The Heir (26 page)

“That’s their names?”

“I think their mother’s French. And their home address is in Paris.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “Forrester’s son is a diplomat.” It was now plain that this would be a disaster; Eric would be eaten alive. He’d escaped from the reporters on Thursday, but there would be no escape here.

“I took French.”

“So did I, and I remember six words. High-school French will not impress them.”

“I remember more than six words.” A new thought detonated in his head. “Do I have to ride with you?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me drive.”

“Eric, neither the senator nor I will allow you to take those young ladies out in your car.”

“We’d just go for a drive. I’d take the Jaguar.”

“It doesn’t have a back seat.”

“Three people can fit in the front seat. It’d be fun.”

“I’m sure the girls would agree. But it’s not going to happen. I would start listing rules but I don’t know if you can count high enough.”

“Okay. So what am I supposed to do?”

“Just talk. Maybe one of them works on cars.”

“Ha, ha. It says that Genevieve majored in international economics and Madeleine was in European history.”

“Talk about politics.”

“You’re not supposed to. Politics or religion.”

“All you have to do is keep them busy for a couple hours.”

“Yeah, no problem. But it would be way more fun on the road.”

“This is work. It’s not supposed to be fun.”

“It will be. It just won’t be as much fun as it could be.”

“I will give you one rule. Number 94, right?”

“I’m listening.” Not happily.

And what difference did it make, anyway? I wasn’t his father. “I don’t know. Never mind.”

“What?”

“You don’t need me to tell you how to act.”

The day was over—at least it should have been. It was early for bed but there was nothing else I wanted to do.

At the old house I might have gone running. The grounds here were even big enough that I could have found some circuit to wear myself out on, but it was dark. The swimming pool didn’t have water in it yet. I stopped in the kitchen to express my appreciation to Rosita, and I met the new maids there. Then I was wandering again.

I found myself back in the television room. Eric was still glued.

“Did you say we were going to Bob Forrester’s house tomorrow night?”

“The senator himself.”

“He’s going to be on in a minute.”

We waited through a highlights reel of the governor’s press conference— he did no better than before. Katie found us.

“You’re watching television?”

“Eric is forcing me to.”

“What’s wrong with TV?” he said.

But Bill Sandoff was at the airport. He was having a long day, too.

“Senator Forrester has just arrived from Washington and he should be joining us in just a moment.”

A moment was two commercials to sell us cars and hamburgers. Then the senator joined us.

“Thank you for speaking with us, Senator.”

It must have been a bad flight. “Of course.”

Bill was getting a little ragged himself. “I wonder if you have any comments about Governor Bright?” This was obviously the question that Forrester had instructed Stan Morton to have asked. Bill didn’t even try to make it sound unscripted.

“I believe he should resign immediately.”

This was a forceful and premeditated attack. Big Bob was no longer watching from the sidelines, and both Bill Sandoff and I were suddenly alert.

“Even before the charges against him are—”

“There is no doubt in my mind.” There was a statuesque quality about both the senator and his statements. “This evening it was manifestly clear that he is unfit to hold office. But even more, he has abused the public trust for years and this public exposure is long overdue.”

“So you feel that Jason Boyer was justified—”

“Until he gets his own house in order, Mr. Boyer shouldn’t be accusing anyone. He certainly shouldn’t be attempting to use his wealth to influence government or politics. The Boyer family is even more culpable than the governor in this scandal.”

“Do you really mean the whole Boyer family, and not just . . .”

“I would find it hard to believe that Jason Boyer was unaware of his father’s dealings.”

“Senator Forrester—”

“If you will excuse me, please,” the senator said. Poor Bill. He wasn’t getting to use his words. They were going to start building up inside, and he would pop.

Forrester had turned away from the camera. Bill turned toward it. “A plague on both houses, says Senator Robert Forrester. This has been a rare look behind the . . .”

This time I interrupted him with the power switch.

“What did that mean?” Katie said.

“Forrester is making his move,” I said.

“We’re going to his house tomorrow?” Eric asked.

