by Diana Miller
“Lakeview gossip.”
He smiled wanly. “Figures. I dropped my expansion plans when Grandfather told me about the attempts on his life and asked for my help. I didn’t want to be distracted by remodeling until I was sure Grandfather was safe.”
With the exception of her ex-husband, Lexie had always been good at detecting lies, and she’d swear Ben was telling the truth. Besides, his reasoning made sense. “Who knew that Trey talked to you about the argument?”
“You think Grandfather’s murderer overheard and tried to kill Trey to strengthen suspicions of me?”
“It’s possible,” Lexie said. “Could you have been overheard?”
“Trey told me at the garage, so I guess so. Both Trudy and Shawn had left for the day. I didn’t see anyone, but that doesn’t mean someone wasn’t lurking around, since I hadn’t locked up yet. Or maybe Trey mentioned it to someone else.”
“I’ll talk to Trey as soon as he’s well enough for visitors,” Lexie said, putting it on her list.
“Tell Trey that I didn’t poison him.” Ben shook his head. “It’s hard to believe someone would try to kill him just to frame me. Maybe the real motive was that Trey knows something relevant to Max’s murder, something he hasn’t yet realized is important.”
“And framing you was a fringe benefit.”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “When you talk to Trey, also warn him to be careful. He could still be in danger.”
“I will.” Lexie glanced at her watch. “I’d better go. My ten minutes are almost up, and I’d hate to annoy the cop. I’m counting on his goodwill and my lawsuit threat to get me in again.”
She got to her feet. “Olivia’s going to be coming in next. She’s very concerned you stand to lose a fortune because you’ll be stuck in jail overnight. She doesn’t think I’m sufficiently focused on that issue at the moment.”
“More evidence her desire to reconcile has a lot to do with my improved financial situation.”
“Here I figured it was because you’re unbelievable in bed.”
He managed a faint smile. “And in a ’67 Corvette.”
Lexie chewed her bottom lip as she stuffed the notepad and pen back into her purse. “I should have thought to convince Max to include an exception for something like this.” Much as she hated to admit it, Olivia had a point. Probably not a malpractice-worthy one, but a point nonetheless. “He obviously didn’t intend for you to forfeit your share of the trust because the cops made a mistake. But you could end up with a judge who’s a stickler about following the language of the trust, to hell with intent.”
“Grandfather would never have let you include anything like that,” Ben said firmly. “Since he wasn’t really dead, his primary concern was making sure no one could weasel out of staying at Nevermore. He told me he didn’t even want to include that hospitalization exception you suggested, but thought it would seem suspicious if he didn’t agree.”
The door opened. “Time’s up,” the policeman said, stepping into the room.
“Thanks for letting me talk to him.” Lexie headed for the door.
“I’ll bring your wife back now,” the policeman told Ben, and then he followed Lexie out of the room. “I think this is yours.”
Lexie turned around to see him holding out a manila envelope with “Catherine Barrington” printed on it. “What is it?” she asked, taking it from him.
“A bracelet we found in Ben’s room the first time he got arrested. We assumed it must belong to you. I just noticed we still had it.”
“I didn’t lose a bracelet,” Lexie said, managing to keep her tone level although her pulse had accelerated with annoyance and excitement. She couldn’t believe they’d ignored something that could be relevant in a murder investigation by assuming it was hers—and if she was lucky, that something would help clear Ben.
She opened the envelope, hoping it was Olivia’s, but was a little deflated to recognize it as Cecilia’s tennis bracelet, the one with the faulty clasp. The one she claimed was her only good memory of husband number two.
Sadness gathered in Lexie’s chest and pricked at her eyelids. When they’d discussed that bracelet, Max had still been alive, even though they hadn’t realized it.
“It isn’t mine, but I know whose it is,” Lexie said. “I’ll make sure she gets it.” She closed the envelope and stashed it in her purse, then spotted another envelope. The one containing something Trey had assured her she’d find interesting. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten all about it, although between Muriel’s crystal reading, Trey’s collapse, and Ben’s arrest, it had been a heck of a night.
When she got to the car, Lexie flipped on the dome light and ripped open the envelope. It contained a photocopy of a note: “Grandfather, this is the college friend I told you about. He’s a great guy, and I know he would be a terrific butler.” It was signed “Seth.” Attached with a paper clip was a photocopy of a résumé submitted by Jason Stephenson, presumably Igor the Eighth’s real name. She skimmed through his credentials—a B.A. from the University of Southern California, several stints as a waiter at restaurants with names she didn’t recognize, and three years working as a butler in L.A. She flipped to the end to check his references. Seth’s was the only name listed.
So Seth had recommended the current Igor for the job and been his only reference.
As she’d realized before, Igor could easily have poisoned Max and shot out the window, and he could also have poisoned Trey. She now knew he could have been hired by Seth to do it. Or maybe he’d convinced his old friend Seth to recommend him for the butler job because he had some reason of his own to want Max dead.
It was curious that Igor’s résumé didn’t list as references any restaurant owners or people he’d been a butler for, even though that experience would have been relevant. Maybe Max hadn’t wanted to bother checking more references because he trusted Seth’s judgment for butlers, if not for directing.
