The Devil You Know (Sarah Woods Mystery Book 15) (5 page)

Chapter 10

By nine-thirty, everyone had gone upstairs to bed. Only George and I remained in the kitchen as I helped him load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.

“So it’s true about the brain tumor?” I asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. Until earlier this evening, I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to give my family the news but, it occurred to me, this might be the last time they see me as a healthy man.”

“How long have you known?”

“A few months now.”

“And yet, you were still going to marry Josephine. Did she know?”

“Yes. To be honest, the only reason I was going to marry her was so that she would be taken care of financially. At first, she didn’t agree with it. She was concerned my kids would think she’d tried to take advantage of me but it was all my idea.”

“I’m … really sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve made peace with it. Can’t live forever, right? I’ve been lucky enough to be loved by two wonderful women in my lifetime. What more could I ask for?”

“Were you expecting a different reaction from your family tonight?”

He paused to consider that. “I knew my sister would make it about herself, but I’m sure she’s hurting inside. She’d never tell anyone that, but I know her. I’m the only person in her life who truly understands her. She knows that but she’s also a tough old broad. She’ll be fine.”

“Olivia certainly seemed to take it hard,” I said. “And Miles looked like he was in total shock.”

“I’m almost seventy years old. They’ve been preparing for this, trust me. They might be a little emotional now, but money is the salve that will quickly heal their wounds.”

“Well, so far they’re not paying much attention to me, which is fine but I intend to turn up the heat tomorrow. I’m going to call Carter later tonight, to see what kinds of conversations are going on behind closed doors. I’ll let you know if anything pertains to Josephine.”

Before George headed off to bed, I asked, “By the way, what is the deal with your sister? Why does she seem so bitter?”

“She’s had a hard life, I guess. Health problems mostly. It’s been one thing after the other. After she had her foot amputated, she couldn’t resume her normal life and she resents having to have someone take care of her. That’s probably why she orders Jeremy around like a pet.”

I could see that George was trying, in a small way, to excuse his sister’s behavior. I admired his loyalty.

After George went upstairs to bed, I strolled into the library, double checking to make sure I was alone. I called Carter’s cell and he picked up on the first ring.

“Sounds like you’ve had an interesting night over there.” His voice sounded groggy, but I got the sense he was happy to hear from me. “Did you know that George had a brain tumor?”

“No, that was a surprise,” I replied, keeping my voice low. “I guess you heard that whole conversation, and how his family reacted. What have they been saying to each other in private?”

“Everyone seems to be in shock. Olivia has been crying non-stop. The others just seem sad and a little confused.”

“Has anyone mentioned anything at all about Josephine?”

“Well, from what I’ve gathered, no one seemed to know that Josephine had a daughter until today.”

“No kidding. So Josephine hadn’t talked about Tina to any of them, and George obviously hadn’t mentioned it before today. Don’t you find that odd?”

“A little. But considering the fact that Josephine and her daughter weren’t close, maybe talking about it was too painful. In any case, nobody has actually uttered a word about Josephine’s accident. The only thing I picked up on was a comment Margaret made about the memorial tomorrow.”

“What did she say?”

“She’s planning to tell George that she’s not feeling well enough to leave the house. She doesn't want to go to the memorial.”

“Did she explain
why
she didn’t want to go?”

“She said she never liked Josephine, so why would she want to go to her memorial. Pretty harsh, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. By the way, I need your advice.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I think George’s maid is having health problems. I walked into the kitchen earlier to find her on the floor. She had passed out and must have hit her head on the counter going down. You probably heard the conversation.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure what had happened to her. You decided not to tell George about it.”

“What would you do?”

“Tell him. Think of it this way; George is the client so he’s our priority. I know you made a promise to Lucita, but you probably shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll tell George tomorrow.”

“So, sounds like everyone has gone to bed. Maybe you should get some rest, too. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

“Good idea. I wish you could be with me.”

“Me, too,” he said.

After I ended my call with Carter, I slipped my phone into my back pocket and was about to exit the library when a voice made me stop.

“Who were you talking to?” Brett stood in the doorway with one hand on his hip as he regarding me with a curious grin.

“Oh, hi. I was just talking to my boyfriend.”

