Reilly 13 - Dreams of the Dead (25 page)

Nina looked up at the clear sky through the stars, hoping the fish dinner would rot there for a long, long time.

T
he Lodge, a huge room with tall skylights, was full of people, but Nina sighted Marianne and her brother almost immediately at a table in front, their heads close in conversation.

Gene Malavoy stood politely and shook hands with Eric and Nina. Marianne didn’t move, but she gave a nod.

Nina did not like Marianne Strong, but she had to admire the professional skier’s beauty. Limiting her time to managing the ski lesson program at Paradise, at thirty-six Marianne no longer did aerial tricks in exhibitions. However, she still possessed sharply defined features and an aura of suppressed energy seen only in people whose lifestyle is devoted to sports or the military. Today she wore a purple sweatshirt, partially unzipped to show off smooth, round cleavage. Her black hair shone under the striped headband. With a gesture, seeing Eric, she removed it and invited him to sit down.

Nina sat down next to Malavoy. Also dark, younger than Marianne, he kept his sunglasses on. His hair when she saw him last had been shorter than usual. Now it was cropped as short as Eric’s. His thick eyebrows stood out all the more. He avoided looking at her. She had never understood his hostility toward her.

“So,” Marianne said, holding her coffee with both hands. She had a slight accent, which Nina had thought was purely French, but Eric responded in another language, which must be Portuguese:
“Eu deseo que en estivesse esquiando hoje.”

Marianne answered with a slight smile,
“Também, eu deseo que voce era, que voce parece forte.”
He responded by putting his elbow on the table and turning to her full-face, giving her a look of complete male attention.

“I like your boots,” he said. “Frye, aren’t they? Retro but so pragmatic.”

Nina watched Malavoy. At the first foreign words, he had leaned forward, and his facial muscles tensed. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he might understand the Portuguese.

Thus had Eric, in one expert swoop, established a relationship with Marianne and also revealed that her half brother might know something about Brazil himself. Paul couldn’t have done better. In fact, Paul couldn’t have done it at all. So Eric did have some interesting skills, even if he hadn’t been effective in Brazil. Eric said a few more things in Portuguese, and Marianne responded.

“Sorry,” Eric said then, turning to Nina. “Marianne’s mother was from Florianópolis, a city on the southern coast, exquisitely beautiful. You’d like it, Nina.”

“I’m sure I would. Does your mother still visit there?” Nina asked.

“No,” Marianne said. Her expression became formal again. She glanced at her half brother, Gene. Aside from their coloring, they did not look much alike.

“Your father was from France?” Nina said, turning to Malavoy.

“Yes, we both have dual citizenship. Why do you ask?” This came from Marianne, apparently the designated spokesperson.

“I’m trying to remember. You have the same father?”

“That’s right. Gene has never been to Brazil, though I spent considerable time there as a child. He grew up with our father in France.”

“So you don’t speak Portuguese, Mr. Malavoy?” Nina asked, trying again to talk directly to the glowering young man beside her.

Marianne said, “You had something to tell us, something important about the sale and Jim. What is it?”

“You may know that Eric has returned from Brazil, where he spoke to the attorney who has caused two affidavits to be submitted, supposedly from Jim,” Nina said.

“What did you find out?” Marianne said to Eric.

“Nina is of the opinion that the affidavits are fraudulent,” Eric said.

“Of course she thinks that.” Marianne nodded. “She doesn’t want him to be alive any more than the rest of us. What did you find out, Eric? Give us a detailed report, okay? Philip hardly talks to us, but I understand he is paying big money.”

“I can tell you this,” Eric said. “I didn’t see Jim. I didn’t talk to him. I was handed the paper you already have a copy of, with his current driver’s license attached.”

“The lawyers in Brazil aren’t all crooks,” Marianne said, “even though you people probably think they are. It’s a civilized country, and southern Brazil isn’t that different from Europe. Maybe Jim’s alive. Frankly, although I hate him, it would be great if he were alive.”

“Why’s that?” Nina asked.

“Because then we could settle the escrow problem and each of us could take a share. And then arrest him.”

“How does it affect you financially if Jim is dead?”

“I’m sure you already know that. Jim’s share goes to Kelly and his father.”

