by Liz Turner
Victoria wandered over to be near them, her curiosity aroused. Why was one woman still sitting at the table when everyone else had either fled the room to call for help, or crowded around the dying man? Did she care so little? Or worse, did she hate him so much that she was not affected by what had happened to him? Even now, as the doctor entered, the lady sat still, her hands delicately folded in her lap. Tyler stood near her, one hand on her shoulder, watching from a distance as the doctor parted the crowd and bent over to Augustin Pelletier.
The table shook as the doctor leaned on it, and Victoria spotted the wheelchair on which Cassidy sat. Immediately, she felt ashamed of her uncharitable thoughts. Surely, Cassidy did not hate him; she was just waiting patiently.
“He is gone.” The Doctor declared, placing a towel over Augustin’s face. Then, with the look of a man who was rather enjoying himself, he cried out, “I’m no Toxicologist, but I’ll shred my degree if this isn’t poison.”
There were gasps and cries of pain, but it was Cassidy’s reaction that Victoria noted the most. Afterward, Cassidy was always proper. She was an elegant woman dressed in dark Dior suits and a black veil that covered an appropriate mourning expression.
But, in that first instance when Augustin’s death was announced, Cassidy’s eyes raised to the heavens and there was a look of sheer gratitude on her face.
Chapter 4
“The hotel is snowed in.” A porter was saying to her father. “They’re keeping him on ice for now, and the whole affair is being hushed up, so that the other guests in the hotel don’t panic, but the police will be here as soon as the storm lets up tomorrow.”
Only an hour had passed, but so much had happened. Augustin’s body had been whipped away. The doctor, who had declared it to be death by poisoning, had nearly been beaten up in a scuffle with Michael.
Even now, Michael was in the small meeting room next to the ballroom, and Victoria could hear him having a long discussion with his father and uncle.
“Well, that Doctor was pure poison is what I say!” Michael’s uncle Philip cried passionately. “Had he no sense in his head? To declare it that cruelly, in a room with women in it! I want to see his license revoked!”
“The women handled it better than us, I think,” Michael said coldly. He had a cut over his eye that he was dabbing at with a towel. “Your age is showing, Uncle Philip. It’s no longer fashionable to refer to people as “women”. They’re just as capable….”
“This is not the time for one of your silly speeches Michael!” Michael’s father Gustav said. “Your mother is positively heartbroken. She’s weeping next door.”
“She might weep a lot more once the will is read,” Michael said.
“What are you trying to say?” Gustav asked angrily.
“Come on, Daddy dearest.” Michael laughed. “Aren’t you a tiny bit afraid? It was bad enough to be bossed around by your father all your life. Are you really looking forward to being bossed around by your nephew now?”
“Now Micheal,” Philip said. “My son’s a good lad. Tyler won’t boss anyone around.”
“It isn’t necessary so that he’ll be the successor,” Gustav said quietly.
Philip, with a little gulp, nodded, “Of course, of course! There’s every chance you might be named CEO now, Gustav. Every chance.” But you could hear in his voice that he didn’t believe it.
Victoria was peeping through the keyhole with an utter lack of shame. Since the doctor had declared it to be a poisoning, she had been seized with a conviction that this was her chance to get back at Michael. It was a childish dream, but as a 19-year-old who lived on dreams, she had an idea in her brain. A scene actually.
The scene involved Michael, snarling and spitting as the police led him away. Turning to her and exclaiming, “I should never have been cruel to you! You’ve led me to my doom!”
That scene gave her satisfaction.
But another scene did too. She could imagine this one even more clearly though she did not want to.
In this scene, Michael would come up to her, long after the police had gone away, perhaps a year later? She’d be sitting looking as regal as the women he was used to, only more beautiful. He’d hand her a copy of her own book, asking her to autograph it. She could even see the title of the book… Murder comes Knocking Perhaps. Or Murder at the Menu Tasting. She’d solve this case and be world famous.
Michael yanked open the door, and she nearly fell in.
“What’s this?” He looked down at her, surprised, and she flushed. “The brat again? You’re around an awful lot.”
She turned and fled but he followed her into the ballroom, calling out behind her. “Wait!”
“What is it?” she asked, turning back. “Are you going to have us thrown out? I don’t care! I did nothing wrong.”
“Who says you did?” Michael asked. His tone was light, jovial. “I couldn’t throw you out if I wanted to, anyway. The temperature might be tropical in here with all the fancy heating equipment, but outside it’s quite a storm. No, we’re all stuck in here this weekend. Which is a good thing. Actually a great thing for us, and not so great for whoever killed my grandfather.”
“So you believe the doctor when he says it was poison?” Victoria asked.
“Yes. I’m going to try hard to get his license revoked or to at least give him a bit of legal trouble for the heartless way he announced it, but I have no doubt that he was speaking the truth. I have a sort of respect for men like that, men who say what they think even at the cost of being rude.”
“I suppose it’s because you’re one of those men,” Victoria said.
Michael laughed, and Victoria found herself surprised. For a man whose grandfather had just died, he had no sadness or gravity about him. There was instead an intensity to his laugh; as if the whole of his thoughts were made of such lightning that some could not help escaping through.