“Yes. And that was his way of telling me what the agenda would be. It’s just politics, it’s not personal.”

“I’m taking it personally,” Katie said.

“Go ahead. I might, too.”

“Do I have to?” Eric asked. Madeleine and Genevieve were on his mind.

“No,” I said. “You just have a nice time. Katie and I will take care of the hand-to-hand combat. And Fred—”

My cell phone rang. I’d rubbed the magic lamp and the genie was squeezing himself out of it.

“Hi, Fred,” I said.

“Jason. Did you see—”

“Yes. He’s declaring his independence. Except he doesn’t think all men are created equal.”

“He is strengthening his hand going into our meeting tomorrow evening. I believe we should answer him.” Fred was taking it personally.

“I’m having a television interview tomorrow morning,” I said.

“Will it be televised in the morning?”

“No, at six thirty tomorrow evening.”

“That will do,” Fred said. “He’ll watch it just before we arrive.”

“What should I say? That he’s an egotistical, self-important buffoon?”

“That isn’t what I would suggest.” Fred was regaining his caution. “Be strong but also conciliatory. I would suggest that you say you are surprised at the senator’s remarks, and then call for calm and communication. Perhaps you would mention that he has asked you to his house. You need to salvage this relationship, Jason.”

“I’ve already got a mother-in-law. I don’t need another relationship like this.”

“I’m being serious.” He sounded like it, too. “This meeting will be crucial.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow, Fred.”

28

At eight twenty on Saturday morning, three vans at our front door unloaded lights, cameras, and action. We chose the fireplace room as our backdrop. Katie had thought maybe we would take a tour of the house, but the idea was nixed as being too adorable. The interview was supposed to make me look human, but not too human.

The talent was produced, no less than Bill Sandoff and Jill Abernathy themselves. They tried to put me at my ease, pretending to be normal people and not the famous and important television news celebrities that they, of course, actually were. I managed to be comfortable somehow.

“We’ll just interview you about anything we can think of,” Bill said. “Then we’ll spruce it into a fifteen-minute segment for the six o’clock show. Mr. Morton will personally assess the edit for contexting.”

This was a man with serious verb issues. “That sounds fine,” I said. “We’re ready.”

Katie and I were together on the sofa, with Bill in a chair at my side and Jill beside him. Jill had arrived in green but had made an emergency change to blue so as to stand out better against the fireplace stones. Besides, Katie’s dress was some sort of dark lavender. The green would have been completely wrong.

And Katie was enjoying the spotlight. There had been a brief discomfort when the makeup person started plastering us, but Katie had quickly analyzed his methods and they were soon partners in crime.

Then the red light on the camera blinked on. In a jerk, Bill and Jill dropped their masks of pretend ordinariness. Bill suddenly became serious and interested; Jill was softer and professionally friendly.

They went through a variety of lighter and heavier openings to choose from later. Katie and I smiled.

“Mr. Boyer, two months ago very few people had heard of you. You and your wife were well-to-do, but you were living a quiet life, and you didn’t expect that to change. Today you are one of the country’s wealthiest men, and you are engaged in a very public conflict with Governor Bright that has put you in the national news. But still, very few people know much about you.

“First, I’d like to ask if the stories we’ve heard are true. You really didn’t expect to inherit your father’s businesses?”

I didn’t, Bill.
No. I choked down the false informality so I wouldn’t choke on it.

“I didn’t,” I said. “We had anticipated the estate would go to the Boyer Foundation. It was only after his death that I learned he had recently changed his will.”

We ranged through all the topics—of my grief at Melvin’s death, of my further grief at learning the truth about him and his crimes, of my even further grief at Angela’s death, of the far reaches of my grief at the terrible but necessary exposure of the governor’s malfeasance. Even the distant eddies of grief at Clinton Grainger’s death. The viewers would consider me so far stretched in my grief I must be in a different time zone.

I’d felt no grief.

Had there been any strong emotions? Rage at Melvin for his idiocy of getting murdered and leaving me his wad, but I’d overcome that.

