But it had been something else I was looking for. There was a beautiful picture of Angela on the desk, but I’d wanted to see what he had of his first wife, and I’d found nothing, and nothing of his sons. I guess I hadn’t really expected any, so I didn’t know why it hurt. Maybe I felt he owed me something for what I was going through.
We left the house in a different confusion than we’d come.
“A penny for your thoughts.” Stately Boyer Manor was fading into the distance behind us.
“I don’t want more money,” I said.
“What should I offer you?” Katie said.
“No. I mean that’s my thoughts. You owe me a penny.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Some stretches of the road were tawdry with old gas stations, run-down diners, and tacky souvenir shops. These were in contrast with the stretches that were tawdry with new gas stations, plastic fast-food restaurants, and bland strip shopping centers. “I’ll think of something else to give you.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Are you being surly?”
“Half.”
She took note of the clenched jaw and pursed lips. “What’s the other half?”
“That bothered me, Katie.”
“Being at the house?”
“It made me feel like I was Melvin.”
“What does that mean, anyway?”
“It means doing things that I never thought I’d do. I’m violating something inside myself.”
“What have you done?”
“I’m having a feud with the governor.”
“I’ve never liked him.” We were passing through farms and villages now—much more scenic than the coast.
“I’m starting to dislike him a lot more,” I said. “And when you’re Melvin, you don’t just dislike a governor. You do something about it.”
“What do you do?”
“That’s what the world is wondering.”
9
“So. Have you come up with some type of plan?” Fred was set very far back in his chair, at as great a distance from me and my recklessness as he could get.
“Yes, some type of one.”
“What type?”
I laughed at the richness of his disdain. “And you still want to negotiate with the terrorists?”
“He is a governor, not a terrorist.”
“Explain the difference.”
He shook his head. “Tell me what you’ve thought of.”
“The governor is corrupt. I’ll expose him.”
Fred blinked. “A good deal of his corruption has been as your partner.”
“Not my partner.”
“With the Boyer businesses. You know what I mean.”
“But not with me.”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I was in Melvin’s office this afternoon. I have enough evidence to sink Bright and half his administration with him.”
Fred’s mouth was open, but it took a while for words to come out.
“Of course you do.” He could have added “you idiot,” but it was there without being spoken. “You can’t use any of it.”
“I can.”
“You’ll destroy your own businesses.”
“No. Somebody on my side will take the fall—whoever deserves it. I’ve been looking through Melvin’s papers and I’m starting to figure out who that is. But of the two biggest crooks, one is in the governor’s mansion, and the other is in his heavenly mansion.”
Fred Spellman was reeling. “This would destroy your father’s reputation.”
“Where he is, he doesn’t need it.”
I had managed to disgust Fred, although there was also admiration in his look. “Where did you get this idea?”
Where, indeed. There were two answers to that one. The first was that it was obvious. Only a twisted, corrupt mind could have failed to see a plan so straightforward and honest.
But the second answer was corrupt, and much more twisted, and it was the real answer. The idea was a witch’s brew: eye of newt, wart of toad, smoke of Nathan Kern, essence of Oedipus, hot blood of Boyer.
The main ingredient was the opportunity to get back at Melvin for every wrong against me. For ignoring me for twenty-eight years, for building an evil empire and then getting murdered and leaving me as his chosen replacement emperor. But add a pinch of Nathan’s sanctimony concerning power and corruption for thickening and body, a dash of the prospect of Governor Bright’s demolition for flavor, and a splash of hydraulic brake fluid as a little extra spice, and it was a potent concoction. Heat it over a hot temper and it was irresistible.
“I don’t know,” I answered.
“This is a bull in a . . . a . . .” Analogies were failing him. “In a dynamite factory. A herd of bulls.”
“Calm down, Fred. Let’s just talk about it a little.”
“Then say something reasonable.” He wasn’t buying it. But he had to listen to me.
“I’ve taken over from Melvin and I’ve found out what he was doing. Now I want to make it right.”
“You’re much too young and inexperienced to try something like this.”
“That’s why I’m doing it. I’m young and idealistic.”
That brought a fairly violent snort. “You are nothing of the sort.”
“I might be.”
“Your businesses are implicated. Melvin was not the only one involved. Bright will name names. He’ll try to take everything you have down with him.”
I shrugged. “Then they’ll go down. They’ll only be getting what they deserve.”
“These are your highest officers and managers.”
“Not the highest. One rank down. I’ll pay fines. I’ll help them as much as they deserve. The businesses will survive.”
“Maybe.” Fred had had enough. “Maybe they will. You wouldn’t know. That is your greatest risk. Yes, you might cause significant damage to the governor without damaging yourself. But you would be removing the shelter your businesses currently enjoy. I am no businessman, but even I can guess what might happen.”
“I can guess, too. They’ll have to adjust.”
