by Sharon Potts
He ate the sandwich in four bites and washed it down with the coffee.
“I guess my cooking’s better than I realized. I’ll make you another.”
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s no big deal.”
A white cat rubbed up against his bare leg. How long could he stay like this? Numb and swaddled. Not having to think.
Robbie put a platter with two more cheese sandwiches in front of him, refilled his coffee mug, and sat down. Her slender neck and pearls reminded him of his mother. “Do you mind if I talk to you?” she said. “I didn’t know who else to go to.”
“Sure,” Jeremy said.
“It has to do with Castillo Enterprises. I keep thinking there’s some connection between the Olympus Grande— one of its hotels— and your mother’s death.”
Another connection. Jeremy had been down this road enough times with Marina to know not to take this seriously.
“Last year, I noticed the revenues coming from the Olympus looked odd,” Robbie said. “I told Bud about it, but he brushed me off. Then I mentioned it to Irv and he told me to stick to the audit program.” She scratched the cat’s head. “This year, when Rachel took over, I brought it up to her. She hadn’t been involved with the Castillo audit in years, but she still remembered every detail.”
“And she agreed with you?”
“Rachel looked over the reports and said the numbers couldn’t be right. They were way too good.”
Jeremy picked up some crumbs on his plate with his finger. He was getting that surge of optimism he’d experienced with Marina. But how many false theories had she led him through?
“What’s wrong, Jeremy?”
“I’m not sure I see the point of this.”
“The point is that maybe your mother figured out something she was murdered for. She was killed the day before she was planning to go to the Olympus.”
“But visiting major assets is a standard audit procedure, isn’t it?”
“Sure,” Robbie said. “Standard for someone on the staff to do the site visits. Not the partners.”
Site visit. He could envision his mother’s handwriting on the workpaper binder from eighteen years ago.
“But only the partners went to the Olympus,” Robbie said. “Bud or Irv— never a staff auditor.”
“Maybe they liked the golf, the beaches, the fun in the sun.”
“Maybe they did,” she said. “But what if it was something else?”
He was getting sucked in. “So the only auditors who have ever been out to the Olympus have been Bud and Irv and, years ago, my mother? No one else from PCM?”
“That’s right.” She seemed disturbed. “We need to talk to them— Bud, Irv, Enrique Castillo.”
He felt a cold panic. He wasn’t going to do this again. “What do you mean we? I don’t work there any more.”
“Sure you do. You can bop into Bud’s office, apologize for disappearing for a couple of days, and maybe ask him a couple of questions.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m finished playing amateur detective.” As he stood up, his towel loosened. He grabbed it around himself.
“Your clothes are almost dry.”
“I don’t care if they’re wet. I’m leaving.”
“What’s the matter with you?” She shook her head in disgust. “Fine.” She went inside. A moment later, she threw his damp clothes at him. They fell to the floor.
“I don’t see what you’re getting so huffy about,” Jeremy said.
“And I don’t get all this new drama in your life, Jeremy. First you’re looking for your parents’ murderer, then you’re not. You’re too busy getting wasted. And when I have something of substance that I think we can go on, you’re not interested. You’re out of here.” She picked up the empty platter and the coffee mug.
“Jesus, Robbie. Stop twisting things.”
“I’m not twisting.”
“Did it ever occur to you my life’s pretty screwed up right now? That I’m not mentally or emotionally ready to deal with my parents’ murders?”
“Why not? You were charging forward a few weeks ago.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t get it. What could possibly have happened that’s remotely as horrible as the deaths of your parents?”
“You’re right.” He sat back down. “You’re right.”
The white cat jumped into his lap. “These last few weeks,” he said, “I’d convinced myself if I did everything I could to find their murderer, they would have been proud of me.”
“And they would have, Jeremy.”
“I was deceived.”
“By whoever was trying to help you?”
“By my father.” A cloud passed in front of the moon, dulling its light. “My father wasn’t the person I believed he was.”
The cat raked the towel with her claws. “There was a woman,” Jeremy said. “His graduate assistant. I don’t really need to get into the details, but I realized there’s nothing I can do. I’m impotent.”
Robbie reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “But you’re not.”
“Or worse than impotent. Everything I touch turns to shit.”
“Jeremy.”
“I’m supposed to be taking care of my sister. But I’ve blown that, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“My uncle filed papers to take the guardianship away from me. He says I’m irresponsible, and he’s right.”
“You’re not going to fight him?”
“I can’t fight anymore.”
“Because you’re angry with your father? Because he let you down somehow?”
“This isn’t about my father.”
“Isn’t it? Isn’t that why you left for Europe in the first place? Because of your father?”
“What the hell do you know about it?”
“Your mother said something once. About fathers and sons being so busy competing that they don’t realize they’re the same.”
Jeremy picked up his damp shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head.
“Listen. I’m not trying to talk you out of being angry with him. I never met your father, and I certainly couldn’t begin to understand your relationship. But I did know your mother. And you were her touchstone. You wouldn’t believe how she’d light up when she spoke about you.”
