by B. T. Lord
“How successful is the charity?”
“I found a recent article in one of the Peruvian magazines that talked about his staff keeping the charity going after Tom’s death as a way of honoring his memory. They interviewed several young men and women who benefitted from the education provided by the charity. So it’s doing very good work.”
“What did the local newspapers say about his disappearance?”
“They all pretty much say the same thing. Last May Peru was devastated by heavy flooding and mudslides. Tom told his staff he was flying out to a small village in one of the more remote areas of the Amazon that was in desperate need of medical supplies.”
“He actually went alone?” Cammie questioned.
“The disaster was so widespread, everyone was up to their eyeballs in helping out as much as they could. Rather than wait until someone could free up to go with him, he went alone. When he hadn’t returned two days later, they called the authorities. Unfortunately, a search party couldn’t be sent out until weeks later when the flood waters subsided. They found nothing. When his family was informed, they put up a $200,000 reward and mounted their own huge search party, including hiring some very experienced trackers. They too came up empty handed, which wasn’t surprising when you consider entire villages and people disappeared under mountains of mud and rocks.”
“What a way to go,” Cammie whispered.
“There were a few articles in the Boston papers, especially after his family offered the reward for any information leading to the discovery of either him or his body. But after a couple of weeks with no word, the story petered out.”
“Great job, Em.”
“I was able to find a couple more articles on Charles Evans since his disappearance was more recent. According to the newspapers, he flew out to San Francisco in mid-March. He had meetings set up for that Monday, but he flew in on the Friday before to spend some time with friends. On Saturday morning at approximately 8:30 am, he rented a speedboat from one of the yachting marinas in San Francisco Bay, telling the people at the marina that he was going to explore the Farallon Islands. They told him the white sharks don’t start arriving until July, but he waved them off, joking it would probably be safer then to check out the area. When he didn’t return by night fall, the marina called in the Coast Guard. They mounted a search and discovered the speedboat capsized in the water near Maintop Island the next morning. They spent almost a week searching for Evans, but the place is riddled with strong currents. When they found nothing, they figured he’d drifted out to the open ocean or been eaten by other fish.”
“God, that’s awful,” Cammie whispered.
“It sure is. It’s still an open case, but no one really believes he’s still alive. Not in those cold waters.”
“As usual, you did an awesome job.”
“Thank you. Let me know when you plan on getting back. I’ll have your favorite raspberry filled shortbread cookies waiting for you.”
“For those, I may just abandon Doc right now and get up there as fast as I can.”
After hanging up, she remained thoughtful as she made her way back to her table where she found her hamburger waiting for her.
“While you were gone, I received a phone call from the coroner’s office. Helen’s body will be released tomorrow morning. I’ve just finished making the arrangements so she should be arriving in Boston tomorrow evening. Now, what was so important that you abandoned your lunch date?” Doc joked as she took her seat.
Cammie grabbed her champagne glass and took a gulp. She was going to need whatever it took to get her used to this happy go lucky Doc. She shared with him her conversation with Emmy.
“Why would you have Emmy chase after Tom and Charles?” he asked as he slurped down one of the oysters.
“I always get suspicious when someone disappears.” She took a bite of her burger. It was tasty. But it still didn’t hold a candle to Zee’s Waban Burger. “I become even more suspicious when two people disappear who share a common denominator – in this case, Lily.”
“Well, I don’t think Lily lured Tom into the Amazon. Nor do I believe, as much as I’d like to, that she lured Charles out to the Farallons.”
“Was Charles a good boats man?”
“He had a number of sailboats growing up. And, at one point to satisfy his need for danger, he did take up speedboat racing.”
“I wonder what happened to make his speedboat capsize.”
Doc slurped down another oyster. “Along with his addiction to risk taking, he also liked to drink. Sometimes he drank more than he should. I’m sure when he boarded the speedboat in San Francisco, he made sure the galley was fully stocked with his favorite liquors. Sitting alone, enjoying the ocean, he may have started to imbibe and overdid it. Combine that with his love of speed and you have the perfect storm.”
“Putting aside your dislike of Lily, do you honestly think she mourned either of her husband’s deaths?”
Doc took a sip of champagne. “I’d like to think so. However, over the years I’ve come to understand that if it’s not all about Lily, she’s not interested. You saw her reaction to our mentioning Charles’ death when we saw her the other day. Those were crocodile tears.”
“Did you never get along with her?”
“She was one of those little girls who always had to be the center of attention. If she wasn’t, she created enough drama to draw all the attention back to herself. As you can imagine, it was exhausting to be around her. It’s only gotten worse as she’s grown older. She’s taken Helen’s need for perfection to another level. She makes lists for everything, drives everyone around her mad. She’s gone through so many social secretaries over the years, I’m surprised anyone would want to work for her.”
“So pretty high maintenance, eh?”
“On a scale of 1 to 10, she’s a 20.”
“How did Shirley treat you growing up?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Are you insinuating Shirley had something to do with Helen’s death? Or Tom and Charles’ disappearance?”