“And with your immense business experience, you will lead them through this adjustment. Or will you have rid yourself of them first?”
“I won’t answer that.”
“You have no answer. You are proposing a reckless, foolish, lunatic plan.”
“Yours is no better.”
“Yes it is. Of course it is! It’s realistic and prudent. It’s what Bright is expecting, and he’ll come to an agreement. What gives you the right to dictate to the governor?”
“Apparently someone has to. It’s my job as king, isn’t it? The man is a criminal.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
We were stuck. I didn’t want to just walk out, but I wasn’t going to argue.
“Okay, Fred. We’ll send out a warning. I’ve started looking through Melvin’s papers, and I have some concerns to discuss with the governor. Or Clinton Grainger. Or that police detective,Wilcox. You tell me how to do it. That’s about the same level of threat he’s thrown at us.”
Fred was scowling. “It’s still leading into very dangerous territory.”
“We’re already there.”
“I’ll consider it. But I’m not advising you to do this.”
“You’ve made that very clear, Fred. Remember what I said before. As far as I’m concerned, I’m still in the locked room and the man is still shooting at me.”
“In your analogy, do you also have a gun?”
“In this case, yes.”
Three days in my life had now passed since I had taken the throne. It took God six days to make the world, and then he needed a day off. I figured I was on the same pace. Another three days like these, and I would have about demolished everything he had done. Wait . . . not what God had made, just what Melvin had. God, Melvin— it was easy to get them mixed up.
What was the point of being rich if you st
ill drove home from work every night just like any working peasant? I was stuck in traffic, and it wasn’t helping my attitude.
Katie was right. We needed a better place to live. I didn’t care what our guests and admirers thought, but to me the house felt vulnerable. Anybody could walk in the front door: a reporter, a murderer, whoever. I was surprised we hadn’t had one of them knock on the door yet.
A reporter. Not a murderer.
So—a new house. Somewhere more secure. That would keep Katie busy for a while.
Oh yeah, murderer, right. Where were we on that one? I still had my list. Nathan Kern, too pious. Eric, too ingenuous. Katie, too unimaginative, or at least too mechanically challenged. Fred, too . . . actually, Fred seemed pretty likely.
It was just the list of people I knew, not the list of business rivals and politicians and mobsters the police would have come up with. But if it was someone I didn’t know, I wouldn’t care. Hopefully it would turn out to be a hit man that Governor Bright had hired— not that the police would ever press that charge.
The traffic moved a hundred yards and stopped.
I needed a break. I’d go somewhere for the weekend.
Katie had suggested Europe, but I wouldn’t do that without her, and I wanted to be alone. Then I remembered the townhouse in Washington.
The cars were moving again, and I stuffed the whole murder suitcase into the trunk. I’d get to it later. I had more important things to work out at the moment.
“I have a job for you,” I said to Katie over chicken Marsala. It’s one of Rosita’s best meals.
“What?” Her eyes sparkled. I don’t know how she makes them do that.
“Buy us a new house.”
“A what?” I was glad I could still surprise her.
“You’re right. We need to move.” I didn’t want to make it sound scary. “I want someplace less accessible.”
What she heard was, somewhere exclusive. Which was what I wanted her to hear.
But then she frowned. “By myself?”
“I’m getting real busy.”
“But, Jason . . . I wanted to look together, with you. It’ll be for both of us.”
“Francine can help.”
“Mother’s leaving for Florida in two weeks.”
“I bet it won’t take that long. When you get it narrowed down, I’ll go.”
That was okay. She smiled. “What should I look for?”
“I don’t think I want it as huge as Angela’s place, or as far from town.”
“All right. How soon would we move?”
“Right away,” I said. This was her dream come true—even if she’d be flying solo. I didn’t want her to faint, so I gave her a few more seconds to recover her equilibrium. Then I said, “And it really doesn’t matter how much it costs.”
10
Thursday dawned bright and clear and I saw it happen. When I got back to the house, huffing and puffing, Katie was up and dressed for lots of walking.
“It’s too late to change your mind,” she said.
“I won’t. Who was the lady we used to get this house?”
“Harriet Postagini. I’m meeting her at noon.”
Noon? “Why wait that long?”
“I told Eric I’d take him shopping this morning.”
“Right. Be real sweet to him. And like I said, we’re paying.”
I was in a better mood that morning. I sat in my office for twenty minutes just being calm. Then it was time for not being calm.
“I’m not happy about this.” It was true: Fred’s voice in the phone was very unhappy.
“I agree,” I said. “But it’s not my fault. Bright started it. Do you have a suggestion for the best way to poke him, or should I think of something?”
“There is no best way.”
“Okay. Is there some way that’s less terrible?”
“Remember, I’m not advising that you follow this plan.”
“I understand.”
