Slice and Dice (46 page)

“I couldn’t, Nathan. A friend of mine will go to prison if I don’t do something to help him.” She paused, trying to get a fix on what he was thinking. Was he actually going to let an innocent man take the rap when he had the power to stop it? “I want you to tell me what happened the night George died. You were there. So was Kenny. I have evidence to prove that, too.”

“Have you talked to the police?”

“Not yet.”

He leaned back against one of the pillows. “You realize, of course, that if you tell them what you know, it will ruin my family.”

“If I don’t tell, a friend will be convicted of a murder he didn’t commit. I don’t want to hurt you, Nathan, but I don’t see how I can sit on this much longer.”

“No,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s all my fault. I didn’t realize I was doing it, but I’ve put you in the middle. Now I’ve got to get you out.”

“What does that mean?”

He gave her a long look, then said, “Part of what I told you was true. When I got to George’s apartment that night, he was already dead. Kenny and I were supposed to meet with him at seven-thirty to pay him off. I was late. Kenny was early. Not that it mattered because he found George dead, too. See, he told me that as he was getting out of his car, he saw Harry coming out of the building. Kenny knew who he was because the first night we got into town he’d driven over to the Belmont to check the place out. I mean, I knew I didn’t murder George. And Kenny said he hadn’t either. It just seemed logical to both of us that Harry must have done it. I felt terribly guilty for the part we’d played in George’s death, but what could I do? And then when the police arrested Harry, I just prayed that they wouldn’t find out who else had been there that night. But after what you told me in the park, I knew that a woman had seen me coming out of the apartment. I told Kenny I was afraid the police might pick me up for questioning. For obvious reasons, we didn’t want that to happen. See, Kenny had already made a bid to buy the restaurant. If someone put two and two together, we would have had some pretty fast explaining to do. Anyway, Kenny said he’d take care of it.”

“He did,” said Sophie, her expression hardening. “He made a bunch of threatening phone calls to the woman, said she wouldn’t live to see her next birthday if she didn’t keep her mouth shut. She’s so terrified she won’t even leave her apartment.”

“God, I had no idea.” He hung his head.

“That’s not all. Kenny made the calls from a pay phone just around the corner from Harry’s house. That means the police think Harry did it. They want to revoke his bail and toss him back in jail. He’s an old man, Nathan. He can’t stand much more of this.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. But you have to understand, until yesterday I thought he really was guilty. Now I know he’s not. Kenny lied to me.”

He seemed to be in such distress that Sophie gave him a moment before asking, “How did you find out?”

“This is such a nightmare. I’m not sure I’m ever going to wake up.” Taking a deep breath, he continued. “Yesterday I was leaving the hotel when I bumped into him in the lobby. He was about to drive Emily to the airport and he was waiting for her to come downstairs. Knowing Emily, I realized it could take a while, so I told him I needed a word. He tried to put me off, but I wouldn’t let him. We moved over to an empty corner and I told him about my suspicions. Something you said last Wednesday afternoon in the park kept eating at me.”

“And that was?”

“You said George’s neighbors had heard
two
separate arguments the night he died. I wondered about that. You don’t know Kenny, but I do. He’s a liar by nature, and a man with zero scruples. So I confronted him. I told him what I’d learned and then I asked him point-blank if he’d murdered George. He denied it, so I pressed harder. And I kept pressing until he told me the truth.

“According to Kenny, George was in meltdown mode that night. He’d just talked to Harry and something Harry said really got to him. George was feeling intensely guilty for what he’d done. When Kenny took out the money to pay him, he refused it, said he’d decided to come clean. He was going to call the paper in the morning and make a full confession. Well, Kenny couldn’t allow that. He tried to talk him out of it. He used every argument he could think of, but nothing got through. He even offered George ten times the money we usually pay. He knew he couldn’t just leave when George was in that state of mind. If the press got wind of what we were up to, all hell would break loose. I’m sure that deep in his soul, assuming he has one, Kenny sees himself as our savior. George had to be stopped, so he stopped him. And, he was quick to point out, since I’d been there too, who could say what had really gone on? After all, the woman across the hall ID’d
me,
not him. And even if the cops were able to somehow prove he’d done it, I’d go to jail as a coconspirator unless I went to the police right then, which he knew I wouldn’t. He had me by the throat.”

“So you did nothing.”

He nodded. It was a simple gesture, and yet she could see the desperation in his eyes. “I had an important meeting in Duluth last night. It wasn’t something I could put off. So yes, I left. But I haven’t thought about anything else since Kenny told me what really happened. And, I admit, I’m scared to death of going to jail. I’m a coward, Sophie. I’m on the brink of finally getting my life together, and everything will be blown to bits if I do what’s right.” He turned his face away and stared once again into the fire.

“I’m sorry, Nathan.”

After a long moment he said, “Yeah. Me, too.” His voice was barely audible. “I was incredibly stupid to get involved in this.”

“Sounds like you’ve done it before. Bribed a restaurant critic, I mean.”

He picked up his wineglass. “A couple times. Kenny handled it. Kenny handles everything. I found the properties, then he moved in and did all the dirty work. But nobody’d ever turned on us before. When I talked to him yesterday, I could see he was genuinely frightened. My mother has no idea what we’ve been up to.”

“Does Paul know?”

“Actually, he was the one who came up with the idea. It must have been about four years ago. It was a joke really. He threw it out one night after a few too many beers. We all laughed, talked about how much we loathed food critics. But Kenny wouldn’t let it drop. He saw right away that the idea had potential. We’d just paid through the nose to buy a restaurant in Seattle, and Kenny thought this might be a way to create a more favorable bottom line. Paul and I both pretty much stayed out of it. The Buckridge boys keep their hands clean, Soph. Kenny took it from there. He’s good at what he does. But sometimes, he doesn’t have the best judgment. He goes too far.”

