“Why aren’t they buried together?” Eric asked.
“I guess this place wouldn’t have done for him.” No crashing waves, no drama, no room for an appropriate monument, no room for Angela. And . . . and he wouldn’t have been at home here. There was something in this church I didn’t understand. What did this place stand for? People found meaning here.
“When I die, you can bury me here,” Eric said.
We had the helmets on, and the words came from every direction.
I settled behind him on the motorcycle. “I hope I don’t have to bury you,” I said.
“I don’t mean anytime soon.”
We didn’t pass Hazel’s on the way back. Eric cut across to the closest highway ramp, and we were on our way home.
“Are you ever going to get married?” I asked my helmet.
“I guess,” it answered. “Why not?” Eric had obviously thought about this very deeply.
“When?”
“I don’t know. When I meet somebody.”
The life he was leading didn’t make that likely. Eric had decisions to make about his life, too.
“I’ll have Katie find you a wife.”
“Okay.” He was probably not being serious.
“Anything particular you want?”
“Friendly. Like she is.”
Katie could be friendly, when she wanted. What was she going to think about the upcoming war? Or about the truth of Angela’s demise? She didn’t know what was about to happen.
“You should take me to my house,” I said. “And you need to stay for dinner. We’ll be on television tonight.”
“Cool. What about your car?”
“I’ll have someone get it.”
21
Katie was watching as we rocketed into the driveway, and I suffered her amusement stoically. I even let her take a picture of the Brothers Having Fun. Then I changed into unwrinkled clothes and prepared for our little family meeting.
Our life was going to change. It had when Melvin died, but we were going to start feeling the day-to-day reality of it after the six-o’clock news shoved us and our brawl with the governor into every living room in the state.
But I did not call the meeting to order. It was called to disorder instead by the arrival of a television truck in the driveway and the ringing of the doorbell. We were under assault.
I ordered that the bell be ignored and called the police to clear the invaders from my property. The television station they were from was not the one I owned.
“Jason, what is going on?” Katie asked, but I told her to wait. I left her and Eric spying out the front windows through the closed curtains while I went to my office.
I called Pamela.
“Were those letters delivered?” I asked.
“Yes, Jason. And I have some very urgent requests for meetings with you.”
“Schedule them for tomorrow morning, all together, and have Fred in on it. But I don’t want to meet with any of the men who were fired.”
“I’ll set it up just after your first meeting. Mr. Patrick Donovan of the FBI is coming down from Boston at nine o’clock.”
“Thank you very much. And I need to call someone at Channel Five news.”
She provided me with the correct name and number, and I called Glenda Sweeney, the producer. I was on hold for less than ten seconds between the secretary and Glenda herself. Almost as if she had been awaiting me.
“Mr. Boyer, it’s so nice of you to call,” she said.
“Ms. Sweeney,” I said. “Take your people away from my house.”
I was not actually throwing a tantrum. I had thought this out.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Boyer. But we are trying to get some information. You may not be aware—”
“I’m quite aware, and you aren’t. You’ll need your truck downtown this evening.”
“But Mr. Boyer . . .”
She was off-balance, and I pushed her the rest of the way. “You should watch Channel Six to get filled in on the details. And I’ll give you access to them, too, if you don’t antagonize me.”
I gave her three seconds. “I don’t want to antagonize you, Mr. Boyer. Could you tell me what will be happening downtown?”
“When that truck is away from here and parked in front of the governor’s mansion, you can call me back.”
“We have more than one truck.”
“You’ll need them all in town,” I said. “Good-bye.”
The men in blue were imposing law and order on the front yard. The truck backed out of the driveway and pulled up to the curb, and its occupants stayed carefully in the road and off private property. One officer came to the door, and I thanked him and sent him back to his post. Then the truck itself drove away.
“What is happening?” Katie said as we sat down for our family meeting.
“A lot of stuff,” I said. “I’m firing the governor today.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m getting rid of him.”
“But . . . I thought . . .” Eric said. “I don’t think he works for you.”
“You might as well hear it on the news,” I said. “They’ll probably explain it better.” The curtains were still drawn in the front room, and I opened them. “It has to do with the police thinking that Melvin was murdered.”
“Wasn’t he?” Katie said.
“Now they think Angela was, too.”
“I thought she . . . Didn’t she do it herself?” Eric said.
“What about her note?” Katie asked.
“On the news tonight, they’ll say it was forged.”
They were approaching overload. Rosita popped in.
“Mr. Jason, you said I should tell you if Miss Glenda Sweeney calls.”
“Thank you. I’ll take it in here,” I said. My audience would benefit from listening in. “And, Rosita—could you bring us some snacks?” I picked up the phone. “This is Jason Boyer.”
“Mr. Boyer. I have a truck at the governor’s mansion. Now, could you tell me what will be happening?”
