The Heir (17 page)

M
ELVIN
H
OWARD
B
OYER
U
NITED
S
TATES
S
ENATOR
P
HILANTHROPIST

And below them were the dates. I counted syllables—six, seven, four. It was haiku.

Angela’s stone would be next to his. I hadn’t seen it, but I could guess. Matching design, just smaller.

I checked the obstacles between me and the car. Fred and Nathan were double-teaming; that was going to be a tough one to get through.

Celeste was at my elbow. “Which one is the lawyer?” she said. Of course—she wanted a gander at the will.

“Fred Spellman,” I said. “He’s there, the large gentleman.”

The cannonball flew straight, and the obstacle went down. “Let’s go,” I said, and Katie and Eric followed me. Fred was hopelessly outgunned, and Nathan was pinned down in the crossfire. I smiled at Nathan, snubbed Fred, and opened the door for my wife and brother.

But on the drive home I relented and called Fred’s office. “Tell him I’ll see him at eight o’clock tomorrow,” I told the secretary. Mourning was over—life would just have to go on somehow.

19

Wednesday I fulfilled my promise and arrived in Fred’s armchair a full two minutes before eight. I had other business for the day and I wanted to get this over.

But Fred still had anger to vent. “You’ve wasted precious time.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“So has the governor. Do you understand what this means?”

“
This
refers to Angela’s suicide?”

He snorted. “If you want to call it that.”

I tried to make myself comfortable, but I wasn’t. “Okay, so it was no suicide. And we know for sure now that Melvin was murdered, the investigation will be re-opened, and Angela probably died because I interfered.”

“You understand the ammunition that this has given the governor.” “A big pile of it.”

“A very big pile. The investigation is open, since Monday, and late last night the whole story of your interference was leaked to Channel Five.” I’d been playing with fire, and Fred seemed grimly pleased that I was getting burned. He didn’t seem concerned about Angela herself.

“I didn’t interfere in any way they could use against me.”

“Bright will do whatever he wants. He owns the state police, and Channel Five enjoys sensational news. He will let you know that he did not like your interference. Anyway, Mr. Wilcox will call on you soon. You had best be ready for that.”

“I will be.”

“You need to give Stanley Morton something for Channel Six and the newspaper so he’s not left behind.”

Maybe I had been wasting time. This mass was definitely critical. “We talked briefly. I’ll call him again.”

“You will not be able to stop the investigation.”

“I’m not trying to,” I said. “Is this still his way of negotiating?”

“It would be up to you to offer a deal, and it would have to be good. Bright isn’t merely threatening. He has his opportunity, and he is going to try to destroy you. If you had only negotiated, this could have been prevented.”

“But I didn’t. Now I have no choice,” I said. “I think it’s him or me.”

It took him a minute to say the words. “At this point, you are both in the locked room, and you both have guns. Someone will have to fire first. I don’t see any other way out.”

“Then I’m pulling the trigger.”

I gave Fred a few seconds to muse. “The end of an era,” he said. “Harry Bright and your father went back a long way.” Back to the present. “I don’t know what will happen.”

“I’ve got one advantage, Fred. I really am innocent, and he’s not.”

“That’s a very small advantage. I don’t suggest you count on it helping you.”

“I know. How should I do this? Take my briefcase of papers to the FBI? Publish them in the newspaper? Challenge Bright to a duel? Loaded pistols at ten paces. You can be my second.”

“A duel would favor the coolest head, so you would both miss, and I would not want to be nearby. Talk to Stanley first. He may or may not want to be on the front lines.”

“And what about you, Fred?” How did this man feel about being on the front line?

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Are you in on this?”

“What choice do I have? You’re paying me to advise you.”

I’d been hoping for something a little deeper. “Would you quit if I’m too big of an idiot?”

“Oh. Not for a while.”

I wanted to know how deep the loyalty went. “How long did you work for Melvin?”

“Nearly from the beginning.” I did not sense any sentimentality. “I was a staff lawyer for the state assembly, and he asked me to advise him on dealing with the state government.”