“No.” Cammie lifted her eyes until they met his. “It’s just that if you cut off Westerfield’s allowance, it will affect her as well.”
Doc abruptly cut away his gaze. Instead, he began to prattle on about the wonderful sights he’d show Cammie and Jace once they arrived in London. Cammie let him talk, her mind spinning in a completely different direction. By the time they were having their coffees, she brought up what she’d been thinking about.
“We agree that Westerfield had the perfect motive to kill his sister. She was potentially turning off the money faucet which would leave his world in shambles. It’s also possible Lily did the deed, especially if she found out you of all people was getting what she probably considered rightfully hers. I don’t have the authority to request their phone records or credit card bills to see if either one of them spoke to Helen or travelled up to see her. But Lieutenant Mantree does. After we finish up here, I’ll give him a call and let him know what’s going on. If he thinks there’s something to it, he can get those records. Or he can just tell me to mind my own business.”
They finished their meals and had just climbed into the Navigator when Doc’s phone went off. Glancing at the display, he laughed. “The fireworks are about to begin.” Before Cammie could ask him to explain, he answered the call and clicked on the speaker phone.
“Hello Lily. How are you this fine day?”
“You filthy, lying worm. You fucking midget. You stole what’s mine and you won’t get away with this!”
“That’s no way to speak to your baby brother.”
“We need to meet right now.”
“Let me check my calendar.”
She began shriller and more hysterical until she was no longer coherent as she continued to scream into the phone.
“Lily, if you continue to insult me, there will be no meeting. I’m sure you know that if you contest the will, you will be disinherited instantly.”
“Yo
u had her do that, I know you did, you greedy little-”
“I did not. I only found out about Helen’s will this morning. Any decisions made were Helen’s alone.”
“I don’t believe you, you Machiavellian weasel.”
“I don’t care if you do. Now, I will agree to meet with you, but it will be on my terms. Understood?”
Cammie heard heavy breathing on the other end of the line.
“Yes,” Lily finally spat out.
“I’ll meet you at the Old Granary Burial Ground in forty- five minutes. There’s a nice bench in the corner, near where Samuel Adams is buried.”
“A cemetery? What sort of sick joke is that?” Lily screeched.
Doc chuckled. “I think it’s quite appropriate considering how much you want me dead.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Old Granary Burial Ground was the third cemetery established in the city of Boston, dating back to 1660. Notable burials there included Paul Revere, Samuel Adams, the victims of the famous Boston Massacre, and John Hancock, one of the original signers of the Declaration of Independence.
Located on Tremont Street, down the street from the Boston Common, it was a tiny cemetery, noted for its steady stream of sightseers.
“You know, it is pretty macabre meeting in a cemetery,” Cammie replied as they sat waiting on the bench Doc had designated as their rendezvous spot with Lily. The day was sunny and warm, and the small space was crowded with onlookers snapping pictures of the various gravestones, some dating back 300 years.
“As your shaman friend Paul Langevin likes to say, there is a method to my madness. Being in public like this will curtail any hysterics.”
“Plus, she won’t murder you in front of the tourists.”
“Exactly.”
For the first time in Doc’s experience, Lily was actually early. She appeared through the throng, wearing a pair of white slacks, black sandals and a red top. Striding purposefully towards them, she gave Cammie a withering look.
“Despite Samuel’s sexual proclivities, I’m beginning to think there is something going on between the two of you. Unless you’re about to be robbed of what’s rightfully yours as well.”
Rather than take offense , Doc laughed. “She’s my witness.”
“To what?”
“For whatever needs witnessing.” Lily clicked her tongue in disgust.
“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? You want a larger inheritance. You were expecting a larger inheritance.”
“Of course I was.”
“It never occurred to you that you would have to share some of that inheritance with your brother?”
“Stop saying that,” Lily snapped. “You are not my brother!”
“Biologically I am.”
She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “Sharing is one thing. You goddamned took everything!”
“As I said to you over the phone, I had nothing to do with Helen’s decision to change her will. If you don’t believe me, call Vance Loring. He’ll verify that what I’m telling you is the truth.”
“Loring wouldn’t have seen you manipulating Mother, pretending to care about her welfare when all you cared about was getting your filthy hands on her money.” She’d raised her voice, causing the tourists to turn and stare at her.
“Do continue shouting, Lily,” Doc replied smoothly. “You’re providing excellent entertainment to these history loving bystanders. We’re re-enacting the Revolutionary War in our own way. Of course, you must be the hated British while I’m the freedom loving Colonials.”
Her eyes snapped at him. “What do you want?” she seethed.
“First of all, there will be no cremation. Despite Helen moving to Allagash, she was still a Westerfield. She would have wanted to be buried in the family plot. Secondly, we will leave here right now and go to Carlton’s to pick out a suitable casket for her. Thirdly, I will not have you disrupting whatever ideas Bitsy may have for Helen’s service. You will be the picture of cooperation, and we will work together to make this a service Helen would have been proud of.”
“And in return for agreeing to all this, you give me back what’s mine?”