His mother would light up when she spoke about him?
Robbie’s fingers closed over her pearl necklace. “She loved you, Jeremy. Are you really willing to walk out on her?”
Chapter 33
He told himself he was doing it to humor her. Because she was a nice person. So he directed Robbie to his grandfather’s house, explaining about the annual reports for Castillo Enterprises that his grandfather had collected over the years. But it wasn’t the reports Jeremy was interested in seeing. It was his sister. He needed to put things right with her.
At least in this respect, he would try not to let his mother down.
His grandfather looked relieved to see Jeremy.
“This is my grandfather, Hershel Lazar,” Jeremy said to Robbie. “Grandpa, this is Robbie Ivy. She’s an auditor at PCM.”
“A pleasure, Robbie.” His grandfather took Robbie’s hand. “My daughter spoke of you.”
“She did?”
“She did indeed. She said you reminded her of herself when she first started out.”
Robbie bit down on her lower lip.
“And how are you doing, Jeremy?” His grandfather had his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder as they walked into the living room. “Elise told me you were unhappy about something.”
“Better,” Jeremy said. “Mostly better.” He glanced around the room. “Where is she?”
“Your sister’s watching a movie in the guest room. She said she didn’t want to see you just yet.”
“I’ll go talk to her,” Jeremy said.
His grandfather restrained him by his arm. “You needed some time, Jeremy�
�� well perhaps your sister does, too.”
“But—”
“Come, Robbie,” said his grandfather. “Let’s sit. Jeremy tells me you’re interested in seeing the annual reports for Castillo Enterprises.”
“Very much,” Robbie said. She perched on the edge of the sofa and crossed her legs. The hem of her blue dress was stained, probably from sitting in the damp sand.
“Here they are.” His grandfather moved several photos, a nutcracker, and a cut-glass candy dish filled with walnuts out of the way and set a pile of glossy-covered booklets on the marble-topped coffee table. “Castillo Enterprises went public over ten years ago,” his grandfather said. “I have all the reports dating back to the initial public offering. Would you like a little history?”
“Please,” Robbie said.
He moistened his lips like a professor getting ready to launch into his seminar. “Carlos Castillo, Enrique’s father, was a conservative man. He talked to me many times about the pressure on him to take his company public, particularly from his son, but told me he didn’t have the heart. He believed once you go public, you’re at the mercy of Wall Street. Short-term profits and ever-rising earnings per share, central to a publicly held company, aren’t necessarily the best things for its long-term growth.”
Jeremy noted how sharp his grandfather appeared, how much better than he’d been a month ago and just after Jeremy’s grandmother had died. Perhaps if his parents had seen Hershel Lazar as he was now, they’d have left Elise’s guardianship in his hands. Jeremy felt hopeful. Maybe a judge would recognize his grandfather as the best possible choice for Elise.
“But Carlos senior realized he was getting older,” Jeremy’s grandfather continued, “and it was time to turn the reins over to the next generation. To his son.”
“And once Enrique was in charge, he decided to take the company public?” Robbie asked.
“It’s the way of the young to believe they can do things better than their elders,” his grandfather said.
“And many times they do,” Jeremy said.
His grandfather smiled, though Jeremy couldn’t imagine at what. “That’s very true, Jeremy.” His grandfather picked up another booklet and flipped to a page as though he knew exactly where to find what he was looking for. “Enrique took a good portion of the funds from the IPO and invested them in rebuilding the Olympus.”
“What do you mean rebuilding?” Jeremy asked.
“The original Olympus was destroyed by a hurricane eighteen years ago.”
“That’s when my mother went out to see it. I found her workpapers in the file room.”
“You found her audit papers from eighteen years ago?” Robbie leaned forward, alert.
“I remember when she came home from that trip,” his grandfather said. “She told me she didn’t believe anyone could make a success out of the Olympus. Too many obstacles.”
“But Enrique Castillo decided to try?” Jeremy said.
“Was the senior Mr. Castillo upset?” Robbie asked.
“That would be an understatement. Carlos senior had reluctantly agreed to let Enrique build the original Olympus and that had turned into a failure.” His grandfather picked up a walnut and cracked it open. “I never saw the old resort, but I understand it was relatively low-key. Carlos had kept Enrique on a tight leash and limited budget. But when Enrique took over the company ten years ago, the first thing he announced was his plan to build the Olympus Grande. His father told me he wanted no part of his son’s delusions of grandeur, and he retired from the business.” His grandfather rolled another walnut between his thumb and forefinger. “It took years to rebuild, you know. Enrique wanted everything perfect. The extravagance infuriated his father right up until he died.”
“But it seems the senior Mr. Castillo was wrong,” Robbie said. “The Olympus Grande is a tremendous success. Look.” She pointed at a graph in one of the reports. “Profits are up every year.”
“I suppose an old man can be mistaken,” his grandfather said.
Light, hurried patter and rapid panting entered the room along with a distinctive dog odor. Geezer rushed to Jeremy. “Hey, boy.” Jeremy gently tugged his ears. “This is Geezer,” he said to Robbie. The dog sniffed her, wagged his tail, and returned to lick Jeremy.
