Mystery Box Set

by Jack Parker

  "Aren't there people who keep track of buyers and sellers and put them together?" Gracie asked.

  "You're talking about brokers," Meredith said. "They're sort of like realtors for cars, and they charge a commission for the sale."

  "Ah, and John wouldn't want to pay a commission."

  "Right! Though John was right about one thing, the longer I kept the car the more money it was worth."

  "So what happened?" Gracie asked.

  "I wasn't in any big hurry to sell the car, so even though John's deals never came to pass I didn't really care. But a few years ago I lost my job. John knew all about it, and he knew that my unemployment was running out. I took the Jag to the mechanic for its annual inspection like I had for years. I noticed the sign had a new name so I asked about it. Mike told me his father had died and left him the business and he'd changed the name but he knew the situation and would continue to bill John for the service."

  "This doesn't sound good," Gracie remarked.

  "Everything was fine when I left, but a month later Mike sent me a bill," Meredith said. "I called him and he said John hadn't paid and the car was mine. So I called John to see why he hadn't paid. He claimed he hadn't gotten any bill, but there was something about his tone of voice that worried me."

  "I guess you explained that the name of the business had been changed," Gracie put in.

  "Yes, indeed," Meredith confirmed. "After some hemming and hawing he said he did remember getting a bill from some place he didn't recognize and even though it said something about work on a Jaguar he'd thrown it away. I asked him why he thought some random mechanic would bill him for work on an XKE and why he hadn't called to ask. He said he didn't know and didn't care; he hadn't authorized the work so he wouldn't pay for it."

  "Did you remind him of your agreement that he take care of repairs?" Gracie asked.

  "Yes, I did. He insisted this bill couldn't possibly count. My mind was whirling with all this, but suddenly I got an idea. If he didn't know about the name change that meant he hadn't had his car in the shop for over a year. When I asked about that he said he hadn't driven it for a long time and didn't see the need for any service. The way he talked it'd been quite awhile since he'd had anything done to it. I asked what I should do with this bill and he told me to pay it myself."

  Gracie's eyes bugged slightly in surprise. "He made you pay it when you didn't even have a job?"

  "He said he didn't have the money either."

  "That's cold," Gracie stated. "I can see why you'd think he didn't have much money."

  "It was only $150. I paid the bill, and eventually got another job. But it really hurt, and I didn't know what to do about it. I realized that John was getting old and forgetful, but even with the new job I wasn't in a position to keep up an old car. So I decided I didn't need this kind of stress and I'd sell the Jag."

  "But if it hadn't sold in years, what could you do that he hadn't?" Gracie asked.

  "Hire a broker!" Meredith said. "Even though I knew that would make John angry."

  "So you hired a broker who sold the car for you. I think that was the smart thing to do, even if your brother didn't."

  "I didn't tell him because I knew it would be one more case of my having done something wrong in his eyes and I just couldn't face that."

  Gracie smiled at the teacher. "It's always easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission."

  "That's right! But before it sold he called me one day saying he had a prospective buyer for both cars. I thought I was going to have to 'fess up about the broker, and my stomach was in knots just thinking about it," Meredith said. "He admitted he hadn't kept his car properly maintained and knew that I had so he offered me the lion's share. Then he told me what the guy was offering."

  "I'm guessing it was low?"

  "Very. So I was off the hook because I could truthfully tell him I wouldn't accept the offer. He argued for awhile but I stood firm and when he finally hung up I could tell he was angry with me."

  "But he didn't say so," Gracie guessed. "Pardon me for saying this, but your brother didn't deal well with confrontations, did he?"

  "Not at all!" Meredith confirmed. "He called back the next day, literally whining and begging. He didn't seem to care that he was practically giving the cars away. He told me he needed the money – and the first thought that came into my head was that Robbie had finally spent all his money."

  "That sounds very likely!" Gracie commented.

