by B. T. Lord
He had no choice.
“I am,” he responded.
“Then tell me about Rob.”
In a voice unaccustomed to baring the depths of his soul, Doc began. “Rob was the youngest brother of a member of Father’s Harvard fraternity. They all became quite close. On one of his visits to the family home, he met Helen.”
“She tell you this?” Doc nodded. “She seemed a woman who didn’t like sharing her secrets.”
“She felt it was important I know.”
“Huh,” Cammie murmured. “I wonder why. I mean, why should her relationship with Rob Warren be important to you?”
Doc clasped his hands together and stared down at the ground. “Maybe it was because she knew she wasn’t going to live forever. She wanted – needed me to know the truth. About her. About Rob. About myself.”
“You?”
Doc nodded. “You see, Rob was my father. And Helen was my mother.”
CHAPTER TEN
Cammie was thunderstruck. Whatever she’d thought Doc was about to tell her, it wasn’t this. The sounds of the city disappeared and time seemed to stand still as she slowly tried to digest what he’d just said.
“I didn’t share this with you because I truly believed it had no relevance in Helen’s death. But as I’ve heard you say many times, information that we may consider irrelevant or useless could very well hold the key to an investigation.” He slowly stood up. “Why don’t we head back to Horatio’s apartment? I’ll tell you everything there.”
“I found out the truth about my parentage just before you made the decision to return to Twin Ponds to settle your father’s estate. She hadn’t told me sooner because Father – oh hell, now that you know, I don’t need to call him Father anymore, thank Christ. Eliot didn’t want her to tell me. He was afraid of the scandal it would cause. Helen was a married woman, after all. And she’d had an illegitimate child. In those days if it had gotten out, the news would have ruined the family’s reputation. And as you’ve no doubt seen for yourself, the family’s reputation is everything to Eliot. He just wanted it all to go away. If it wasn’t acknowledged, it didn’t exist. Your decision to return home couldn’t have come at a better time for me. Not only could I escape Eliot’s condemnation of my lifestyle, but more importantly, I could keep an eye on Helen. Especially now that I knew she was my birth mother.”
They were sitting on the couch in Horatio’s apartment , the twinkling lights of Boston at night reflecting in the window that looked out over the Harbor. Cammie had kicked off her shoes and after tucking her legs beneath her, sat listening to Doc’s story.
“Why didn’t she pretend you were Freddy’s son? Wouldn’t that have been easier than involving that old grouch Westerfield?” She asked.
“ Freddy had been away for several months on business. It was while he was away that she became pregnant with me. Although Freddy was besotted with her, she couldn’t take the chance that he would reject me. Nor could she jeopardize losing Lily if Freddy decided to play hardball in a custody battle. She therefore took off for a long European holiday with Shirley where she could give birth in complete privacy.”
“Shirley went along with this?”
Doc nodded. “She and Eliot had been trying to have a baby, but after suffering several miscarriages, she despaired it was never going to happen. When Helen shared her dilemma, Shirley saw an opportunity to finally have a child of her own. She convinced Helen that by giving me up to them, she could still be a part of my life, albeit as my aunt. The alternative was losing me forever in an anonymous adoption.”
“Westerfield agreed?”
“This seemed the best chance he’d have of obtaining what he most wanted – an heir to carry on the family name. It was done very cleverly so no hint of scandal ever leaked out. Shirley and Helen disappeared to Europe for seven months. When they came back, Shirley announced she’d given birth in France to a bouncing baby boy. I’m sure there were those who questioned the circumstances, but as long as Shirley and Eliot treated me as their legitimate son, what could they say? Especially since I did share a family resemblance.”
“How did you take the news when you found out?”
“It was revelatory, as you might imagine. The fact that I was not Eliot’s biological son helped put my life in perspective. I now understood my inability to ever feel as though I belonged in the Westerfield household. At first I thought it was because I was gay. But it went deeper than that. A feeling that I was always out of step with everyone else. Now I knew why. Now I knew the truth.”