“I give you the option of my consideration of your request.”
Her face turned red with rage. “What the hell-”
Doc held his hand up. “If you open your mouth, all bets are off and you’ll need to make due with $10 million.”
“We’ll see what my lawyers have to say about that.”
“Before or after you are disinherited for contesting the will?”
Doc stood up from the bench and patted her shoulder. “I know how much you value perfection, Lily. Let’s make this a perfect funeral service and burial. Helen deserves that much from you. Then we will revisit your request.” He smiled at her. “As long as you respect who I am, I’m sure I can see a way to be quite generous. Come along, Cammie. We’re off to the funeral home.” He took a few steps before turning back to Lily. “You can drive with us if you’d like.”
“I prefer to drive myself, thank you.”
Doc nodded and they moved through the throng of tourists out onto Tremont Street. Cammie glanced behind her and saw Lily still standing where they’d left her, talking furiously on her cell phone. When she told Doc, he shrugged. “I’m sure she’s telling Eliot what a horror I was to her. She’ll get over it.”
“If you continue to do that, you’re going to have start giving me combat pay. Or officially hire me as your bodyguard,” Cammie half-joked.
“Don’t think you’re not already, my friend.”
Thankfully, there was no drama at Carlton’s Funeral Home. Lily remained silent as Doc chose the casket and flowers. Anger still poured off her, but she wisely refrained from saying anything, realizing that $100 million hung in the balance. They next visited King’s Chapel where once again she allowed Doc to discuss the type of service that would be held for Helen. After speaking with Bitsy on the phone, everything was finalized. The viewing would be held in two days, and the funeral service and burial the day after that.
With everything in place, Cammie and Doc could now relax. They took in a play in Boston’s small theatre district, grabbed a bite to eat, then drove back to Horatio’s apartment where they sat out on the small balcony, enjoying the view of the harbor. Doc opened up a bottle of wine and they sat quietly enjoying both the wine and the balmy night air.
Cammie noticed that throughout the rest of the day, Doc had seemed like his old self. He’d thankfully stopped talking about the Royals and members of his family. Now that the funeral planning was completed and Helen would finally be laid to rest, the exaggerated gaiety was gone, replaced by a calm, serene air.
As night fell, and with a mellow bottle of wine between them, they reminisced about the night they’d met when Cammie had saved him from a mugger near Boston Common.
“I loved that Stella McCartney dress,” Doc said as he took a sip of wine. “It was a shame that cretin tore it when he tried to grab my purse.” He turned to look at her silhouette in the shadows thrown off by the lights inside the condo. “Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do with the half a million that’s still sitting in your bank account?”
“I’m going to start work on my cabin when the weather breaks. The roof needs to be replaced and I thought it would be nice to expand the bathroom and add another bedroom.”
“Why don’t you just sell the place and buy something else? Or have it custom built?”
Cammie shook her head. “It’s the only thing I have left of Dad’s.”
“I thought you two didn’t get along.”
She shrugged. “There were times we did and times we didn’t. Though to be honest, the times we didn’t outweighed the times we did, especially during the last ten years of his life. But ever since I decided to keep the old pile, I’ve begun to understand why he chose that location. Yeah, it’s isolated and the cabin is teeny, but there’s a peace there that I’ve never found anywhere else, and beli
eve me, I tried. I know it sounds silly, but if I tear down the cabin, I lose what I have of him. He built that place, you know.” She looked at him. “Don’t you feel that way about your place? Doesn’t it just feel like home to you?”
Doc looked out over the dark harbor, then unexpectedly smiled. “If you’re expecting me to put on my ruby slippers, click my heels and say ‘there’s no place like home’, you’ll tire of waiting.” He paused. “But I do love the serenity of the woods and Waban Pond.”
“And the fact that the townspeople truly love and respect you.”
He mischievously peered at her over his wine glass. “That’s because they don’t know the real me.”
Cammie was about to respond that they probably knew him better than he thought when the doorbell to the condo rang, followed by loud knocking.
“Now I wonder who that could be,” Doc replied as he stood up.
“I’d better go with you. As your unofficial bodyguard I may need to take a bullet for you,” Cammie replied as she followed him into the living room.
Doc went up to the door and peeked through the peep hole. “Well, what do you know,” he murmured as he stepped back and opened the door.
Cammie quickly hid her grimace. Aw shit.
It was Eliot Westerfield.
She swallowed a gasp as he entered the room. Before her stood a very ill man. His face was grey and pasty and he looked as though he’d aged at least a hundred years. There was a slight tremor in his hands that she hadn’t noticed before. Seeing her staring at his hands, he immediately shoved them into his pockets.
His demeanor still reflected an innate arrogance, but it was tempered by the knowledge that he was no longer the dominant male, not only in his life, but in this room. Despite his treatment of both her and Doc, she still found herself feeling a deep compassion towards him. It couldn’t have been easy for a man of his immense pride to come here. Nor could it have been easy for him to acknowledge that he owed his reputation and financial wellbeing to the one man he’d insulted, demeaned and disrespected for years.