Dead for the Money (24 page)

“Right. I’m not sure what the courts would do about trusteeship if an immediate family member showed up to contest my right to it.”

“So is it possible this person really is Brodie’s father?”

Bud turned back to the will for a few seconds. “Here’s something.” He read aloud. “‘If Brodie Dunbar should, upon her majority, want to know the events that led to her adoption into this family, she may at that time be given a video recording kept in my safe. I do not recommend such a course but leave it to Brodie’s judgment. Whatever she decides, she must understand that I love her as much as if she were my own.’”

Bud looked in the direction of a small safe in a corner behind the desk. Then, opening a desk drawer, he rummaged until he found a slip of paper with the combination to the safe, and after only two unsuccessful attempts, opened it. From its depths he took a stack of items: a coin collection book, envelopes marked with identifiers such as “Deed to House” and “Life Insurance,” and a vinyl sleeve marked “Brodie” that held a DVD.

The office was almost devoid of machinery. A self-proclaimed technophobe, Gramps had been unable to fathom why others spent so much time “facing screens instead of people.”

“The next task is to find a DVD player where we can have a little privacy.”

Blushing a little, Scarlet said, “There’s one in my room.”

“Great,” he replied, and headed up the stairs, assuming that she would follow.

Scarlet’s room was actually a small suite: a sitting room with an open doorway that looked in on a mauve-and-cream bedroom. The whole place had a feel of neatness, although there were signs of the resident’s recent preoccupation: the slightly crooked bedspread and a pair of mud-caked pants hung over a chair to dry. Seamus noted the scent of apples, shampoo or body wash or whatever women used to make themselves smell like fruit.

“Maybe you should watch it alone,” Scarlet offered.

Bud looked surprised. “I need all the help I can get if we’re going to find Brodie ali—so we can get her back safely.”

Nodding agreement, Scarlet put the DVD into the player and started it.

Seamus felt the momentary shock that went through Bud at the sight of his grandfather sitting at his desk, apparently alive and well, on the mid-sized TV screen. The William Dunbar they saw was ten years younger, a vital, older man. Tears stung Bud’s eyes.
Gramps before the strokes, before the dementia, before he was a pitiful old man.

“Brodie, my dear,” Dunbar began, “I am making this video for you with the help of a clever young man from the local cable company. It is in three segments. The first part, this one, is basic information that I feel you need to know. The second explains how you came to be adopted, should you want to hear it. Since you undoubtedly remember some of your early years, it might help you cope with the dreams” —his expression hardened briefly— “the nightmares you still have on occasion. When you are ready, it is here.”

Dunbar looked slightly uncomfortable as he continued. “The third part was problematic for me. It is my final interview with your mother, Jeannie Brooks. I do not believe that you should watch it; in fact, I advise against it. Still, I will not pretend to understand what you might want or need to know in the future. Instead of two loving parents, you had only an old man who very possibly did things all wrong. However, I have always encouraged informed decisions, and therefore I will not withhold information you might require to make decisions later in life. I don’t know if it will help or hurt to see your mother and understand why I took you from her. I leave it to you.”

There followed a brief recitation of biological facts: Brodie’s birth weight, blood type, the hospital and county where her birth was registered, and genetic factors she might need to know. Dunbar read from a sheet before him, commenting in the way of older people who feel compelled to give warnings that will go unheeded by their listeners. He noted that Jeannie’s feet caused her trouble. “You should always wear good, supportive shoes,” he directed, looking up at the camera to emphasize his point.

“I’ve tried for months to get Brodie to wear something besides flip-flops,” Scarlet murmured.

“Good luck with that,” Bud replied sarcastically. They both seemed to recall at the same time that they might never see Brodie again, for they quickly returned their attention to the screen.

The first segment ended with Gramps telling Brodie, “You have a generally healthy family in terms of bodily constitution. You were slightly malnourished when you came to me, but you recovered quickly and show no signs of permanent disability or physical harm.”

Bud glanced at Scarlet when the screen went blank for a few seconds. “Part one was designed to give her information many adopted people don’t have. ‘Will I get Parkinson’s? Should I watch for aneurisms?’ That sort of thing.”