“I wondered why you were so concerned about taking care of Helen’s house when we were up there. Legally, that should have been Lily’s job as her only daughter. It also now makes sense why you were so adamant we don’t give Rob’s love letter to Mantree.”
Doc smiled. “I forget sometimes how observant you are.”
“So this Robert Warren fellow -- it’s obvious Helen never fell out of love with him.”
“Helen met Rob at the same time she met Freddy. Unlike the man who became her husband, Helen told me Rob was a man in love with life. He made her laugh and encouraged her to live outside the box.”
“If Rob was as close to Eliot as you say, why didn’t he encourage that relationship instead of the one with Freddy?”
“I can sum it up in one word. Money. Rob’s wealth was never going to match Freddy’s. Nor did he strike the family as a suitable husband for their only daughter and sister. Instead of settling down to be a lawyer or banker, Rob loved poetry and hoped to be a writer in the style of Hemingway or Fitzgerald. He was, in other words, a dreamer. Grandpapa and Eliot insisted the match with Freddy was better for her, both socially and economically. She didn’t have the strength of character back then to oppose the two of them so she broke it off with Rob and married Freddy. For the first years of the marriage, she tried her best to be the dutiful wife which included forgetting all about Rob.”
“That obviously didn’t work. What happened to bring them back together?”
“According to Helen, it was quite by accident. Freddy was in Europe on business and she’d decided to open up the Cape Cod home early. She’d always loved the ocean and summer came early that year. She was walking the beach one morning when she saw a man approaching. As he drew closer, she realized it was Rob.”
Cammie smiled. “Awfully coincidental.”
“She insisted it was, but I’m convinced Rob kept an eye on her throughout the years. Despite her pretense to the world, he knew she wasn’t happy with Freddy. He had superb timing because when they met on that beach, she was at her lowest point. She told me meeting Rob gave her a new lease on life.”
“Which explains those disappearances Bitsy spoke of.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever meet your father?”
“Alas, no. It was one of Helen’s biggest regrets that she didn’t tell me sooner – before Rob died. She was convinced we would have forged a close relationship.”
“Do you think Freddy knew about Rob?”
“If he did, he never spoke of it.”
“It seems to me that despite Westerfield wanting a son, he still resented you on some level.”
“Helen told me he wasn’t bad in the beginning. Then Horatio came along. As happens many times, once Shirley took the focus off the need to get pregnant and occupied herself with me, voila! She found herself expecting.”
“No wonder Horatio is the favorite.”
“I was two when he was born, so my earliest memories are of a difficult, contentious relationship with Eliot. My sexuality was the icing on the cake. It became even more combative when Helen removed Eliot as the executor of her will.”
Cammie held up her hand. “Whoa. Westerfield was removed as Helen’s executor?” Doc nodded. “When was this?”
“She’d done it soon after telling me she was my mother. However, both Eliot and I didn’t find out until a few months before she died. It unfortunately evoked an argument between us that I st
ill deeply regret. I knew she was goading the beast, not only by removing him as executor, but by telling Eliot she’d finally revealed the truth to me about my parentage. Up until that time, we’d agreed to keep it under wraps if only to save us from listening to one of his endless tirades.”
“Who did she replace the old man with?”
Doc smiled sheepishly. “Me. Who better to manage her estate than her only son?”
“Holy shit,” Cammie replied, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m sure he took that news well.”
“In typical Westerfield fashion. He was absolutely furious. She came down to Boston in February to make some changes to her will, after which for reasons I could never fully understand, she went to Mount Vernon to inform him of what she’d done. When aroused, Helen’s temper was as bad as Eliot’s. You can imagine the insults and recriminating words those two threw at each other. She left the house in a huff and, as far as I know, never spoke to him again.”
“Why should he care if you became executor of his sister’s will? Did he think you were so irresponsible you’d end up blowing it all?”
