Christmas with the Franks

by Leena Clover

  “I don’t know,” Chamberlain said resolutely.

  “We’ll talk to her, of course.”

  Stan checked off a few things on a piece of paper before he looked up again.

  “When was the last time you saw Mr. Frank?”

  “I took some brandy into his study,” Chamberlain said. “He was there with Mr. Patel.”

  “Did you notice anything different?”

  Chamberlain thought for a minute.

  “There was a draft. I mentioned it but the master said he didn’t feel it.”

  I looked up with interest.

  “A window could have been open. Maybe we should ask Pappa about this.”

  “I went around checking the windows,” the butler elaborated. “But the master asked me to leave.”

  “Can you think of anyone who hated your master?” Stan asked. “Anyone who couldn’t stand the sight of him?”

  Chamberlain pursed his lips again.

  “Mr. Frank was a bit eccentric. But he was a kind man. He always treated everyone right. I can’t imagine anyone in this house wanting to harm him.”

  “How did Amanda get along with Mr. Frank?” I asked.

  She was the only one who didn’t have blood ties to the old man.

  “They used to be pretty tight,” Chamberlain said. “Then Mr. Noah came to live here. Mr. Frank started talking about changing his will. I don’t think Amanda was too happy about it.”

  “But she’s the one carrying on with Noah, right?”

  Chamberlain held his silence.

  “Can I go now?” he asked.

  Stan nodded.

  “Keep an eye on things, will you? Let us know immediately if you see anything strange or if you remember something.”

  Chamberlain bowed and shuffled out of the door.

  Stan wrote something down.

  “What is that?” I asked curiously. “Some kind of checklist?”

  “I’m just taking notes so I remember. What was that about Amanda?”

  “She’s the only one who isn’t directly related to the old man.”

  “Neither is Sophia,” Stan pointed out. “I still think her coming here today isn’t a coincidence.”

  “What about that Noah? You think Teddy Junior knows about the affair?”

  “Isn’t the husband always the last to find out?”

  “Are you convinced money is the motive here, Stan?”

  “Hard to say, Meera. Without a will, we have no idea who the old man’s heir was.”

  “It should be Teddy Junior. He’s worked hard for the company all his life.”

  “Noah has some rights too if he is the old man’s son. Why do you think the old man brought him here?”

  “Maybe Junior has a copy of the will?” I thought out loud.

  “That would be too easy,” Stan laughed. “What about that young chit? Have you seen her before? She seems to be your age.”

  “She’s a lot younger than me, Stan. Haven’t you heard? She’s an exotic dancer.”

  Chapter 7

  Ryan Frank slouched in a chair in front of us, one foot placed over the other knee. His eyes were closed as he nodded to some imaginary tune playing in his mind.

  “Ryan!” I said sharply.

  This was the third time I had tried to get his attention. Stan was about to lose his cool.

  “What?” he drawled, peering through half open eyes.

  His silver gray eyes were exactly like the old man’s. So was his short frame. His dress was nothing like the old man’s. Dressed in faded, ripped jeans and a ratty tee shirt, he looked like a bum. He was so scrawny he looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in days. I wondered if he was on drugs.

  “Do you know why you’re here?” Stan asked imperiously. “There has been a murder in this house. We need to question you.”

  “How old are you?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Old enough,” Ryan smirked. “Fire away.”

  “Any thoughts on who might have wanted to harm your grandpa?” Stan cut to the chase.

  “That’s an easy one. Noah, of course.”

  “Why? I thought your grandpa invited him here.”

  “He had a mile long grudge against Grandpa,” Ryan said, leaning toward us. “Sure, he acted all goody-goody. But he secretly hated the old man.”

  “Why was that?” Stan asked.

  Ryan rolled his eyes and gave us a look.

  “Grandpa had an affair with his mother and abandoned her. Noah grew up poor. He didn’t have any of the nice things we have in this house. He hated that.”

  “Maybe your grandpa didn’t know about him,” I guessed.

  “Maybe!” Ryan shrugged. “But Noah cares about it. That’s why he’s having an affair with my mother. To get even with Grandpa and Dad.”

  Was Noah that vindictive?

  “An eye for an eye, you know,” Ryan supplied.

  Then he laughed. The mole under his eye disappeared for a bit.

  “Let’s talk about tonight,” Stan said. “When was the last time you saw the old man?”

  “At dinner?”

  “You must have seen him after that,” I reasoned. “Weren’t you sitting in the parlor after dinner? Mr. Frank was right there by the fire.”

  “Whatever,” Ryan said.

  “Did you talk to him again?” Stan asked.

  “Why would I? They were doing all the talking, weren’t they? Grandpa and Dad were.”

  “You talking about the argument at the dinner table?”

  “As if they don’t fight over the company every single day. How does it matter if we have partners or not, or if we sell fake sausage or not.”

  “You’re not interested in the business, then?”

  “My Dad’s not retiring anytime soon. I’ll look into it when he’s ready to step down.”

  “But you are going to work there one day?”

  “Where else would I go? Frank Foods belongs to me.”

  “Does it?” Stan raised his eyebrows. “What about Noah? Or other partners?”

  “Frank Foods belongs to my Dad. And it will come to me after him.”

  “Do you know that for a fact?” I asked.

  “Everyone knows that,” Ryan said defensively.

  He was beginning to get riled up.

  “Did your grandpa have any enemies?” Stan asked him. “Anyone he had a feud with?”

