Fatal Trust (14 page)

Lexie got up and walked over to the front window, looking
out at Nevermore’s front lawn. At least she hadn’t left the room.

“Then Grandfather stepped in. He hired a great attorney who
made it all go away. I had to do community service and was on probation a
couple of years, but then it got erased from my record. Grandfather also agreed
to let me come live with him.”

Ben shook his head. “I figured Grandfather had only gotten
involved because he’d never liked my dad and wanted to piss him off. I assumed
Grandfather would soon get tired of me and kick me out, so I might as well
speed up the process. But no matter what I did, he didn’t kick me out, just
grounded me and made me do all sorts of chores as punishment. And unlike my
dad, he loved me and made sure I knew it.”

He felt moisture on his cheeks, wiped it away with the back
of his hand. “My point is that Grandfather saved me, and I know it. If it
hadn’t been for him, I’d probably have turned into a career criminal, to spite
my dad if nothing else. So I’d do anything for him. Including keep you in the
dark when he asked, even though I wanted to tell you.”

Lexie finally turned away from the window and looked at him.
“If you’d told me, he’d still be alive.” Then she walked out of the room.

And Ben realized that he hadn’t just been trying to convince
Lexie that his silence had been justified. He’d been trying to convince
himself. It hadn’t worked, and he felt worse than ever. Because he knew she was
probably right.

Half an hour later, Jim came into the living room, waving a
sheet of paper. “I’ve got my warrant. Lexie said it’s all in order.”

“Where is she?” Ben asked.

“I told her she could leave after she let us check out her
car to make sure no one stashed something inside. We confirmed who she is, and
she said she couldn’t advise anyone during questioning since that would be a
conflict of interest,” Jim said. “Could you get everyone else down here, Ben? Have
them leave their rooms unlocked and bring their car keys. My warrant covers the
house, grounds, and all vehicles.”

The family members waited in the living room as the cops did
their search. Ben shook his head. He’d been deceiving all his relatives both about
Grandfather being alive and about Lexie’s identity, and none of them seemed
upset with him. The only person upset was Lexie.

He looked up as Jim walked into the living room. He was
carrying a plastic bag with a handgun inside. “Is this your gun, Ben?”

“Why do you think that?”

Jim stopped directly in front of Ben and handed him the bag.
“Answer the question. Is this your gun?”

Ben examined the weapon. “It looks a lot like one I bought
five years ago. Grandfather wanted to know how easy it was to buy a gun
illegally in New York City, so I tried, and it was damn easy. I gave it to
Grandfather right after I bought it and never saw it again.”

“Grandfather mentioned in several interviews that he’d had
Ben do that,” Cecilia said.

“As I asked before, why do you think it’s the gun I bought?”
Ben asked.

“Because we found it under the passenger seat of your truck.
It’s been fired twice.”

Jim’s words stabbed Ben through the gut. One of his
relatives had not only killed Grandfather but had also tried to frame him for
it.

“I didn’t put it there,” he said. “I leave my truck
unlocked, so anyone could have planted it. And anyone could have found the gun.
Grandfather kept it out in the open in the basement, on some shelves where he
stored most of the things he’d bought as research for his books.”

“We also found this.” Jim showed Ben a piece of paper stuck
inside a smaller plastic bag. “I assume it’s from your grandfather.”

Ben looked at the note, recognizing his grandfather’s
handwriting. It said, “Need to talk. One a.m. tonight at the dock. M.”

“Grandfather must have left it in his bedroom after I
checked.”

“It wasn’t in Max’s bedroom. It was on your nightstand,
where I presume you left it.”

“I’ve never seen it before,” Ben said. “Grandfather must
have needed to talk to me and been afraid I’d already made my nightly check of
his bedroom and wouldn’t find the note in time if he left it there. But I went
into my room just long enough to take a quick shower and change. I never went
over by the bed.” The knife already stabbing his gut twisted, and he rubbed his
face with his hands. “Jesus, I wish I had. Grandfather must have discovered
something important, maybe even who was trying to kill him. If I’d have met
Grandfather, he’d still be alive.”