“Really?” He took a few steps closer. “Why didn’t he come with you this weekend?”

“He wanted to. But he has to work.”

He nodded like he understood. “Pretty awful news about George, huh? Olivia is devastated. She adores her father.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I had no idea he was sick. It was so nice of him to invite me to stay for the weekend considering everything he’s gone through with my mother.”

“So, where do you live?” he asked. “It’s kind of strange that our family knows very little about you.”

“I guess my mom never talked about me, then.”

He gave an apologetic shrug. “Not really.”

“I move around a lot,” I said. “I travel for work. I do documentaries.”

“What kind of documentaries?”

“I’m interested in ancient tribes, mostly in Africa.”

“Sounds fascinating. Tell me more?”

I paused to check my watch, giving him the hint that maybe it was too late to get into it. “I’m sorry, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about work.”

“All right, then. What would you like to talk about? To be honest, I’m not the least bit tired.”

“Is your wife asleep already?”

“Olivia took some sleeping pills and she conked right out.”

I figured this might be an opportunity to get to know Brett a little better, so why not. It’d find a way to divert the conversation to Josephine. “Hey, I noticed there’s still some wine left from dinner. I was going to have a glass, you want one, too?”

“Sure,” he said. “We could always go down to the cellar and grab another bottle if we run out.”

“Really? You don’t think George would mind?”

“Of course not. He has more bottles of wine down there than anyone can drink in a lifetime. Want me to show you?”

I hesitated. “You mean, right now?”

“Sure, why not? Follow me and I’ll give you the tour.”

A few minutes later, we were in the basement, and it occurred to me that Carter must still be listening. He had installed a hidden audio device somewhere down here.

Brett guided me over to the wine cellar door and opened it. A cool rush of air hit me in the face as we walked inside.

“Let me guess, this room’s temperature is set at exactly fifty-five degrees.”

He seemed impressed. “Sounds like you know your stuff.”

The bottles were arranged on copper tubes in such a way that you could see all the labels clearly. And there must have been hundreds of them. At a quick glance, I could tell these were expensive labels, not the two for ten bucks kind I buy at Trader Joe’s. “Are you sure George won’t mind that we’re doing this?”

“Relax. He’s totally cool with it. Why don’t you pick one out?”

“No, I don’t dare. You’d better do it.”

Brett sauntered around, taking his time perusing the labels. Finally he chose one and held it up for me to inspect. “Here’s a cabernet from 2007. Wanna give this a try?”

“Sure.” I wrapped my arms around myself and began rubbing. Damn it was cold, but I loved being in the presence of fine wines.

“You’re cold,” he said. “Let’s head upstairs. I’ll start a fire in the library and we can enjoy this bottle together.”

The way he said it, sounded like we were about to have a romantic evening together. No matter how innocent his intentions were, I had to believe his wife would not approve.

Chapter 11

True to his word, Brett made a fire in the library while I sat on the leather couch listening to him talk about himself and his auditions. Then he opened the bottle of cab and poured us each a glass.

When he finally joined me on the couch, I noticed he sat closer than was necessary. “You know,” he said to me. “You have nice features. I kinda dig the glasses but have you ever considered getting contacts?”

Wow, this guy had some nerve. I didn’t know if I should be flattered or insulted. “Um, I guess I never really thought about it. I’m used to the glasses.”

He gave me a funny look. “Really? Because they seem way too big for your head. Did you have someone help you pick them out ’cos, I gotta say, they don’t do you justice.”

I laughed. “Well, I appreciate your concern, but I manage just fine.”

“Here, let me see them. Maybe I can adjust them better so they don’t keep sliding down your nose.”

I swatted his hand away, playfully. “I’m fine. Why are you so worried about my glasses, anyway?” I kept my tone lighthearted yet firm.

He seemed a little hurt. “I’m just trying to help, that’s all.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

He tilted his head and regarded me with a bemused grin that made me uncomfortable. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out small plastic baggie. “Hey, do you ever smoke?”

I assumed it was pot. “No thanks, marijuana disagrees with me.”

“Really? That's too bad. It totally helps me relax. But if you're not into it, I won't bother. It's no fun smoking alone.”

When he returned the baggie to his pocket, I decided it was time to get down to business.