“This is off the record?”
She paused. “I’d rather it was on the record.”
“All right,” I said. “Then this is what I’ll tell you. It’s been one month since Melvin Boyer died and I took over his businesses. I’ve looked into his dealings with the state government, and I’ve decided to go public with what I’ve found.”
“And what have you found?”
“I won’t say anything else on the record.”
“Mr. Boyer.” Her tone said she knew what I’d found. “You aren’t really blowing the whistle, are you? I don’t believe it. You’d be committing suicide.”
No, murder. And the victim was already dead. “It doesn’t matter to me what you believe. And I don’t know what Governor Bright believes, either. But I think you should be ready to ask him tonight, after Channel Six does its report, and even more after the newspaper comes out tomorrow.”
“Mr. Boyer, what about the report that you interfered with the investigation into your father’s murder?”
“I only urged the governor’s office to not interfere with it.”
“May I schedule an interview?”
“No. I’ll schedule it.”
“Soon?”
“That depends on how well you cover the whole story. I might also talk with some people higher up in your organization first.”
“I understand.” Which meant she knew how far the field was tilted.
“I’ll look forward to talking to you later.”
I set the phone down and looked back to my listeners.
“I don’t get it,” Eric said, finally.
It wasn’t fair to him, either of them, to do it this way. Katie had had some warning, and Eric maybe had a clue, but neither of them were ready for what they were about to see.
And the clock was about to strike six.
We watched Channel Six, with Channel Five up in the corner of the screen. Six led with the st
ory and Five gave it the “coming up later in the show” treatment. They wanted to hear Six’s report first.
We settled comfortably into our chairs, Rosita’s little appetizer snack close by, as the war began.
The opening salvo was massive. The talking head stared us straight in the eye and spoke his words of destruction.
“Good evening, I’m Bill Sandoff. Today we begin with a report on corruption in state government that could reach our highest elected officials, and involves some of the biggest names in the construction industry. Channel Six has obtained key information from knowledgeable sources that details a longstanding system of bribes and kickbacks that has cost the taxpayers millions of dollars and lined the pockets of many senior members of Governor Harry Bright’s administration.
“First, Jill Abernathy reports on the businesses involved, and the man behind the system, the late Melvin Boyer. Before we begin, we have to disclose that the Boyer family is a major stockholder in First Media, the owner of this station. Jill?”
Step by step, they laid it out. Melvin’s death and the cleaning of the corporate house by his son Jason (unavailable for comment on this day). The outline of the bid fixing schemes and a list of the larger state projects and the profits reaped from them. Calls late in the day to the specific Boyer businesses to speak with the named executives, and the reply that those individuals were no longer employed.
Then back to the deaths of Melvin and then Angela—the brief details and the bombshell information that the deaths were being investigated as murders.
There were pictures and video, location shots, even a university expert on state politics. The big guns were leveled at the governor’s mansion, and every shot was blasting another gaping hole.
“Governor Bright’s press secretary has only promised that the governor will make a statement later this evening. Channel Six will bring it to you live,” Bill promised us.
“And finally,” he said in his And finally voice, “even as the governor and his administration are caught in the center of this unfolding scandal, what about the man who opened this Pandora’s box?”
And there I was. It was the same three-year-old wedding shot Channel Five had used a month ago. “Jason Boyer, who inherited his father’s position as the wealthiest and most powerful industrialist in the state, appears to be making a bold move to transform that position.”
And that was it. Bill poured one more bucket of words all over us and he was done. Seventeen minutes of talking, and it was done. The governor was done, Melvin was done—who knows what else. I couldn’t tell how I felt. Well done, maybe.
Channel Five’s report began five seconds after the other ended. It was a very flat version of the murders, mostly the evidence of the brake line and forged suicide note. The victims were portrayed as community pillars, and the perpetrator as obviously an insider who stood to gain from their deaths. Only at the end was there just a brief sentence about some unfounded allegations concerning Melvin’s business dealings. It would have been interesting to see the original version.
We changed venue and sat down to our dinner of salmon quiche. It was quiet at first. Eric was the first to word a question.
“Did you know all of that?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I gave them most of it. They were doing what I told them to do.”
“They said you just found out what he was doing when you looked through his papers.”
“The details. But I’ve always known.”
“I didn’t know.”
What a day he was having—gaining a mother and losing a father. “Fred Spellman was in on it for years. He helped Melvin put it all together.”
“Uncle Fred, huh.”
“‘Uncle Fred’ is about as real as Santa Claus. And Stan Morton, who runs the newspaper and Channel Six, has always known. Senator Forrester got elected in a deal with Melvin. Basically everyone in state government has either known what Melvin was doing, or was even on his payroll.”
Eric was still struggling. “Why didn’t they do anything about it?”
