The Heir (21 page)

23

I took a taxi to Eric’s building to get my car. On the drive home I listened to the radio and I started to realize how high on the Richter scale our little scandal was registering. The embattled governor would be giving another press conference, and there were reports that state offices were being sealed by investigators to prevent destruction of documents. I called Pamela.

“Find out what’s happening at Melvin’s estate.”

“There are quite a few police officers there.” She already knew, of course. “They expect to be there through the day.”

I don’t care about the news, usually. It’s insipid and frivolous, politics and shootings, all crime all the time. Now that Bright-gate had hit the big time, it had all the elements that I found so tiresome— murder, sleazy public officials, and big money. Even melodrama: the mysterious and handsome young billionaire.

I had my own street ahead of me. A policeman signaled me a block from the house, before I even reached the circus.

“Mr. Boyer? Just stay to the left and they’ll let you through.”

The circus wasn’t too big, just two television trucks, a few cars, and a dozen people, half with cameras and half with hairdos. I glided up, then through, just quick enough. All they’d have for the midday news was my back bumper.

In front of the house were three large moving trucks and another dozen people, but these were usefully employed. Furniture and boxes were pouring out of every door.

Katie was in the front hall. I wondered if she’d collapse in my arms or order me to grab the next load. I’ll never know; she hesitated just long enough for me to lift her off her feet, my left arm behind her back and my right beneath her legs. I swung her a full circle around.

Just at that moment, a big chair from the bedroom was walking past. “You, set it there,” I said and the chair dropped to the floor. I gave Katie a big kiss and plopped her into it.

And now that I had established who was in charge, I put my knee onto the carpet and looked her straight in the eye.

“I’m here.”

“I see,” she said, then she giggled. “It’s a good thing.”

“It is.” We both took a deep breath. “Is all this going okay?”

“Yes.” She stood. “Go ahead,” she said, and the chair started moving again. “But it’s not easy.”

“Have you seen the news?”

“Not yet. Only a little.”

“Don’t think about it,” I said. “What can I do?”

“Well . . . just stand here and yell at everybody. I’ve got to go upstairs.”

“Why?”

“To yell at everybody up there.”

That’s what she thrived on, but the stress was showing.

“Where’s Francine?”

“In the kitchen, yelling at everybody.”

“How long until they’re done here?”

“We’re almost done. We’re leaving all the furniture here that we won’t use in the new house.”

“Then come with me.”

We walked through the house. I stopped at the kitchen.

“Francine,” I said. “I’m taking Katie out back. You’ll have to do her yelling for her.”

Francine frowned, of which she makes an art. “What do you mean, you’re taking her out back? Hasn’t anyone told you that you’re moving today? You can’t just leave.”

“Yell at everybody else,” I said. “Not at me.”

I led Katie out the back door to a bench in the rose garden. “Now sit.”

She sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

We sat together, suddenly at peace. The turmoil in the house was left behind. “It’s really going fine,” she said, and then she remembered I was there. “How was your morning?”

“I think everything’s under control. I talked with two men from the FBI.”

“What did they say?”

“You don’t need to worry about it. They’re our friends.”

She didn’t want to worry about it anyway. “We really are almost ready to pull out. It was all such a hurry.”

“If they missed anything, we can get it later. We should go on to the new house.”

“Are all those people still out in the street?”

“Yes. I guess it’ll be a parade. They’ll follow us.”

“I wish they would leave us alone.” But she was proud of me, and that was worth all the troubles. “You’re doing what you have to do. But I hope it won’t always be like this.”

“I guess there’s nothing else happening in the world.” I wanted to get Katie away from the chaos, and I didn’t want our arrival at our new house to be in the center of a media riot. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’ll tell Eric. He’s in your office.”

Eric. I had an idea.

“The timing is important,” I said. Katie and I were in her car, in the garage. The garage door was open, but no one could see us from the end of the street.

“Do you think they’ll fall for it?” Eric asked. He was standing just outside my window. He was even in the khakis and blue shirt I’d just had on.