But it also could be that Igor had something to hide.
She needed to check into this Jason Stephenson. She’d start with the University of Southern California. They undoubtedly wouldn’t release information on former students, but she knew someone who could hack into almost anything. He lived in Boston, where it was after midnight, but fortunately he was a night owl. She’d call him now.
Because whoever had killed Max was clearly willing to kill again, which meant everyone could be in danger until Max’s killer was behind bars.
Especially her.
CHAPTER 23
Trey had one of the nicest rooms in Lakeview Memorial Hospital, according to the woman at the information desk. Which, she added, was only fitting since Trey’s late wife had been responsible for raising most of the money for the hospital’s new wing.
Lexie took the elevator to the fourth floor, and then walked down the disinfectant-scented hallway until she reached a large single room with a view of Lake Superior. Trey was watching CNN on a flat-screen TV that he muted when Lexie walked in. His face was still pale and pinched, but he at least was sitting up in bed, although propped up by pillows. Several colorful floral arrangements decorated the windowsill and nightstand.
“How do you feel?” Lexie asked, taking a seat on one of the gray tweed chairs beside the bed.
“Incredibly lucky,” Trey said. “If the doctor hadn’t suspected poison because of what happened to Max, I might not have made it.”
“Thanks for agreeing to see me.”
“I assume it has something to do with the trust,” Trey said. “If I don’t know it off the top of my head, it will have to wait. They want to keep me two more days to make sure the poison didn’t affect my heart.”
“I’m not here about the trust,” Lexie said. “First, Ben asked me to tell you that he didn’t poison you.”
“Do you believe him?” Trey asked.
“Of course. Don’t you?”
Trey was silent for a moment, and then let out a long breath, seeming to crumple against the pillows and age
at least a decade. “Hell, I don’t know what to think. Ben did say it was okay for me to go to the cops. But I told him I’d do it the next morning, if at all, and that night someone tried to kill me.”
If even Trey suspected him, Ben was in big trouble. “Maybe someone overheard you at the garage and seized on another opportunity to make him look guilty.”
“That’s possible,” Trey said. “I mentioned it later to Cecilia outside the parlor at Nevermore.” He looked sheepish. “Deep down I didn’t want to tell the cops. When I ran into Cecilia, I decided to ask her advice, knowing full well she’d tell me not to because Ben was innocent.” He straightened again. “Is Ben going to lose his share of the trust even if he had nothing to do with this or Max’s death?”
“I’m going to try to find a way around that.”
“I hope you can, since it’s my fault he ended up in jail last night,” Trey said. “When the cops asked if anyone had reason to kill me, I was so woozy that I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t even consider that they’d use what I said to arrest Ben, and it would be too late to go to court to have bail set.” He shook his head, sadness coloring his expression and tone. “I was worried telling the police would cause problems for Ben, and it has. Especially if he’s innocent.”
“You had to tell the police everything,” Lexie said. “Did you make your drink yourself?”
He nodded. “Someone must have doctored it after I made it. Since Dylan drank a couple gin and tonics, too, and was fine.”
“I saw you set it down when you went to get Igor’s résumé for me,” Lexie said. “When did you pick it up again?”
Trey shifted against his pillows. “Not until after Muriel finished her performance,” he said.
“Did you drink from it right away after you retrieved it?”
“No,” he said. “The dinner gong sounded, so I went to the dining room. I decided I’d better take a pit stop before dinner—one of the joys of getting old—so I left my drink at my place on the table and headed for the powder room. The cops think Ben slipped turpentine into it before I got back, since he was sitting beside me.” He frowned. “I was so upset about everything that I didn’t even notice the taste was off. Thank God I only had time for a couple of sips before I switched to wine for Max’s toast.”
“I remember everyone was milling around the dining room for several minutes before taking their seats at the table, so everyone had the opportunity to doctor it, not just Ben,” Lexie said. Including Igor, who’d been pouring wine and setting out the first course. “Can you think of any reason someone else might have wanted to kill you? Besides the discussions everyone had with Max about money. Something you might have heard or seen but considered insignificant?”
Trey’s forehead creased for a moment, then he shook his head.
“If you think of anything, no matter how minor, let me know,” Lexie said. “I hate to worry you, but if you know something, you’re still in danger.” She got to her feet, and then something occurred to her. “One more question. Do you know how Max felt about Olivia?”
”He hated her, which isn’t too surprising after the way she treated Ben.”
“Did Max hold the affair against Jeremy, too?”
“He didn’t approve of Jeremy’s conduct, but Jeremy was blood,” Trey said. “Olivia wasn’t. To be honest, I’m not sure Max liked her much even while she and Ben were married. I guarantee he wouldn’t be pleased that she and Ben are thinking of reconciling now. If he were alive, Max would be doing everything he could to stop it from happening.”
# # #
Lexie’s cell phone was ringing when she walked out of Trey’s room.
“I heard something I think you’ll find interesting,” Melissa said. “From Linc.”
Linc Jackson was Melissa’s on-and-off boyfriend.