  "I'd never asked John about his money before, but now I did. I asked about all the investments he'd made over the years and he said they were all gone. I felt sorry for him, mostly because he'd allowed his wife to blow it all, but I refused to sell. A year later the broker sold my roadster for a good price. But I'd mentioned John's 'matching' coupe and the buyer had a buddy who wanted it and contacted the broker."

  "So John found out about the broker after all," Gracie commented.

  "I thought he might call to thank me but he never did. And there was something funky about the deal. The broker called to offer me a finder's fee for giving him the lead, and told me that because of the poor condition John had only gotten $12,000. That was more than the other offer but it wouldn't have lasted very long if he was really broke, not with Robbie spending it. And if he'd had medical bills or something that needed to be paid right away then it wouldn't help to get more money a year later." She shook her head. "It just didn't make any sense, and I can't put my finger on it."

  "I'd think that meant that he was mad that you'd gone against his wishes and hired a broker. Maybe that's why he didn't call."

  "That could be part of it. Personally I think he didn't want to have to admit that I'd accomplished what he couldn't and sold the cars. Especially when I'd used a broker to do it! I know he was angry, because Loretta said when she called Canardi about the Will she told her there was nothing left of the Estate and that I'd gotten my share with the Jaguar."

  "Is this one of those statements of hers that you don't necessarily believe?" Gracie inquired.

  "No, because I hadn't told her anything about the cars. Though John could've been the one who'd told her about them, and she just thought it sounded better to have his one-time lawyer supposedly say that. Either way, it got the point across."

  "So Ms. Canardi lied again, possibly. Meredith, can I see the Trust agreement? Gracie asked.

  "Sure, just let me fire up the laptop. I'm getting another beer while it boots, you want anything?"

  "I'll put up the pizza and get some more water while we wait, thanks."

  A few minutes later Gracie was thoroughly confused with all the legal terminology in the Trust agreement. If she was reading it right it was just what Meredith had said. Robbie was the only beneficiary, Connie Canardi the Trustee with absolute power to disburse funds at her sole discretion; Meredith and four of her step-nieces and nephews inherited equally upon Robbie's demise. "What does 'irrevocable trust' mean?" she asked.

  "I'm not real sure. Kinda sounds like there's also a 'revocable' trust, doesn't it?

  Gracie Googled the terms, read the definitions and compared the two. "Okay. First, an irrevocable trust cannot be changed by anyone, including the person who set it up. Second, creditors may not apply for payment; the funds must be granted for the stated purpose of the Trust, i.e. the care and feeding of Robbie as you so aptly put it."

  "So John set it up as irrevocable to make sure she couldn't use it to fill her closet, schmooze the uppity charity ladies, or pay her debts. Not that she would, anyway. Where are you going here?"

  "Do you know when your brother paid off Robbie's IOU?"

  "Neither Fred nor Loretta remembered for sure," Meredith said. "But she seems pretty sure it was before the cars actually sold."

  "Look at the date," Gracie said, pointing to the screen. "Was the Trust set up before the big car deal?"

  Meredith peered more closely at the screen, and nodded. "Yeah, so?"

  "I'd say your brother was angrier than you
thought!" Gracie said. "I'd bet that he was so desperate to sell the car because he needed to raise money to pay off Robbie's debt. Your refusal meant he had to get the money somewhere else, and apparently he did. Then when you sold the cars later it really made him mad. He told Ms. Canardi to take your name out of the Trust…"

  "And she said it couldn't be done because the Trust was irrevocable," Meredith finished. "So maybe he did tell her not to let me know about the Trust. Fred's the one who told me about it, after John died. He told me that the mortgage payments were being made to the Trust."

  "There's just one thing wrong with all that," Gracie said. "Once Robbie's gone there's no legal way Ms. Canardi can keep you from getting your share of the Trust."

  "So John's hoist by his own petard," Meredith mused. "He set the Trust up so Robbie couldn't spend it on clothes and charities, but then he couldn't cut me out when he wanted to. I knew John wasn't happy about that deal, but I never thought he'd try to punish me like that."

  "From what you've said, and what I saw tonight, it wouldn't surprise me if Robbie had a hand in that. Oh! I just remembered something Loretta said tonight. More like what she didn't say."