“Sure. And if they don’t, it’s not a big deal.”

“How do I pretend I’m you?”

“Act intelligent.”

“Then they’ll know it’s me,” he said.

“Then act stupid.”

“Okay. I can try.”

“Rule Number 91—don’t do anything that I won’t want to see on the news tonight.”

I was having second thoughts, but Eric had already sauntered away. I got out of the car to watch.

He wandered slowly toward the left barricade, and there was an immediate reaction. Car doors opened, cameras stood, all centered on the ersatz Jason, the sheep among the wolves. Now I was really having doubts.

One of the two trucks at the barricade at the other end of the street roared to life and shot away, to come around the block. The other scooted after it. I jumped back into the car.

“Five, four, three,” I said. He would have almost reached the mob. “Two, one, go.”

I didn’t squeal the tires. I just pulled out very quickly, made a speedy turn to the right, toward the weak side of the defensive line, and accelerated. The police knew we were coming and swept the barricade aside for our car.

Then we were clear.

Left at the corner. “Lean with it,” I said to Katie.

“Lean with what?”

“The turns!”

Right after that, then left. No one was behind us.

“You did it!” she said.

That made everything, the danger, the risks, all worth it. I was her hero.

“I would do anything for you,” I said. We were out on the main road.

“Poor Eric.”

“It is a far better thing he does than he has ever done before.” I slowed down to a regular speed. “I hope none of those reporters are blondes.”

“Well, they all are, of course. At least, the women.”

“He might be in their clutches, even as we speak.”

“You told him to get away from them as soon as we were gone.”

“He’s easily distracted. And they know we got away, so he’s all they have. It might even become a hostage situation.”

“Mother can rescue him. He’ll be fine.”

We were fine. We were away from the old house, and that would help. I was feeling new, renewed, maybe hopeful. Life would be different.

The city retreated and we advanced. Everything was going to work. Evil was defeated! The governor was history, and I was free from him and from the whole iniquitous business. I was really appreciating Melvin. He took the blame when he died, and left the riches for me. Now I had the wad, and I hadn’t had to stoop to his level to get it.

It’s nice to have someone else die in your place.

We arrived at the front gate alone and soared through, just the two of us. I pulled up to the front door.

We didn’t even speak. I opened the car door for her, led her by the hand up the steps, and unlocked the front door. And then it was natural to lift her and carry her over the threshold.

And I wouldn’t put her down until she kissed me.

Then we walked through the halls and galleries, exquisitely furnished, cleaned and shining. It was somewhat spare, but what was still lacking the trucks would soon provide. I banished the doubts and disputes from my mind. I would enjoy this completely.

“If I had never met you,” I said, “and I had only seen what you had made of this house, I would still know you were beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said. “This is what I’ve always wanted.”

From the second-floor landing we had an expansive view of the front grounds. Soon the procession appeared on the horizon—first, a lone white-and-blue figure on a swift two-wheeled steed; then three yellow-and-orange trucks, imperious gliding swans; and in their wake the bevy of white news trucks and cars herded by two black-and-white police cars.

The nobler vehicles entered the grounds and we descended to greet them.

Eric doffed his helmet and grinned. “We made it.”

“Well done,” I answered.

“Francine’s in the police car.”

“We’ll post bail if we have to.” Katie said it before I could. She was energized from our moment together, and she was ready for the next frenzy. The trucks came to a halt, and quickly, many men were following her commands.

My part was done. Eric and I found a place on the third floor where we could sit.

“This is so cool,” he said. We were on a balcony looking down on the fireplace.

“It’s just money,” I said.

“It said in the paper you have a billion dollars.”

“Tell me what else the papers say.”

In surprisingly cogent sentences, Eric caught me up on the outside world. Most of the sixty pages I’d given to Stan Morton were out now, with times and places of meetings, details of which contracts were rigged, the amounts of the bribes.