“The next part might be what we need,” Scarlet said. They watched the blank screen for a few seconds, anxious to hear the story of how Brodie had come to the Dunbar home.

There was a muted beep as screen lit again, and Dunbar reappeared. “Here is what happened in 2001.” He folded his hands on the desk and spoke directly to the camera. “I received a phone call from a woman who said a relative of mine was living in poverty in Muskegon. She was the child’s mother, and she claimed she needed $3000 to pay her bills and get back on her feet.

“Not being born yesterday, I did some checking through a private investigator. There was indeed a woman named Jeannie Brooks living in North Muskegon in what the investigator called a rat-hole. She had a three-year-old daughter. The woman told my investigator that the child’s father was Leland Voorhies, my nephew. Leland had left the country a few months before your birth, and Jeannie did not think he knew he had a child. She had no way to reach him, so she contacted me, hoping I would be willing to help.

“Armed with that information, I went to see Ms. Brooks. What I found was beyond my imagination. You, Brodie, were pitiful, afraid of everything and everyone. Feeling that you could not thrive in that atmosphere, I took you home with me that same day. Once you were safe, I tried to get your mother to change her lifestyle, offering whatever help she needed to do so. When it was obvious that she would not, I began negotiations to adopt you.”

Dunbar’s voice took on a slightly harder tone. “It took some persuasion, but I was eventually successful. I believe your mother realized that her life would not be a long one.” He frowned slightly. “I am not certain that I did her justice, but I focused on your welfare. Everything I have done since learning of your existence, I did hoping it was best for you.”

He shifted in his chair before beginning again. “Once more, I suggest that you leave your personal history at this point. You need know no more, and I fear that further explanation will hurt more than it helps. Trust me, Brodie, and live your life looking forward, not back.”

The screen went blank again, and Bud pressed the
P
AUSE
button. “Wow.”

“You didn’t know this?”

“That Brodie was Leland’s kid? No.”

“Would Mr. Dunbar have contacted Leland to tell him he had a daughter?”

“I doubt it. Leland cheated his own mother, stole one of our boats, and ran away with the cash Gramps kept in his desk drawer.”

“Does Arlis know Brodie is Leland’s daughter?”

“No way. She was not happy about Brodie coming to live with us. And Leland would hardly have shared the news of a pregnant girlfriend with her.”

“If he even knew this Jeannie was pregnant.”

Scarlet picked up the will Bud had brought along. “Leland gets the old family place in Canada.”

“Yeah. Arlis talked Gramps into that. She claimed he would need a place when he’s too old to do disaster relief anymore. He can’t come back to the States, so she asked that he get the land in Canada. Said it was as much hers as Gramps’ since it belonged to their parents.”

Scarlet seemed to be only half listening. “If Leland knew that Brodie was his daughter and Mr. Dunbar’s heir, might he take her there, to the place in Canada?”

Bud looked incredulous. “To get his hands on her money?”

Scarlet shrugged. “You know him. I don’t.”

He looked around the room as if trying to escape the inevitable conclusion. “It’s not beyond him. Leland sees nothing but what he wants. The psychological term for people like him is
sociopath
.”

“That’s terrible!”

“It’s hard to apply that term to someone you once knew well, but it fits.” He paced the room, trying to assimilate the new information. Stopping, he asked, “If Leland is the bird watcher Brodie saw, he was here the day of the funeral. Why didn’t he just show up, hug his mother, and say, ‘I’m back’? The statute of limitations has got to have run out on what he did a decade ago.”

“But would he know how you would react to his return?”

“Right. I wouldn’t have let Brodie go with him until I’d done some investigating.”

Scarlet smiled grimly. “You never believed in St. Leland?”

Bud’s smile was equally grim. “I was the guy below him in the pecking order, the kid he could take advantage of. I always found it hard to believe all that stuff about Leland’s philanthropic rebirth.” He tapped the will with a finger. “The place in Canada would be a perfect place to hide out, though.”

“You think he’s headed there?”

“That might be where he’s been the whole time.”

“Of course. If he’s been living in Canada, he could easily have driven here when Arlis reported Mr. Dunbar’s death.”

Bud’s face took on a faraway look. “Or sailed.”

“What?”