  Meredith raised a questioning eyebrow.

  "She asked me how Dad died and then seemed disappointed when I said he was shot."

  Meredith frowned. "Disappointed? I'd think a murder would be right up her alley! I'm surprised she didn't ask you for all the details; she could get a lot of mileage out of that story. If she wasn't a tee-totaller I'd say it would buy her a lot of drinks."

  Gracie locked eyes with the teacher. "She wondered if he might've been smothered or his meds weren't administered right. Then she said that only happened to old men."

  Meredith's face took on a very serious cast. "She hinted the same thing to me, but I don't think that's what happened. John was in the hospital the last couple weeks of his life. The doctors knew he was dying and wouldn't have given him anything more than pain pills."

  "Robbie could've brought in some of his old meds and given them to him. The nurses wouldn't have known."

  "I'll admit it's possible, but there's no proof. She had John cremated, so there's no evidence. Besides, I don't think she actually visited him that often. She dumped him off at the ER one Tuesday afternoon, filled out the forms, then went back home saying she was exhausted. Surely the doctors would've noticed if something was out of line. He'd had heart trouble for years, I truly think it was just his time."

  Gracie nodded acceptance. With no way to prove any possible tampering it was probably better that Meredith let it go. It was most likely that his death was natural.

  There was a twinkle in her eye as Meredith said, "Though Loretta did come right out and say that she thinks Robbie beat her, Loretta that is, when she was little. She claims an X-ray showed a broken arm that she didn't remember having happened."

  "You're kidding!" Gracie exclaimed. "All that from a broken arm? Kids break arms, it happens."

  Meredith laughed. "Doesn't mean I believe it. It makes a dramatic story, but she could've made it up out of thin air. For all I know she turned around and told Robbie that I suggested she'd tried to kill John. That's the kind of thing Robbie would do, and Loretta learned from the master. But I think I've figured one thing out."

  "What's that?"

  "What happened to John's stamp collection. He wouldn't have sold it voluntarily. I think later that Tuesday afternoon Robbie nicked it from John's desk and hocked it. And from the guilty way Jason was acting I think he knew all about it, maybe even drove her to the pawnshop. That's why he got the computer in payment, so he'd keep quiet about it."

  "Unless your brother sold it to raise the money for Robbie's debts," Gracie suggested.

  "Hmmm, I guess that's possible, too. Either way it's gone now and that bitch got the benefit of it. Well, my confidence in you was well founded, Gracie. You've solved something that had me puzzled. Thank you for helping, and I'll let you know tomorrow how the hearing went."

  "You're welcome!" Gracie said. "I'll keep my fingers crossed that everything goes your way, and that'll be the last of any problems with the Estate." But in her heart, Gracie knew it wouldn't be.

  CHAPTER 62

  Friday

  Jason Wheeler pulled his car into his mother's driveway at 8:30 a.m. on the dot. The hearing didn't start until 10:00 but from long experience he knew his mother wouldn't be ready, even for something as important to her as this. It wasn't just the usual female stuff like bathing and doing her hair and makeup; she could dither for an hour over which outfit to wear, and then spend another hour choosing the right shoes, purse, and jewelry.

  As he walked up to the front door he mentally prepared himself to deal with her; he'd stopped to get a cup of her favorite coffee, which would help to wake her up while he chivvied her to get dressed. He'd gotten one for himself as well so he carefully balanced one on top of the other in order to ring the doorbell.

  As he waited for her to answer the door he found himself wondering just why his mother even wanted to attend this hearing. He certainly didn't want to; it would just be a lot of legal talk that only the lawyers would understand, and her lawyer Miles Allison would certainly let them know the judge's decision. He was more than a little irritated that neither Charlie nor Loretta had offered to take Mom. Even though Ashley was the PR she'd made it clear that she didn't see the need for Mom to attend. He'd had to take a half days' vacation for something that didn't seem that important. Of course Charlie would've had to take off too, but Loretta didn't work so she had the time. She just didn't want to be bothered. Too bad, because she could've helped Mom choose an outfit.