“Or maybe you found the note, met him, and killed him.”

Ben dropped his hands from his face and stared at Jim.
“You’re crazy. If I’d killed him, wouldn’t I have gotten rid of the note? And
the gun?”

“Maybe you planned to later, but the cops showed up too
soon.”

“Because Lexie found me moving the body and called them. Why
would I have invited her to go sailing, knowing she could very well stumble
over Grandfather’s body?”

“Because for some reason you couldn’t move the body last
night after you killed Max. Going sailing gave you an excuse to do it this
morning, which is why you decided to go when the sun was barely up. You figured
you’d have time to hide the body, maybe dump it into the water before Lexie got
there,” Jim said. “Ben, I need to ask you a few questions at the station.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“I’d like you to come voluntarily. If you won’t, I’ll have
to arrest you.”

Ben got to his feet. “Then I guess I’ll go voluntarily.”

Lexie sat on the bed in her room at the Lakeview Inn, trying
to watch an old rerun of
Oprah
on the TV in the plastic wood
armoire. Even twenty minutes into the show, she didn’t have the faintest idea
what topic Oprah had decided should be important to the women of America that
day. But she couldn’t turn it off. That would leave her alone with her
thoughts, thoughts that were painful even with a TV audience for company.

Max was dead
. She’d grieved when she’d
originally thought he’d died, but Cecilia was right. It became more real when
you actually saw the body, especially with that bloody bullet hole. It was even
worse because he’d been killed while she’d been enjoying herself with Ben.

Ben, the man who was supposed to be her partner in finding
Max’s murderer. She’d have been a lot more help if she’d had all the facts—like
the little one about Max still being alive.

That hadn’t been Ben’s only lie. He’d also pretended to be a
small-town mechanic, but a call to Trey had established that he’d not only
worked on Wall Street until three years ago but also had his undergrad degree
and MBA from Harvard. He was the kind of guy people could have understood
having an intelligent girlfriend, no matter what type of women he’d preferred
in his recent past. Yet he’d convinced her she needed to pretend to be an
undereducated cocktail waitress, either because he found it entertaining or to
prove he could manipulate her. Probably both.

None of that mattered, though, since she was officially off
the case. Tomorrow she’d be heading back to Philadelphia on her rebooked
flight. The local cops seemed a lot more competent than Ben had led her to
believe. Even if they weren’t, the trustee could pressure them to call in the
FBI or state police. This was Max Windsor, after all.

A crawler announcing breaking news rolled under Oprah and
her guest. Lexie read it, and then walked up to the TV, squatting so the
crawler was at eye level as it repeated. She read it again. Okay, so her first
impression of the local cops had been wrong. They were not only incompetent,
they were idiots.

Because they’d just arrested Ben for Max’s murder.

Ben flipped his phone off as he paced the jail cell they
were keeping him in until he posted bail. The cop in charge of the jail today
was Mike Hamilton, who’d been a friend since they’d played high school football
together.

Mike had let him keep his cell phone and hadn’t limited him
to one call, thank God, since trying to raise his bail had proven more
difficult than he’d anticipated. The judge had set it at two million, meaning
he needed two hundred thousand in cash. He had more than enough investments,
but nothing he could liquidate before tomorrow. Right now he was working on
convincing one of the local banks to give him a quick mortgage on his house and
garage, both of which were fully paid for and worth far more than $200,000.
Everyone was pretending to need days if not weeks to process a loan, although
he’d bet their real reason for stalling was they didn’t want to be seen aiding
the man who’d possibly killed Lakeview’s beloved Max Windsor.

“I got here as soon as I could, Ben.”

Ben turned toward the woman standing outside his jail cell,
dressed in a designer suit and thousand-dollar shoes and holding an even more
expensive purse. The absolute last person he’d expected to ever see in Lakeview
again.

