Death on a Silver Platter (15 page)

“She was still awake?”

“I guess her pattern was to read for a while before turning in. So, yes, Danny said she was awake.”

Bram studied one of the candle flames. “In a family as rich as the Veelunds, money issues have to be huge. Who would benefit financially by Millie Veelund’s death? Do you know what’s in her will?”

“I believe Millie’s estate is divided equally among her three children. If that’s true, then inheritance has no bearing on her murder. But there are other motives.”

“Like what?”

“Well, leaving the money angle aside for a moment, let’s say Millie somehow stumbled onto the identity of Tracy’s molester.”

“But I thought you said her grandmother didn’t know.”

“But what if Tracy confided in her about it. It’s possible. Let’s say Millie learned of the abuse and confronted the molester. That person would have a great deal to lose if she went public with what she knew.”

“Except why would Tracy tell her grandmother if she wouldn’t even give the name to her therapist? Were Tracy and Millie close?”

“They were years ago. I’m not sure about now.”

“What’s your other theory?” asked Bram.

“Okay. On Friday night, Millie announced that she planned to sell Veelund Industries.”

“Wow. That must have come as quite a shock.”

“It was,” said Sophie. “I know for a fact that Elaine was furious. She didn’t give a damn about all the companies Alex has acquired, but the Log Lodges—”

“The company her dad started.”

She nodded. “It’s been her life’s work. She loves that company, Bram. She built it into what it is today.”

“Had her mother signed any papers yet?”

“No. She hadn’t even decided who she was going to sell it to. Apparently, she had several good offers.”

“What did Alex and Danny think about it?”

“Danny didn’t appear to care one way or the other. But Alex did. Just before Millie dropped her bomb, Alex had proposed taking Veelund Industries public. Elaine was against the idea. But then Millie cut off all discussion by announcing that she was selling.”

“Do you know why she wanted to sell?”

“Not really. I imagine she thought she was getting older, that she wouldn’t live forever, and she saw the company as a huge source of contention among her kids. By selling it, she could eliminate all of that. I know for a fact that she had a meeting with Alex on Saturday morning. I assume they talked it all through.”

Bram nodded. “It was the morning you and Elaine drove over to his place so you could see it. That guy who runs Kitchen Visions was there.”

“Roman Marchand. Elaine figured he was the one who was pushing Alex to take the company public. Actually”—she hesitated, but only for a moment—“Elaine told me something in confidence, but I don’t think I have to keep it from you, as long as you promise to keep this under your hat.”

“Do I
look
like I’m wearing a hat?”

When she turned around, he kissed her. “Clever.”

“I thought so. But back to the story—”

“Well, Elaine has felt for a long time that Alex was gay. Turns out, she was right. When we walked into his house, it was obvious that Marchand had spent the night, and he didn’t sleep on the couch.”

“Ouch. If that’s the case, Alex is pretty deep in the closet about it.”

“Elaine confronted Roman. I mean, she has no problem with her brother being gay, but she’s not very happy with his choice of partners. I imagine he stayed in the closet because his mother would have disapproved. Or worse.”

“Meaning?”

“Elaine thinks she might have removed him as the head of Veelund Industries.”

“And removed him from the will?”

“I can’t imagine a parent would go that far.”

“That’s because you have a gay son, and you don’t have any religious or social opinions that tell you he’s evil, sick, or sinful. What little I know about Millie tells me she wouldn’t have come to the same conclusion.”

“So, if Alex thought she was on the verge of finding out about his sexuality, you think he was capable of murder?”

“If he thought his whole life was about to go down the drain, who knows what he’d be capable of?”

Sophie nodded, thinking it over. “Not to mention that both Alex and Elaine have powerful feelings when it comes to Veelund Industries. Who knows what happened behind the scenes before Millie’s death?”

Bram leaned forward and poured them each more champagne. “Do you think the police have a handle on all of this?”

“No.”

“Are you going to talk to them? Give them the benefit of your vantage point?”

Sophie had considered it. “I don’t think so. The police are smart. They’ll figure it out on their own.”

“You could save them some time.”

“I could also get an otherwise innocent person in trouble. There’s no witness to what happened, Bram. Whatever conclusions the police draw will be based on circumstantial evidence. And that always makes me uneasy.”

“Unless someone confesses.”

“Fat chance of that.”

“Well,” said Bram, raising his glass high, “all I can say is: Here’s to fat chances.”

“And fat people.”

“Hear hear.”

Sophie clicked her glass to his. “May the guilty party get nailed, and may the innocent—”

“Inherit,” said Bram with a grin.

20

The next morning, Sophie spent a few hours at her office at the
Times Register
Tower in downtown Minneapolis. Wednesday was the day she needed to file her weekly restaurant review at the paper. She wanted to go over what she’d written about Chez Sophia one more time before she turned it in. Her intent was always to be scrupulously fair, but after the meal she realized that if she didn’t say something critical, the review would be perceived as a whitewash. So she found a few unflattering comments to make about the waitstaff. She pointed out that, at times, the service was not only a little slow, but indifferent. Not that she wouldn’t gladly wait for food as glorious as Nathan’s. He’d truly lived up to his reputation.

