by D. B. Henson
The empty structure loomed before her like Goliath before David.
Toni unlocked the security gate with Scott’s key and then pulled her car around behind the building. She stopped where the gravel ended. The same spot Scott had parked the day he died.
The ground at the end of the drive was still soft from a recent rain. Toni carefully crossed from the gravel to the concrete slab poured for the courtyard. When she reached the spot where Scott had fallen, she sank to her knees, fresh tears filling her eyes. Although one of the construction crews had cleaned the concrete with muriatic acid, a faint brown stain still remained.
Scott’s blood.
Toni dried her tears on her sleeve and continued toward the rear entrance of the hotel. The absence of workers, and the odd silence, made the building seem eerily solemn, like an ancient temple erected by slaves in honor of some long forgotten god.
She inched her way up the narrow plank propped against the foundation and stepped into the lobby. The musty odors of tile grout and drywall mud hung in the air. Tiny particles danced in the columns of sunlight streaming through the windows, fighting the shadows that lurked in the corners.
Tiled with marble, a fountain in the center, the lobby was nearly finished. Toni sat down on the edge of the empty fountain. It reminded her of the one outside the bank where her father used to have his account, years ago in their small hometown in Alabama.
Every Friday afternoon he would pick her up after school, and she would go with him to deposit his paycheck. He always gave her a penny to toss into the fountain. He told her that if she closed her eyes and made a wish, when the penny hit the water, it would come true.
She whispered the same secret wish every Friday for ten long years, hoping and praying that it would come true. It never did. Now she knew better than to believe in wishes.
Toni left the fountain and climbed inside the construction elevator, a metal cage in a shaft mounted to the outside of the building. She held on as the rickety lift creaked and groaned its way to the twelfth floor. When the elevator finally jerked to a halt, she pushed open the gate and emerged into the hallway connecting the four penthouse suites.
Each floor of the hotel was at a different stage of completion. Here at the top, the rooms were little more than steel framework zigzagged by electrical wiring and plumbing pipes.
Toni entered the room on the back side of the hotel. She knew from Scott’s drawings that this particular suite was the largest of the four. When finished, it would contain over three thousand square feet of living area, three working fireplaces, a formal dining area, two bedrooms, and two lavish baths with jetted tubs.
She made her way through the main room and out onto the terrace.
The terrace, boasting a heated lap pool and hot tub, ran the entire length of the suite with additional doors opening to the two bedrooms. She walked to the boundary of the terrace, a concrete wall. It was roughly four feet high and over a foot thick.
The police had found Scott’s hardhat sitting on top of the wall, as if he had taken it off knowing it wouldn’t protect him from what was about to happen.
She stood on her tiptoes and leaned across the wall as far as she could. Although Scott was half a foot taller than Toni, she couldn’t imagine him falling over a barrier of this height. She knew he would never climb on top of the wall. No one involved in the construction industry would be that careless.
Toni surveyed the ground below. She could see Interstate 65, the Blanton Hills Mall, and in the far distance, the hills of Brentwood. She wondered if anyone could see her.
She pulled away from the wall, turned and sank to the floor, her back against the cool concrete.
What happened here, Scott?
Unless they were sitting on top of the concrete wall, it would be next to impossible for anyone to accidentally fall from the terrace. They would have to jump.
Or be pushed.
That was crazy. Why would anyone want to kill Scott?
Still, it was no crazier than the notion that he could take his own life. Why would he? The hotel was a presale project just a few months from completion. He was doing great financially, and he was about to get married. Even if he didn’t believe in heaven and hell, which she knew he did, it just didn’t make sense. He had too much to live for, had worked too hard to get where he was.
Of course, no matter how honest you were, you could never get as far as Scott had in the business world without making a few enemies. Maybe he had made someone angry along the way.
Angry enough to commit murder.
Toni returned to the elevator and began the bumpy descent to the ground. She glanced down at the floor and noticed the glint of gold metal in the far corner. She steadied herself against the back wall of the elevator and slowly moved to the other side.
The object, wedged in a small gap between the floor and the steel frame, was all too familiar. A gold pen engraved with the initials SAC.
Scott Aiden Chadwick.
How did Scott’s pen end up in the elevator? She knew he had it with him the night before he died. He had used it to sign the check at the restaurant.
He always kept the pen in the inside pocket of his jacket. It would be hard for it to slip out. And there was no way he would try to write while the elevator was moving.
Maybe he hadn’t been alone in the elevator. Maybe he had struggled with someone. Had fought hard enough to knock the pen out of his pocket.
Toni slid the pen into her purse as the elevator rumbled to a stop. She wasn’t sure exactly what had taken place the day Scott died. But one way or another, she was going to find out.
Toni returned to her car and drove toward home.
She never even noticed the dark green sedan following a short distance behind.
CHAPTER 5
Toni had just gone to the kitchen for some aspirin when the doorbell rang.