“Aren’t you the slightest bit sad?” she asked. “He was your grandfather.”
“My grandfather? He was an old man, and a sharp man, and a dignified man, but I never thought of him as my grandfather. My father’s boss, yes. The man who hated my mother, yes. But my grandfather? That’s new in my dictionary.”
“You were his grandson! Surely he pampered you!”
“You’d have to know my grandfather to know that he was only ever capable of pampering one person, himself. Oh, he’d act with strangers and the public as if he were the most generous, romantic man in the world. But with us, with his family, all he was is cruel.”
“You are his grandson after all,” Victoria said. “His cruelty was passed down to you.”
Chapter 5
“Ouch,” Michael said. “You’re taking a lot of potshots at me, brat.”
“I’m only four years younger than you are. I’m 19.” She said defiantly. “And yes, I am taking potshots at you. You are despicable. First, for the way you treated me, and next for the thoughtlessness with which you discard your grandfather. He was a man! You judge him now, but you have no right to. He had a life, and he deserved to live. In his death, he deserves to be grieved for. His killer deserves to be punished for his death.”
“Yes.” Michael’s eyes almost changed color as they began to glisten. “You’re right about that, brat. 100% right. My grandfather, no matter how angry he made me, or how badly he treated us, did not deserve to die. His killer, though, his killer deserves to hang.”
Victoria nodded, the anger leeched out of her. So did all her dreams of revenge. What had she been thinking? This was real life, not a movie. The police would soon come, and in time, whoever had done this would be caught. There was nothing she could do now, but go comfort her father who would be upset too.
Michael was staring at her for a while, and suddenly nodding he said, “Well, I’ve decided it. You’re going to help me and I’m going to catch the person who did this.”
“Just like that?” Victoria asked, unnerved. “First, I’m not going to help anyone as rude as you
, second, that’s the police’s job.”
“The police!” Michael scoffed. “I’ve seen them at work before. My mother died when I was seven. Did you know that? She was killed in a hit and run right in front of my eyes. The police gave us every assurance they’d catch who did it, and in the end, they told us they just didn’t have the time or resources.”
“I’m, I’m sorry to hear that,” Victoria said. “But your father’s married, isn’t he? I thought Amanda was your mother.”
“Amanda is the very sensible woman from a good family that my grandfather chose as his daughter-in-law,” Michael said. “She’s not my mother. I lost my mother the day that maniac knocked her down on the road. I lost her again when the police didn’t do their jobs in catching him.”
“I’m sorry,” Victoria said. “Really. I am.” She hesitated, wondering if she should put her hand on his, but Michael straightened and waved his hand as if to make the memory fly away.
“Well, that’s all in the past,” He said. “But to answer your question, I believe that we can help the police tremendously if we, at least, ask around, and find out what everyone’s motives could have been. My plan is to talk to everyone who was in that room about what they saw and heard and felt the last few days.Then my plan is to figure out who killed him.”
“It won’t be that easy,” She said.
“You’ve got to be optimistic,” Michael said. “But never mind, I like you as you are, you’re going to make a good standin for Watson to my Holmes.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Of course, I am,” Michael said. “My grandfather is dead and I intend to find out who’s killed him. It’s against my nature to let anyone get away. I sincerely believe that two days is time enough for them to think up an escape or an alibi if we don’t act now. You’re a sharp woman and you’ve been going around observing all of us. You’ll see things from a different angle while my brain treads the tired old tracks of thought. If you help me, with my insider knowledge and your outsider’s perspective, we can solve this.”
“I’m flattered but it’s not my job,” Victoria said. “Plus, my father needs me.”
“What your father needs is a catering job,” Michael said. “I promise that I’ll ensure he gets a fair deal if you help me.”
Victoria paused with her hand on the door handle. “Is that a promise or a threat?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you threatening that my father will not get a job if I don’t help you?”
“Well, honestly, I wasn’t, but now that you mention it, why not?” He smiled. “Yes. Help me and be rewarded or thwart me and be punished.”
“Since you leave me no choice.” Victoria dropped her hand and turned back to him. “Where would you like to start?”
“I just realized I sounded a lot like him right now,” Michael said. “My grandfather, that is. What I said was probably his life motto. Help me and be rewarded, thwart me and be punished. God knows he punished a lot of us in his own way.”
“He punished you?” she asked.
“When I was 18, I decided I wanted to be a writer,” Michael said. “My grandfather told me I had two choices, I could stay in prep school, go to college, and be an engineer, or stay in prep school, go to college and study law.” Michael laughed.
“What did you choose?”
“I quit, started working as a coffee-boy in a small office, and began writing my novel,” Michael smiled. “He didn’t speak to me ever again. It was only because Tyler insisted that I even got invited here.”
“So you had reason to hate him.”
“Hate him? No, not really.” Michael shrugged. “I thought he was no good, and I didn’t much want to talk to him, but having a grandfather who kicked me out of the house was far better than having one who pampered me. Truth was, thanks to what he did, I had to stand on my own feet. It made me a much better man. He started with nothing too so I don’t see why I would be entitled to his money or his respect till I proved I deserved it.”