Sophie wondered how he would perceive the review, if he would be pleased or annoyed. And, of course, thinking about Nathan reminded her of the private scene she’d witnessed at Prairie Lodge on Monday afternoon.

It had been such a chaotic day. Even though Sophie had never really liked Millie Veelund, her death had left her feeling both shocked and sad. Death always returned people to the essentials.

Unfortunately, what Sophie remembered most viscerally about Monday was watching Nathan and Elaine paw each other in Millie’s study. It had seemed so irreverent. Then again, Sophie had lived long enough to know that people often had unrealistic expectations of the bereaved, as if losing someone important placed a person outside the normal range of emotion. It didn’t. Elaine’s mother might be dead and gone, but Elaine and Nathan had clearly formed some sort of attachment in the days since the two of them had been reintroduced. Sophie felt responsible for their meeting, so in a sense, she felt responsible for what happened afterward. But in truth, she couldn’t control either of them, nor would she want to.

Ever since Monday afternoon, Sophie had been examining her feelings to determine if her negative reaction was based on jealousy. Was she the kind of woman who said, I don’t want you, but nobody else can have you? It horrified her to think her love for Nathan had sunk to such a pathetic, teenage level. If Elaine made him happy, who was Sophie to say it was wrong? If there was ever a time Elaine needed a strong shoulder to lean on, it was now. Serendipity might have brought them together, but only true caring would keep them there. Still, in the deepest recesses of her soul, Sophie couldn’t help but think the relationship was a bad idea. She told herself that it wasn’t jealousy that made her want to tell Nathan to run, as fast and as far away from Elaine as he could get. It was concern. And yet where emotions were as conflicted and complex as hers, how could she ever be sure?

Sophie felt that she and Bram had connected last night in a way they hadn’t in a very long time. They’d spent the entire night in the guest suite. She felt a tiny moment of triumph knowing she’d thwarted Margie. But then she felt guilty for the next hour because of that tiny moment. So much for glee.

By noon, Sophie had completed her work at the newspaper. She grabbed a quick sandwich at a deli on the Nicollet Mall, then returned to the Maxfield. As soon as she walked in the front door Brenda Swenson, the concierge on duty, waved her over.

“There’s a moving van outside,” said Brenda. “They just got here. They need to get into your daughter’s apartment. I showed them where the service elevator was and told them to park around back.”

“They’re a day early,” said Sophie. Last night, Margie had said they were coming on Thursday. “I don’t suppose Margie is around.”

“I called her apartment, but I got her voice mail. I can ask one of the bellmen to go unlock it.”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” said Sophie. She headed over to the reception desk. After retrieving a duplicate key, she took the elevator up to the twelfth floor. The hallway was quiet, so she assumed the moving crew hadn’t started bringing boxes up yet.

Sophie unlocked the door to the apartment, propping it open with a door stop. She picked up some discarded clothing in the foyer, thinking that Margie wouldn’t want the delivery guys to know what color her bra was. As she entered the living room, she came to a complete stop. There on the couch was Mick Frye. He was lying on his stomach, snoring. An empty bag of corn chips and a halffilled liter of Coke sat on the floor next to him.

She walked over and nudged his foot. He snorted and flopped on his back. Not exactly the reaction she was looking for.

“Mick, wake up.”

His eyes fluttered.

“Nap time’s over.”

As soon as he saw her staring down at him, he sat bolt upright. “Mrs. Baldric!”

“It’s
Ms. Greenway
, but never mind. What’s going on? Where’s Tracy? What are you doing here?”

“I, ah—” He ran a hand over his prickly face. He had a heavy beard and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. “I needed a place to crash last night.”

“I thought you lived with your parents.”

“I do. I mean, I did. They asked me to find an apartment last week. I was spending all of my time with Tracy, so it didn’t matter. But now—”

“Where is she?”

He scratched his head. “She ditched me again.” “You don’t have a lot of luck with her, do you.”

He seemed embarrassed.

She sat down on the couch. He moved as far to the other side as he could get. There was nowhere else to sit in the room, so unless they wanted to stand, they were stuck.

“That wasn’t very nice—what you did to Danny on Monday,” said Sophie.

The corners of his mouth turned up. It wasn’t a smile, but it was the beginnings of one. “No, I suppose not. Is he pissed?”

“I’d say that was a safe bet.”

“Yeah. Well.”

“When did Tracy ditch you?”

“We were having dinner at a cafe on Lake Street last night. I went to the bathroom. When I got back to the booth she was gone. So was my truck. I called Margie and she picked me up.”

“And you spent the night here?”

“Margie’s great. I’m glad she’s back in town.” He ran a hand over his buzz cut, looking uncomfortable.

Sophie had the sense that he was weighing his options. Did he want to talk to her, or didn’t he? She had a feeling that he did.