  He knew the ultimate disposition of the Trust funds was of vital importance to Mom. There should be about $115K in there now, with more coming in every month. Mom wanted the cash badly; he could almost see her salivate at the thought of a wild orgy of replacing everything in her closet and jewelry box. What she couldn't seem to understand is that Canardi was in total control and probably had instructions from John, who knew about her addiction all too well, to dole it out in small portions. Or maybe she understood perfectly, and was willing to let that bitch sister have part of the money if that meant she had immediate access to the rest.

  After a minute he rang the bell again, then opened the storm door and began pounding on the front door. "Mom!" he yelled. "Open up! It's time to get started for the courthouse. Let me in!" He got no response.

  He opened his mouth to ask if she was in the shower, but realized the absurdity of that question and closed it again. Instead he dug in his pants pocket to retrieve his key ring and flipped through the keys until he found the one to his mother's door. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, calling out to her. "Mom, it's Jason. Where are you?"

  He glanced to his right to peer into the kitchen, seeing a pile of dirty dishes in the sink but no Mom. He went in just far enough to put the coffee cups down on the table then called out again as he walked through the living room but she wasn't there either. That left the bedroom or bath so he backtracked and headed down the short hallway, his voice louder now as he shouted to get her attention. He wondered how he would handle it if she was in the shower; that could be embarrassing for both of them.

  Jason hesitated as he turned the corner into the short hall that gave access to the master bedroom on one side and John's study on the other. The bedroom door was open so he closed his eyes as he took another few steps, loudly asking, "Mom? Are you in there? Are you okay?"

  In the silence he heard the air conditioner kick on; the air current carried a foul odor to his nostrils. "Jeez," he thought to himself. "She's washed down those pain pills with Jim Beam again and slept so hard she's peed the bed." Hard on the heels of that thought came another: "Shouldn't I be able to hear the shower running from here?"

  "Mom, I'm coming in," he declared in a loud voice. So saying he opened his eyes and advanced into the bedroom, flipping the light on as he crossed the threshold. He could see his mother lying i
n the bed, dark hair in disarray against the pillow and eyes closed. "I should've known," he said in a disgusted voice. "You drank so much last night you're still passed out cold."

  He grabbed the covers and yanked them off of her, expecting her to react to the cool air. He got mad when she didn't move. "Come on, Mom. Wake up!" he said angrily.

  He put his hand on her shoulder to shake her awake. But something wasn't right. Her skin was cold; her arm felt stiff, and her face looked swollen. The anger evaporated and fear took its place. He took an involuntary step backward, bumping into the nightstand and knocking off a plate of cookies that had been left on the corner within easy reach of the bed. He automatically stooped to pick them up and set the plate back in place.

  "Mom?" he asked timidly. He wrung his hands for a good minute, knowing what should be done yet afraid to do it. Finally he approached the bed again and, wincing, placed two fingers against his mother's throat. His own heart was beating so hard that it was difficult to tell, but he didn't think there was a pulse.

  "Oh, God!" he exclaimed. "What do I do?" He stared at his mother lying there so still in the bed, then suddenly ran out of the room in a panic. He ran straight to the kitchen and, with shaking hands, flung open a cabinet door. The bottle of bourbon was still there, though there wasn't much left. He took a swig to settle his nerves and stood leaning against the counter for a couple of minutes waiting for it to take effect.

  He raised the bottle again, but then had a better thought. He carried it to the dining room table and set it down next to the coffee cups. His nerves were so shot that he had trouble pulling the plastic lid off his cup, spilling hot coffee on his hand in the process. Having finally removed the lid he took two big gulps of coffee, which left room for him to add what was left of the bourbon. He stirred it with the little plastic stick he'd stuck in the top of the wrapper and took a long drink.

  That seemed to help, though it never once occurred to him that his attitude towards his mother's drinking might be hypocritical. He heaved a deep sigh as his brain finally began processing the situation and he realized he needed to call 911. He turned to the phone hanging on the wall and punched in the numbers.