“Olivia. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I know you didn’t want me to come before,” Olivia said.
“But when I heard Max had been murdered and you’d been trying to prevent it, I
knew you’d be devastated. I booked the first flight I could get to Duluth, and
then drove to Lakeview. I can’t believe they arrested you.”

His ex-wife looked the same as the last time Ben had seen
her, nearly three years ago—chin-length platinum hair framing enormous violet
eyes and the face of an angel, with a Victoria’s Secret model-worthy body under
that stylishly conservative suit. Just looking at her used to turn him hot and
hard, but today his body didn’t even twitch. Maybe being in jail had something
to do with it. “I should be able to raise bail by mortgaging the garage and my
house,” he said.

Olivia looked down her nose at him. “You should never have
paid cash for those. Think of the investment opportunities you missed.”

Or maybe his body’s lack of reaction had more to do with
their history. “I didn’t want any debts, and I’m tired of investments.” And of
rehashing these old arguments.

“You’re wasting your talent.”

Her echoing his grandfather’s words triggered a flash of
pain. “I really don’t feel like talking about that right now, Olivia.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her tone switching to conciliatory.
“You don’t have to worry about mortgaging anything. I’ll pay your bail. I’ve
got more than enough available cash.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll get the money tomorrow at the latest.”

“If you’re stuck in jail overnight, won’t you lose your
share of the trust?”

He hadn’t even thought about that. “That’s the least of my
concerns,” Ben said honestly. “Proving I didn’t kill Grandfather and finding
out who did is a lot more important.”

“Of course you didn’t kill Max,” Olivia said. “Once you’re
found innocent, getting your share of the trust will be important. Besides, I
owe you. I should never have cheated on you, and certainly not with Jeremy.”

“I told you I’ve forgiven you for that.”

“I can’t forgive myself. Let me do this for you, Ben.”

He didn’t want Olivia doing him any favors. But for a lot of
reasons he didn’t want to spend tonight in jail, and she was looking like his
only ticket out. “I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

Lexie smoothed both the skirt of her navy silk suit and her
French twist, and then strode into the police station. “I’m here to see Ben
Gallagher,” she told the police officer manning the desk.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Catherine Barrington, the attorney for the trustee of
Max Windsor’s trust. I’m here to make sure Ben can arrange bail.” She needed to
make sure he didn’t lose his share of the trust because of the cops’
stupidity—she’d stake her reputation he wasn’t guilty.

The door behind the desk opened, and a stunning blonde
stepped into the reception area. “I’ve already taken care of Ben’s bail,” she
said. “I’ve also hired an attorney from New York to represent him.”

“And you are?” Lexie asked.

“Olivia Gallagher. I’m Ben’s wife.”

“I thought Ben was divorced,” Lexie said.

“That was only because we thought we wanted different
things, and I stupidly wouldn’t compromise,” Olivia said. “Things have changed.
I’ve changed.”

“I see.” At least Ben hadn’t also lied about his marital
status. “As long as his bail is taken care of, I don’t need to see him.”

Olivia smiled. “Don’t worry about Ben. I’ll take very good
care of more than just his bail.”

At least one good thing had come of this whole fiasco, Lexie
thought as she walked out of the police station and toward her car. Ben and his
ex-wife had been reunited. She should be happy for him. It had nothing to do
with her, since their affair had ended the minute she’d seen Ben with Max’s
body, and not just because he’d lied. But because at that instant vacation time
had ended, and she’d turned back into Catherine, no matter what people were
calling her. The twinge of pain she felt was just hurt pride.

She had no time for hurt pride, though. She might be mad at
Ben for lying, but no way had he’d killed Max. Unfortunately Ben’s arrest had
changed her plan to have the trustee hire a P.I. or call in the FBI. She
couldn’t advise the trustee to do that unless there was tangible evidence
casting doubt on Ben’s guilt. Otherwise the trustee could appear to be trying
to clear Ben and therefore favoring one beneficiary over the others.

