The Heir (10 page)

Little tears glistened under the lashes, but not surprise. “Oh dear. I was so hoping it would just be over.” She sighed. “When you called, I knew what you were going to say.”

Well, it wasn’t the same thing everyone else had said. “You suspected?”

She smiled, so sadly. “He had always been afraid that this might happen.”

“He said that?” I had never before spoken abruptly to Angela, for fear of something breaking.

“No. But Emmanuel, the gardener, was really a bodyguard. Melvin never told anyone, but I knew.”

Emmanuel had been there for years. “Did you have any idea who he was worried about?”

“No. And I wouldn’t have asked, of course.”

Of course. Poor Angela. Mr. Wilcox of the morbid mustache was going to give her a hard time. But she could defend herself.

She was not interested in brake fluid or other details, so I asked if I could look around a little. I left her and Katie to talk while I went on a nostalgia trip.

To me, the house had been an official place, for the formal occasions and staged events that made up our family relations. I found it uninteresting. I stood in the echoing foyer with the stairs on either wall. I wandered the halls, looked into the vast ballroom that he had never once used. Then I came to his office—a room of wood paneling and deep carpet, shelves lined with books he had never read. The walls were hung with original paintings, lesser known works by American luminists—cragged mountains by Kensett, storm-swept seas by Lane. A huge antique globe on a stand and his massive antique desk and wooden armchair sat before a wide window.

Later, Katie and Angela found me sitting at the desk, looking through drawers. It was a little awkward, but I apologized.

“I should have asked,” I said.

“No, no,” Angela mewed. “It’s right for you to be here. This is your place now.”

“I’ll need to come back and go through his papers,” I said. I’d found a few of the details that Fred had mentioned concerning Melvin’s contract business with the state—the ‘other legal framework’ that I should be thankful was already in place for me. It was going to take a while to go through these drawers, and I didn’t know where else he might have papers stashed.

But it had been something else I was looking for. There was a beautiful picture of Angela on the desk, but I’d wanted to see what he had of his first wife, and I’d found nothing, and nothing of his sons. I guess I hadn’t really expected any, so I didn’t know why it hurt. Maybe I felt he owed me something for what I was going through.

We left the house in a different confusion than we’d come.

“A penny for your thoughts.” Stately Boyer Manor was fading into the distance behind us.

“I don’t want more money,” I said.

“What should I offer you?” Katie said.

“No. I mean that’s my thoughts. You owe me a penny.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Some stretches of the road were tawdry with old gas stations, run-down diners, and tacky souvenir shops. These were in contrast with the stretches that were tawdry with new gas stations, plastic fast-food restaurants, and bland strip shopping centers. “I’ll think of something else to give you.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Are you being surly?”

“Half.”

She took note of the clenched jaw and pursed lips. “What’s the other half?”

“That bothered me, Katie.”

“Being at the house?”

“It made me feel like I was Melvin.”

“What does that mean, anyway?”

“It means doing things that I never thought I’d do. I’m violating something inside myself.”

“What have you done?”

“I’m having a feud with the governor.”

“I’ve never liked him.” We were passing through farms and villages now—much more scenic than the coast.

“I’m starting to dislike him a lot more,” I said. “And when you’re Melvin, you don’t just dislike a governor. You do something about it.”

“What do you do?”

“That’s what the world is wondering.”

9

“So. Have you come up with some type of plan?” Fred was set very far back in his chair, at as great a distance from me and my recklessness as he could get.

“Yes, some type of one.”

“What type?”

I laughed at the richness of his disdain. “And you still want to negotiate with the terrorists?”

“He is a governor, not a terrorist.”

“Explain the difference.”

He shook his head. “Tell me what you’ve thought of.”

“The governor is corrupt. I’ll expose him.”

Fred blinked. “A good deal of his corruption has been as your partner.”

“Not my partner.”

“With the Boyer businesses. You know what I mean.”

“But not with me.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I was in Melvin’s office this afternoon. I have enough evidence to sink Bright and half his administration with him.”

Fred’s mouth was open, but it took a while for words to come out.