“But how about your father?” Victoria asked.
“Gustav? Kill Augustin?” Michael threw his head back and laughed.
“You were saying something about how Gustav was treated badly by your grandfather. Maybe… maybe he didn’t appreciate it the way you did.”
Chapter 6
“My father didn’t kill my grandfather,” Michael said pointedly.
“Well, if you’re going to have a list of people in your mind who could and couldn’t kill your grandfather, you might as well give up now. You’re too biased.” Victoria said.
“This isn’t me dismissing him because he’s my father. This is me saying he didn’t do it. My father. He’s too weak.” Michael said.
They were talking when they went out, and there was Michael’s father, Gustav, sitting on a chair with his tie loose, and a crystal glass with amber liquid in his hand. He was staring off into space, as if he couldn’t believe what had happened, and gave a start when Michael appeared.
“Father.” Michael bent down on his knees and put one hand on his father’s leg. “This must be a shock to you.”
“More than you know.” His father said, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall back on the chair. “Michael, I believe we may soon be ruined.”
“You mean money?” Michael gave a snort. “Is that all you care about, Father?”
“You care about it too little.” His father sat up, eyes shooting fire.
Michael looked very much like his father, Victoria observed. Except that where his father’s eyes looked like the color of whiskey diluted with water, Michael’s looked as golden as a straight shot from the bottle. You could probably say the same about their personalities too, she thought. One was diluted while the other was raw.
“Do we have any idea how it happened?” Michael asked. “Or are we still in the dark?”
“We have no idea,” Gustav said. “But I have been with him all day today and I can tell you honestly that if he was poisoned, it couldn’t be any of us. There was always too much of a crowd. No, it must have been the caterer.”
“An accidental death?” Michael smiled. “I don’t think so. Too happy a coincidence for some.”
When his father didn’t reply, Michael said, “Look, Father, we might as well go through it step by step. What did Grandfather do all day?”
“He woke up at dawn, as he always does, and then went over to Philip’s room. The two of them went to the gym for an hour, I think. Philip said Papa Augustin had a tall glass of lemon water with honey at the gym’s smoothie bar before his work out.”
“The smoothie bar, that’s just a small stall in front of the gym, right?” Michael said. “So whoever prepared it did so in front of Philip and Grandfather?”
“Yes. There’s no chance he was poisoned then.” Gustav nodded. “Well, after this, they went to their rooms and freshened up. Next, they sat in the lobby and had breakfast. This was around 8:00 a.m. I joined them there. Papa Augustin had his usual hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, triangular toast with butter on it, marmalade, a small apple, and coffee. This was made by the hotel too, so unless some maniac slipped something in it…”
“Let’s say that’s unlikely for now,” Michael said. “What then?”
“Well, we were together in the meeting room all along,” Gustav said. “Papa ate an orange at 11:00 a.m., and had his second round of medicines. After that, he ate and drank nothing up until the pre-lunch drink at 12:00 noon.”
“What medicines were these?” Michael asked.
“Oh, he took a painkiller thrice a day for the last week,” Gustav said. “He had a slight fall while coming out of the bath a while back, and his back has, I should say had, given him trouble ever since.” Gustav buried his head in his hands and let out a shuddering sigh.
“Could the painkiller be it?” Michael asked. “Could somebody have got their hands on it? Replaced it with something more lethal?”
“I don’t see how,” Gustav said, his
voice blurred. “After all, it was locked up in his briefcase as well as being locked inside his room. Only he had access to it. Michael, I don’t understand why you’re so morbid. Your grandfather is dead. My papa! You ought to be with your mother, helping her deal with this.”
“With Amanda?” Michael laughed. “Come on Dad. We both know she’s probably hovering near Philip and Tyler as though they’ll steal the silver while she’s not looking. She doesn’t need consolation-she just wants a new shopping list.”
“Don’t be vulgar!” his father said, pleadingly.
“Your problem, Dad, is that you think the best of everyone. Even now, after he’s gone, you insist that your papa was some kind of saint. In reality, he treated you worse than the heel of his shoe. He was always rude to you and always putting you down. I came to your office once, remember? He was throwing papers about and screaming at you for not being smarter; for not clinching the deal with some new company.”
“Your grandfather was tough on me because he loved me,” Gustav said. “And I’ll admit, I’ll admit I let myself be pushed around. But it’ll be worth it now. You’ll see. I’ll become CEO of Pelletier Industries. I’ll finally…” as if realizing what he was saying, Gustav backtracked. “Of course, I don’t care, I’d give it all up to have my papa back for even one day.”
“I’ve no doubt you would,” Michael said, patting his father’s hand. “Let’s hope the police do better with him than they did with mom, right?”
At his words, Gustav looked up with some tears in his eyes, and said, “You’re not always a kind boy, Michael, but even you can’t think that I only loved your grandfather for his money. He was, for better or worse, a good man. He just… he changed, became more insecure after your grandmother died. That’s when he tried to hold us together tighter than ever, and that’s when we all drifted apart.”
Chapter 7