But she certainly wasn’t about to leave the investigation to
the local cops. What she needed to do was convince the trustee that she should
stick around and monitor things. That would also give her time and opportunity
to find Max’s real killer—or at least uncover enough evidence that Ben might
not be guilty to justify having the trustee hire outside help.

She owed it to Max.

The last thing Ben wanted was spend time with Olivia, but
when she’d asked to stay at Nevermore, he couldn’t say no. The nicest place in
town—the Lakeview Inn—had the same standards and amenities as a Super 8. Olivia
wasn’t the Super 8 type.

He hauled two suitcases heavier than Lexie’s plus a garment
bag up the front stairs and into the foyer, where he and Olivia were met by
Igor.

“I’m Ben’s wife,” Olivia told Igor. “Please take my things
to his room.”

Igor was staring at her with his mouth open, even though
that probably violated the code of butlering. Olivia had that effect on most
men.

“She’s my ex-wife,” Ben said, setting her suitcases on the
floor. “Take her things to one of the vacant rooms.”

Igor managed to shift his attention to Ben. “The room next
to yours is vacant,” he said.

“Lexie’s room?” Ben asked.

Igor nodded. “She left.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“She did not say.”

“The room next to Ben’s would be perfect,” Olivia said.

“Would that be satisfactory, Mr. Gallagher?”

So Lexie had concluded he was guilty, maybe even thought
he’d been using her to give himself an alibi. She thought he was capable of
killing his grandfather, the person he loved more than anyone in the world, for
some cash. He hadn’t thought that between his grandfather’s death and his own
arrest he could feel any worse, but that had done it.

Ben realized Igor was looking at him, waiting for an answer
to his question. He let out a long breath. “Put Olivia in the room next to
mine.”

“My God, Catherine. How could you let yourself get involved
in Max Windsor’s murder? And when everyone already thought he was dead, for
heaven’s sake.”

Catherine frowned at her cell phone. She’d come out of the
bathroom after showering and blow-drying her hair to find it ringing and
stupidly answered without first checking who was calling. “I’m not involved in
Max’s murder, Mother,” she said, plopping down on the bed. “I happened to be at
his place, at his request, when he was murdered.”

“You could have at least told me about it yesterday,”
Elizabeth Barrington said. “Bitsy Davenport saw you on the news this morning
and called me. It was humiliating to have to admit I knew nothing about it.”

“I’ve been a little busy, Mother.”

“You should never be too busy to call your mother,”
Elizabeth said. “They reported that you were with that mechanic who killed Max,
and you both discovered the body at around six in the morning. What were you
doing with him that early?”

“We were going sailing, Mother. Ben didn’t murder Max. Ben’s
his grandson.”

“It doesn’t mean he isn’t a murderer. I mean, what do you
expect of a mechanic? He probably saw the chance to inherit all that money and
was willing to do whatever it took to get it.”

Her mother’s words sparked her temper, but years of practice
helped Catherine keep her voice level. “That’s unfair, Mother. You don’t even
know him.”

“He’s a mechanic. What more is there to know?” Elizabeth
sighed. “I blame myself for your lapses in judgment. I should never have
allowed you to spend time with my sister when you were young and
impressionable.”

“Aunt Jessica was a wonderful woman, Mother.”

“My sister was an embarrassment to her family and a terrible
role model for a young girl. Max Windsor wasn’t any better, and I don’t care
how much money he made. He wasn’t one of us. I want you out of there.”

Catherine’s fingers fisted around the bedspread. “Just
because you’re a snob doesn’t mean I am.” The words shot out. “Max was a great
man, and I’m not leaving until his real murderer is identified. I owe it to him
and to Aunt Jessica, who was the
best
role model I could have had.”