“He heard from one of his colleagues that there’s going to be an auction of a soon-to-be-completed biography of Max Windsor,” Melissa went on. Linc worked as a lawyer for a New York City talent agency with a publishing division. “The manuscript’s expected to make it into the high six and maybe even seven figures. Linc called me because he knew my firm represented Max and thought I’d be interested.”
Catherine’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right? Max would never authorize a biography while he was alive. And it would be hard to get information about him considering how private he was.”
“Which is why this is such a big deal, because it’s written by someone who had access to him,” Melissa said.
“Who’s that?”
“Max’s grandson, Seth Windsor.”
Seth. Suddenly all those questions and photos took on a greater significance. “I assume it was first submitted after Max supposedly died the first time.”
“A few days later,” Melissa said. “Which makes sense, since with Max dead, it’s bound to generate the maximum interest and money. Seth might be scrambling to finish writing it.”
“He also wouldn’t have dared publish it while Max was alive, since he’d have risked being disinherited,” Catherine said, thinking out loud.
“You’re thinking Seth might have killed Max so he could publish his book?” Melissa asked. “It seems more likely he’d have killed Max for his share of the trust. From what you’ve told me, that’s way more than he’ll get from any book, even if it’s a bestseller.”
“If he needs money right now, Seth will probably get the advance from his book a lot sooner than he’ll get the trust money, especially if it’s tied up until Max’s murderer is convicted,” Catherine said. “Writing the biography will also get Seth’s name out there and remind people that he’s related to the über-talented Max Windsor. That’s bound to help advance his directing career.”
Those reasons could have motivated Seth to make the initial unsuccessful attempts on Max’s life. But Catherine now knew that Seth had an even stronger motive for having shot his grandfather down by the lake. If Max were alive, Seth lost a lot of book sales and his share of the trust until Max died for real. But even worse, he might have lost his chance of ever getting a share of the trust. Because Max would no doubt hear that Seth had tried to sell a biography about him, even if Seth tried to withdraw it. Max might be willing to forgive a couple of tabloid articles, but a biography was a different matter. Knowing Max’s hatred of publicity, that biography could very well be the end of Seth’s inheritance.
Seth also was working with Igor, whom Catherine’s hacker friend had assured her was not a college buddy of Seth’s.
She probably should talk to Seth, but not until she had more information.
Right now she needed to talk to Igor.
# # #
Lexie had just parked at Nevermore and gotten out of her car when Jeremy came down the front steps.
“I was just thinking that I can’t stand eating at Nevermore tonight, and then I run into you,” he said. “It’s a sign you should go out to dinner with me this evening.”
Wrong. It was a sign that it was time to confront Jeremy. Igor could wait. Seth wasn’t the only suspect, after all.
“Why have you been lying about your relationship with Olivia?” Lexie asked.
Jeremy’s face went blank. “I haven’t been. We don’t have a relationship anymore.”
“You had lunch with her in New York around Easter,” Lexie said. “You also called her about Ben’s arrest. She was already in Grand Marais, which you know because you visited her there.”
“Who told you that?” he asked.
“Someone I consider absolutely reliable.” That was pushing it, but Lexie wasn’t about to call J.P. a liar, even behind his back. “I plan to tell the police unless you convince me your lies had nothing to do with Max’s murder. Knowing the local police, if I do tell them, they’re likely to decide that you, Olivia, and Ben are in this together and arrest all of you. You’ll probably end up spending a night in jail and have to bring a lawsuit to get your share of the trust, a lawsuit that might not succeed. That’s after you’re tr
ied and found innocent, assuming you actually are innocent and the local judges and juries are more competent than the cops. Are you willing to risk that?”
Jeremy stared at her for a moment, then let out a long breath. “All right. A few months ago Olivia asked me to lunch. She told me she needed my help and couldn’t talk over the phone. I was curious, so I went.”
“What did she want?”
“She said she’d been a fool to leave Ben and wanted me to help her get him back. I told her I’d do what I could. To be honest, I’d always felt a little guilty about my part in breaking up their marriage.”
“Did you help her?”
He shrugged. “There wasn’t much I could do. Ben would be more likely to reject Olivia if he thought I was trying to get them together. That’s why I lied and told you I hadn’t talked to her, so Ben wouldn’t find out I was involved. I didn’t hear from Olivia again until after we thought Grandfather died the first time. She said she’d called Ben and wanted to come to Nevermore, but he’d told her not to bother. She asked me to keep her apprised of what was going on.”
“Did you tell her to come here anyway?”
“Not until you showed up,” Jeremy said. “You seemed so different from Ben’s usual girlfriends that I had a feeling he might be serious about you. I warned Olivia she’d better try to convince Ben to get back together before it was too late. She decided she’d have better luck if she talked to him in person, so she came to Grand Marais two days before Grandfather really died. I took her to lunch the day after she arrived, but otherwise only talked to her on the phone.”
“When did she see Ben?” Lexie asked. He hadn’t mentioned meeting with Olivia.
“She was waiting for the perfect time,” Jeremy said. “Too many people were around him at work, and she was afraid that if she came to Nevermore and you were there, Ben wouldn’t want to put you on the spot and would order her to leave. When the mayor called and Ben had to go into work alone at night, I called and told her it was her chance.”