“So the only disadvantageous situation for you would be if you have no evidence either way and if you have to wait three years for the legal presumption of death,” Nina said.

“That’s all very interesting, but you don’t seem to understand yet that the sale itself is in danger if you don’t resolve some legal questions very rapidly. We will lose the buyers. All I ask you to do is get the sale through. From my point of view, and Gene agrees, we need this to happen. Let Jim’s share go into escrow, if it will ensure the sale. But make sure it’s just his share, not all the net.”

“The court seems inclined to place all the net proceeds in
escrow. Either way, whether it’s the entire net proceeds or Jim’s alleged share, Philip needs it right now, to have something left over for him and Kelly to live on after the lenders are paid.”

“Why didn’t he think of that before he ran the resort into the ground? He should do whatever he has to so that sale happens. Nelson Hendricks said—”

Nina wondered yet again what Marianne had been doing at the title company and decided to assume she really had been there to quiz the man on finances. That was her obsession after all. “Nelson Hendricks isn’t involved in this. And Philip isn’t solely responsible for bankrupting the resort.”

“Think what you want. The ski school was always run at a profit by me. Philip keeps the day-to-day operations of the rest of the resort to himself. Philip treats me condescendingly. I’m an owner of Paradise Resort and yet I have to teach little kids to slow down on the bunny hill. I could have helped prevent this disaster.”

“Ever hear of any problems with the resort’s accounts?” Nina asked.

“Only the allegations you made in court, that Jim was an embezzler, too. I told you, I was kept away from the money. From what I can glean, Philip stopped paying attention a long time ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if he spends all his time playing poker downtown. Philip and Jim managed the money, and look what happened to a world-class venue. Now let’s sell it. I have wanted to sell it since before Jim disappeared.”

Marianne looked at her half brother again, and this time Nina wondered if she really was the boss she seemed to be.

“You might as well tell Philip this,” Gene said unexpectedly. “The buyers are going to tell him tomorrow anyway. Marianne and I will be managing the resort after the sale.”

“What?” Nina and Eric said together.

“We’ve reached an agreement to handle the general operations. The chief financial officer will be from the corporation, of course. But Marianne has worked here a long time. She’s the face
of Paradise, and she’s able to handle it. She will become the general manager.”

“I see,” Nina said. “You’re going to take over?”

“Yes, of course. It’s normal. We know what to do. We know the staff, the weather, the lifts. The food here will change, I tell you that. We will bring in more competitions. We presented specific plans.”

“Behind Philip’s back,” Nina said.

“Listen,” Marianne said. “He doesn’t care. He doesn’t feel like working anymore. He’d like to find a way to make some money from the sale. That’s his hope now. That’s what you’re not getting.”

“That’s not what he tells me,” Nina said. “He tells me that the resort is everything to him.”

Marianne made a sound like
pfft.

B
ack in the smoothly rolling Porsche, Eric said to Nina, “She may speak Portuguese, she may know southern Brazil, but what has she got to gain in running such a dangerous fraud? She’s going to get what she wants after the sale.”

“Maybe,” Nina said. “She should have talked to Philip about this.”

“What about the brother, Gene? I checked him out when Jim Strong first disappeared. He’s usually broke. He collects old vinyls of the British Invasion in the sixties—he’s especially fond of Gerry and the Pacemakers. He goes back to France every couple of years. He has a green card, a clean record, and he rents.”

“Girlfriends?”

“None have turned up yet. He works. He plays with his iPod. He hangs out with his sister.”

“Why would the buyers give him a big job at the resort?”

“I’m going to check the details of this deal and get back to you, Nina. It’s a surprise to me. My guess about Gene is that he’ll stay in the dining room, but it’s Marianne they want to keep. She’s famous in the world of trick skiing, a real attraction as a celebrity, and she
wants to go into management, show her face around, do publicity.”

“I just don’t feel like I understand everyone’s motives. Even the legal situation is so fluid.”

“Maybe you should ask Michael Stamp his theories,” Eric said. “He’ll give you a load of horseshit for free.”

“I doubt he buys any of this. He’s a lawyer. He’s taking a position, that’s all.”

