Castle Cay (10 page)

He tilted his head in sympathy.

“I was sorry to hear about your husband,
Julie.”

“Thank you. I was sorry about Miriam, too. I
think that place is cursed.”

He nodded, and continued.

“Marc did, too. In fact, he wanted to sell
it. He called me a few weeks ago and said he’d had a good offer
from Holiday Cruise Lines for it. “

“What? He was seeking your advice about a
sale? Of Castle Cay?”

“Yes. It was a large amount of money.”

“Can you tell me any more about it?” asked
Julie. “It would help me if I knew what questions he had and what
you advised him.”

Matt thought about it for a moment.

“I don’t see why not,” he said.

“Holiday offered $40 million for Castle Cay.
Avram had called Marc to tell him. And, as you know, Marc never
trusted Avram about anything. So, he called me. He said that Avram
seemed very eager for him to sell, and he wondered why. I said that
perhaps Avram was sick of managing the property, or he might have
felt the money would be better invested elsewhere.”

“Do you know who the listing agent was?”

“Yes, I do. Wait a minute…”

He got up, went to his desk, and pulled out a
piece of paper that was tucked under the clear mat.

“It was listed with Island World Realty.
They’re in Miami. Marc said they specialized in islands and
waterfront properties.”

“How did he find them?”

“I don’t think he did. I think Avram probably
listed it.”

“But you said that Marc wanted to sell?”

“Yes. But, keep in mind, Marc hadn’t been
there for years. He was thinking that perhaps he should go there
again before deciding. On the other hand, he didn’t want to delay
and lose the buyer. So that was the quandary.”

“What did you advise him?”

“It was a low offer. I told him not to rush
into it! I said that if he felt he should go there first, then
that’s what he should do. I don’t know if he went or not,
though.”

“Have you talked to Avram Solomon about any
of this?”

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “But I received a
letter from him about Marc’s trust fund. It was to inform me that
Avram, as trustee, was completing an inventory and that the trust
would be ‘liquidated as soon as possible’. He said that when it was
ready to close, he would ‘make distributions to all the
beneficiaries’.”

“Who is the primary beneficiary?”

“I am,” he said, simply.

Surprised, Julie instantly assessed his body
language. He had shrugged slightly and opened his hands toward her.
There was no inconsistency in any of it. Matt Castle was an honest
man, and one who was already quite wealthy.

“Any idea why Avram wanted the island sold?”
she asked.

“No. But I’m a lot more suspicious about it
now than I was.”

“There’s one last thing I want to ask you,
Matt. It’s personal. I’ll understand if you’d rather not answer. Is
it possible that Milton Solomon was not Marc’s father?”

Matt shifted and sighed. He leaned back in
his chair. “There’s no point in keeping that secret any longer, I
guess. My partner, Tom Connor, is – was - Marc’s father. God knows
he wanted to tell him! But he promised my sister years ago that he
wouldn’t. The hell of it is, we had talked recently and he was
planning to tell him. Now he’ll never have the chance.

“It was all because of my sister’s delusion
about her sons bonding. Of course, Miriam never recognized Avram’s
duplicity. She didn’t want to see it. No, it was her goal for them
to be close. She thought it would only separate them more to know
they had different fathers.”

“Joan Soldano mentioned that Miriam left
everything to Marc?”

“Oh, no,” said Matt. “Miriam left an equal
amount of money to her sons. The island was an additional bequest
in Marc’s trust. And that was fair. At the time, you see, Milton
was clearly putting Solomon Chrysler into Avram’s hands.

“Miriam saw Marc as being on ‘her side’ of
the family. I don’t think she thought about the monetary value of
Castle Cay at all. I don’t think she ever imagined the island being
sold; her intent was simply to keep it in the Castle family.

“As for Marc’s trust fund, Miriam’s reasoning
was that Avram was an accountant and he cared about the family
money… where Marc clearly didn’t. In her mind, she was protecting
Marc by appointing Avram trustee.

“It was a terrible idea. I tried to talk her
out of it, but she wouldn’t listen to a word I said. In the end,
she and Milton went to another firm to draw up their estate plans.
Of course, after Miriam died, we lost all of their business…but
that was years ago.”

“Why was that?”

“Avram chose Cardenas and Shaw.”

