Murder in Vail

by Moore,Judy

  Sally could feel her blood pressure rising again. “First of all, he is not a ‘strange man.’ This is an old friend I have known for years. And, Lance, I am your mother. I’m not dead. I actually have a life too. If I decide to go out to dinner with an old friend or on a date with a new one, I will go, and it’s no one’s business at this table. Period.”

  No one said anything until Lance spoke up again.

  “I’m sorry I said you were old, Mom. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that you would be a natural target because of your wealth. At this point, why rock the boat? Why bring someone new in?”

  “I have to agree with Lance,” Glen said. “You’ll never really know if someone is interested in you or is just interested in your money.”

  Stephen and Lance nodded earnestly.

  “Glen’s right, Mom,” Stephen said. “There are a lot of con men out there.” He added cautiously, “You need to think about your family too.”

  Incensed, Sally flung her napkin down on the table. “Everything isn’t about money, money, money. That’s all any of you ever think about!”

  She stood up. She had planned to have a delicate conversation with them about what she was about to say, but when she lost her temper, it just spilled out.

  “Money hasn’t done anything except cause problems for this family. Big problems. All of you have squandered the money from your trusts. Your father would be so disappointed. I want each of you to know that the money you already have in your trusts is the last you’ll ever get from me. Not one more penny! Do you hear me? Not one more penny, so don’t ask.”

  She took a sip of wine to fortify her for her next announcement.

  “You all need to know that right after the holidays, I’m meeting with representatives of Bill Gates’ and Warren Buffett’s foundation to donate ninety-five percent of my estate to charity. The money will help thousands of poor people around the world, not just three spoiled children.”

  Sally glanced around the table at the stunned faces, whirled around, and rushed upstairs to her bedroom without looking back. She didn’t know what she was most upset about—Helga, Rachel, the drugs, the date, the dogs, the yacht, the movie, the purse… It had been one thing after another all day long. She couldn’t wait for Christmas to be over so her children would leave and she could return to her quiet life. And she found herself so anxious to rid herself of the money. It felt like a lesion that needed to be cut out so they all could heal. She decided to contact the foundation the day after New Year’s.

  Sally was so wound up, she couldn’t sleep. She tried to read, but she couldn’t focus. Finally turning off the light, she listened as the wind howled and the snow pelted steadily against the window panes. Her last thought before dozing off was to wonder who would clean up the dining room table. She didn’t have to think long. She knew the mess would be waiting for her in the morning.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Visibly shaken, everyone at the table sat staring at each other in disbelief. Some of them still had a half plateful of food, but dinner was over for all of them. As they stood up to leave, Lance asked everyone to meet in the living room to discuss their mother’s shocking announcement.

  “After dinner drink anyone?” he asked nervously, opening a bottle of Grand Marnier. Everyone seemed to need a drink, so he filled five aperitif glasses half full.

  They took their drinks to the leather couches in front of the fireplace. Lance sat down next to Yvette and put his arm around her. She cuddled the Yorkie in her lap. Gwen and Glen sat across from them, and Stephen sprawled out on the love seat at the end.

  “Mom was so upset tonight,” Lance began. “I’ve never seen her like that. Ever.”

  Stephen and Gwen agreed. “She’s usually just passive aggressive when she gets mad,” Gwen said. “She was screaming.”

  “Do you think she was serious?” Glen asked. “Or was she just blowing off steam?”

  Gwen said she thought she was serious. “She’s mentioned giving a big lump sum to charity before, but I never dreamed she was talking about ninety-five percent of the money. That’s over three billion dollars!”

  Stephen seemed to be doing a calculation in his head. “That leaves about $150 million. Still a helluva lot of money.”

  “Yes it is. But let’s face it, we’ve all learned that a million dollars isn’t what it used to be,” Lance said. “And, keep in mind, if she’s starting to date, well, I don’t have to paint a picture. If she gets married again, we could all be out in the cold.”

  The room grew quiet as they contemplated that possibility.

  “And,” Glen pointed out, “she said none of us would get another penny from her. The only time we might expect anything more is, well, you know, in her will.”

  Yvette’s thin blonde eyebrows furrowed into a single line. “Does that mean I won’t get to star in another movie?”

  Gwen turned on her. “It’s not always about you, Yvette. We have homes to protect. We could be out on the street.”

  Lance patted his wife on her knee. “Don’t you worry, honey. I’ll come up with financing somewhere.”

  Stephen eyed his older brother curiously. “So, Lance, has the well gone dry?”

  Lance scowled. “Not that it’s any of your business, Stephen, but I am still liquid, even though the movie did drain my finances quite a bit. I was hoping for a healthy contribution from Mom.”

  He thought for a minute. “Might have to give up the helicopter and maybe the personal chef. But we’ll make do, won’t we honey?” He gave Yvette’s hand a squeeze.

  Yvette’s face went into a pout. “Does that mean I have to cook? I don’t like to cook.”

  “Well, welcome to the world,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes.

  Glen smirked at his wife. “When was the last time you cooked? We go out to dinner almost every night.”