“Of course you do.” He could have added “you idiot,” but it was there without being spoken. “You can’t use any of it.”

“I can.”

“You’ll destroy your own businesses.”

“No. Somebody on my side will take the fall—whoever deserves it. I’ve been looking through Melvin’s papers and I’m starting to figure out who that is. But of the two biggest crooks, one is in the governor’s mansion, and the other is in his heavenly mansion.”

Fred Spellman was reeling. “This would destroy your father’s reputation.”

“Where he is, he doesn’t need it.”

I had managed to disgust Fred, although there was also admiration in his look. “Where did you get this idea?”

Where, indeed. There were two answers to that one. The first was that it was obvious. Only a twisted, corrupt mind could have failed to see a plan so straightforward and honest.

But the second answer was corrupt, and much more twisted, and it was the real answer. The idea was a witch’s brew: eye of newt, wart of toad, smoke of Nathan Kern, essence of Oedipus, hot blood of Boyer.

The main ingredient was the opportunity to get back at Melvin for every wrong against me. For ignoring me for twenty-eight years, for building an evil empire and then getting murdered and leaving me as his chosen replacement emperor. But add a pinch of Nathan’s sanctimony concerning power and corruption for thickening and body, a dash of the prospect of Governor Bright’s demolition for flavor, and a splash of hydraulic brake fluid as a little extra spice, and it was a potent concoction. Heat it over a hot temper and it was irresistible.

“I don’t know,” I answered.

“This is a bull in a . . . a . . .” Analogies were failing him. “In a dynamite factory. A herd of bulls.”

“Calm down, Fred. Let’s just talk about it a little.”

“Then say something reasonable.” He wasn’t buying it. But he had to listen to me.

“I’ve taken over from Melvin and I’ve found out what he was doing. Now I want to make it right.”

“You’re much too young and inexperienced to try something like this.”

“That’s why I’m doing it. I’m young and idealistic.”

That brought a fairly violent snort. “You are nothing of the sort.”

“I might be.”

“Your businesses are implicated. Melvin was not the only one involved. Bright will name names. He’ll try to take everything you have down with him.”

I shrugged. “Then they’ll go down. They’ll only be getting what they deserve.”

“These are your highest officers and managers.”

“Not the highest. One rank down. I’ll pay fines. I’ll help them as much as they deserve. The businesses will survive.”

“Maybe.” Fred had had enough. “Maybe they will. You wouldn’t know. That is your greatest risk. Yes, you might cause significant damage to the governor without damaging yourself. But you would be removing the shelter your businesses currently enjoy. I am no businessman, but even I can guess what might happen.”

“I can guess, too. They’ll have to adjust.”

“And with your immense business experience, you will lead them through this adjustment. Or will you have rid yourself of them first?”

“I won’t answer that.”

“You have no answer. You are proposing a reckless, foolish, lunatic plan.”

“Yours is no better.”

“Yes it is. Of course it is! It’s realistic and prudent. It’s what Bright is expecting, and he’ll come to an agreement. What gives you the right to dictate to the governor?”

“Apparently someone has to. It’s my job as king, isn’t it? The man is a criminal.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

We were stuck. I didn’t want to just walk out, but I wasn’t going to argue.

“Okay, Fred. We’ll send out a warning. I’ve started looking through Melvin’s papers, and I have some concerns to discuss with the governor. Or Clinton Grainger. Or that police detective,Wilcox. You tell me how to do it. That’s about the same level of threat he’s thrown at us.”

Fred was scowling. “It’s still leading into very dangerous territory.”

“We’re already there.”

“I’ll consider it. But I’m not advising you to do this.”

“You’ve made that very clear, Fred. Remember what I said before. As far as I’m concerned, I’m still in the locked room and the man is still shooting at me.”

“In your analogy, do you also have a gun?”

“In this case, yes.”

Three days in my life had now passed since I had taken the throne. It took God six days to make the world, and then he needed a day off. I figured I was on the same pace. Another three days like these, and I would have about demolished everything he had done. Wait . . . not what God had made, just what Melvin had. God, Melvin— it was easy to get them mixed up.