“Where have I seen that name?”

“In the newspapers, perhaps. No doubt you’ve
heard of their clients? The Tambini family here in Boston?”

Shit, thought Julie.

Up to my ankles.

•

Julie called the airport as she hurried back
to the Marriott, reserving a seat on the eight o’clock flight to
Miami. She also made a reservation there at the Holiday Inn. Then
she went to her room, threw everything into her carry-on and headed
for the door.

Wait…

She picked up the hotel phone and recorded
some misdirection:

“Sorry I missed you! I’ll be back later.”

One more stop and I’m out of here!

* * * * *

T
he traffic in Boston was chaotic, the
city a maze of one-way streets. When at last Julie neared Solomon
Chrysler’s original store, the area began to look familiar, if more
cramped. The dealership, in particular, seemed much smaller than
when she had worked there…a common trick of memory. She pulled into
the crowded car lot, recalling Joan’s words, “
The Lynn and
Waltham stores are much larger”.

Julie didn’t recognize any of the salesmen
jockeying for position. One of them, a slick-looking young man,
came out to greet her.

“Hi! Welcome to Solomon Chrysler. How can I
help you today?”

“Sorry, but you can’t. I’m not looking for a
car. I’m here to see Avram Solomon. Is he in?”

“Yes, he is. Go on in.”

“Is he still in the front office?” she asked,
figuring Avram must have moved into Milton’s private office with
the big one-way mirrored wall that looked out on the sales
action.

“Yep, right over there,” he said, opening the
door and pointing.

Julie thanked him and quickly crossed the
showroom floor, hoping Avram hadn’t seen her. She turned down the
hallway and knocked on the first door on the right.

“Yes, what is it?” said Avram.

“A visitor,” said Julie, opening the door and
sticking her head in, all smiles.

His shock was obvious.

“Julie…good to see you!” he said, quickly
regaining his composure.

Avram looked like a stock broker, not a car
dealer. His dark hair was combed smoothly back. He wore leather
suspenders over a crisp white shirt, and his silk tie sported an
elegant Windsor knot.

Julie had interrupted him while he was
discussing something with one of the service managers. He dismissed
the man. “Go ahead and do the job for them, Richard. Got to keep
the customers happy,” he said, ushering him out.

The man left, shaking his head.

Julie noticed that Avram’s office was
designed to reflect the stature of its occupant. It looked like the
chamber of a pompous judge. His desk was grand, with an equally
imposing chair behind it, larger and higher than the two in front
of the desk. There were pictures of him with dignitaries, but no
family pictures were in sight.

“So, Julie,” he said, assuming his throne and
directing her to a chair opposite him, “this is an unexpected
pleasure.”

Julie noted his posture. He sought to give
her an impression of relaxation. He leaned back in his chair and
smiled but, at the same time, he made a high steeple with his
hands. Just the fingertips were touching. It was a smug gesture,
creating a wall between them. Further, there was controlled
aggression in his eyes.

“Yes, I wanted to spend an extra night in
town,” she said.” So many memories here in Boston, especially at
Solomon Chrysler. I just thought I’d drop in and say hello, for old
times’ sake.”

“Well, that’s wonderful! Perhaps we could
have dinner,” he said, smiling and leaning forward. “Where are you
staying?”

From an expert’s point of view, Julie
appreciated Avram’s smooth transition.
He actually looks and
sounds genuine now. He’s fascinating,
she thought. And reminded
herself…
like a cobra.

“I’m at the Marriott Long Wharf, but I’m
planning to do a little shopping and turn in early,” she said
apologetically.

“You and I didn’t get much time to talk about
Marc at the wake, Avram. I was so stunned by his death. He was a
very good friend of mine, as you know. Of course, I’m not a family
member, but I thought…if I could find out just a
few
more
details…it would give me closure, you know?”

“Of course,” said Avram, visibly
relieved.

The steeple is lower. Good. We’re playing
nice now.

“How can I help?” he said.

“I was wondering, Avram; you went down to see
Marc just before I did. Did he seem depressed to you?” asked Julie,
assuming the visit.

“Yes, he did, I’m sorry to say.”

“Even though his career was going so well and
he’d just been offered $40 million for Castle Cay?”

