by L. T. Vargus
“Wait,” Allie said. “You’re going to ask Jude about it? I thought the whole point was that it was a secret being kept from him.”
“Yes, but there’s a chance he already knows. In my experience, families aren’t as good at keeping secrets as they think they are.”
Allie let out a low laugh.
“I love it when you get sneaky,” she said.
As Charlie approached the house, she noted there were four cars parked out front in addition to her own. If she wasn’t mistaken, that meant Jude was still here, somewhere.
TEN
Charlie found Jude upstairs in Dutch’s study. The youngest Carmichael sat behind the vast maple desk, brow furrowed, thumbing at his phone.
Charlie knocked and his head snapped up, but when he saw it was her, his face softened. He stood, rounding the desk to shake her hand.
“You’re the one Gloria hired,” he said. He was shorter than his brothers, and his hair was so dark it was nearly black.
“That’s me. Charlie Winters.”
“I have to apologize for that little tiff you witnessed earlier, between me and Wes.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Do you have any siblings, Ms. Winters?”
“A sister,” Charlie said.
“Ah.” He knocked his knuckles on the desk. “Then you know how it is. A lifetime of petty feuds and old resentments. With what happened to Dad, not to mention the fact that Wes is so obviously jealous of my accomplishments… well, we’ve had words more than once recently.”
Jude sidled back to the leather executive chair, and Charlie took the seat opposite him.
“Speaking of your accomplishments…” Charlie smiled, thinking Jude seemed like someone who would respond to a bit of ego-stroking. “Can I start by asking about your company? Gloria mentioned you’re in marketing.”
“Well, that’s a bit of an oversimplification.” Jude leaned back in his seat, kicking his feet up onto the desk. “In a general sense, we’re a full-service, independent PR firm, specializing in niche markets.”
“Ugh,” Allie said. “This guy is way too cool for school.”
“I see,” Charlie said.
“The way I usually explain it to people is that we take good companies and make them into great companies,” Jude said, lacing his fingers behind his head.
Allie made a gagging sound.
“You know, this is exactly the kind of corporate hipster douchebag who gives all of us millennials a bad name,” she said.
“That’s interesting,” Charlie said, thinking it was anything but. “And that’s what you do for the company your father founded? Carmichael Investments?”
Jude sighed.
“The thing you have to understand about Dad is that he was old-school. And that was good, in some ways. Tradition has value. An air of authenticity. People trust a company that’s been around for a while. But he was very much stuck in the eighties when it came to marketing. He had the name, so he thought if he clobbered people over the head with that branding enough times, they’d buy what he was selling. But the new generation needs more than that. They want to give a damn about something. A message. They want the companies they support and the products they buy to inspire them. To stand for something more than just, ‘Buy our shit. Give us your money.’”
Charlie nodded and Jude went on.
“Frankly, I think part of the reason he retired was because he didn’t want to change. He had a lot of pride, my old man. Thankfully, his successor is more malleable. Not that he didn’t take some convincing, mind you, but I’m used to that. After dealing with my dad, I know how stubborn the old guard can be. Five years ago, they thought I was some kind of rebel here to destroy their perfect system. Now they come to me and want to know how. How do they tap into the zeitgeist? And it’s simple, really. You just have to know your ‘why.’”
He put air quotes around the last word.
“Your ‘why’?” Charlie repeated. They sounded like nonsense words to her.
“Why you do what you do. That’s what people want to know.” Jude suddenly swung his legs back down to the floor and sat forward. “You’re a perfect example. I read about you, after you saved that girl. Have you ever thought about hiring someone to manage your image?”
Charlie raised an eyebrow.
“My image?”
“Sure. You’ve got the awareness now with all the press from saving the girl, but that’ll fade, you know. It’s only a matter of time.” Jude aimed a finger at her. “What’s the name of your company again?”
“A1 Investigations… but it’s not really mine.”
“Ah, see. That’s a big mistake right there. You should be capitalizing on your name.” He spread his hands in the air as if unveiling her name in lights. “Charlie Winters Investigations. Or maybe The Winters Firm. You’ve already got the brand awareness, now you craft the message. And the great thing is, with your story, you’ve already got a winner. You solve problems. You save people. Right? I mean, a tire company, you have to finesse a compelling ‘why’ in there. But what you do? What you’ve done? It’s built right in.”
“Well, like I was saying, it’s not really my company. My uncle is the one who started it.”
Jude blinked.
“What’s his name?”
“Frank Winters.”
“Never heard of him,” Jude said, then laughed as if this was the funniest joke ever told. “See what I mean? If your uncle is a smart man, he’ll see this for what it is: a once in a lifetime opportunity to define exactly what Winters Investigations is and solidify it in the mind of the consumer. I mean, your story is solid gold.”
“Here’s my question,” Allie said. “Does this guy watch Mad Men reruns? Or does this guy jerk off while watching Mad Men reruns?”
“Since you mentioned gold,” Charlie said, not sure how they’d gotten so off track, “any idea where your father’s vast fortune went?”
Jude’s brow twitched as if the sudden subject change irked him.