What was the point of being rich if you still drove home from work every night just like any working peasant? I was stuck in traffic, and it wasn’t helping my attitude.

Katie was right. We needed a better place to live. I didn’t care what our guests and admirers thought, but to me the house felt vulnerable. Anybody could walk in the front door: a reporter, a murderer, whoever. I was surprised we hadn’t had one of them knock on the door yet.

A reporter. Not a murderer.

So—a new house. Somewhere more secure. That would keep Katie busy for a while.

Oh yeah, murderer, right. Where were we on that one? I still had my list. Nathan Kern, too pious. Eric, too ingenuous. Katie, too unimaginative, or at least too mechanically challenged. Fred, too . . . actually, Fred seemed pretty likely.

It was just the list of people I knew, not the list of business rivals and politicians and mobsters the police would have come up with. But if it was someone I didn’t know, I wouldn’t care. Hopefully it would turn out to be a hit man that Governor Bright had hired— not that the police would ever press that charge.

The traffic moved a hundred yards and stopped.

I needed a break. I’d go somewhere for the weekend.

Katie had suggested Europe, but I wouldn’t do that without her, and I wanted to be alone. Then I remembered the townhouse in Washington.

The cars were moving again, and I stuffed the whole murder suitcase into the trunk. I’d get to it later. I had more important things to work out at the moment.

“I have a job for you,” I said to Katie over chicken Marsala. It’s one of Rosita’s best meals.

“What?” Her eyes sparkled. I don’t know how she makes them do that.

“Buy us a new house.”

“A what?” I was glad I could still surprise her.

“You’re right. We need to move.” I didn’t want to make it sound scary. “I want someplace less accessible.”

What she heard was, somewhere exclusive. Which was what I wanted her to hear.

But then she frowned. “By myself?”

“I’m getting real busy.”

“But, Jason . . . I wanted to look together, with you. It’ll be for both of us.”

“Francine can help.”

“Mother’s leaving for Florida in two weeks.”

“I bet it won’t take that long. When you get it narrowed down, I’ll go.”

That was okay. She smiled. “What should I look for?”

“I don’t think I want it as huge as Angela’s place, or as far from town.”

“All right. How soon would we move?”

“Right away,” I said. This was her dream come true—even if she’d be flying solo. I didn’t want her to faint, so I gave her a few more seconds to recover her equilibrium. Then I said, “And it really doesn’t matter how much it costs.”

10

Thursday dawned bright and clear and I saw it happen. When I got back to the house, huffing and puffing, Katie was up and dressed for lots of walking.

“It’s too late to change your mind,” she said.

“I won’t. Who was the lady we used to get this house?”

“Harriet Postagini. I’m meeting her at noon.”

Noon? “Why wait that long?”

“I told Eric I’d take him shopping this morning.”

“Right. Be real sweet to him. And like I said, we’re paying.”

I was in a better mood that morning. I sat in my office for twenty minutes just being calm. Then it was time for not being calm.

“I’m not happy about this.” It was true: Fred’s voice in the phone was very unhappy.

“I agree,” I said. “But it’s not my fault. Bright started it. Do you have a suggestion for the best way to poke him, or should I think of something?”

“There is no best way.”

“Okay. Is there some way that’s less terrible?”

“Remember, I’m not advising that you follow this plan.”

“I understand.”

“You should be indirect to keep them confused, and to keep your own options open. Don’t talk to Grainger or Bright directly in any way that they can ask you questions, unless you’re willing to deal.”

“I’m not.”

“You should be.”

“I’m not, yet.”

“That’s slightly better. Talk to Stanley Morton. Don’t tell him any more than you need to, but get him to set a reporter on Clinton Grainger. Grainger needs to be asked if he’s worried that Jason Boyer might uncover anything questionable about Melvin Boyer’s dealings with the governor. You understand what I mean.”

“Yes. They shouldn’t ask the governor directly?”

“By asking Grainger, you will be indicating that this is a warning, not yet an actual attack. And who knows what the governor might answer. Also, go through your father’s papers, quickly. You’ll need to be ready for the governor’s response.”