I.L. Wolf - Her Cousin, Much Removed

by I. L. Wolf

“Hey, we had a long way to go to get here,” she said.

  “You weren’t considering withholding information?”

  “Of course I wasn’t, I wasn’t sure I’d be giving it to you.”

  “Wow, you really were angry.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “I’d rather not go down that road right now.” He took a slug from his tea and tried to pretend it wasn’t too hot.

  “Hasn’t quite cooled enough yet, huh?”

  “Can we stay on task?”

  “What are you, a kindergarten teacher? So he didn’t seem to have any trouble saying that in front of me, that he was in the marriage to Delenda for the money. And he seemed pretty confident that I’d be telling the police. Which, as icky as I find Higson, makes me think he probably didn’t actually kill her.”

  “Why would it make you think that?”

  “He knew he’d be the first suspect, the spouse usually is, and a spouse like him is going to be looked at. And besides, if he killed her and was convicted, he wouldn’t get anything.”

  “That doesn’t stop people from killing their spouses for the money, and hoping to get away with it, Venetia.

  “Yes, but I don’t know. He seems to know that Delenda was wealthy, but I’m not sure he knows that much about her assets.”

  “You got that in your short attempt to free Marlene? How long was this interaction?”

  “Too long,” she said, “much like today.”

  “Why do you think that? About the assets?”

  “I don’t think he knew that Aunt Sissy was the beneficiary of Delenda’s life insurance policy.”

  “Because?”

  “He seemed like he thought there was only a small glitch between him and the money. And between Aunt Sissy and no proof of the marriage, it’s more than a glitch.”

  “That’s interesting,” he said.

  “Yeah,” said Venetia. She tapped her fingernails against the side of her cup.

  “You don’t seem very triumphant for someone who could have created a break in a murder.”

  “I don’t feel very triumphant. Marlene lied to me.”

  “You knew that already.”

  “No, I mean even more than she already had.”

  “I thought lying was one of those things, either people did or didn’t do it. I wasn’t aware there was some kind of lying tipping point.” Cadby tried to hide the smile.

  “Obviously, you don’t get it.”

  “Oh, I get it,” he said, standing. “And I think it’s probably time to call it a night. You did some good work today.” He saw her open her mouth to speak and held up a hand. “And I know I interrogated you earlier. I think I got the point.”

  “Do you really think Mason’s the press leak?”

  “I can’t tell you. All I know is that he was here the other night, and he’s a member of the media.”

  “What leaked?”

  “That I can’t tell you,” he said.

  “Great. Oh, about the video—”

  “If you’re going to tell me that it doesn’t implicate you, I know that already.”

  “Then why did you act as though it did?”

  “Can’t tell you that either,” he said. “But it could have something to do with a certain ex-law partner of yours. Don’t forget to lock up.”

  She leaned against the door as she clicked the locks and slid the deadbolt, hearing his footsteps tread away down the hall. She thought she heard them hesitate, but she couldn’t tell for sure.

  ***

  She was surrounded by bells, hundreds and hundreds of bells, and no matter how many she tried to turn off, they kept chiming, over and over again. Finally she opened her eyes. The phone was ringing. Barely able to focus, she skipped trying to see who it was and answered.

  “Venetia, sweetie, I’m in a little bit of a bind,” trilled Aunt Sissy, far too cheery for how early it was.

  “What? What time is it?”

  “Quarter to seven. I really need your help, and I need it right away. Be a dear.”

  “Aunt Sissy, I have to go to work.”

  “Of course you don’t, you only buried your cousin yesterday, you get some type of bereavement leave, don’t you?”

  Venetia groggily rolled over and weighed her options. She could face Julian and decide whether to destroy the man who’d been the closest thing to an uncle she’d had by telling him the truth about the closest thing to an aunt she had, or she could go see what the aunt she was stuck with needed.

  “Is this like the time I had to bail you out of jail?”

  “What? What on earth could you possibly be going on about?”

  “You know, you were arrested for drunk and disorderly, and I think it was battery, too, though that woman from the country club dropped the charges eventually—”

  “Heavens, Venetia, what an imagination you have. It’s your Aunt asking for a teensy weensy little miniscule favor.”

  “Sissy, nothing you ask for is miniscule. Am I going to be ‘volunteering’ for one of your animal events? Because a little warning before shoveling poop is always nice.”

  “Those events save the lives of animals. That you would leave me in my hour of need is simply shocking,” she said. “Shocking.”

  “Fine,” said Venetia, deciding that she could wait to see Julian, “let me call work. Where do you need me to meet you?”

  “I knew you’d come through,” she said.

  One painfully awkward conversation with Julian later—he seemed mystified that she was planning to come in in the first place, the sweet man—and a quick infusion of coffee, and she was on her way to meet Sissy.

  Only something felt weird.

  Sure, sometimes she called her for odd and demeaning random things, but this time, it seemed off. Like where she wanted to meet. It was an old shop she’d inherited from Lan Mather after she’d fought his family bloody for the estate. She’d closed it immediately, and it stood, boarded, for all those years.