“I honestly have no idea,” he said. “And I hope Gloria hasn’t instructed you to ask me about that damn painting again, because I didn’t take it. If you want to know where things have been wandering off to, I’d look to Brandon.”
“Brandon?”
Despite the fact that Charlie already had a pretty good idea of who’d been filching things from the house, she couldn’t help but press Jude on his assumption that Brandon was the culprit.
“Sure. He’s the biggest mooch of them all. Always borrowing money from someone or another.” Jude rolled his eyes. “Say what you will about Marjory and that joke of her position at the foundation—at least she pretends to be contributing.”
“And Brandon doesn’t?”
Jude barked out a laugh.
“Brandon is a grifter. He likes to see himself as some kind of bohemian misfit with his lack of a real job. But he’s a phony.”
“Pot, meet kettle,” Allie muttered.
Charlie hesitated for a moment. This was the perfect time to blindside Jude to get a feel for whether or not he was wise to the big family secret surrounding him. But she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of apprehension remembering the scene with Wesley. The way Jude’s mouth had twisted into a furious knot. The explosion of the glass tumbler colliding with the wall and shattering into a thousand pieces.
“Jude, I hope you’ll forgive my candidness, because I know it’s a sensitive subject,” Charlie said. “But I was hoping we could talk about your… little secret.”
He blinked a few times, seeming confused, and then his face hardened.
“Who have you been talking to?”
“No one. This is something—”
“It was Wes, wasn’t it?” Jude’s eyes narrowed to slits. “That piece of shit. I should have known he’d tell you all about EloquenTec. Unbelievable. That has nothing to do with any of this!”
Charlie shook her head. EloquenTec? She had no idea what he was talking about.
“Wesley didn’t say anything about that.”
“Stop covering for him. I know my brother’s shady tactics when I see them.” Jude jabbed a finger at the top of the desk. “I put everything into that company. We were supposed to be the next hot tech startup, and Wes couldn’t have been more gleeful when it crashed and burned. My own brother! I declared bankruptcy. Lost my house. Seven years ago, and he still brings it up. You know why? Because he can’t stand that I’m a success now. That the once great Senator Wesley Carmichael has become the biggest loser in the family. Hell, even the family party boy, Brandon, won a big poker tournament in Atlantic City last year. Got his picture in the paper next to Phil Hellmuth. Wes is the shame of the Carmichaels now, and he can’t stand it. The disgraced former senator who still straps on his vests every day like he might hold a press conference.”
Jude slammed his fists down onto the polished surface of the desk, and the sudden thud made Charlie jump.
“I’m gonna beat his goddamn ass the next time I see him. Is he still here?”
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I wasn’t—” Charlie said, but Jude seemed oblivious to her existence at this point.
He was already up out of his chair, and he stalked over to the door, still ranting.
“He’s crossed the line this time, alright. Enough is enough.”
Left alone in the study, Charlie glanced around. Her gaze fell on the old cast-iron bank safe in the corner.
“I think that went well,” Allie said. “Don’t you?”
Charlie ignored her. She got up and approached the safe, testing the handle. It was locked.
“What are you doing? Gloria already said she checked the safe for the will,” Allie said.
“Yeah. But do you remember what she found inside?”
“Um. Some jewelry or something?”
“And birth certificates.”
“So?”
The corners of Charlie’s mouth turned up into a smile.
“So?” Allie repeated. “What are you smirking about?”
“Oh, nothing. Just that I think I figured out the family secret,” Charlie said, unable to keep the gloating tone from her voice. “And it has nothing to do with Jude’s failed tech startup.”
ELEVEN
Charlie’s gut clenched as she glanced down the grand staircase once more, unable to stop the grisly photos of Dutch Carmichael laid out in the autopsy suite from invading her mind. She didn’t know how his children could traipse around here as if nothing had happened. She hadn’t even known the man, and the knowledge that he’d been murdered in this very spot filled her with foreboding.
She gripped the banister firmly and started down the steps, careful to watch her footing. Halfway down, she once again heard Wesley’s voice coming from inside the parlor.
“I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about.”
Now there was a second voice, and Charlie recognized it as Jude’s.
“Don’t bother denying it, Wes. I know what you’ve been saying about me. Blabbing about my tech startup to anyone who’ll listen.”
Wesley scoffed loud enough for Charlie to hear it even through the closed door.
“I didn’t say anything about your stupid little failure of a company.”
“There we go!” Jude said, his voice rising several decibels. “You know what this is? This is character assassination!”
Charlie reached the bottom of the stairs and padded to the front door, wanting to make her escape before things escalated between the brothers. She felt a touch guilty for giving Jude the wrong idea, though it certainly hadn’t been intentional. On the other hand, Jude himself had admitted they’d been feuding long before she came on the scene.
Back in her car, a chill settled over Charlie as soon as she was alone. She blinked a few times. Stared up at the house for a moment—the murder scene, she reminded herself.
With all the quirkiness of the Carmichael family on display, she’d almost forgotten that these were murder suspects she was meeting and greeting. Could one of them have really done it?