Just beyond the entrance to the living room, Jeremy could see Elise holding back. So she’d decided to come out after all. “And this is my sister, Elise. Ellie, this is Robbie Ivy. She worked with Mom.”
Elise remained just outside the room. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Robbie said.
Something was wrong with Elise’s face. First Jeremy thought it was the way a shadow hit her, but now he was certain there was a bluish green bruise on her cheekbone. He started toward her. “What happened to you?”
Her hand rose to cover her cheek. “It, it looks worse than it is.”
“And what exactly is it?” He reached to touch her, but she backed away.
“A misunderstanding, that’s all.”
“What kind of misunderstanding?”
“This, this afternoon.” She took a breath and started again. “I was at the house. Someone unlocked the front door. I thought it was you, but it wasn’t.”
“Unlocked? Someone used a key?”
“Yeah. And I got frightened. But it was just a giant misunderstanding.”
“Who, Ellie? Who came into the house?”
She looked down at her sneakers.
It took Jeremy a second before he remembered what Elise had told him earlier on the phone. “Dwight? Dwight has a key?” He pulled her hand away from her cheek. Besides the bruise, there was redness and swelling. It almost looked like a handprint.
“It, it really isn’t a big deal, Jeremy.”
“Jesus. Did Dwight do this? Did he hit you?”
“I thought the murderer had come back. I wouldn’t stop screaming.”
“So he hit you?” Jeremy said. “That bastard hit you?” His grandfather squeezed Jeremy’s shoulder, but Jeremy jerked away. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him for touching you.”
“No,” Elise said. “No, Jeremy.”
“He can’t do this to you. He can’t touch you.” He smashed his hand into the wall. The pain traveled all the way down his arm.
“Jeremy, calm down,” his grandfather said. “This isn’t a rational way of behaving.”
“I already told Dwight I’d report him. I stuck up for myself.” Elise started to cry. “I don’t want you to do anything to him.”
Robbie held Elise in her arms as she continued to sob.
“I hate this,” Elise said. “I hate all of this.”
Jeremy was pacing. That bastard hit his sister. And he was planning to get custody of her? “Over my dead body,” he mumbled.
“What was that?” his grandfather said.
Jeremy took a deep breath. His family had been violated when his parents had been killed. And Jeremy hadn’t been able to do anything about it. Well he’d be damned if he permitted anyone, anyone at all, to touch or hurt or break anything in his family again.
“Robbie, can you give me a lift to my car?”
“You can’t go to Dwight,” Elise said. “Please don’t go to Dwight.”
Robbie whispered something to Elise, but Elise didn’t seem to hear her.
“Jeremy,” Elise said, “you’ll just make things worse.”
Chapter 34
Robbie was thrumming her fingers against the steering wheel. “So what exactly is your plan? You’re going to barge into your uncle’s house and do what? Beat him up? Shoot him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Good. That should guarantee a positive outcome.”
“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm.”
“You’re right. Sorry. It’s none of my business.” She stopped at a traffic light. The headlights from the oncoming cars flashed on her face. Her long, thick lashes made a pattern on her cheeks like a painted doll’s. “It’s just,” she said, “you’
ve been through a lot of intense shit in the past forty-eight hours. Dwight will still be there in the morning—as evil as ever. I just think you’d be more effective after you get some sleep.”
“Still playing Mommy.”
“Fine. Call it Mommy. But you know what I’m saying is simply good common sense.” The light turned green. The car behind them honked.
“What are you waiting for?”
She pulled over to the side of the road. The traffic streamed by next to them. “I have an idea how you can channel all this anger more productively tonight.”
“What do you have in mind? Maybe a little sparring practice?”
“That or the file room at PCM.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said you found the workpapers from your mother’s visit to the Olympus eighteen years ago. Maybe there’s something in the papers that will make sense to me.”
“So you want to go to the file room tonight?”
“No one will be there. We can get in and out. Maybe actually find something tangible that will lead to your parents’ murderer. Of course, the alternative is going to your uncle’s house, threatening him until he calls the cops, and maybe lands you in jail.” She pressed her finger against her lip. “Hmmm. Tough choice.”
“Okay. We’ll check out the file room. I’ll deal with my uncle in the morning.”
She gave him a thumbs up and pulled the car back into traffic.
Jeremy and Robbie stood in the deserted hallway outside the PCM file room. It had been over two weeks since the last time Jeremy had been here and he was sure Irv had called the archive company to come in and finish the job. There was almost no chance the files would still be there, but Robbie was optimistic that no one had come to take them away yet.
The hallway was dark except for the lighted exit signs and widely spaced night lights. “What’s that?” Robbie pointed to an object protruding from the ceiling opposite the door. “I never noticed it before.”
“Looks like a night light.”
“But that one’s a little different. See how it’s tilted? Like it’s aimed at the door.”
“You think someone installed a surveillance camera to watch a room full of files that no one cares about?”