“Look, Mick, you know Millie Veelund’s dead. But have you heard—”

“Margie told me that the police think it was murder.”

“They also think Tracy may have been involved.” His eyes grew round and frightened. “That’s a lie!”

“Is it?”

“Sure. She wouldn’t hurt her grandmother.”

“Did she ever tell her grandmother she was molested?”

“She never told anyone. Not even me. The only reason I found out was because Elaine told everyone after Trace split. Tracy was pissed as hell when she found out.”

“You told her?”

“Of course. I wanted to ask her about it.”

“Did she tell you who molested her?”

“Do you think I’d be sitting here if I knew who’d done it? I’d make that guy pay. When I told Trace that, she just said it was a lot of macho crap. I don’t think she likes men very much. That’s the whole problem.”

“What whole problem?”

He glanced at her, but didn’t respond.

Sophie wondered if his silence was hostile. She was having a hard time reading him. “Do you have any idea who might want to hurt Millie Veelund?”

“No.”

“Do you think Tracy is still thinking about suicide?”

“Hell no. She said it was a mistake. Thank God it wasn’t my fault.”

“You thought it was?”

“Partly.”

“Why?”

He picked up the bottle of Coke and unscrewed the cap. “I should have watched her more carefully.”

“That’s it?”

“I should have checked the bathroom for razor blades.”

He was giving her answers, but she knew he was reaching for them. Problem was, she didn’t know how to make him tell the whole truth. “What did you two do after you left Danny at the motel?”

He took a sip of the Coke. Sitting back against the couch cushion, he seemed to relax a little. “We drove around for a while. Trace wanted to clean out her bank account, so we went to an automatic teller and got about two thousand dollars. We spent the night at another cheap motel. Trace said she didn’t know how long she’d be on the road, so she had to be careful with her money. She had to make it last. She didn’t even want to go out to breakfast yesterday. We got some fruit and cheese from a grocery store. Finally, last night we had some burgers. But then she took off. I don’t have a dime right now. I couldn’t even pay for the meal.”

“She stuck you for the check?”

“Margie paid for it.”

“And then you came here.”

“Yeah. Most of yesterday, Tracy and I just hung out. Drove around. Tracy’s definitely got something on her mind, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was. Whenever I started a conversation, she told me she needed peace and quiet so she could think.”

“You care about her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. A lot. Elaine doesn’t think I could love her daughter because Tracy isn’t the same kind of woman she is. But that’s just a bunch of egomaniacal crap. Tracy is beautiful. She’s sweet. Well, not all the time, but sometimes. Except she’s real messed up. I wanted to help her. I thought I could. But now . . .” His voice drifted off.

“You have no idea where she is?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “No,” he said finally, but it wasn’t a definite no.

Once again, Sophie had the sense that he wasn’t being totally forthcoming.

“She’s really mad at someone,” he mumbled.

“You mean the man who molested her?”

“I guess so.”

“But you’re not sure?”

He rested the Coke bottle on his knee. “She’s got a gun.”

“Danny said that. It belonged to her grandfather.”

“I think she intends to shoot someone with it.”

Now he had her full attention. “Why do you say that?”

“We stopped at a gun shop so she could buy a bunch of ammunition. Then we drove to this field way out in the county. She practiced shooting cans off the same damn rock for nearly two hours. Why do that if you aren’t going to, you know, use it?”

Good question, thought Sophie.

“It’s like . . . last summer, she was so happy. But then, around August, she hit a bad patch. Except ever since the suicide attempt, something’s changed. I don’t know how to define it exactly.”

“Try.”

“Well, before it happened she was depressed. Now she’s angry.”

A loud noise from out in the hallway pulled Sophie’s attention to the door.

“What’s that?” asked Mick, shooting to his feet.

“It’s the movers. Margie’s furniture is being delivered today.”

“Oh,” he said, looking relieved.

“Since you’re here, maybe you could make yourself useful—help with the boxes. When you’re done, I’ll buy you a steak dinner downstairs in the Fountain Room.”

He slipped his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “You’re not going to call the police? Or Elaine?”

“I think you should have a good meal first. After that, we’ll discuss it.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

For the next hour, Sophie acted as straw boss. She directed boxes into the living room, the kitchen, and the bedroom. At one point, she stepped out into the hallway and saw Mick talking to one of the movers. Mick smiled at her and waved as he headed back to the service elevator for another load.

After signing the final papers, Sophie looked around for Mick but couldn’t find him. She asked one of the movers if he knew where Mick had gone. “You know. The tall young man who’s been helping you.”

“Oh, he left a while ago.”

She took off her reading glasses. “He did?”

“Yeah, he told me to tell you thanks for the dinner invitation, but he’d have to take a rain check.”

The nerve of him, thought Sophie. Giving her the slip after she’d been nice to him. “Which way did he go?”

“Last time I saw him,” said the mover, “he was getting on a bus.”

Sophie sank down on a box. She’d let the chicken fly the coop. How could she ever tell Elaine?