“I don’t think—”

“And I wasn’t just with Ben because we were going sailing,”
Catherine continued. “I’d spent the night with him. You know what? Mechanics
are a lot better in bed than surgeons from good families.” Then she hung up.

So she’d just violated a whole lot of rules, including 1 and
2—be polite no matter what, and always respect your elders, which was shorthand
for “your mother is always right.” She’d probably be disowned.

She might as well find out if she was also out of a job. It
was the first item on today’s To Do list anyway.

“Why would you be?” Melissa Carter asked. Melissa was one of
her best friends and also a fellow partner at Whitney and Benson.

“According to my mother, I’ve scandalized the family. I
can’t imagine the senior partners are any happier about what’s happened.”

“Guess again,” Melissa said. “Haven’t you checked your e-mail?”

“Not yet. Why?”

“Because you’ll find a copy of the statement the firm issued
this morning. They’re using your actions to show how dedicated our attorneys
are to carrying out our clients’ wishes.”

“Maybe that will placate my mother,” Catherine said. “She
was appalled I found Max’s body and was with the prime suspect. I’m sure she
was even more appalled when I told her I was there with Ben because I’d spent
the night with him.”

“You slept with the guy who killed Max?”

“He didn’t do it,” Catherine said. “Although to be honest,
Mother seemed more concerned that he’s a mechanic than a possible murderer. She
also said some nasty things about Max and Aunt Jessica. So I laid into her
about being a snob, then hung up on her.”

“Good for you.”

Now that Catherine’s anger had faded, it had been replaced
by guilt. “I need to call her back and apologize,” she said, adding that to the
bottom of her To Do list. “I shouldn’t have talked to my mother like that.”

“It’s about time you did, and I don’t care how many damn
rules you violated,” Melissa said. “You can’t please her no matter what you do,
and trying to just drives you crazy.”

“I should be able to. My brothers and my sister can.”

“You’re not like them, and your mother should accept you for
who you are. But you’ve never given her a chance to because she doesn’t know
what you’re really like. You do exactly what she wants you to, including
marrying a man you didn’t really love.”

“I loved Neil.”

“I was there, Catherine,” Melissa said. “You were more upset
about your mother’s reaction to the whole cheating and divorce thing than about
the fact that Neil cheated on you. He was too stuffy and arrogant for the real
you, the one who likes Jimmy Choos and writing romance novels. And who couldn’t
care less whether someone’s ancestors came over on the
Mayflower
or even what someone does for a living.”

Melissa was wrong—she had loved Neil, but Catherine wasn’t
in the mood to argue about it. “Actually Ben isn’t just an auto mechanic,” she
admitted. “He’s got an MBA from Harvard and used to be a Wall Street investment
banker. I didn’t tell Mother that because I was mad, which is petty.”

“You can tell her the truth at your wedding.”

“I’m not marrying him, for heaven’s sake. We just had a
casual fling.”

“You don’t do casual flings.”

“He’s getting back with his ex anyway,” Catherine said. “She
flew to his rescue when he was arrested.”

“Too bad,” Melissa said. “He looks hot. But I still want you
to promise you won’t even think of apologizing to your mother.”

“I don’t know …”

“Do you honestly want to apologize for defending auto
mechanics and your aunt?”

Catherine was silent for a moment. Melissa had a point. And
it wasn’t as if an apology would change much. Her mother’s memory for slights
made elephants look forgetful. She crossed the last item off her To Do list.
“You’re right. I promise.”

The next item had seemed like a good idea when she’d written
her To Do list last night, but now she was reconsidering. He probably wouldn’t
be any more unpleasant than her mother, but if she offended him, his
retaliation wouldn’t be limited to icy stares and pained silences at family
gatherings. He’d liked her, but that was when he’d thought she was an exotic
dancer.

But she needed to check out everything if she was going to
identify Max’s killer. Maybe he hadn’t heard she was a lawyer. She punched in
the phone number and held her breath.