“Maybe Michael Stamp’s our con man. As you suggested. He makes a deal with the lawyer in Brazil.”

“I feel like it’s deeper than that. Eric, I think the chances are very very slim that Judge Flaherty will lose all judicial acumen and order a fortune to be sent to a foreign country, based on a couple of signatures. Michael Stamp is experienced enough not to seriously try for that. He’ll be satisfied if the money goes into a trust account.”

“What good does that do anybody?”

“I don’t know, Eric. But I watched and listened in court, and I’m right,” Nina said so emphatically that Eric’s eyebrows went up.

“I don’t want it to be Marianne. She’s got fine taste in boots,” he said with a smile.

“Stamp wouldn’t let the money leave the country. Whatever contacts he might have in Brazil, he couldn’t count on having control of the money there.”

“How did the driver’s license end up in Porto Alegre? That’s my question,” Eric said.

“Jim’s dead. Let’s start with that. Beyond that, I can’t imagine.”

“You keep saying that as if it’s an article of faith. Okay. If he’s dead, then whoever killed him took the license.”

Nina gave Eric a level look. Inside, she was shrinking and dying. Could Paul have—what? Lost it?

No—he had thrown the wallet away.

“Someone obtained a copy of it from the State Department of Motor Vehicles. Or Jim had a copy of it lying around his house or office that someone found. Even if it’s really his license, Flaherty
isn’t going to go for it, Eric. I know him and this isn’t solid enough for him.”

“What are you getting at?” Eric asked.

“It’s a stupid con, that’s what I’m getting at. And everybody involved in this is smart. I’m missing something important.”

Eric laughed. “I’ll check on Marianne’s mother, her whereabouts, just in case. Even though Marianne is smart.”

“I personally wouldn’t mind if it was Marianne. But you can’t always get what you want.”

“Sometimes you can, just by asking nicely,” Eric said, looking at the floorboard on her side. “But if that doesn’t work, a discreet theft usually does.” He gave her the most unguarded smile she had seen yet and moved into the next lane.

S
andy Whitefeather turned her head from her mountain of work at the computer and said, “Supposed to warm up. Good thing. Our lambs don’t like it cold.”

“Good morning.”

“Lots on the calendar today. You have to sign those pleadings I just put on your desk so I can get them over to the courthouse.” Sandy wore her hair down her back in a shining black wave today. Only in her forties, Sandy always seemed older to Nina than she actually was.

Sandy went on to say out of the blue, as was her wont, “Five out of ten businesses cave. We need to be tip-top. And PS. We’re making some money these days. Maybe you didn’t notice, you’re so busy making headlines.”

“Are you saying I can buy some new shoes?” Nina looked down at her four-inch Jimmy Choos. They were spectacular and hadn’t broken an ankle yet, but she had owned them for two years and they had lost some luster.

Strangely, that morning, she hadn’t been able to find the right half of her pair of black Louboutins, the ones she had last worn to the courthouse. She had bought them thinking she owed it to
herself for a job well done a month or so before, before the issue of the chairs came up.

Probably Hitchcock had absconded with the shoe, she decided, or else she had somehow dropped it at the courthouse out of the bag, damn it. The pair had cost her plenty at Nordstrom in San Francisco, and she loved the acrylic touches. She resolved to turn the cabin upside down until she solved the mystery once and for all. The shoe had to be somewhere.

“Wait until spring when the dough’s rolling in,” Sandy said. “We’ll take care of everything then. Furniture. Decor. Raises.”

“Is something wrong, Sandy?”

“You talked with the landlady about the mildew on the wall of our conference room yet?”

“She says she’s stretched and ‘a slight dark stain on the wall of my extremely reasonably priced offices’ isn’t going to be a priority.”

Sandy picked up a pen, licked the tip, and made a note. “I’ll take care of that.”

“Right. Hold my calls until I get the papers read and signed.”

“What do you expect tomorrow morning at the Paradise Resort hearing?” Sandy went on.

“I expect Mike Stamp to ‘lose.’ I expect Judge Flaherty to order two million five hundred thousand dollars of the sales proceeds into that title company escrow account for Jim Strong. Mike Stamp will exit the negotiations after that, I do believe. And I will feel like the whole thing was maneuvered that way.”