Her head ached. Her thoughts were churning. The imagined scene played repeatedly in her mind like a bad movie. Scott fighting with a dark figure on the terrace, the figure pushing him over the wall.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make it stop.
The last thing she needed right now was company. She didn’t need to hear anybody else tell her how sorry they were.
She poured herself a glass of ice water and debated answering the door. If she ignored them, pretended she wasn’t home, maybe they would go away.
The bell rang a second time.
Toni shook three pills from the bottle, popped them into her mouth and then washed them down with the water. She hoped it was enough to stop the throbbing in her head. She knew what she really needed was rest, but there was no way she could sleep. Not now. Not with her mind refusing to shut off.
The bell rang again.
Toni closed her eyes and pressed the cold glass against her forehead, then slowly wiped it across her brow.
The persistent ringing of the bell changed to pounding on the door. Whoever it was, they were determined. She put down the glass and walked into the foyer.
“Toni, I know you’re in there.”
Mark’s voice. Toni opened the door half way.
“You didn’t call,” he said. He was holding a grocery sack in one hand, another bag at his feet.
“You didn’t give me time.”
She remained in the doorway, blocking his entry.
“Well, are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to build a campfire on the front lawn?”
Toni didn’t answer, or move.
“I’ve got steaks and vegetables for a salad. I even bought those little Roma tomatoes you like. You have to eat. I know you didn’t have lunch.”
“You shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble. I’ll be fine. There’s food in the fridge. Somebody brought over a casserole.”
“Yeah, I saw it. Congealed tuna. Looked really good.”
Although Mark was making an attempt at humor, she could see the worry in his eyes.
She pulled the door the rest
of the way open. “Okay. You win.”
Toni picked up the other grocery bag and led him into the kitchen. She placed the bag on the island.
“I appreciate all that you’ve done for me,” she said. “I really do. But you didn’t have to come over. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt that for a minute. But sometimes it can help to have someone else around.”
Mark slipped off his jacket and tie and draped them over a chair in the breakfast room. After turning up his sleeves, he took a glass bowl from the cabinet next to the refrigerator and began mixing the ingredients for the steak marinade.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe it would help to have Mark stay for a few hours. Maybe he could distract her from the movie playing in her head. Not only that, she wasn’t used to the new house yet, and it felt so strange without Scott there.
Toni had spent the past two sleepless nights walking from room to room, remembering all the planning she and Scott had done. Remembering how happy they were when they moved in just two and a half weeks earlier. When they were starting their new life together.
Now she was alone.
Alone in a house more than four times the size of her former home.
Scott had designed the house with children in mind. He had worked endless hours on the plans, going over every detail with her, pouring his soul into creating the perfect home. Besides the master bedroom, there were five additional bedrooms and a playroom. Scott had wanted a large family. He often joked with her that he wanted his own baseball team.
At first, she had been terrified at the thought of having children. She had no role model, no idea of how to be a good mother. But Scott was persuasive; he convinced her that all she had to do was love them. The rest would take care of itself.
Now, it no longer mattered.
She was sure her friends would advise her to sell the house. It was far too big for one person. But she couldn’t bear the thought of letting it go. It was more than just wood and brick to her. It was a monument of Scott’s love.
The only thing she had left.
Toni dug into one of the bags and pulled out a cucumber and the container of tomatoes. “I guess I’ll make the salad.”
Mark smiled. “Just go easy on the carrots.”
After dinner was over, with the dishes rinsed and piled into the dishwasher, Toni and Mark went into the family room and switched on the television. One of the cable channels was rerunning the original Austin Powers movie.
Once they had settled on the sofa, Mark turned down the volume with the remote, his face somber. “Dinner is not the only reason I came over tonight. There’s something I have to tell you.”
Toni squeezed a throw pillow tight against her chest, bracing for more bad news. “What is it?”
“I got a call from Brian’s attorney this afternoon. He’s contesting Scott’s will.”
“You’re not serious. Can he do that?”
“His attorney is focusing on the wording. Scott left his estate to his wife, Toni Chadwick, not Toni Matthews.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Well, to a judge, it could make all the difference in the world. You and Scott were never legally married. Brian is Scott’s only living relative, and as such, he may have a claim on the estate.”
On the screen, Dr. Evil was soaring through space in the Big Boy. Toni wished she could escape from her own problems as easily. At least she knew how to resolve this one.
“It’s fine with me,” she said. “If I were Scott, I’d want Brian to share in the inheritance. Call his attorney in the morning and tell him I want to work out a settlement as soon as possible. Brian can have half of everything.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
“What do you mean?”
“Brian doesn’t want to share the estate.”
“You mean he wants it all?”
“Yes.”
Toni shook her head in disbelief. “Is he insane? He’s had no contact with Scott whatsoever the last twelve years. Now he expects to just waltz in here and take everything? What about this house? It’s part of the estate. Does he want it too?”
