Dead for the Money (3 page)

“We’re not there yet. Go back to when you and Bud arrived.”

Dunbar relaxed his shoulders with a roll and a deep breath. “Bud set up the chairs, but I wasn’t ready to sit down yet. He handed me my binoculars. We didn’t see anything coming, but you can’t predict when the first boat will show up. So much depends on weather and conditions on the lake. After a while Bud said, ‘Gramps, do you hear that?’ I heard nothing.”

“What did he hear?”

“He thought it sounded like an animal in trouble in the woods to our right.”

“What kind of animal?”

“I don’t know. But Bud heard it again, and a few moments later, a third time. He said something was hurt, and he was going to go and see what it was.”

“You never heard the noise.”

“No.”

“So what did he do?”

“Well, he set his binoculars down on the chair seat and took off into the woods. I watched him disappear, then nothing. After a while, I turned back to the lake, looking for the first boats.”

Dunbar stopped, and Seamus knew they had come again to the fall. “Okay,” he told the old man, “Slowly, tell me everything you recall.”

He shrugged helplessly. “I was relaxed, focused on the water. Suddenly I was falling. I felt the resistance of the wooden fence rail against my stomach. My legs left the ground. I grabbed for the rail, but I was too late. I was over the fence before I could even call for help. My shoulder hit the ground on the other side.” His jaw jutted, lips tight, but he continued. “My reflexes were too slow, my body too stiff, my mind too overcome. At forty, even at sixty, I might have saved myself, but—” Disgust tinged his voice. “It’s like they say. Old age isn’t for sissies.” He turned once more to face Seamus. “One thing I am sure of, though. I did not
fall
over that fence. I was
pushed
.
”

Chapter Two

B
RODIE
D
UNBAR
made her way up the trail, slowing once she was out of sight of the house. Scarlet would soon discover that she was not in her room, but Scarlet would understand that she needed to be alone.

The trees smelled good, all piney and fresh, but Brodie willed herself not to notice. It had to be wrong to notice beauty in the world when Gramps was gone from it. A warm breeze touched her cheek as she finally stepped into the open space of the viewing point, but she tried to ignore that too. Nothing should matter now that Gramps was dead.

Before her, Lake Michigan sparkled in the July sunshine. The view could have been a postcard, except no camera could adequately capture the scene. She was high above the lake, and the drop beyond the fence was dizzying. Heights did not scare Brodie. In fact, she usually enjoyed the feeling of standing in lofty places. But this was where Gramps had fallen to his death. It was different now.

She willed herself to approach the rail fence that stood before her. Unable to look down at where Gramps must have landed, she kept her eyes on the rails themselves, searching for weakness. They looked as strong as ever. She knelt and took one in her hands, feeling the rough wood. She pulled on it hard. It gave slightly, as wood is supposed to, but it was whole, doing the job it was built for, keeping people from falling over the bluff edge.

So how had the fence failed Gramps? They said he must have had a dizzy spell, but if he got dizzy, he could have held on, couldn’t he? Why hadn’t he? Was it her fault for not telling what she knew? She’d wanted to protect him, but she might instead have contributed to his death.

Brodie wished she could talk to Bud about what happened, since he’d been right there. But Bud was busy with police and family and business stuff. He had no interest in Brodie, who was nobody.

She tried to think of someone who would care, really care, if she never returned from this place. She peered over the edge at the drop she had found exhilarating until now. Nothing below indicated the tragedy that had occurred. It seemed to her that the earth and water should give some sign that a wonderful old man had died in this place. But it was a beautiful as ever, as peaceful as before. The lake moved below her, waves chasing each other to see who would travel farthest ashore. The sun had risen high enough to reach the spot, but barely, so the light was still filtered through the treetops behind her. Everything was the same, except that Brodie had no future, here or anyplace else that she could imagine, without Gramps.

William C. Dunbar—Gramps—had been everything to Brodie, so much so that she considered crawling over the fence herself and flying—or falling—to wherever he was. Everyone except Gramps thought she was ugly, stupid, and not quite right in the head. Maybe it was okay if she left the world. Maybe there was something better in the next one.