“You should be indirect to keep them confused, and to keep your own options open. Don’t talk to Grainger or Bright directly in any way that they can ask you questions, unless you’re willing to deal.”
“I’m not.”
“You should be.”
“I’m not, yet.”
“That’s slightly better. Talk to Stanley Morton. Don’t tell him any more than you need to, but get him to set a reporter on Clinton Grainger. Grainger needs to be asked if he’s worried that Jason Boyer might uncover anything questionable about Melvin Boyer’s dealings with the governor. You understand what I mean.”
“Yes. They shouldn’t ask the governor directly?”
“By asking Grainger, you will be indicating that this is a warning, not yet an actual attack. And who knows what the governor might answer. Also, go through your father’s papers, quickly. You’ll need to be ready for the governor’s response.”
“I’m getting them from his office this afternoon.”
“Good. You should get them into a more secure place, as well.”
“I’m planning to.”
We said our good-byes, and I noticed the time. It had been exactly one week ago that Fred had read us Melvin’s will, and the world had turned upside down.
I took Stan Morton to lunch. Not too direct, not too elusive.
“I’ve got an issue with Governor Bright.”
We were high above the ground, in a very expensive French restaurant, at a table in the corner of two long windowed walls. Stan leaned forward, the better to hear my newsworthy words.
“Oh, do you?”
“I’m not sure the dealings between him and my companies have always been completely legitimate.”
Stan blinked, once, then swallowed. “Of course they haven’t been.” I was really getting to like him.
“I wouldn’t have known. I was never involved.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me you’re surprised?”
“Shocked. It’s amazing how innocent I’ve been.”
“I see.” He leaned back. “So what’s your issue with the governor?”
“What I just said, that I’m worried about what might happen to my businesses if anything became public. And I’d be especially worried for him. It might hurt me, but it could really hurt him.”
“Is he worried?”
“I don’t know. I think you should have someone ask him. Or it would be even better to ask Clinton Grainger. Maybe this afternoon, if you could manage it. I could write out the questions for you.”
“My reporters know how to ask their own questions.”
“Sure. It could be something like, ‘Are you worried that Jason Boyer might go public with details of Melvin Boyer’s deals with Governor Bright? The governor would have much more to lose than the Boyers.”’
“I understand. So what’s your real issue with the governor?”
“No comment.”
He smiled. “If you’re trying to send a message, we’ve got a classified section.”
“I’m not sure the governor reads the classifieds. I could call him, but politicians always pay extra attention to reporters.”
“Yeah, I get it. I should charge you for a full page ad.”
“No problem. What does that cost?”
“In this case . . .” He paused. “I’ll put it on your account and bill you later.”
“Then I want account credit for all the extra newspapers you sell,” I said.
I was again shown into Angela’s parlor. Without Katie, the greeting was much more formal, but I was as respectful as I could be.
“I need to go through Melvin’s office,” I said.
She nodded. “I understand. Will you take anything?”
“Yes. All his papers.”
“I suppose they really are yours,” she said. We were back to the way we’d always been—uncomfortable and softly hostile.
“I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“It’s no matter.”
I could see her getting colder by t
he moment.
“Is the man you mentioned, Emmanuel, still here?”
“No. He hasn’t been back since the accident.”
I was in the office for two hours, packing and searching. Melvin had never chosen to own a computer, so I didn’t have to deal with that. I wasn’t reading everything, just organizing it in my boxes, but I could already tell the future was dim for Harry Bright.
I took only the state government file; I left the files on the foundation. That would be another day’s job. And I was getting the creeps, too. The room was so much his, I felt like he’d walk in. Then I’d sure be in trouble. But after the last few days, I was mad enough to stand up to him.
I carried the boxes out to my car and looked in to Angela’s parlor to say good-bye, but she was not there. I didn’t look for her. It was only as I was accelerating down the driveway that I saw a brief flash of pink and platinum in a second-floor window.
I stopped at my bank and got a big safe-deposit box.
Katie’s mother joined us for the evening. Francine had helped look at houses. She was in her usual crusty mood, torn between the pleasure of her daughter’s good fortune and the pain of that fortune being through me. Behind every successful man stands a supportive wife and a very suspicious mother-in-law.
“Did you enjoy your afternoon?” I said to her. I wanted to see what she’d have to complain about.
She glared at me over her glasses. “Those big houses are so exhausting to look through.”
It’s almost a game. “I’ll tell Katie to look at smaller places.”
“If the big ones are too expensive, just say so, Jason.”
“That’s not what he meant, Mother,” Katie said.
“She has a point, dear,” I said. “You should let her pick some houses to look at, ones she thinks I deserve.” I smiled sweetly at the dear little lady. “Maybe some one-room shacks.”
She smirked back at me. “When I see what you move into, I’ll know the truth about this so-called billion dollars. Have you seen an actual bank statement, Katie?”
The Heir Page 8
