Confessions: The Private School Murders (39 page)

“Gross,” Hugo said, scrunching his face.

“Took the words right outta my mouth, Hugo,” I said, giving him a fist bump.

Matty laughed and slid his sunglasses on. “When are you two going to grow up?”

“But what about the germs, Matty?” Hugo wailed. “The germs!”

Even I had to laugh at that one.

Finally, Harry got back in the cab and slammed the door. He was grinning like an idiot. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Rolling my eyes, I Googled Red Hook, Brooklyn, on my phone, opened the link, and showed it around to the boys. “Red Hook is famous for two things. Unless we’re moving into public housing, I guess we’re going on a cruise.”

“Come on,” Harry said.

“What else could it be?”

“For three weeks?” Harry said. “Where the hell are we going? It only takes like six or seven days to get to Europe.”

“Maybe we’re going to Australia!” Hugo said, bouncing in his seat.

“Or Antarctica,” Matty said. “That’d be cool. At least there are no reporters there.”

Jacob said nothing.

“Come on, Jacob. Don’t you think you should at least give us a clue?” I hated being out of the loop.

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked me in the eye. “All right. Here’s your hint. If you want to know how the court ruled in the case of your parents’ estate, I suggest you come on this trip.”

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Once we figured out
where we were going to be for the next several weeks, Hugo and I decided to explore the
Queen Mary 2
to pass the time until the ship cast off.

“Lookit that, Tandy!” he gasped, pointing toward a top deck. “Lookit that!”

There was a shopping area the size of a land-bound mall, a three-story, red-carpeted spiral staircase leading to the Grand Lobby, a huge theater as big as Radio City Music Hall, and a restaurant designed to look like an English garden. A deck circumnavigated the ship, as wide as a boardwalk, lined with lounge chairs and so high above the waterline, we were on the same level with the seabirds in flight.

After an hour or two of wide-eyed wandering, Hugo and I found Harry in the piano lounge. He was playing a jazz medley, drawing in people who stood in the entrance. After a stellar rendition of “Piano Man,” we grabbed Harry and dragged him with us to the main deck as the ship prepared to leave her mooring. Tugboats that seemed as small as toy cars had lines attached to our ship and began their work of heavy tugging as the ship’s horns sounded.

Hugo covered his ears, grinning the whole time.

And then we were being guided through the harbor toward open waters. The movement of the ship was powerful, graceful, monumental. For a while, anyway, I stopped wondering where and why and turned myself over to what could be the thrill of a lifetime. Like it or not, we were on this seagoing luxury hotel for an entire week.

I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy it.

After admiring the dramatic open ocean awhile longer, we met Jacob for dinner in the Queens Grill, where the menu featured tandoori-baked prawns—which Harry immediately renamed Shrimp Tandy.

Then we followed Jacob up and down stairs and along carpeted hallways to his suite on the ninth deck. Jacob’s room was pretty luxurious. He had a flat-screen TV, creamy bedding on his king-sized bed, a wonderful
abstract oil painting, and a wide balcony overlooking the foam-flecked ocean nine stories below.

“Geez,” Hugo said. “Your room is much nicer than ours.”

“Of course. I’m wealthier than any of you. At least for the moment.”

He was wealthy? And had he just said we were about to become even wealthier?

How could that even be true? We had been on rock-bottom austerity measures since he’d come to live with us. As far as I knew, we were being sued by Royal Rampling, who had promised to make us destitute.

Jacob definitely had our attention.

He opened a chilled bottle of apple cider and poured glasses for us all. Matty was leaning up against a wall, enjoying himself. I had the distinct feeling that he and Jacob had done some male bonding and that our uncle had clued my big brother in on this new development.

Jacob sat in a round leather swivel chair with his back to the sea and sky.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” he began. “What do you want first? Show of hands on bad news first.”

We all raised our hands high.

“Don’t drag this out, Jacob,” I snapped.

“Patience, Tandy. Okay. The bad news is that the court
ruled in favor of Royal Rampling, who is your parents’ principal creditor. He was awarded the co-op, of course, and the furnishings, and whatever equities and bonds were in Malcolm and Maud’s possession at the time of their deaths.”

“What about the Pork Chair?” Hugo asked. “Can we keep that?”

“The Pork Chair is worth tens of thousands, Hugo,” Jacob said gently. “So are Mercurio and the Pegasus piano, and all the other artwork your parents owned, including Maud’s emerald ring. Unfortunately, it’s all gone.”

“That’s so unfair,” Harry said. “The piano was mine. It’s like a part of me.”

“I understand and I’m sorry, Harry,” Jacob said. “But it wasn’t in your name. Angel Pharmaceuticals is being taken over by Rampling Limited, and even Peter’s shares are worthless. He will be filing for bankruptcy.”

Uncle Peter had a huge co-op on the West Side and an elaborate social life. I felt a little sorry for him. Uncle Peter without money was going to be pathetic. I didn’t think I’d be able to call him Uncle Pig anymore.

“Did Rampling leave us anything?” I asked, seeing his e-mail to me in my mind’s eye. His offer to leave us something if I stayed out of James’s life. “Anything at all?”

“The clothes on your backs, the clothes in your closets,
and whatever personal items in your bedrooms, Royal Rampling can’t sell. As we speak, a moving company is boxing up your possessions and putting them in storage.”

My fingers curled into fists. I wanted to kill someone. Not be arrested erroneously for killing someone, but actually kill someone this time.

And that someone was Royal Rampling.

“That bastard,” I said under my breath.

“I’m very sorry, kids. This is pretty terrible and none of you deserve it,” Jacob told us. “But as I said, there is good news, too.”

I held my breath.

“Who’s paying for this trip?” Harry blurted. “And why is Matthew grinning like that?”

“Well, that would lead us to the good news,” said our uncle Jacob. He was smiling now, too. Like he just couldn’t wait to spill whatever he called good news.

“Here we go,” I said quietly to my twin. “More surprises.”

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Jacob opened his briefcase
and removed a worn leather wallet about eight inches long and four inches wide, with a buckled leather strap going all around it. It looked like an envelope for military communiqués, something I’d seen in a movie once.

I held my breath as Jacob unbuckled the strap, opened the wallet, and took out what looked to be a letter, written by hand on yellowed paper.

Just then, the loudspeaker came on, and the captain welcomed us aboard the
Queen Mary 2
. He told us endless details about the air temperature, ocean conditions, and distances in both English and metric formats. Then the entertainment director started rambling on about the
highlights of the upcoming trip. I heard none of it as my mind riffled through all the possibilities of what we were about to hear from Jacob.

“Okay, is she ever gonna stop talking?” Harry asked.

The second she did, there was a knock at the door—Jacob’s butler inquiring whether he required turndown service. Jacob thanked the young man but sent him away.

“Sorry about all that,” Jacob said. “Kind of spoiled the moment.”

“Can we get on with it already?” I asked.

“As you wish.” Jacob unfolded the letter and said, “This is from your gram Hilda.”

“But she’s dead,” Hugo said.

“Yes, she passed away twenty-five years ago, before Matthew was even born, but even though she didn’t know any of you, she expected that her children would have their own children, and she wanted to make sure that her grandchildren were… well, I’ll let her tell you herself.”

He picked up the letter and began to read.

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