by B. T. Lord
Doc frowned as he leaned forward in his chair. “Excuse me Vance, but what is this $250,000 monthly payment to Eliot? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“I’ll come to that in a minute. The first codicil had to do with her bequests. In the wake of Thomas Hightower’s unfortunate death, she increased her charitable donation to his charity from $500,000 to $2 million. She also increased her bequest to Abigail by an additional $1.5 million. The biggest change, however, had to do with your inheritance, which is contained in the second codicil.”
“Mine?” Doc questioned.
“Yes.” He looked over his pince-nez at Doc. “She wanted you legally recognized as her son. She was well aware of how difficult your relationship with Eliot has always been and believed she should have done something to rectify that. This modification was her way of making up for all the suffering she felt she caused you by not only giving you up at birth, but by not acknowledging you sooner as her rightful son. She therefore reduced the amount she was leaving Lily and left the bulk of her estate to you, which includes the Allagash property and all its contents.”
Doc sat back in his chair with a thud. He could only stare at Vance in muted shock and surprise.
“How much exactly are we talking about?” Cammie asked, since Doc seemed unable to speak at the moment.
“Lily will be receiving $10 million. You will receive approximately $200 million. Helen set up a trust that will allow you to withdraw funds as you see fit.” Cammie audibly gasped as Doc turned ashen. “Would you care for a glass of water?” Vance asked. “I know this is a bit of a shock.”
“A bit?” Doc croaked. He passed a shaking hand over his brow. “Why in heaven’s name would Helen do something like that? Her original bequest was generous enough.”
Vance took off his pince-nez and carefully wiped them with a handkerchief he’d withdrawn from his pocket. Cammie guessed this was his way of buying time to formulate exactly what he wanted to say. After putting his glasses back on, he gazed steadily at Doc. “Now, this is just my interpretation of her actions, and from bits and pieces of conversations we’ve had over the years. Mind you, she never said anything outright, nor would she have. She was a very private person. But as you well know, she was also a determined person. Once she made up her mind, there was no changing it. I believe she’d reached a point in her life where she’d grown tired of subsidizing Lily’s lifestyle. She felt she’d given her daughter more than enough during her lifetime. It was your turn now to benefit from her generosity, especially in light of the fact that it was you and not Lily who was always concerned for her wellbeing, both before and after her move to Maine.”
“I didn’t realize she was supporting Lily. I thought Charles was wealthy in his own right,” Doc said.
“Simply because one has money doesn’t mean they don’t crave more. And unfortunately, rather than being frugal, Lily seemed unable or unwilling to budget her expenses. She began to think of Helen’s money as her own personal bank account.”
“What about Eliot? She was supporting him as well?”
“Yes. He made some rather unfortunate investments a few years ago that left him nearly bankrupt. Helen made arrangements to have $250,000 taken monthly from her portfolio and deposited into his bank account. When she came here in February to add the codicils, one of them specifically dealt with situation. That’s contained in the third codicil. As her executor, she gave you considerable leeway to decide on certain aspects of her estate, such as whether you wanted to continue to use her financial advisor, her accountants, etc. She also left it up to your discretion in the matter of continuing those monthly payments to Eliot. Again, this is just conjecture on my part-”
Doc raised his hand. “I believe the term is ‘karma is a bitch’.”
Vance glanced at him before a slight smile played across his lips. “Yes, I believe it is.”
“When did you send the beneficiaries their copy of the will?”
“They were all hand delivered yesterday afternoon.”
Doc glanced at Cammie. “So it’s safe to assume that both Lily and Abby received their copy after our visits.”
“Anticipating the -- shall we say -- turmoil these changes were going to cause, Helen included a no-contest clause in her will. If either Lily or Eliot try to contest the will, they will be automatically disinherited.”
“Do you think either of them will go that far?”
“In Eliot’s case, if you decide to suspend the payments, he has nothing to lose by taking you to court. As for Lily…” He shrugged. He gathered the papers and took out a Mont Blanc pen from the inside of his jacket. “I’ll need you to sign some documents.”
As Doc signed, Cammie tried to wrap her mind around the fact that her friend had just inherited $200 million. She didn’t know how much he’d had before, though it was obvious he was pretty well off. His cabin was custom built with the finest materials, and the artwork alone looked priceless.
A tiny flicker of fear flared up in the pit of her stomach – a fear she didn’t wish to acknowledge. Before it could fully take hold, her thoughts were interrupted when Vance took out a last piece of paper.
“Now, this is an authorization to continue the payments to Eliot.”
Doc capped the Mont Blanc pen and handed it back to Vance. Taking the piece of paper, he folded it neatly in half. “I need to think about it.”
The attorney eyed him steadily. “I know how abominably he’s treated you over the years, Sam, but without this allowance, he will be humiliated. He stands to lose his way of life, everything he’s known.”
Doc returned the lawyer’s look with an expression that put Westerfield’s icy gaze to shame. “I said I need to think about it. Now, I do have one more matter to discuss. Did you know anything about Helen’s lawsuit with one of the locals up in Allagash?”