  She’d been insistent during the litigation that she get everything, that nothing should go to Lan’s children or sister. But that’s what she did, really, husband after husband, collecting assets along the way. Sometimes Venetia had a hard time believing she was actually related to her mother.

  Venetia didn’t know why Sissy hadn’t sold the shop, she didn’t do anything with it after closing it, she left it to gather dust, all by itself. From what she remembered, Lan had been a nice guy, but he didn’t last long.

  About a block away from the store, Venetia started looking for parking when she saw him.

  Dane Froxen.

  He was walking quickly down the sidewalk, glancing over his shoulder here and there. He ducked into the alley behind the store.

  Had Sissy summoned him too? And why would she?

  Sure, he’d represented her in the estate case, but had they kept in touch? That seemed strange.

  Given that Dane seemed to actively be trying to frame her for ShamCorp, she wasn’t inclined to go in. As though hearing her thoughts from 300 yards away, Sissy called her.

  “You’re nearly here, I assume?”

  “Doing my best, Aunt Sissy.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Sissy?”

  “How many times do you need to say that to understand the more you do the more I’ll call you Aunt Sissy?”

  “I haven’t got all day.”

  “For me to do you a favor?” Sissy went silent, a rare, rare occasion. “Is there a reason,” she started, wanting to ask about Dane, then deciding it was to her advantage not to let Sissy know she knew.

  “Yes?”

  “That you wanted to meet at this place?”

  “There’s always a reason, Venetia. Just hurry up, this is important.”

  “You always think it’s important.”

  “This time it is really, really important.”

  Finding a parking spot, she walked slowly down the street, not really in the mood to hurry, despite Sissy’s commands. It
was sad, it looked like other buildings on the block had followed Sissy’s lead, boarding up and quitting, nearly all of the businesses gone, leaving only bleak plywood against the glass. Except for the gold stickers in the windows, one after another.

  She stopped to read one. “Property of Lanmark Real Estate.”

  Lanmark Real Estate. Where had she seen that? Where else could it be, the place everything seemed to lead. The ShamCorp documents.

  There had been real estate holdings, all through subsidiary companies. Still, since they were owned by ShamCorp, each one of them had been listed in the documents. Including Lanmark.

  Finally in front of Sissy’s store, she scanned the window looking for the sticker. And there it was, in the lower right-hand corner, like all the other ones.

  Either this was one enormous coincidence, or Aunt Sissy had some serious explaining to do.

  Chapter 21

  Standing outside the window, still staring at the sticker, Venetia thought better of going inside. Dane had already tried to nail her with ShamCorp, and if it wasn’t him, he was definitely helping whoever did. And now Aunt Sissy.

  Inside could turn out to be a bad place to go.

  But could she actually be in danger? It was her aunt, for goodness sake, and her former law partner. Then again, there was the fraudulent corporation.

  Saved by the bell. Her cell phone rang.

  “Hey,” said Detective James, “are you busy?”

  She checked over her shoulder. “Are you watching me?”

  “Why would I be watching you?”

  “I don’t know. It’s uncanny. I was think about—never mind. Why?”

  “Two things. We may have identified the source of the media leak, and—”

  “Venetia, why are you dawdling?” Aunt Sissy appeared from nowhere, her head under a subdued silk scarf, her enormous sunglasses nearly covering the entirety of her face. “It’s obvious the front door doesn’t open. You have to come around back.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I have to do something for Aunt Sissy,” Venetia said carefully. “At her shop.”

  “She has a shop?” said Detective James.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  “She seems anxious to talk to me. About business,” she said.

  “Who said it was about business? Stop wasting time.”

  “Should I be concerned?” said Detective James.

  “Maybe,” she said. “I’ve got to go.” Sissy grabbed her firmly by the upper arm and was pulling her around to the alley entrance. “Is that necessary?”

  “It’s looking that way,” Sissy said, shoving open the steel door. Inside, there were still some stray items on dusty shelves looking neglected, forlorn. It was dark, small shafts of light poking through the gray where the plywood didn’t meet the window frame.

  “This is depressing,” Venetia said.

  “I don’t need the commentary,” said Sissy, removing the glasses and laying them on a table, “I need you to do something for me.”

  As her eyes adjusted, she finally found Dane in the corner, sitting in a chair with its own liberal coating of dust. “Dane,” she said.

  “Yep,” he said.

  “It seems that I’ve got a bit of a problem,” Sissy said.

  “So you’ve said. If you need help cleaning this place out, there are services for that.”

  “It’s not that kind of a problem,” she said, her eyes narrow. “I don’t know why you have to make things so difficult. Delenda never made things so difficult.”

  “Well, the ways in which Delenda and I vary are, to put it mildly, numerous.”

  “More’s the pity,” she said.

  “That’s not something anyone has ever said before, but OK.”

  “I don’t feel like you being clever,” she said.

  “What is it that you want, Sissy? You called me here, urgently, and I don’t think it was to insult me. Or maybe it was, I can never tell with you.”

  “It seems that you are in possession of some documents,” she said.

  “What, you too?”

  “What do you mean by that?” Her head rose slightly on her long neck.

  “Just finish, Sissy.”

  “I need them.”