  “We do not,” Gwen retorted. She hesitated, thinking back. “I’ve cooked from time to time.”

  Glen rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Right.”

  Wounded by her husband’s rebuke, Gwen glared at him.

  “You eat half your meals at the marina anyway,” she said. “And, Glen, while we’re on the subject of the marina, you might as well kiss that yacht goodbye. There’s no way we can afford it on what we have left in the bank.”

  Glen frowned and asked Lance, “How much do you think she’s leaving Helga? Probably more than any of us will get.”

  “Wish there was a way we could find out about that,” Lance said. “I’d like to put an end to that. I don’t care for that woman.”

  Stephen sat slouched on the couch, his fingers laced behind his head as he leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

  “I don’t think Mom’s going to change her mind about Helga,” he said. “Mom will definitely leave her a lot. But she thinks we’ve gotten enough. She’s always said that she thought Dad made a mistake by giving us so much. I can tell she’s serious about this.”

  Lance peered at his brother. “How about you, Stephen? How much do you have stashed away?” He added with a chuckle, “Could you front the rest of us with a loan?”

  Stephen straightened up and shook his head. “Nope. I’m as drained as the rest of you.”

  Gwen said sarcastically, “Those recreational needs of yours and Rachel’s don’t come cheap.” Under her breath she added, “And neither does rehab.”

  Stephen glowered at her and started to say something when Lance asked him, “Did you ever use your degree from NYU, Stephen?”

  “Political science?” Stephen said, lifting an eyebrow. “No. I’m not planning on running for public office anytime soon. I did exactly what you and Gwen did—waited until I turned twenty-four and got the money.”

  Lance nodded and stared off into space. “Dad wasn’t happy with me at all for not getting my M
BA and going into business,” he remembered. “I got a degree in economics to please him. But I just didn’t want that kind of life. All I wanted to do was fly helicopters. I was definitely feeling the pressure from Dad, but then he died.”

  Stephen nodded. “I had just gotten my trust fund when Dad died. He was pressuring me to go into business too.”

  “What about you, Gwen? Did Dad have a lot of expectations of you too?” Lance asked.

  “Not really,” Gwen said, shaking her head. “He was kind of old school. He seemed more concerned about who I was going to marry than what my career would be. He kept mentioning sons of his friends who had graduated from Harvard or Wharton. I went out with a couple of them, but they were so boring. No fun at all.”

  She reached over and took Glen’s hand, the harsh words of a few minutes before apparently forgotten. “I’m just glad I decided to go to University of Miami and then stayed in South Florida, or I wouldn’t have met Glen. But I didn’t meet Glen until after Dad died.”

  “Wish I’d gotten to meet him,” Glen said, squeezing her hand. “I’ve heard so much about your father. It sounds like he was a great man.”

  “Definitely the ultimate businessman,” Stephen said. “It was like he took all that Olympic attitude and turned it toward the business.”

  “Yeah,” Lance agreed. “He was such a hard worker. Relentless and so competitive. But he never complained, just worked his butt off. That’s why the business was so successful.”

  Stephen turned to his sister. “What do you think he would have thought about this charitable donation idea of Mom’s?” he asked.

  “I don’t think he’d go for giving all of his money to charity,” Gwen said. “Maybe some of it, but not that much.”

  “I agree,” Lance said. “Dad enjoyed making money too much to just give it away.”

  Stephen nodded. “I wonder what we’d be doing if Dad had lived?”

  “Not what we’re doing now, that’s for sure,” Lance said, with a rueful smile.

  Gwen and Stephen laughed sheepishly. Then Gwen asked Stephen, “What do you do with all your time, Stephen?”

  He shrugged. “Oh, this and that. Rachel and I have a few ventures going. Doing quite a bit of traveling and dabbling in real estate. That sort of thing.”

  Gwen looked at him skeptically, but let it drop.

  “I’ve been playing a lot of poker too. That’s been very lucrative. I won a couple of tournaments this year. I’m thinking of joining the professional poker tour.”

  “Poker? Are you still into that?” Lance asked. “We should have a game while we’re here. You’ll blow us out, as usual, Stephen, but it would be fun.”

  “I’m in,” Glen said.

  “I’ll be happy to take your money,” Stephen replied, smiling.

  Lance studied his brother. “So you’re going to play with the pros, huh?” he said. “You definitely have the skills and the poker face. You’re by far and away the best poker player I’ve ever run across. But be careful around those pros, Stephen. They really know what they’re doing.”

  Stephen pursed his lips. “I know what I’m doing too, big brother.”

  “I know you do,” Lance replied quickly. “Just be careful. There’s only so much money in the till. Especially now.”

  The room went silent.

  Finally, Glen asked, “Isn’t there anything we can do to change your mother’s mind about this charity thing?”

  Lance leaned forward toward the group like a coach giving a pep talk to his players. “You know, maybe Mom will come around. She’s probably just upset. We need to do some repair work. The whole thing started because of Helga. Gwen, maybe you could apologize to her.”