“That was before he went to Washington.”

“Yes, by several years.”

“Did you know my mother?”

“Slightly.” A little bit of the old Uncle Fred was resurfacing. “She was ill. Eric was an infant, and you were a small child. In those circumstances, she did not socialize.”

“When she died . . .” I didn’t know what to ask.

“Yes?”

“How did Melvin react?”

“He didn’t react to such things, in any public way.”

He’d always been that way. “You knew him very well, though.”

“Through the years I did get to know him. But not back then.”

Change the subject. A little. “Did he take chances? How would he have fought this war with Governor Bright?”

“Ruthlessly. In the earlier days he did take big chances, but after a while he didn’t need to anymore. In this situation? He would have easily won. For one thing, he would have been much more feared. Channel Five would have been very reluctant to side with the governor.” “I guess I’m not very fearsome.”

“If you come out of this alive, you’ll be feared.”

I thought about whether I would want that, then, suddenly, about the word Fred had used.

“Is that literal?” I asked.

“What?”

“If I come out alive?”

“I didn’t mean it literally. But you should be very careful. You’re wealthy; spend some money on security for yourself and your wife.”

Up, up, up. In my very own formidably secure office, guarded by Pamela herself, I prepared to call Stan Morton.

One more pause: Was this it? Think it through. If I did what I was planning, Bright would not survive, at least as a politician. That wouldn’t stop the murder investigation, but the goal would be changed to finding the killer instead of killing me. That’s what I needed.

And Bright was too dangerous. I needed to be rid of him. What was the right thing to do? It was ruthless, brutal, risky, but there was no right or wrong here. This was politics. The world without a corrupt state government under my control would also be risky, but there was right and wrong there. I could do right.

Okay, the pause was over. Governor Bright had assailed me and I would punish him. I would punish Melvin, too. Let loose the dogs of war.

“It’s about time you called,” Stan said. “Everyone here knows the police are about to call Angela Boyer’s suicide note a forgery, and there are funny noises about you and why the investigation got frozen two weeks ago. I’m going to put up a report on the news tonight, so if you want any input into it, give me some words quick.”

“I’ve got lots of words.”

“Should we meet?”

I had my other business for the day, and it was already eight thirty. “No, I’ll say them here.”

“Is this on the record?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay.”

“Melvin was murdered, and so was Angela.”

“That’s reality?”

“I have no proof, and no specific suspect,” I said. “But I’m sure.”

“Everyone knows that. Next?”

“The governor wants to use the investigation to annihilate me. My guess is he’ll pick me as the murderer.”

“Are you? Wait, you said you have no specific suspect. Do you have an alibi?”

Far out at sea for the whole weekend, no communications. And the night of Melvin’s wreck, I was home alone. “Actually, no.”

“Interesting, but not news. I’m still waiting.”

“So I’m taking Bright down first.”

“That’s news. What do you mean?”

“I am finding out that his dealings with my companies aren’t legitimate, and I’m going public.”

“The public reads my newspaper. You want me to break this story?”

“Yes.”

There was a thud, a pause, then Stan’s voice, breathless. “Sorry, I dropped the phone. Okay, Jason, on the record, tell me stuff. Do you have any clue what this means?”

“I have a clue and I have many documents from Melvin Boyer’s estate. They have lots of details about bribes, bid-rigging, kickbacks, and intimidation. There are lots of names of Governor Bright’s appointees.”

“What about your side?”

“Heads will have to roll.”

“Where are these documents?”

“In a safe place.”

“I’m coming over there. This is the end of Bright. This is . . . Does Fred Spellman know you’re doing this?”

“Yeah, I told him. He’s not real happy.”

“I bet. Okay . . . um . . . these documents . . . Are you acknowledging that you’re giving them to me?”

Good question. An unnamed source? Stan would be snowed under with subpoenas. And it would be better if I gave them to the police voluntarily, before the police came asking for them. “I’m meeting with the FBI tomorrow. Someone on my staff sent you an unauthorized preliminary copy.”

“We can work with that.”