“Like the car bomb, the one that killed Sean Rafferty.”

Nathan drew his arms close around his body, as if he felt a chill. “Yes, like Rafferty. I suspected Kenny might be behind it. He confirmed it yesterday. His excuse was that Mom had ordered him to do whatever it took to stop Marie Damontraville. He felt he had carte blanche to take any action he deemed necessary.”

“Why do you keep this guy around?”

Nathan’s look was sharp. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s got the backbone the rest of us lack. I could have stopped this restaurant crap from happening, but I didn’t. Neither did Paul. It was good for business, which thrilled Mom to no end. And Paul was amassing a stable of restaurants that fit right in with his long-term goals. I may travel around the country making sure everything is running smoothly, but it’s Paul’s kingdom I’m managing. He made sure his name went on all the deeds, along with my mother’s.”

“Not yours?”

“The truth is, I simply don’t care. Paul’s ego is on the line when it comes to the academy and the academy-sponsored restaurants, but it’s never really meant that much to me. All that’s ever really mattered to me is my mother.” He took a sip of wine, then set the glass on the table behind him. “Since I’ve come back to Minnesota, it’s like … like I’ve gone to visit a graveyard where my past is buried but all the corpses are up and walking around. Why don’t they have the decency to stay in the ground, Sophie? The past doesn’t belong in the present.”

She wasn’t entirely certain what he was talking about now, but the subject seemed to have changed. “No,” she said, touching his hand lightly. “It doesn’t.”

His gaze swung back to her. “I wasn’t talking about
you?

“But I’m the past, too, Nathan. And that’s where I should stay.”

“No!”

“What are you going to do about Kenny? About George’s murder?”

“I don’t know.” He pressed the tips of his fingers against his mouth.

She felt immensely sorry for him. And she also felt a little sorry for herself, too. If Nathan didn’t come clean and make a full confession to the police, it would force her hand. She’d be put into the position of becoming the whistle-blower. “You have to tell the truth.”

“I know. But the problem is, if Marie Damontraville writes her book, my mother’s already in deep trouble, even if it all turns out to be lies, innuendo, and misunderstandings. But if her sons and her son-in-law are mixed up in a homicide, she’ll have no chance at all. She’ll be crucified in the media, and Kenny and I will be crucified in court.”

Sophie turned at the sound of a car pulling up outside.

“God, what time is it?” asked Nathan. “I don’t have my watch on.”

Sophie checked hers. “It’s quarter to seven. Somebody’s early.”

He shot to his feet. “You’ve got to get out of here.”

Her thoughts exactly.

Picking up her purse, Nathan tossed it to her. “Come on,” he ordered.

She grabbed her coat and followed him through the living room, down a long hall to the back door.

“Damn,” he said, looking outside.

Sophie could see that his mother’s car had just pulled up next to Paul’s.

“This way,” he said, racing back through the living room to the front door.

Just as he opened it, Kenny came bounding up the steps two at a time. Something about the phoniness of his thin-lipped smile made Sophie’s skin crawl.

“Hey, Kenny,” she said, slipping into her coat. “Nice to see you.” Turning back to Nathan, she said, “Maybe you could call me in the morning.”

“Sure thing.”

Kenny shot Nathan a cautionary look. “If you stayed, Sophie, we could all go out to dinner later. My treat. I hear there’s a wonderful restaurant in Stillwater. The Lowell Inn?”

“Sounds fun.” She tried to keep her voice light. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check. I’m expected back at the Maxfield.”

He leaned casually against the railing, then pulled a gun out of his coat pocket. “Get inside.”

The horror on Sophie’s face matched Nathan’s.

“For God’s sake, Kenny, put that away.”

“Sorry, bro. No can do.” Pressing the gun to Sophie’s back, he said, “Move.”

Sophie had no choice. She followed Nathan back into the cabin.

The rest of the family was just entering through the back door, walking slowly down the long hallway toward the living room, when Kenny whispered, “Somebody’s got to be in control of this meeting, so I elected me. Keep your mouth shut about the .38 and nobody will get hurt.”

Sophie didn’t believe him, but there was little she could do about it now.

Nodding for Sophie and Nathan to sit on the couch, Kenny dipped the hand holding the gun back into his coat pocket and stood next to the fireplace. “Looks like we’re all here,” he said with unnecessary cheerfulness as Constance and Arthur perched on a wooden bench, their backs to the kitchen, and Paul threw himself sullenly into an overstuffed chair.

“Sophie was just leaving,” said Kenny, “but I invited her to stay. She may be part of the family soon, if Nathan has his way.” His eyebrows danced.

Sophie tried to smile through her fear but figured it was unconvincing. Not that anyone seemed to notice. Each member of the family looked so preoccupied, she felt her presence had barely registered.

“You’d better see this,” said Arthur, tossing the tabloid newspaper to Nathan.

Nathan winced when he saw the front page. “God, this is terrible!”

Sophie swallowed hard as she read the lurid headline. It was the disaster Nathan had been fearing.

“We have Paul to thank for our current problems,” continued Arthur, his words clipped. “He’s the one who convinced Marie Damontraville to target Constance.”

“Is that true?” asked Nathan.

“Don’t blame me!” said Paul, exploding out of his chair. Then fixing Arthur with a contemptuous stare, he added, “You don’t speak for me or my motives, so just shut up.”

“Come on,” pleaded Nathan, “let’s keep this civil.”

“Fuck civil! I told everyone else, so I might as well tell you. I’m going to have my mother’s body exhumed. I want an autopsy done. She was poisoned.”

“I know,” said Nathan softly.

Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Of course you know. You probably helped your mother do it.”