She looked again at the expanse of water on the other side of the fence. It sparkled invitingly. Every once in a while a wave slapped against the sand with a happy little sound. Without conscious decision, she climbed onto the fence and over it, hanging onto the top rail and extending her arms so that she looked straight down. Had Gramps known he was going to die? Had he thought of her as he fell? The trees below seemed wicked now though she had always loved staring down at the contrast between their green branches and the soft sand beyond them. She hoped Gramps had lost consciousness and that he had never known that his life would end that day, that hour, that second. It was all a kid could hope when the one person who wasn’t paid to like her was gone.

S
EAMUS
LEFT
THE
SUBJECT
of Dunbar’s death for a while, giving the man a chance to regain control of his emotions. “Tell me more about the property.”

Dunbar pulled himself back once more from thoughts that obviously plagued him. The safer subject, his home, allowed him to relax somewhat. “I bought the land back in the ’60s, when it was relatively cheap,” he said. “The original buildings sat along a small lagoon, protected from the winds off the lake. That house burned long ago, and the site is almost completely overtaken by woods. I chose to build in a more open space down the beach. Lila would have loved it, had she lived.” His shoulders twitched, and Seamus wondered if he was reminded that he, too, was now dead.

“When Buddy became my responsibility, I decided to move to Michigan in order to give him the kind of childhood a kid deserves: room to wander and a small, supportive community.”

“Sounds nice,” Seamus lied. He couldn’t imagine living away from a city center where there was always something to do. “Anyone else live with you?”

“Everybody, it seems some days.” Dunbar looked a bit sheepish. “When you’ve got a house with twelve bedrooms, family tends to congregate.”

“Who’s everybody?”

“My sister Arlis, for one.”

“What does she do?”

“Her hair, mostly.” Dunbar sniffed. “Arlis married one of my managers. When her husband died, she let her only child, Leland, handle her money and he lost it all. Some hare-brained scheme that was not quite legal and not well planned. When everything fell apart, Leland left the country to avoid legal ramifications. Arlis came to live with me.”

“So this Leland is not around?”

“Haven’t seen him in years, but he does call his mother regularly.” His lips tightened. “None of it was his fault, Arlis says.”

Red flags went up in Seamus’ mind. “Leland is dishonest.”

“He might only have been young and stupid. Apparently, he has spent the last decade trying to atone. In fact, he became a sadhu.”

“What?”

“It’s Hindu.” Dunbar rolled his eyes. “I had to look it up. Rejecting everything life requires of most of us, a sadhu has no home or possessions. They work when someone asks them to and eat when someone feeds them. According to his mother, Leland travels the world, helping out in disasters and out-of-the-way places.” He raised both hands, palms up. “Believe me, I’ve heard more about it than I ever cared to. Arlis wants us to understand that Leland is a changed man.”

“So he can inherit some of your money, maybe?”

Dunbar shrugged. “Arlis claims he has moved past wanting any earthly reward.”

Seamus pictured a barefoot hermit with offensive body odor and a beard thick enough for robins to nest in.
“Okay, so you support your sister. Who else lived with you?”

Dunbar’s eyes softened. “There’s Brodie.”

“Another relative?”

The answer was oblique. “I didn’t know she existed until she was three years old. She was—not being treated well. When I stepped in to help, her mother agreed to let me adopt her.”

“More money changed hands, I assume?”

Dunbar grimaced. “What’s money for if not to help those who need it?”

Seamus could think of worse things a man could do with his money than rescue kids whose parents were screw-ups. “So what does Brodie do?”

“She’s still a kid, just thirteen.” His smile was rueful. “Her apparent purpose in life is frustrating anyone who tries to control her.”

“A challenge, huh?”

“To put it mildly.” He covered a smile with his fist. “She is the reason for another resident in my home, Scarlet.”

“Another relative?”

“No. Scarlet McMorran is Brodie’s tutor. She has been with us for almost a year now, and she has done wonders.” He paused, backing up slightly. “Brodie was almost feral when I adopted her. Over time she became civilized, but not completely socialized.” Dunbar did not try to hide his smile this time. “She has a reputation for punishing people she does not approve of. Her pranks are quite innovative, and they’re aimed at people who deserve them, at least to Brodie’s way of thinking.”

