Getting Old Can Kill You (24 page)

Jack shakes his head. “It’s premeditated murder. Only she’s committed suicide and made it look like murder. Setting it up so Arlene would be destroyed.”

I add, “And the ultimate slap. Joyce dangles the will she’s set up to be used against Arlene in her trial. She knows the law, that Arlene would never be allowed to receive that money as a felon. The arrogance of that woman, admitting to Arlene that she’ll never get the money.”

We are silent for a long while. Morrie finally says, shaking his head, “And it’s still all circumstantial.”

I manage a small smile. “But at least you’re on our side now.”

We sip our wine, thinking our own thoughts. But, finally, I need to say this out loud. “What must it have been like for Joyce? Sitting at her table, having just gotten Arlene’s fingerprints on the glass. Was part of her tempted to tell Arlene exactly what she was going to do? Maybe invite her to stay and watch her old friend die? But no, her need to ruin Arlene was too strong. What were her last thoughts as she ate the pie she had laced with Valium? Did she eat each bite slowly? Was she afraid? Did she regret anything? Who did she think about? What were her last thoughts? How did she feel about dying all alone?”

Unexpectedly, I begin to cry.

T
he three of us talk well into the evening. Plotting how to undo the horrific damage Joyce Steiner has caused. Finally we have a plan.

The key is Kenneth Ryan.

Morrie says, “The first thing I’ll do is find out exactly what flight he took to Hong Kong. We need to know just when he planned this business trip. We’ll get his bank records, his phone records, find out how often he was in touch with Joyce during this period. Interview his secretary and find out why he didn’t have her stay to run his office while he was away.”

Jack eats what’s left of the salad. “We could also get a photo of him and show it to Merrill Grant and see if he recognizes the man who picked Seymour up.”

I stack the dishes, ready to take them into the kitchen. “Yes. And surely Stacy must be back by now. Joyce’s daughter hasn’t called, probably because she was busy after coming home from a long trip and perhaps didn’t think it was important.”

Jack comments, “But a call from the police concerning her mother? And she doesn’t call?”

I start clearing the dishes. “And this fact really fascinates me. I can’t wait to find out why Joyce didn’t leave her estate to the daughter she loves.”

Jack adds, “We may never find out the truth about that. We have to find Stacy. We have a lot of questions for her.”

Morrie is about to put down his wineglass. “We have a busy day tomorrow. I better head out.”

Jack teases, indicating his glass, “Are you sure you can drive? We wouldn’t want you to be picked up by the cops for DUI.”

I can’t resist adding, “And have to walk that silly line in front of your peers. It would be so embarrassing.”

“Ha-ha,” Morrie says. “I’ve been nursing this one drink all evening, smart guys. I think I can manage to get home in one piece.”

We smile and exchange hugs.

“Tomorrow we clear up this mess,” he says, lifting the wineglass in a toast.

We do the same.

“Tomorrow,” Jack says.

Amen.

T
hings are moving very fast and furiously. With Morrie’s police team doing the legwork, answers are coming in practically every hour on the hour. Morrie keeps us in the loop all day long. Every so often Evvie and the girls drop in to hear the latest news reports. Needless to say we’re very excited.

Kenneth was definitely the key. He lied about everything. His phone records show he was in constant discussion with Joyce since she moved into Lanai Gardens. They were so sure of themselves, they didn’t even bother to hide their tracks by using prepaid cellphones.

He wasn’t going to Hong Kong. He never intended to. Based on the way this trip was ticketed, he bought it the night Joyce died. He knew she was dead before we notified him. He knew we’d discover that he was the person holding her will. So he needed only to wait for us to meet with him, spin his prepared story, and—poof!—he was gone.

Apparently Kenneth Ryan had the entire fortune. Joyce’s house sale profits. And the Jaguar. And the yacht. All her properties. How did he manage to keep that information secret? It doesn’t matter now. All the profits went away with him. All eleven million, and as he arrogantly told us, whatever more that would round it out. All gone. There was no money left in his or Joyce’s bank account.

Our boy transferred all his funds to his next destination, his new home. Not Hong Kong. And where did he move to? Dubai, United Arab Emirates. And why there? It’s all about extradition. The United States can’t bring him back on any charges.

His secretary had a lot to say. Mr. Ryan had been acting oddly for a long time. He was constantly going to “meetings” but never told her where or when or with whom. Very unlike him. He used to have her keep detailed records of all his appointments, but that changed suddenly. She suspected he had a secret place where he went quite often. She had no idea where. We assume he was with Joyce.

Kenneth made a number of practically overnight trips overseas for very short periods of time. His secretary didn’t know where.

He also told her just before he left that he wouldn’t be back for a long time. She was now looking for another job.

A new shocking piece of information: Morrie contacted the lawyer we were told would handle Joyce’s affairs from now on, a man named Jeffrey Finch. Mr. Finch had a different will from the one we were given to read. Apparently Joyce came in and changed the earlier one, thereby canceling that one out. This new will stated that if Arlene Simon was disavowed because of criminal charges, it all went to Kenneth Ryan.