“Look,” I said. “Can I confide something to you?”

He straightened and gave me a wide eyed stare. “Sure. What is it?”

“It’s about my mom. Don’t you think it’s odd that she just happened to have a fatal accident right after she and George announced their engagement?”

When he noticed the serious look on my face, he seemed genuinely baffled. “You’re not joking, are you?”

“Why would I joke around about my mother’s death?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just so out of the blue. What are you trying to say, exactly?”

“I don’t know. Maybe one of George’s kids decided that my mother stood in the way of their inheritance. Maybe they didn’t appreciate that.”

Brett swallowed hard. “Wow. I don’t know what to say. Are you accusing someone of actually killing your mother? I mean, that’s insane. It was an accident.”

I said nothing for a few long seconds. “How can you be so sure it was or wasn’t an accident? Did you see her fall down the stairs?”

“Well, no. I was sleeping when it happened.”

“Then how do you know for certain?”

He seemed flustered. “Well, I mean, I guess I don’t. But who would do something like that? Nobody in this family would do something so evil. At least not on purpose.”

“What about Miles or Sue-Ann?” I said. “They’re struggling financially. Maybe one of them…”

“Who told you that they're struggling?”

“George.”

Clearly at a loss for words, he raked a hand through his hair. “Doesn't make sense. Why would anyone risk killing your mother? Certainly George wasn’t going to leave his entire fortune to her. There's plenty to go around for everyone.”

“How do you know for sure what George is leaving everyone in his will? Did he tell you himself?”

Brett paused and seemed to chew on that for a moment. “No, but Olivia assures me that George is splitting everything between his kids. Even if we had to divide the estate three ways with your mother …” He stopped himself and looked away toward the crackling of the fire.

I found it interesting how Brett considered himself as one of the heirs to George’s fortune. Sure, he was married to George’s daughter, but he must also be aware that Olivia had a history of short marriages. And yet, he seemed pretty confident that he’d be around long enough to collect on her father’s inheritance. For all I knew, Brett could have been the one who pushed Josephine down the stairs. People have killed for lesser reasons.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Maybe I’m way off base, here. I feel awful for even mentioning my suspicions to you. Please don’t say anything to the others.”

Brett seemed slightly relieved. “No worries. It's a stressful time, so I understand.”

Of course, I was counting on the fact that Brett would tell Olivia. How could he resist? And then Olivia would tell her brother Miles. Miles would tell his wife Sue-Ann and, pretty soon, the whole family would know that I suspected foul play was involved in Josephine’s death. Little did he know, it was all part of the plan to uncover the truth.

“Let’s talk about something else,” I said. “Tell me more about your acting career.”

He chuckled. “You mean the lack, thereof?”

“I thought you were the lead actor in a Broadway show? That sounds impressive to me.”

Brett shrugged like it was nothing to be impressed about. “Since we’re being honest with one another, I should probably confess that I’m not really the lead in a play. I’m a stand-in, just in case the real actor gets sick or hurts himself.”

“Oh.” I wracked my brain for something to say that would make him feel better. “Do you get paid for being a stand-in?”

“I’m afraid not. But I keep plugging away, hoping for my big break. I know it will happen someday.”

“I think you have the right attitude. Show business is not for the faint of heart, I hear.”

He smiled at me. “Nope. You need thick skin and a will to succeed.”

We killed the bottle of wine as he continued to talk about his life. He told me he was an only child, raised by a single mom in a one room apartment in the Bronx. His father had skipped out when he was only thirteen and died a year later in a car accident. He also talked about his various jobs over the past twenty years. He’d done everything from waiting tables to selling vacuum cleaners.

By eleven o’clock, I could barely keep my eyes open. “I need to get some sleep. I don’t want to be too hung over for my mom’s memorial tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you head upstairs to bed and I’ll clean up down here. I’m not that tired, yet.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he said.

“Thanks for the wine. And the conversation. Again, I’m sorry about all that talk before about my mom. I feel ashamed that I even brought it up.”

“No worries,” he said. “I understand completely.

When I got up to my bedroom, I made sure to engage the dead-bolt on the door like George had suggested. Better to be safe than sorry.

After performing my nightly beauty ritual, I slipped into pajamas and went to bed.