A brat
, Seamus concluded privately.

“Scarlet has had some success, I think because she truly cares for Brodie. At the same time, Scarlet is wise enough to pair caring with expectations of proper behavior.”

“Okay. Your sister, the kid, and her warden. Who else?”

“My personal assistant Arnold Wilk is there most of the time, although he gets weekends off and often goes away with friends. Our cook-and-handyman couple, Shelley and Orville Briggs. Those are the permanent members of the household. Bud visits when he can, but work keeps him in Chicago most of the time. My lawyer, Collin Marks, comes quite often and stays with us sometimes. Both Arnold and Collin were at the house that...um, last day. Collin rode up with Bud from Chicago for some R&R.”

Seamus tried to picture a map of Michigan. “Isn’t that kind of a long drive?”

“It is, but Bud likes it. M-22 from Manistee to Frankfort is scenic, with lots of twists that Bud claims are relaxing after negotiating the turns of the world economy all week.”

“I guess. Anyone else?”

“We often have guests, as anyone who owns a home on a lake will tell you. But this weekend it was only the people I named.”

“Do all of them figure in your will?”

“Well, yes. Arnold, the Briggses, and Collin get small bequests, Brodie inherits a substantial amount at eighteen, and Arlis gets support and a home until her death or remarriage. Bud has control of it all.”

“Is that everyone mentioned in the will?”

“There are charitable donations, of course. Oh, and the family home in Ontario goes to Leland.” Dunbar sniffed. “Since he can’t return to the States, it was the best I could do for him.”

“You have land in Canada?”

Dunbar nodded. “My father, the last of the family except for Arlis and me, died a few months after my wife was killed. He was a simple man, rather dour and uninterested in modern conveniences. Having too much to deal with at the time, I simply paid someone to close up the house. I never went back. When Arlis suggested it should be her son’s inheritance, I agreed. Leland can sell the place and give the money to his charities or spend it. I don’t care.”

Someone called out behind them, and both men turned. A woman stopped near them as a second woman approached with the daily schedule in hand. The two began an animated discussion of which events they would choose to participate in, apparently unaware that they were interrupting the two men’s conversation.

“There’s choral practice at seven,” one of them said. “I’ve always wanted to sing in a choir.”

“I’m game for that.” The other woman pointed to a spot on the sheet. “How about bowling? Have you ever tried it?”

“Years ago, but I recall that I kind of liked it. Just never seemed to have the time.”

Her companion smiled. “That’s all we’ve got now, time.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” the first one said. “My impression of the afterlife was all wrong. I thought—” She paused, searching for a way to put it into words. “I thought all the choices would be gone. Instead, for the first time, every choice seems open to me.”

Every choice but the most important one
, Seamus thought. He waited until the women moved on, headed for bowling or singing or whatever. He returned to what was available to him, the chance to return to life, even if it was someone else’s.

“Is this place in Canada worth a lot?”

Dunbar grunted negatively. “A hundred rocky acres in northern Ontario. My father built several small cabins and called it a hunting lodge. I remember a collection of shacks.” He shrugged. “It’s peaceful there, I suppose, if one likes solitude.”

“And the others? Did anyone seem impatient to get his or her inheritance?”

“No.” The answer came too quickly. “I cannot believe any of them would do anything—”

“Why don’t you tell me why you think your grandson pushed you off that cliff?”

The question brought Dunbar up short. His spine stiffened, his mouth opened, apparently to object. Then he seemed to wilt. “I don’t. But I am concerned that the police will.”

“Why?”

“Bud and I had disagreed recently. We had a chance to sell the company, and he wanted to take it. Said he wanted to go in another direction. I was reluctant. I started that business. I made it a success. I...I wanted to keep it in the family.”

Dunbar stopped, unable to put into words the desire of an old man to hold onto his young man’s dream. “I might have been unreasonable,” he admitted, more to himself than to Seamus. “A man’s dream should not be forced on his children.”