  He added gently to his wife, “Yvette, honey, maybe you could be extra nice to Helga too.”

  Yvette shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

  She stood up. “Duchess and I are tired. Let’s go to bed, Lance.”

  As the group broke up and started toward the staircase, a figure standing in the shadows of the hallway to the kitchen backed away. Helga hadn’t missed a word of their conversation.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Yvette stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom in her long silk dressing gown, closely examining her face. She smoothed the skin on her cheeks with both hands, and slowly pulled her hands back toward her ears.

  “Lancie, do you think I’m as pretty as I used to be?”

  Lance jumped off the bed, hurried across the room, and wrapped his arms around his wife. They both stared at her reflection in the mirror.

  “You’re even more beautiful,” Lance answered lovingly, snuggling his face into her hair. “You get more beautiful every day.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “And your arms have gotten so toned. All that working out is really paying off.”

  She flexed a delicate bicep and Lance squeezed it. “You’re getting so strong. I’m so proud of you.”

  Yvette leaned into the mirror again and examined a pale line on her cheek. She gave her reflection a pouty look, and then began examining the creases on her forehead that the expression added to her face.

  “I think I might need to have some more work done,” she said sulkily.

  “No, darling,” Lance told her. “You can’t improve on perfection.”

  Yvette continued to look critically at her reflection. “But when you’re up on the big screen, every little line is magnified.” She turned to face him. “You aren’t just saying ‘no’ because we can’t afford it, are you? Are we going to be poor?”

  Lance cleared his throat and searched for the right words to respond. “Of course, we’re not going to be poor, darling. We may just have to cut back a bit on a few things. I’ll probably have to sell the helicopter, but that will tide us over for a while.”

  “No more helicopter?” Yvette said, her lower lip protruding in a doleful look. “But I like going places in the helicopter. There’s no traffic.”

  “I know,” he said soothingly, smoothing her hair. “I love the helicopter too. But hopefully it will just be temporary, and we can get another one soon. We just need to tighten the belt a little.”

  Yvette reached down to pick up Duchess. She stood stroking the dog for several moments, obviously growing more and more upset.

  “What about my next movie? We’re not going to have to tighten the belt on that too, are we?”

  Lance wasn’t sure what to say. He had been counting on his mother to invest. “I’m sure we’ll find another investor soon,” he replied unconvincingly.

  Yvette frowned at him. “Well, I can’t wait forever. You know what birthday I have coming up. If I’m going to make it in Hollywood, it needs to be soon.”

  “Don’t you worry, Yvette. I will make it happen,” Lance said nervously, leaning forward to kiss his wife.

  She put out her hand and stopped him. “You’d better,” she said quietly, giving him a cold look. “Trust me, Lance. You want to keep me happy.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  In the room next door, Glen paced the solid oak floor. “Charity!” he fumed. “Who gives that much money to charity? Whatever happened to ‘Charity begins at home’?”

  “Three billion dollars,” Gwen moaned, flopping on the bed, her head in her hands. “I can’t believe she’s doing this to us.”

  “Can’t you talk some sense into her? You know half of that money will go in some crooked CEO’s pocket.”

  “I know.” Gwen shook her head. “I can see giving some to charity, but not ninety-five percent!”

  “You need to talk to her, Gwen.”

  “I would, but I just don’t think it would help. My mother is so stubborn, it would probably just make her dig her heels in even more. I could tell she meant every word of it.”

 
Glen sat down on the edge of the bed next to Gwen.

  “Well, what are we going to do? Our property tax bill is due when we get back. It went way up again this year. It’s going to clear out our savings.”

  Tears of desperation came into Gwen’s eyes. “I don’t want to have to sell the house. I love our house.”

  “And what would the neighbors say? And our friends,” Glen said, his voice becoming shrill.

  “Who cares! What people say has always been a lot more important to you than to me. I just don’t want to lose my home.”

  Glen scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe downsizing wouldn’t be so bad. The place definitely takes a lot of maintenance.”

  Gwen looked incensed. “Before we do any downsizing of my house, we’ll be selling your damn boats. The money we make from that should pay the mortgage for quite a while.”

  “I’m not selling my boats,” Glen said flatly.

  “Here’s a thought, Glen,” she prodded him. “If you’re so crazy about boats, why don’t you go back to work selling them again? We could use the money.”

  Glen glared back at her. “You know, Gwen, I’ve heard this crazy rumor that women actually get jobs today and work too. You graduated from University of Miami. Why don’t use your degree and find a job?”

  Gwen suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I majored in English. The only thing I could do is teach school. The salary wouldn’t even pay the gardener’s bill.”

  Glen laughed as he visualized Gwen teaching a class in a South Florida public school.

  “What are you laughing at?” Gwen demanded.

  “I can see it now. Gwen being led out of West Palm Beach High School in a strait jacket on her first day on the job. The students cheer.”

  Gwen flung a pillow at him. “I wouldn’t want to be a school teacher anyway. But maybe I could go back to school. Iʼve thought about going to law school.”