“Eliot takes very seriously his responsibilities as head of the Westerfield family. By replacing him with me of all people, he would naturally interpret it as a usurpation of those responsibilities.”
“In other words, he was pissed you got one up on him,” Cammie replied, her head spinning with Doc’s habit of sometimes using overly fanciful words when plain ones would suffice.
He smiled. “Yes, he was pissed.” Turning towards her, he watched as her facial expression slowly changed. “You’ve got a weird look in your eyes.”
“Look, I know he raised you, but have you ever considered the possibility that your uncle, stepfather, adopted dad, whatever the heck he is, might be responsible for Helen’s death?”
“Impossible! He may be a martinet, but he’s simply not capable of cold blooded murder.”
“Why not? He obviously has a temper. And with his reputation at stake, how difficult would it have been for him to travel up to Allagash and try to talk her out of removing him as executor? Add to that the fact that he’s bi-polar, I can easily see him going off the deep end and shooting her eight times in a fit of rage after she told him to take a hike.” Cammie unconsciously leaned forward as she warmed to the scenario she was creating. “It would also explain why Helen was shot in the back of the head. The coroner said she was looking away from her assailant when she was shot. You only do that if you have complete trust in the person you’re with. I bet you that despite their tempestuous relationship, Helen never would have imagined in a million years that her own brother would shoot her. And after shooting her in the head, he was still so enraged that he shot her an additional seven times.” Doc involuntarily flinched. “Does Lily know you’re actually her half-brother?”
“Yes. As usual she put up an ungodly fuss, going so far as to insist we get DNA tests done to make sure Helen wasn’t lying to her.”
“Why would she think her own mother would make up such a thing?”
“Wouldn’t you if your only progeny was Lily?” Cammie snorted in response. “Helen told me they had another one of their epic battles. And before you ask, I believe this happened when she came down to Boston last February.”
“So I was right to think that it was really Lily’s behavior that drove Helen to get the hell out of Boston.” He sighed as he gave a nod of his head. “Doc, have you seen Helen’s will yet?”
“No. She only told me about the change in executor. Whatever else she did, she kept to herself.”
“I think we need to see it. We need to see what other changes, if any, she made to her will.”
“I’ll call Vance Loring in the morning. He’s taken care of all the Westerfields’ legal matters for as long as I can remember.” He paused, then glanced at her. “You honestly believe Eliot killed her?”
“I don’t know. But he certainly had a motive. And depending on what the will says, Lily may have had a motive as well. No matter how many times I go over it, it’s still not making any sense to me why Lily lied about not knowing her mother was involved in a lawsuit with Henry Harding. These are loose ends. And you know how much I loathe loose ends.”
The next morning, Doc placed a call to Loring’s office. When he hung up, he gave Cammie a thoughtful look.
“Not knowing I was down here, Loring’s secretary sent a copy of the will to my home in Twin Ponds. Since I obviously haven’t received it, he’s asked me to come down to his office to discuss a few of the codicils.”
She frowned. “That sounds kind of ominous. Aren’t codicils documents that change or amend something in the original will?”
“That’s correct.”
“What did Helen change that the attorney needs to see you face to face?”
Doc waved his hand impatiently at her. “Sometimes you’re too much of a police officer. He probably wants to go over the particulars since I am the executor.”
Cammie remained unconvinced, but she decided to refrain from saying anything more. There was no point in provoking an argument with Doc when she had no idea what these codicils contained. Yet she couldn’t help feeling they would prove more important than even Doc realized.
After eating another ample breakfast prepared by Doc, the two travelled into the heart of Boston’s financial district. They parked Doc’s Navigator in one of the large underground garages near the state government offices. Across the street from the area known as Government Center, she and Doc entered a huge, glass paneled building that stretched up into the sky.