Cammie blinked at him, surprised by his question.
Vance nodded. “She asked if we would represent her. I advised her it would be wiser to get local counsel and recommended a very good firm up in Bangor.” He scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Doc. “I’m sure they’re expecting your call.” They stood up and Vance shook Doc’s hand. “Congratulations, Sam. I’m sorry for the loss of Helen, but I applaud her foresight in appointing you her executor, as well as the main beneficiary of her estate. I can think of no one better to watch over her legacy. Don’t hesitate to call us if there’s anything we can do for you.”
Cammie waited until they were in the privacy in Doc’s Navigator before she turned to him. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“That I’m filthy rich and hold Eliot’s future in my hands? That Lily will believe she was screwed over and I wish I could have seen her face when she discovered this?”
“Besides that. From the very start, Westerfield was adamant that no one here in Boston could have been responsible for Helen’s death. He was pretty upset when he found out we were asking Lily some pretty innocent questions. Now that we know he’s broke and Helen wasn’t going to give him anything in her will, he has the perfect motive to kill her. Who’s to say he didn’t go up there, find out he was getting nothing and became so enraged, he shot her?”
For the first time that day, Doc smiled. “You know, that does sound quite plausible.”
Cammie narrowed her eyes. “When I mentioned this last night, you thought it was impossible.”
“That was yesterday. Today, I’ve gotten a new perspective on things.”
“Your smile is creeping me out, you know.”
“I’m simply agreeing with your hypothesis.”
“Humph.” She looked out the window at the passing traffic as she continued. “The same motive holds true for Lily. She went from thinking she was inheriting $100 million to $10 million. It’s still a lot of money, but that extra zero makes a whole lot of difference to someone who seems to go through money like I go through Emmy’s raspberry cookies.”
Doc’s grin became wider. “That’s very true. Fan
cy that.”
She glanced at him a bit longer, his happy expression really creeping her out now.
“It’s all conjecture though. There’s no way to prove it.”
“If there’s a way to prove your theory, I’m sure you’ll find a way to do it. Even if,” he added, breaking out into a hearty laugh, “this isn’t your case.”
The tiny sliver of fear that had flared up in Vance Loring’s office now threatened to grow to epic proportions. Was Doc agreeing with her to exact revenge against the man who’d made his life a living hell? Or was he agreeing with her because he believed in his heart that Westerfield was capable of killing his own sister in a fit of blind rage?
The same fear applied to Lily. Now that he was worth $200 million, not counting whatever he was worth in his own right, would he use some of that money to make Lily pay dearly for treating him and his mother like garbage?
Throughout her law enforcement career, Cammie had seen the unhealthy hold money had on some people. It didn’t matter that Westerfield and Lily had grown up with money. Their entire personalities were wrapped up in being wealthy, of lording it over people because of their riches. It didn’t take too much imagination to see either one of them lose control when faced with the deterioration of the foundation of their lives which was defined by wealth.
Although killing Helen would not give Westerfield the money he so desperately needed, the loss of prestige and the humiliation caused by his bankruptcy may have been enough for him to obliterate the one thing that could have saved his precious reputation.
Helen’s murder had been motivated by rage. The gunshot to the face and the overkill to her body spoke of someone who had completely lost control.
Did Eliot Gardner Westerfield fit that bill?
And what about Lily? Was it possible she somehow found out how much money she was losing by Helen’s decision to recognize Doc as her son? Cammie saw firsthand how much she and Doc detested each other. Did she go to Maine to confront her mother? Is that why she lied about not knowing anything about the lawsuit with Henry Harding? Did she believe that by admitting she knew, that would somehow link her physically to being in Allagash? Cammie didn’t think so – Lily could have simply found out about the lawsuit during a phone call with her mother. But for whatever reason, she’d felt the need to lie about it. Why? Vance had said that once Helen made up her mind about something, no one could change it.
Was it that inflexibility that condemned her to die on a lonely, windswept hill in the middle of nowhere?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Doc was feeling so good that he decided to treat Cammie to lunch at the Four Seasons Hotel. Situated on Boylston Street where the expensive shops and boutiques were located and where once the rich had lived in mansions that lined the wide straight boulevard, the hotel was known for its classic and very pricey splendor.
Cammie sat across from him in the plush dining room and watched him smile and laugh with the wait staff. She inwardly shook her head at the difference between their reactions to inheriting more money than they’d ever dreamed of.
When she’d inherited $500,000 from Eli Kelley, she’d actually become depressed. Money had a way of changing people, not only the recipient, but the people around them. The only way she knew how to deal with it was to completely ignore that half a million dollars was still sitting in her bank account.
Of course, $500,000 was nowhere near to what Doc was getting. She still couldn’t quite come to grips over the amount of money Helen had left him. The fear that this inheritance was going to change him was now playing out before her. He was acting with a lighthearted cheeriness she’d never thought him possible of ever possessing. An old refrain danced through her head as she forced herself to look away from his flirting with the wait staff and turn her attention to the menu.