Mark leaned over and grasped her forearm in a reassuring motion. “We’re going to fight this. I’m almost certain you’ll get to keep the house.”
“Almost?”
Still clutching the pillow, Toni rose and walked to the French doors that opened onto the patio. The sun had gone down two hours earlier, and with the outside lights off, all she could see was her own reflection.
Maybe she should just let Brian have the inheritance. What real difference did it make? She could sign over everything except the house. After all, it had never been about money with Scott. He could have been a pauper and she would have loved him the same.
She had a successful career, was financially secure on her own.
But what about Brian?
She had no idea what type of salary a magazine writer earned. Whatever the amount, he had managed on his own up until now. So why would he contest the will? Was he in financial trouble? Did he simply think that his blood entitled him to the money?
Or was it greed?
Scott’s estate was valued at twelve million, not including his interest in Chadwick & Shore. She wasn’t sure what the business was worth, but it would probably add a substantial sum to the total.
Maybe that was it.
Maybe Brian had been the one in the elevator with Scott. The one who pushed him off the terrace.
It made perfect sense. If Scott had died just a few days later, he and Toni would have been married. Brian would have had no claim on the estate.
Toni felt Mark behind her. She turned away from the French doors.
“Mark, do you have any idea what Scott and Brian fought about all those years ago?”
“Scott never told you?”
“No. He mentioned he had a brother when we first met, and he said they weren’t on speaking terms, but he never told me any of the details. Just that it was some family argument that didn’t seem to matter anymore.”
“It must not have mattered, since he invited Brian to the wedding.”
“Well, actually, he didn’t. I did. I had hoped they could patch things up, so without telling Scott, I sent Brian an invitation in care of the magazine where he works, and he accepted. Scott didn’t know he was coming until a week before the wedding.”
“Did Scott ever mention Caitlin?”
“You mean his sister?”
“Yes.”
“Just that she died as a child. During some kind of surgery, I think.”
“That’s not exactly true.”
“What do you mean? What happened to her?”
Mark ushered Toni back to the sofa. “Scott adored Caitlin, and she idolized him. When she was sixteen, she found out she was pregnant. She was too ashamed to tell Scott, so she went to Brian.”
“How old was Brian?”
“Eighteen. Old enough to find a clinic down in Murfreesboro. It was near the university there and had a reputation with the college crowd. It was the kind of place where no questions would be asked, and no records would be kept.”
“An abortion clinic?”
Mark nodded. “Brian had no way of knowing that the doctor operating the clinic was a drunk who had lost his medical license. There were complications. Caitlin died.”
“So, Scott blamed Brian.”
“Yes. And that’s not all. I think he blamed Brian for the death of their parents as well.”
“How can that be? Scott told me his parents were killed in a car accident.”
“They were. But Scott’s father was in bad health when Caitlin died. He’d had heart surgery the year before. It was just a few weeks after Caitlin’s death when they had the accident. There was no apparent cause. Mr. Chadwick just drove right off an embankment. An autopsy was performed and it was determined that he had suffered another heart attack.”
“And th
at caused him to lose control of the car?”
“That’s the way it looks. Scott thought that the stress of Caitlin’s death was just too much for his father to handle.”
“Were Scott and Brian close before Caitlin died?”
“As close as any two brothers could be. But right after their parents’ funeral was over, they got into a huge fight. I’m sure Scott said a lot of things he later regretted. Brian left town the same day. As far as I know, he never came back until the night of the rehearsal dinner.”
Toni let go of the pillow and drew her knees up to her chest.
The truth of Scott’s quarrel with Brian was far more complicated than she had expected. In a way, she almost felt sorry for Brian. If he was anything like his brother, he probably blamed himself as much or more than Scott ever had. Carrying that kind of guilt all those years must have been virtually unbearable, a literal living hell.
Although the money alone seemed motive enough for Brian to want Scott dead, maybe there was more. Maybe it went deeper.
In Brian’s mind, he had tried to help Caitlin the only way he knew how. Not only did he feel responsible for her death, but for the loss of his parents as well. And instead of receiving the understanding and forgiveness he must have sought, he felt exiled from the only home he had ever known.
A sentence handed down by his brother.
Over time, the wound of guilt he bore could have festered into resentment and hatred. Hatred for Scott. By inviting Brian to the wedding, Toni had unknowingly given him an opportunity for revenge.
Toni grabbed Mark’s hands. “I don’t care what kind of legal maneuvering you have to do, I want you to convince that judge not to give Brian one cent of Scott’s money.”
“A few minutes ago, you were ready to split the estate. What changed your mind?”
Should she tell him? Should she let him know that she suspected Brian of murder?
Mark believed that Scott had taken his own life. Before she started making accusations, tried to convince him otherwise, she needed some kind of proof. Some solid evidence to back up her claims.
“I just have a bad feeling about the whole thing.”