Dodging barreling employees who rushed past them in order to get to the elevators, by the time they managed to get onto one of the elevators, Cammie felt as though she’d just gone through an obstacle course. Doc pushed the button for the 60thfloor – the top and most likely, the most expensive floor in the building. When the doors opened and they emerged, she saw they were standing in the lobby of the prodigious Pinckney and Adams, one of the oldest law firms in the city known for their ties to Boston’s old moneyed families.
It was so quiet, Cammie felt as though they were in a library. She was almost afraid to breathe as Doc gave his name to the receptionist.
If I worked here, I’d have to make some kind of noise at least once a day just to keep my sanity.
Then again, looking around at the ultra-conservative business wear, serious expressions on everyone’s face and whispered conversations, she never would have lasted an hour employed here.
A tall, middle aged woman appeared at the receptionist desk and asked Doc to follow her past dark paneled corridors to a corner office that looked out over the historic Faneuil Hall.
Once the sight of warehouses, Faneuil Hall was now a successful and bustling marketplace in which thousands of tourists passed through every day.
A white-haired man standing about as tall as Doc bustled out from behind his immense oak desk. He wore pince-nez glasses, a white starched shirt, and a blue and gold bow tie beneath his dark blue suit. Although sprightly, the man looked ancient, with deep wrinkles lining his face and his body bent in a permanent stooped posture. Watching him approach Doc and shake his hand, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he turned out to be Benjamin Franklin or Samuel Adam’s original attorney.
“Sam, what a pleasure to see you,” he exclaimed in a surprisingly strong, patrician accented voice. “It’s been too long.”
“Hello, Vance.”
“And this is the Cammie Farnsworth you mentioned on the phone?”
“Hello Mr. Loring,” she said as he took her hands in his.
“Please, call me Vance.” He led them to a large round table that backed up to floor to ceiling oak bookcases that held a vast array of legal books. In the middle of the table was an accordion folder filled with papers. “We can sit here. It’s quite fortuitous you’re in Boston. It saves me having to track you down to give you a copy of Helen’s will. Can I get either of you some tea or coffee?”
“No, thank y
ou,” Doc said. “We just had breakfast.”
“Well, it certainly looks like this Twin Ponds agrees with you, Sam. You’re looking very well.” He then added in a more somber tone, “I’m very sorry about Helen. She was a remarkable woman.”
“Yes, she was.”
On the way over, Cammie had asked Doc if Vance knew the truth of his parentage. Doc nodded, telling her Helen had shared the news with her attorney when she’d come down to make changes to her will. Loring took the folder and opened it.
“Although all of this is on the computer, I still prefer handling paper. There’s something rather comforting about seeing in front of you rather than on a screen.” He withdrew a thin packet and began to shuffle through them. “As you know, Helen made you the executor of her will. Last February, she came down to Boston to make what she considered necessary changes to her original testament.”
“What other changes did she make?” Doc asked.
Vance took two sheets of paper off the top of the pile and handed them to Doc. “This first page is Helen’s last will and testament. As you can see, she was succinct in what she wanted. The second page contains the three codicils she added in February. A copy has already been filed with the probate courts, as well as distributed to the other beneficiaries. If you’d like, you can read it yourself or I can summarize it for you.”
“Please, I’d prefer if you tell me what it says.” Vance glanced over at Cammie. “Whatever you say to me, you can say to her. She has my complete trust.”
Vance nodded. He cleared his throat, then quickly scanned the will. “Originally, Helen split her estate evenly between you and Lily. That included the proceeds from the sales of her home in Brookline and the house on Cape Cod, as well as her considerable investments in the stock market. A copy of her complete financial portfolio is in the packet we’ve prepared for you. There were also bequests to various charities, including the charity run by her ex-son-in-law Thomas Hightower. She included a proviso that the monthly payments of $250,000 to Eliot Westerfield be continued, as well as a one-time payment of $1 million to be given to Abigail Westerfield to aid her in her fledging art career.”