“Why should they? They were all making a lot of money from his deals.”
“It was illegal.”
“Well,” I said, “that’s why I’m stopping it all.”
I felt good saying that, and it was true. Just not the whole truth.
Eric was still getting all the pieces put together. “So that’s why you’re doing all this.”
“I want it to end. I don’t want to be a criminal. This is the best way.”
He stared at me, maybe with respect. “Okay. I guess I see.”
“It was probably all going to come out anyway, sooner or later. I wanted to control it, instead of letting the governor.”
“Yeah, the governor . . .” Eric had the edges of the puzzle together now, and he was starting on the middle. “He must be pretty mad right now. What will he do?”
“I don’t know. I think he should resign.”
“I guess so. I see what you meant, that you’re firing him.”
He would have said more but it was Katie’s turn.
“Not everything Melvin did was wrong,” she said.
“No, not at all,” I said. “A lot of his business was straight.”
“So what will all this do to us, Jason?”
Katie had never believed in Santa Claus, but she was wondering about the Christmas presents.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “It’ll be hard getting through it. But you don’t need to worry.”
“What would they do to us? If it was illegal, would they want the money back?” Katie needed assurance.
“We’ll be fine,” I said.
She preferred anxiety. “What if the governor tries to fight back?”
“Fred and I have discussed that.”
“What will you do?”
Apparently Katie had not completed her training in how to be a billionaire’s wife, at least the course on what not to ask about her husband’s business affairs.
“It depends on what the governor does. I don’t think he can do very much.”
“Everything is ready to move to the new house next week.” That was the big thing on her mind. She had mastered the How to Spend Money sections of the curriculum.
“It’s fine. Nothing will stop us from getting into the new house. It’s more important now than ever.”
“Everyone’s heard of us now,” she said, putting her own pieces together. “We’re famous.” She didn’t mind that, but she wanted to be ready first. “I don’t think we should wait to move.”
“Could we do it tomorrow?” I asked.
She was already thinking, staring into the distance. “Yes. We can. We will. Then we’ll have a gate, and we’re going to need it.” She looked back to me. “You’re doing big things, Jason.” A new worry came to her. “What will Mother think?”
“Keep us apart,” I said. It was not a joke.
We all had too much to think about, and it was an edgy evening. I finally told Eric to take a guest room when he couldn’t bring himself to leave. We didn’t go to bed, though, and finally Governor Bright made his awaited appearance.
He read his statement at the press-room podium, flanked by aides and officials, stating his shock at the allegations and promising a complete investigation. His tone was stentorian, authoritative, and somber. He also added his regret that “this young Mr. Boyer” couldn’t have first brought the evidence to him, the state’s highest official and guardian of the public trust, instead of sensationalizing it.
He took questions because he had to. There had been a lot that he hadn’t said in his statement, and the reporters had noticed.
Did he still have confidence in his Secretary of Transportation and Secretary of Finance?
“I am sure Mr. Howland and Mr. Gilbert are as anxious as I am to investigate every accusation.”
That was the most truthful thing he’d said so far. I almost laughed.
Bill Sandoff went for the big one. “Mr. Governor, did you personally
have any knowledge of these alleged criminal practices?”
The look in the governor’s eye showed what he thought of Bill. Then his mouth started speaking.
“I will personally oversee the investigation, and I am sure it will find no evidence of anything criminal in my administration.”
Surely he hadn’t said that. But he had, with a straight face.
“Mr. Governor, shouldn’t the investigation be independent?” This was a newspaper reporter. “Would the public trust you to investigate your own administration?”
And then Clinton Grainger’s careful spin went out of control.
Harry Bright turned red, which looked very patriotic with his white hair and blue suit. “Trust? The public placed their trust in me at the last election. If you want to find criminals, I’ll tell you where to look. Follow these accusations back to their source. Melvin Boyer was poison to this state, but in one month his son has already done worse damage than his father ever did.”
The reporters were momentarily stunned by his outburst. “Why do you believe Jason Boyer is making these allegations?” asked one loud voice.
Bright had strayed from his script and couldn’t find his way back. “Because he’s trying to cover up the murders of his own father and mother. Well, I won’t be intimidated by his attack. We’ll get to the truth of it all.”
Every mouth I could see dropped open. This stunned moment was longer but ended in greater chaos.
“Be quiet,” I said to the two mouths that could hear me, and we listened to the reporters shouting and watched the governor realize he may have gone too far. He stood, glaring, while the room quieted and the unanswered questions finally settled in a heap on the floor.
“I will not answer any further questions at this time,” he said, still glaring. “I will only promise you that the police will uncover every crime, and that every person responsible will be brought to justice. Every person. Any further questions may be directed to my press office. Good night.”
The Heir Page 15