  “Well, first of all, I have no idea what you are talking about. Secondly, if I had anything, I don’t think you’d be the first person I’d give them to. In fact, I don’t think you’d be the last, because I wouldn’t give them to you.”

  “That’s not terribly generous.”

  “What documents, specifically, are you talking about?” said Venetia. Knick-knacks on long-neglected shelves glinted in the breaks of sunlight.

  “The ones from Brenna Chale Sway,” Sissy said.

  “What?”

  “I know you heard me.”

  “I’ve been looking for those suckers,” said Dane, “and I haven’t found them yet.”

  “Somehow, Dane, that doesn’t surprise me. Let me guess. You two are interested in the reward?”

  “There’s a reward?” Sissy looked at Dane. “Did you know there was a reward?”

  “Maybe,” he said, “that’s not important. We’re not talking about money here.”

  “So what are you talking about?”

  He didn’t say anything, but even in the murky light of the store, she saw him pale.

  “We’re in a bind, as I told you,” said Sissy.

  “Why not ask your boyfriend to help?” Venetia said. She leaned against a table, her hands on the edge, and then thought better of it. She tried to brush the dirt off, and it showered into the air. “You know, dusters aren’t much of an investment.”

  “My boyfriend?”

  “Aunt Sissy, it’s pretty obvious that you’re seeing Walter Bloaerd. Whatever problem you have, no doubt he’d be more inclined to fix it.”

  “That may have been a bit of the problem in the first place,” she said.

  “I’m not following.”

  “That part’s none of your business. Listen, we need those documents or things are going to get kind of uncomfortable for us.”

  “Not my issue,” said Venetia, heading for the door.

  “What is wrong with you?” Sissy said.

  “What is wrong with me? Are you kidding? Either you think I’m unbelievably stupid, or you don’t understand that you cannot try to frame people for crimes you, yourself, are committing and then think they’ll help you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Sissy.

  “She’s nuts,” Dane said, “she always has been. It’s why I had to dissolve the partnership.”

  “You didn’t dissolve it, Dane, I did, and that’s because I caught you screwing a client in your office, among other things.”

  “How vulgar,” said Sissy.

  “Tell me about it,” Venetia said.

  “No, I meant your language.”

  “I really don’t care what kind of trouble you’ve made for yourselves. I’m thinking that whatever this is, there’s worse besides. In fact I know there is.”

  “Come on, Venetia, I’m family.”

  “Are you? Really? Because as far as I know, family doesn’t set up dummy corporations and point the finger at family.” Dane and Sissy stared at one another. “That’s right. I know. I know all about it, about Lanmark Real Estate, about ShamCorp.” She strode across the room and bent so that she could look Dane in the eye. “And I know you were trying to implicate me yesterday, down to suggesting I could be responsible for Delenda’s murder. You, as far as I’m concerned, are dead to me,” she said.

  “You’re always so dramatic,” Dane said, “you would have thought it would do you some good in court.”

  “For two people who want something from someone, you sure seem to have a strange way of trying to get it.”

  “As usual, Venetia, I have no idea what you could mean.” Aunt Sissy carefully wiped a wooden chair before sitting in it.

  “You want me to give you something, an
d yet you’re being, well, you. Both of you. Have you never heard of being nice?”

  “I hate to tell you, my dearest niece,” Sissy said, brushing grime from the arm of the chair and resting an expensive sleeve on the cleared space, “this was the nice part. Unfortunately, we might have to get a lot less nice.”

  “What on earth does that mean?”

  “It means sadly I might have some explaining to do to my sister. But as you so kindly pointed out, it’s not like we talk much anyway.”

  “I’m not clear on what you’re saying,” she said, edging her way toward the door.

  “I’m saying that if it comes down to us or you, it’s not much of a contest. We need those documents.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “I don’t think you understand. We need those documents, and we will do what it takes to get them.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Can’t I be?”

  Venetia took in her aunt’s cool demeanor, her clothes impeccable despite the surroundings. “Did you kill Delenda?” she said.

  “Kill Delenda? Why would I do that?”

  “Sissy,” said Dane, “It’s best not to answer questions like that.”

  “You stood to inherit from her,” said Venetia. Sissy looked up, Venetia assumed surprise registering the best it could on her Botoxed face in the darkness of the store. “Yeah, that’s right. I know you’re on her life insurance policy. Which is so strange. Why on earth would she name you, of all people?”

  “Why wouldn’t she?” Sissy said.

  “I’d cool it, Sissy,” said Dane.

  “I don’t need the advice of a third-rate charlatan,” she said.

  “Hey, watch it. If it weren’t for me—”

  “What is it with puppets who can’t see their own strings?” she said.

  “I’ve gone to some extreme lengths—”

  “For your own health, I’d imagine,” said Sissy. “It had nothing to do with your share.” Venetia very nearly opened her mouth to ask about the share of what, but legal training dies hard and her brain told her to shut up and listen.

  “My share? My share? If it weren’t for me, lady, we’d be in a whole different set of circumstances.”

  “If you hadn’t noticed, our set of circumstances isn’t that stellar.”

  “Oh really? How would you be doing without that Mather estate, you ungrateful biddy?”