“Speaking of Mr. Grainger,” Bill said. “Were you really the last person to see him alive?”

“I did meet with him late Thursday, at the Hilton. My lawyer was also there. We were trying to find some middle ground, to cool off the attacks.”

“Did you make any progress?”

“We did, a little. That’s one more reason it was such a tragedy that he died. My last chance of helping the governor died with him.” More grief. Grief surrounded and pursued me like a cloud of mosquitoes. How could anyone live with it all?

Katie had her moments. She’d felt that same pesky grief, of course, but she had rallied, with my support. We’d been there for each other, Katie and Jason. Jill Abernathy helped the viewers to see what a strong and caring woman Mrs. Boyer was and how, with great effort, she was effortlessly adapting to her new place in life.

“How did you feel when you learned the truth about your father-in-law?” Jill asked.

“It was a shock,” Katie said. “But that wasn’t the whole truth about him. He was a complex man, and he shouldn’t be judged by just that one part. His foundation has done amazing things, and he was a very good and effective senator. It’s been so hard to go through all this. I wish it could have been done more quietly. We tried to keep it quiet. Not hidden, just quiet.”

I almost believed her. She was a much better actress than I. She may have even fooled Jill, that expert trained in falsifying sincerity.

Bill asked about our plans. I said we wanted to expand the foundation’s work, and I mentioned Nathan Kern by name. Such a gifted man! I expressed hope that the investigations would quickly be concluded, to bring this painful chapter to an end. We would all sleep easier when the killer was brought to justice and Melvin and Angela, and also Clinton Grainger, would rest in peace. And everyone in the state would benefit from a good housecleaning in the statehouse.

Did I have any political plans myself?

Ha, ha, I was quite busy enough at the moment just keeping my head above water.

“He’d make a wonderful congressman or senator,” the wife quipped.

I laughed. “You better cut that, Stan,” I said to the camera. “We don’t want to start any rumors.”

“You would, though,” Katie said. Meaning, she would love to be a senator’s wife. With her expertise in spending other people’s money, she’d actually be a great senator herself.

And speaking of senators, how did we feel about Bob’s comments of the night before?

“I was surprised,” I said. “We’ve only met a few times, and I’ve only spoken with him once recently.”

“Will you be meeting with Senator Forrester again?” This question had been discussed beforehand.

“Yes, actually. Katie and I will be visiting with him this evening, at his request. I hope we can have some reasoned discussion. The last thing we need just now is more hot tempers and baseless accusations.”

Then finally the wrap-up, thank you so much, it’s been so interesting. Friendly but not too syrupy—this is an independent news organization of course, not a propaganda machine. How weary I was getting of lies.

The cameras and lights turned off, and so did Bill and Jill. Maybe they were just machines, too. We said good-bye.

“And good riddance,” I said. The trucks had left us to go to their next crime scene.

“I thought it was fun,” Katie said. “And you could be senator if you wanted.”

“We already have two.”

“Well, I don’t like the one we’re meeting with this evening.”

In the front hall I met Prince Charming, here to pick up his fairy godmother, to be made ready for the ball.

“How was the interview?” Eric asked.

“You can see it tonight.”

“We’ll be at dinner.”

“You’re in charge of recording it,” I said. “We’ll watch it when we get back.”

“Okay.” Eric was now officially interested in politics, particularly the personal connections he was about to make. “So what are you going to talk about tonight?”

“I want Big Bob to know who’s in charge, and that it’s not him.”

“It’s you?”

“In my opinion, yes.”

He smiled. “All right.”

I saw big thoughts bouncing around inside his head, possibly knocking other things off shelves or breaking furniture. “I’ve thought of what Rule 94 was supposed to be. Whenever I actually tell you the truth about something, don’t ever tell it to anyone else.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

He left on his mission. So what were we going to talk about tonight? I played the senator’s comments through my mind, back and forth, and the more I did, the more riled I got. It wasn’t the ends, of trying to gain control over his own destiny, but his means. To sternly advise me to keep out of politics, when it was Boyer power that put him on his pedestal in the first place—that was unnecessary roughness.