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Tried to push the little twinge of fear and revulsion away.
It didn’t help.
Her skin crawled just the way it had when she’d first walked into the house and gazed up that long flight of stairs.
She opened her eyes, breath hitching in her throat. The silence inside the car felt heavy and cold.
The faces of the siblings she’d met flared in her head one by one, her mind studying each, asking herself if he or she could be the killer. Wesley. The disgraced former senator. Charming. Handsome. Hiding something.
Brandon. The muscular party boy floating atop the pool. A gambler. A grifter, according to some.
Dara. The horse girl practically living out in the stables. She’d shown almost no emotion when talking about her father’s death. He’s dead, isn’t he? He can’t sell the horses now.
Jude. The hipster marketing guru. Raging. Yelling. Shattering a tumbler against the wall.
Gloria. The eldest of Dutch’s brood and Charlie’s client. She would seem the least suspicious, which was a bit suspicious in its own right.
Charlie’s shoulders quivered as the chill inside intensified.
But no. No. She shouldn’t draw any conclusions until she talked to everyone. There was still one more sister, Marjory.
And the mistress, of course. Vivien Marley.
TWELVE
Charlie’s phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Gloria’s name flashed on the display, and her voice broke in even before Charlie could say hello.
“What did you say to Jude?”
“I asked him a few questions, that’s all.”
“Well he called me in an absolute frenzy. Babbling about Wesley using you to engage in some sort of smear campaign against him.”
Charlie closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Wesley made somewhat of a cryptic comment earlier. Something like, ‘If Jude had even an inkling of the truth.’ I don’t think I was even meant to hear it, but I did. So I asked Jude about it, and I guess he jumped to conclusions.”
“And I’ll wager Wes was drinking when he made that little quip. Damn him.” Gloria clicked her tongue. “In any case, that particular family secret has nothing to do with the case. I can assure you of that.”
“So everyone keeps telling me,” Charlie said.
“I’m not sure I appreciate your tone, Ms. Winters.” Gloria’s voice was as sharp as a knife. “I may have hired you to investigate my father’s death, but that doesn’t give you the right to go sticking your nose wherever you please. Going forward, I’d appreciate it if you kept your questions focused on my father’s affairs.”
Charlie couldn’t help but smirk at that last turn of phrase.
“So you’re saying the fact that Dutch isn’t Jude’s biological father isn’t pertinent to my investigation?”
The line went quiet for a moment.
“Who told you? Was it Brandon?”
“No. He was just as adamant as you are that I not pursue the matter. It was only really a hunch until just now.”
The anger in Gloria’s tone receded.
“That’s… I have to say I’m impressed you figured it out on your own. They said you were good, and they were right.”
“Is there concern that Jude might have been left out of the will?”
“Of course not,” Gloria insisted. “My father said many times that Jude was his son as far as he was concerned.”
“Because I have to tell you, that would be a very powerful motive, Gloria. Especially considering the fact that the will itself is missing.”
“The whole reason he wanted it kept from Jude in the first place was because he didn’t want him to feel any less a part of the family. Or any less his son. No. My father never would have omitted Jude from his will.”
Gloria sighed before she went on.
“Image is very important to Jude. As you might have noticed, he tries quite hard to appear hip. The t
attoos. The trendy little office space in Detroit. The Tesla he drives. And he loves pretending he’s some kind of self-made marketing mogul, despite the fact that half of his accounts come directly from my father’s connections. What I’m trying to say is that Jude has always had a bit of a chip on his shoulder. I think it’s because he’s the baby of the family. But underneath the tattoos and the swagger, he’s a very sensitive boy. I’m worried that if he found out the truth, it would quite literally destroy him. So I hope you’ll be discreet.”
“Of course. Your secret is safe with me. And if it makes you feel any better, Jude had no idea what I was asking about. He thought Wesley had told me about his failed startup.”
Gloria groaned but almost sounded amused.
“Those two have always been like oil and water.”
Charlie went on.
“Can I ask if this was a new revelation? That Jude isn’t Dutch’s biological son, I mean.”
“I’ve known for a little over a year, but my father has known for years, ever since my mother died. Apparently she confessed to quite a few indiscretions on her death bed.”
“And what made Dutch decide to tell you?”
“Oh, if it were up to him, I don’t think he would have ever told me. He much preferred us to all go along as we always had. The only reason I know is because of that woman.”
“What woman?”
“Vivien Marley,” Gloria said, and Charlie heard the distaste in her voice again. “If she had her way, everyone would know.”
Charlie adjusted her grip on her phone.
“What happened?”
“She tried to bring Jude’s situation up at a family function. Making vague references. Asking Jude about his hair and eye color being different from the rest of the family’s. Jude missed the hints, but Wes and I didn’t.”
“Can you think of any reason why she’d want that information out in the open?”
“What better way to drive a wedge between her lover and his children? She enjoys nothing more than to stir up drama and sow discontent among us. I’m telling you, there’s something wrong with that woman.”
When Charlie ended the call, she flipped back through her notes until she found the page where Gloria had written down contact information for all of Dutch’s family, friends, and associates.