“The boat we saw last evening. It seemed familiar, and now I know why. It was exactly like Gramps’ wooden sailboat that Leland stole. It’s been re-painted, that’s all.”

“And it was heading north.”

“He takes Brodie, leaving evidence that throws off the search for her.” Bud turned off the TV.

“Wait.” Scarlet seemed to need time to absorb the conclusions they’d come to in the last few minutes. “This is a lot to take in. A birdwatcher who is really a kidnapper who is actually a relative?”

“What exactly did Brodie say about the guy?”

Scarlet’s eyes turned up and to one side as she recalled. “She said he was taping bird calls with a small recorder.” She frowned, searching her memory. “And he didn’t look the nature boy type.”

He spread his hands, indicating that it was obvious. “Because he wasn’t after birds.”

“But he could have taken Brodie then. Why wait?”

“Maybe he didn’t have time.” Bud started down the stairs. “Let’s get something to eat. We’ve got things to do.”

Scarlet followed, her mind full of questions. “Where could he have hidden a boat where the police search would not have found it?”

“A place I’d forgotten about, but I’ll bet Leland hadn’t.”

Breakfast was still laid out in the dining room, and different aromas arose as Bud peered into warming trays. “Have you ever seen the old boathouse?”

“I didn’t know there was one.”

Bud found scrambled eggs and set the cover aside. “A guy could hide a boat there.”

Arlis came in, and Bud shot a warning glance at Scarlet. “Good morning, Aunt Arlis.”

“Bud. Miss McMorran.” Arlis went to the sideboard, poured some hot water into a cup, and began thumbing through the choices of tea available.

“Arlis,” Bud’s tone was casual. “Did you talk to Leland yesterday?”

She looked at Bud quizzically. “Yes. Why?”

Taking some toast from the warmer, Bud fashioned two portable breakfasts: toast, egg, and bacon sandwiches. “How did he take the news of Brodie’s disappearance?”

“He doesn’t know yet, poor thing, but he will be devastated. I tried to phone, but it’s often difficult to get through, and of course he’s very busy with his work. Still, he’s always interested in what goes on here.” She gave Bud a beaming smile. “You are all very important to him.”

“Even Brodie?”

Arlis removed the teabag and laid it on a small plate. “Of course, Leland doesn’t
know
Brodie. I’ve told him—” She backed up and went a different route. “Lately he’s taken some interest in her, I think. Lately he’s asked me all sorts of questions.”

“About her studies, things like that?”

“Oh, yes. Now that William has passed, he is interested in how Brodie will adjust. Of course we all feel sorry for the girl, who has lost the only person in the world who—” She thought better of that sentence as well and switched gears again. “I told Leland about Miss McMorran’s plan to take Brodie out to look for insects yesterday. I thought it was a bit too adventurous, but Leland said it was just the thing to take her mind off her troubles.”

“So he was interested in the spider hunt.”

“Yes. He even asked me where you expected to find these insects.”

Bud noted Scarlet’s averted eyes and guessed she found it hard to ignore Arlis’ repeated reference to spiders as insects. A teacher is a teacher, even in the midst of a crisis.

“We’ve got some things to do this morning, Aunt Arlis, so please excuse us.” Handing one of the sandwiches to Scarlet, he said, “Here. We can eat on the way.”

E
XHAUSTED
FROM
STRESS
, lack of sleep, and trying to decide what to believe of Leland’s story, Brodie dozed. Her last waking thought was that it might be nice if Leland was her dad. Wouldn’t it?

“
J
EANNIE
,
THE
KID
LOOKS
HUNGRY
. What can I give her to eat?” A man Brodie had never seen before leaned over her as she sat on the tattered couch that served as her bed. He backed away, nose twitching, when her odor registered.

The answering voice was muffled. “There’s some Doritos on the counter.”

“Shouldn’t she have cereal or something?”

Jeannie’s face did not turn from the pillow. “She likes Doritos.”

“But kids need milk and stuff.” A snuffle was all the response Jeannie gave. The man leaned toward Brodie again, his whiskered face curious. She held herself very still, not knowing what would happen next. Some of them were nice. Others threatened her when she cried, and still others joined Jeannie in tormenting her in small ways, finding a three-year-old’s rage hilarious.