Revenge is best served cold.
Doc had probably never expected he could get back at Westerfield for all the old man had done to him. He’d dealt with the family dysfunction by moving as far away from Boston as possible. Now an opportunity to exact vengeance had been handed to him on a golden platter.
As much as she hated to admit it, especially after being on the receiving end of his acid tongue for years, she was already missing his cantankerous, overbearing ways. This new version of Doc -- kind, happy, laughing -- just didn’t seem right.
Doc ordered lunch with an appetizer of oysters, followed by Chilean sea bass with roasted red potatoes and grilled asparagus.
Cammie ordered a hamburger with cognac bacon, gruyere cheese and onions. Just ordering it made her miss Zee’s gourmet burgers.
Bruce Zevon was the owner of Zee’s Bar and Grille, the epicenter of life in Twin Ponds. Looking like Santa Claus’ twin brother, he had his finger on the pulse of everything that went on, not only in Twin Ponds, but in the surrounding Clarke County. She missed the way his face would break out in a grin every time he saw her and how in a weird, supernatural kind of way, he’d always know what she needed at any given moment, whether it was one of his tasty Waban burgers, or a shot of whisky to get her through an emotional trial.
Thinking about Zee made her think about Jace and the nights they’d meet up at the Bar and Grille after work to share a beer and a meal before heading home. It was all she could do not to break down in tears as a longing for home filled her so deeply, it actually hurt. What the hell was she doing in the Four Seasons? This wasn’t her world. These weren’t her people. Heck, even the clothes she was wearing that Doc had bought her wasn’t really her either.
Soon. They’d get through the funeral and head home and all would be back to normal.
Except for Doc’s creepy grin that refused to go away.
And his new happy go lucky lease on life.
She gave a melancholy sigh. Would Doc ever be normal again?
Another distressing thought occurred to her as she watched him laugh with their waiter. With his net worth now in the stratosphere, would he be content to remain in Twin Ponds? Sure, he’d told her only last night how much Twin Ponds had become a home to him. But that was before he found out he was now a gazillionaire.
The world was changing. Homosexuality was being more readily accepted. He didn’t need to hide out in a remote town in the middle of nowhere in northwestern Maine. Would he now become a jetsetter – a sort of Truman Capote of the medical world?
She felt a little sick at the prospect of losing her dear friend. At the same time, she worried about him. What he would do out there with so much money and a chance to leave the past behind and be happy? Perhaps for the first time in his life?
She sighed again. Once more, she was overthinking it. Doc loved his patients, loved his work as Clarke County’s coroner. He’d built a beautiful home. Would he really leave it all behind to gallivant around the world with the ‘beautiful people’?
“You look like you’ve just lost $200 million,” he said before breaking out in giggles.
Doc? Giggling? Oh my God.
She decided to be honest with him. “I’m afraid all that money is going to your head.”
He waved his hand at her. “You’re too serious, that’s your problem,” he said as he lifted a glass of the hotel’s finest champagne and took a sip. “Ah, exquisite,” he murmured as he took another sip. “You’ve never had an opportunity to simply enjoy life without worrying about whether you could afford your rent, or whether you could pay off your credit card bill. That’s about to change, my girl. When we wrap all this up, I’m taking you and Jason to London. All expenses paid of course, to show you how much I appreciate what you’d had to put up with dealing with my family. I have a dear friend who travels in the same social circles as the Royals. I’m sure I can have him arrange something. Tea with the Queen, perhaps? Or riding in Rotten Row with one of the princesses? Hmmm. I wonder if Kate and William enjoy car racing. There’s always the Grand Prix in Monaco.”
Tea with the Queen? Kate and William? Good Lord, this was worse than she thought.
“Doc,
honestly, I don’t think-” Before she could continue, she heard a trill from her cell phone. Glancing down, she saw it was a text message from Emmy.
“I need to take this,” she said as she sprang out of her chair and literally ran out into the lobby.
“You have the best timing,” she told Emmy when the young woman answered.
“I do? Why?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Sounds like Boston is getting to you.”
“You have no idea. I’m counting the minutes until I can get back home.”
The young woman laughed. “We miss you too. Even Rick is going kind of crazy without you here.”
Half Native American, half French Canadian, Cammie’s deputy cut a swath through the women of Clarke County. With his busy social life, she was amused he’d have time to give her a second thought. Yet, together with Emmy, the three of them had established a close bond of friendship that made them feel more like a family than simply workmates. If Rick was truly missing her, she was missing him just as much.
“What have you got for me?” she asked.
“I did what you asked and gathered all I could find on Tom Hightower and Charles Evans. I’ll start with Tom first. The name of his charity is ‘Ayuda Los Ninos’, which translates into ‘Helping the Children’. It provides free education to kids in the Peruvian countryside who don’t have much of a chance of attending school. Unlike a lot of charities, he was very hands on, finally moving down there to make sure the money was used in the best possible way to help the children.”