Avram’s dark eyes were riveted, burning
through her. He picked up a Mont Blanc pen from the desk and began
turning it, end over end, in his right hand. Sardonically, the
bottom half of his face kept smiling.

“Yes,” he said. “Even so.”

I can’t believe it; he’s displaying
superiority. Like this is some kind of game. We’ll see about
that.

“It’s quite a coincidence - after so many
years of owning Castle Cay - that Marc gets a multi-million dollar
offer to buy the island and suddenly ends up dead, don’t you
think?”

That did it.

“Listen to me,
Merlin
,” he said,
standing, signaling that their meeting was over. He jabbed the Mont
Blanc at her like a bayonet with each point he was making. “Not
that it’s any of your
business
, but that sale is done. And
further, Marc’s estate goes to my
uncle
, Matthew Castle, and
not
to me. I am merely the trustee. So, unless you have a
legitimate
question regarding my brother’s suicide, I think
I’ve helped you all I can with your…
closure
.”

“I’m sorry, Avram,” said Julie, rising and
feigning apology. “I didn’t mean to
imply
anything. I just
found the timing curious. I know, of course, that you were here in
Boston when Marc died; I’m sure it was a terrible shock. By the
way, do you happen to know Roland Archer or Susan Dwyer?”

“Yes, it
was
a shock,” said Avram,
holding the door open, glaring at her. “And certainly, I know
Marc’s agent. I don’t know the other person. Now, if you don’t
mind, I really am busy.”

Julie said goodbye and walked out to the
Camry.

You were shocked, all right,
Avram
.

When you saw ME.

* * * * *

“
W
hat the hell did you expect me to
do? Run her off the road like they do in the movies? Make her car
go up in flames on Route One? I’m a mechanic, not a fucking stunt
man! You wanted ‘an accident’. That’s what you got.”

“What I got was nothing!”

Avram slammed the phone down. He fell back
into his chair. A furious scowl twisted his face as he obsessively
turned the pen in his hand.

Why can’t she mind her own business?

He took a deep breath, and exhaled.

She doesn’t matter. She’s not going to affect
the deal with Holiday.

Avram slipped on his tailored jacket,
carefully tucking the pen into the inside pocket. He stepped out of
his office, locking the door behind him.

“I’m leaving now, Barbara. I’ll be in
tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mr. Solomon,” said the office
manager.

He ignored the sales activity as he crossed
the showroom floor. He was headed for his Jaguar, blatantly parked
front and center outside, much to the consternation of his own
salesmen.

Sliding in behind the wheel for the short
drive to his Beacon Hill townhouse, thoughts of Julie O’Hara
intermingled with Avram’s plans for the evening. He had a call girl
coming to his house and he was looking forward to it. She wasn’t
going to enjoy it, but that was the point, wasn’t it? Otherwise, he
wouldn’t have to pay her.
Too bad it wasn’t O’Hara.

Avram was a dangerous man. And he was fully
aware of it. The epiphany had taken place when he was eleven. It
began with a fight. He chuckled, remembering it.

I beat up the fag. I caught him in my
bedroom.

Marc, who was eight, had to be taken to the
hospital. They had recommended that Avram get some help with “anger
management”.

After several visits and tests, the
psychiatrist had telephoned his mother. Avram had picked up the
bedroom extension as soon as he’d heard his mother say, “
Oh,
hello, Dr. Weissman…”

The doctor proceeded to tell her that, in his
opinion, Avram was a sociopath and not likely to change. The doctor
apologized about having to give her such an “unwelcome diagnosis”.
He suggested that she might want to get a second opinion. Oddly -
to Avram - his mother never took him to another shrink and never
mentioned Dr. Weissman’s call to his father.

The very next day, he had looked up the word
sociopath
in the school library. It was enlightening. Simply
put, Avram didn’t care about other people. He could hurt them
without “caring” about it, and they sensed it. It was just a
confirmation, really. Avram had always noticed the fear in their
eyes, how they moved out of his way. But now he knew why. He was
wired differently, and he was glad. But he was also smart. This was
an advantage that had to be handled carefully. Although he enjoyed
thinking of himself as a lone wolf, he saw the advantage of
pretending
to be like the sheep and deliberately set about
deceiving his parents, particularly his mother. He controlled
himself with Marc thereafter, too.