Apparently Mr. Ryan took a jump start on his inheritance.

We questioned the validity of such a document. Could Joyce’s lawyer write up a will that makes him the beneficiary? No, legally he couldn’t. But Kenneth and Joyce thought of everything. He didn’t prepare this last will; this Jeffrey Finch, who did not know Kenneth Ryan, was the new executor of her estate.

The stunning news keeps coming in.

After an exhausting day of absorbing one shock after another, Jack and I collapse on our sofa, reeling from the information about this incredible plot that these two people concocted. Probably hadn’t been difficult for Joyce to entice Kenneth into assisting her. He had those eleven million as his reward for helping Joyce destroy Arlene’s life.

The phone rings and we don’t want to answer any more calls. Too tired to explain to one more person what had been going on.

We let it ring and the answering machine clicks on. “Hello,” we hear a woman’s voice, “this is Stacy Wilson calling from California. You’ve been trying to reach me …?”

Jack and I sprint for the phone. I am closer. I quickly press the speaker button, so we both can hear.

“Yes, hello,” I say breathlessly. “My name is Gladys Gold. We live in Florida. My husband and I have been trying to reach you for some time now. Did you speak to the Sausalito police?”

“No,” she answers. “I was more curious to find out why total strangers were also leaving messages for me.”

Jack speaks. “Hello, Stacy. My name is Jack Langford. But didn’t the police leave word that it concerned your mother?”

I hear a sound that makes me think she’s lighting a cigarette. There’s a rather long pause. We wait. Then she speaks again. “Yes, they did, but frankly I had no curiosity and wasn’t the least bit interested in hearing anything pertaining to my mother.”

Jack and I look at each other. What’s this?

I say as gently as I can, “We called, sorry to be the ones to inform you, to say your mother has died.”

Another pause. I’m beginning to get a feeling about what is coming next.

Stacy laughs, causing herself to cough. Definitely a cigarette raspy cough. “Hell,” she says, “I thought she died years ago!”

Now we’re the ones needing to pause. What do we say next? But Stacy saves us the trouble.

“And more to the point, as far as I’m concerned, my mother has been dead to me since I was twenty-one, when I was finally able to break away from my parents. That’s when I got married and moved to California, getting as far from them as I could.”

I might as well go for it. “But before she died your mother said she was going to move to California and live with your family in a guest cottage you were building for her on your property.”

The laughter this time gives her hiccups. “What guest house? There is no guest house. My looney-tune mother was not coming to Sausalito to live with me and my husband and children. Over
my
dead body before I’d let that happen. What had that witch been up to?”

Jack comments, “Frankly, we’re stunned hearing this. We believed her story.”

“That’s not too hard to understand. My parents could turn on their devious, charming personalities when they wanted to get their way.”

Her tone is sarcastic now. “Let me fill you in about my life with Mummy and Daddy. Doctor Edward, as he liked to be called, was too busy. He was never home, and I learned to be grateful for any precious moments he bestowed upon me. Which were few and far between. Mom, on the other hand, was toxic. She was a horror. Luck of the draw. I had a sick mother who should have been institutionalized. She was the mother from hell. When she met my husband-to-be, the witch even tried to seduce
him
. That was the last straw.

“When I got married and moved out, I never looked back again. Frankly, it always amazed me that I turned out normal after those two misfits finished raising me. I was lucky I was able to choose a decent, caring, sane man and was able to love someone.” Stacy laughs again. “I may have married a doctor, too, but I was smart enough not to marry a surgeon.”

When Jack and I are finally allowed to get a word in, we tell her that her mother has been murdered.

Stacy’s response is chilling. “What took so long?”

She adds, “I have no intention of coming to any funeral. Please don’t call again.” Wow!

Later in the day, we report on the Stacy call. Morrie is as astounded as we are. Then we get this further update from him.

“Guess where Kenneth Ryan went to on his almost-overnight short trips to very faraway places? Sydney, Australia, Fiji, Tahiti, and Hawaii. Sound familiar?”

To mail four postcards of a posing Seymour, to make sure the stamps were real! Very expensive trips as part of their devious plot.

Yes, the postcards stopped the day Joyce died. And Kenneth left the country. Seymour never got to travel, after all.

Why did Kenneth assist her? Who knows? Did he love her so much that he helped her plan the murder/suicide plot? Maybe blackmail. Did she have something on him that forced him to assist her? We may never find out.

Or maybe he did it for eleven million dollars and change.

We now know all we need to know except for one very important fact.

What did they do with Seymour? For the first time, I’m beginning to fear for his life.

W
e decide to make a party of it. We’re dressing up. Cocktail party dresses. Makeup. High heels, sort of. The works. Guys are actually wearing suits. We don’t care that it’s only ten in the morning.