20

Almost nine o’clock. I sat down with Pamela to give her the sixty pages from my file cabinet and instructions.

“Take these papers,” I said, “and make three sets of copies. Put the originals and one set of copies back in the file room. Mail one copy to Nathan Kern. At exactly nine fifteen, a man will come in here and say the word
Natalie
. Give him the third copy.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “Is there any note to put in Mr. Kern’s envelope?”

“I’ll call him. Mark it
Personal
.”

“Anything else?”

“Make an appointment for me. Have the most important FBI person in the state here tomorrow at nine.” Wait. “No, get someone from Boston or New York. From outside the state.”

“All right.”

“Have Fred Spellman there, too. And one more thing.” This was a little hard. “These four people.” I gave her the list. “Do you know them?”

She gave me a sweet, inscrutable, grandmotherly look. “Of course, Jason.” The FBI and these four in the same breath. She knew what that meant.

“I need to fire them.”

“Oh dear.”

“How would Melvin do that?”

“That would depend on their positions and his reasons.”

I was getting to be in a hurry now. “Take a letter. One of these to each of them, copy to their division presidents, board officers, and personnel files. ‘Dear John. After reviewing records of your performance, I find that it is no longer possible to continue your relationship with this company. I am terminating your employment effective immediately. Jason Boyer.’ Will that do?”

“Honey, you must know what you’re doing.”

“Not hardly.”

She was typing faster than any human could while she asked, “How do you want them delivered?”

“Have couriers deliver signed originals to the division presidents, and the presidents are to personally hand them to the individuals. But make sure it happens today. This morning.”

“I’ll make sure. The copies for you are printing.”

“And I’ll be unavailable the rest of the day.”

By nine twenty I had navigated twenty blocks to reach the edge between downtown and the gentrified clump of historic townhouses, restaurants, and clubs that were slowly encroaching on the real working-class neighborhoods farther on. I parked in a garage under a six-story brick building, elevated to the fifth floor, and knocked on the one door in the small lobby.

After not too long of a wait, the door opened. Eric’s blurred eyes stared at me a moment. Then he grinned.

“Jason!”

“Let me in,” I said.

“Yeah, come on.”

The maid did a good job keeping up with him. The living room was neat, and nothing was out of place in the kitchen.

But it was uninspired—no better than his old wardrobe. No theme, no color plan, too many textures. Leather and brass sofa and matching chairs circling an unmatching slate coffee table with heavy wood legs. Thick, deep green carpet. One whole twenty-five-foot wall a single huge entertainment center with five televisions. Not a thing on the walls. Tsk, tsk. He didn’t even realize he was living in squalor. Someday Katie would have to turn her attention to this place.

“Do you want anything?” he asked. He didn’t get to be host very often. He’d been eating breakfast, a bowl of cereal in front of one television.

“Orange juice,” I said. He poured a glass and brought it to me.

“So,” he said as I drank it, “did you mean it?”

“That’s why I’m here,” I said.

“Wow. Okay. So when should we go?”

“When you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.” He took his bowl to the kitchen, emptied it into the sink, rinsed it, and set it on the counter by the dishwasher. His maid had him well trained.

He was well trained in general, always doing what he was told. For today at least he would be in charge. “You drive,” I said.

“Cool.” He appreciated it. I never rode with him. “How far?”

“New Hampshire.”

“That’s where she was from, right?”

He wouldn’t have dared to ask Melvin, so I was the only other person who could have told him anything.

“Why didn’t you ever ask before?” I said. “I just thought you knew.”

“Well . . .” He hesitated. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to know.”

I just waited, and he went on.

“When I was little, when we were off at school, I liked to pretend I had a mother back home, like everyone else.”

“Sure.”

“If I didn’t know anything, I could still pretend whatever I wanted to.”

“Are you okay with going today?”

He nodded. “I want her to be real now.”

“Here’s a new rule, um, Number 90. Don’t ever be afraid to talk to me about anything.”

“Unless you’re mad.”

“The spaghetti was a special case. I said I was sorry.”