The governor had spoken no more public words, but it was getting vicious inside his cabinet as everyone tried to shift blame. “Sources high in the administration” were leaking like a spaghetti strainer, and the cabinet secretaries sounded like ten hungry dogs in a room with one meatball. My former employees were given their share of ink, but they weren’t talking.

“They had an article about Henry Malden, the lieutenant governor, since he might end up as governor. It said he doesn’t even show up at the capitol very often.”

I’d have to ask Fred who Mr. Malden was owned by. “What do they say about Angela?”

The public version was that someone had come to her estate Saturday evening. Angela must have been expecting the person, because she apparently answered the door herself. None of the servants saw anything; none of them saw her through the rest of the evening, until she was found Sunday morning.

“That doesn’t sound like Angela,” I said. “She must have wanted to keep her meeting secret.”

The note was a problem. The first reports were that it was a forgery, but it wasn’t. It was in her own handwriting. The wording was strange, though.

“‘I don’t want this to go on,”’ Eric recited. “‘It all has to stop. I’ll do anything to make it stop.”’

“That does sound like Angela.”

“The police think it was part of a note she had written to someone else. The paper was torn.”

The gun was in her right hand, but the shot was through her left temple. The police had other evidence, but they weren’t talking about it.

“Anything about Melvin?”

A lot about his life and how he had made his fortune. Some about his accident, and the possible brake failure. The main evidence was drops of brake fluid in Fred’s driveway.

“That still doesn’t seem right to me,” Eric said. “You’d have to look real hard, right away.”

“Do they have any clue who killed them?”

No. Sources said the police were clueless.

“And you’re mysterious and reclusive,” Eric said. “Maybe you’re an idealist and you want to clean up the corruption. Or maybe you’re ruthless, and you’re trying some power play, and it’s all politics.” If the reporters could figure out which, I’d be glad to know the answer.

The show below was more interesting to me. If we were leaving most of our old furniture behind, why did we still need three trucks? Not that I wanted to know the answer.

And watching the ants carrying their loads below, I wondered how all that stuff could fit in just three trucks? They came and came, and went and went, and I was as clueless about them as the police were about Angela.

Occasionally I caught a glimpse of Katie, and we often heard her voice echoing off the stone walls and floors. Then she appeared behind us.

“There you are. Come and look.”

We went with her through the bedrooms, the office, the sitting rooms, the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, and on. I didn’t feel like I lived in this house—but it was a wonderful, beautiful place where I’d want to feel at home.

“I’m amazed,” I said. “We only moved in today?”

“Is it still today?” Katie said. “It seems like a month since this morning. There’s still so much unpacking to do. I told the movers to be back tomorrow.”

Eric wandered off in search of a television, to catch up on the latest tidbits, and I led Katie back up to my perch above the fireplace. “I really am amazed,” I said. “It’s the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s what I’m good at.”

“You’re good at so many things.”

That bought me one of her most beautiful smiles. “We’ll be happy here, Jason.”

“Together? I’m still the same person, you know.”

“I think you’ve changed.”

No. “You’re just seeing a different side.”

“It’s your good side. You aren’t so moody all the time.”

“You hardly ever see me.”

She was too blissful to disagree. “That’s because you have so much to do. You’re important now. It makes you feel different.” She leaned against my shoulder. “I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so many good things, and you’re doing them so well. You have purpose.”

“That would be nice.” I’d let the other comments slide.

She laughed.

I had to laugh, too. Maybe I really had changed. “Okay. But just being rich and important isn’t enough.”

“Then nothing is.”

“There must be something.”

“Being together is enough for me.”

It was for me, too.

It was just after six. I was looking through drawers and closets in the bedroom when my cell phone rang, and it was Pamela.

“Reporting in,” she said. “Detective Wilcox of the state police will see you tomorrow at nine in your office. Nathan Kern called. And tonight, you and Fred should be at the downtown Hilton at eleven to meet Clinton Grainger. There’s a bar off the main lobby. If he’s not there by midnight, we should try to reschedule for the weekend.”