  “Other than Noah?”

  Ryan Frank definitely had it in for Noah. And he wasn’t holding back. He pointed the finger at Noah several times, so much that it began to sound ridiculous.

  “What about Crystal?” I asked. “She looks like she’s your age.”

  “You mean Barbie? Grandpa’s new toy?”

  “Did she get along well with your grandpa?” Stan asked.

  “I guess so. They spent a lot of time together, playing chess, or just laughing about stuff.”

  “What about that tarot reader? Have you seen her before?”

  Ryan smiled.

  “No way. I can’t imagine Grandpa inviting that kind of person for Christmas dinner. He must have had a plan.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was in his office this afternoon. Grandpa must have hired her for a purpose. He was a wily old man.”

  “You don’t think he hired her to tell fortunes?”

  Ryan snorted. “He never believed in that crap.”

  “Who was your grandpa closest to?” I asked.

  If the old man had a secret agenda for the evening, maybe someone knew about it. Who had he taken into confidence?

  “That’s easy. Chorizo!”

  “You mean the cat?” I grimaced. “Can you be serious for a minute?”

  “I am serious,” Ryan said. “That cat went everywhere with him. He carried her around in his arms, or Chamberlain carried her for him. He had this compulsive habit of stroking the cat while talking to people.”

  “Unfortunately, the cat can’t talk.”

  “I know that, dude! Duh!�
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  “Did Mr. Frank have a will?” Stan asked, doing his best to stay on point.

  “Of course he did. It was his biggest fear, dying without a will. He said he didn’t want his family fighting over his money when he was gone.”

  “Where is it then?”

  “With his lawyers in Oklahoma City,” Ryan told us. “There should be a copy somewhere in his office.”

  “Do you know what this will says?” Stan asked impatiently.

  “Sure do. Didn’t I say Grandpa was very particular about it? He revised it every six months, made minor changes. He called a family meeting and told us what was in the will.”

  “So tell us, Ryan,” I interrupted.

  “It’s all coming to me, of course,” he said nonchalantly. “After my Dad, that is.”

  I figured Julie would have a say in that. But I kept my opinion to myself.

  “What about Noah? Was he going to get anything?”

  Ryan looked bored.

  “He was taken care of. He had enough to live comfortably. But the bulk of the estate, this house and land, the plant, it all comes to my Dad.”

  I remembered what the old man had said at the dinner table.

  “I guess he was planning to make some changes. You know what he said during dinner?”

  Ryan waved a hand in the air.

  “That means nothing. He does that all the time. Doesn’t mean he’s going to sign over the plant to Noah.”

  He definitely wouldn’t be making any changes to his will now.

  My eyes met Stan’s. What if the old man had been serious this time? Ted Junior would have to wash his hands off his life’s work. Could he tolerate seeing Noah take it all away?

  “Did you know your grandma was coming here today?” I asked Ryan.

  Ryan shook his head.

  “Grandma never comes here for Christmas. She must be really hung up on that cruise.”

  I looked blank and Ryan explained.

  “Grandma goes on a big cruise every winter. Someone at the office books her tickets. They forgot to do that this year and now it’s too late. She’s really mad about it.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “My guess is Grandpa wanted to meet her.”

  “Were they on friendly terms?” I asked.

  “Not exactly. Grandma visits us for a few days every summer. Grandpa made it a point to be busy at that time.”

  Stan wrote something down and let Ryan go.

  “I’m beginning to think the old man was changing his will. Maybe he wanted to discuss it with Sophia?”

  “You heard the boy. They hardly saw eye to eye. You think he would get his estranged wife’s permission to leave his fortune to his illegitimate son?”

  Stan had touched on several points at once.

  “So we have Noah. He probably hated the old man. I bet he was jealous of Ted Junior.”

  “Why was the old man favoring him then?” Stan asked.

  “According to Ryan, it was just an act. He was doing it to annoy Junior.”

  “Wouldn’t that make Noah madder?”

  Stan was making a lot of sense.

  “So you’ve grown up fatherless. Then he decides to accept you one fine day and invites you home. Then he keeps hinting at making you his heir but never actually does it. Wouldn’t you lose it one day?”

  “Enough to kill the old man?” Stan asked.

  “This had to be a spur of the moment thing, right? No one would plan a murder during a Christmas party.”

  “So we have Noah who hates the old man. Teddy Junior has been arguing with him. Sophia barely talks to him. The list is growing, Meera.”

  I massaged my temples with my fingers.

  “I need a break. I’m going to walk around and see what’s happening outside.”

  I stepped out in the hallway and hesitated for a second. I turned left and found myself outside old Mr. Frank’s study. Under normal circumstances, someone would have been outside the door, guarding it. I turned back and put some distance between me and the room.

  I found my way into the living room. The fire had died down and someone had dimmed the lights. The blinds were open and I stared outside at the rapidly falling snow. Although it looked like a winter wonderland, it was a bit eerie at this time of night.

  “Looking for your grandma?” a voice asked and I jumped.

  Amanda was sitting on a couch, her feet up on the coffee table, a rug covering her lap. I looked around. She was the only one in the room.

  “They have all gone up to their rooms. I let them go. I figured we can always call them if that policeman wants to talk to them.”

  I nodded. There was no point in keeping everyone hanging.

  “Teddy didn’t want to go,” Amanda said softly. “I had to force him to go up.”

  I apologized for her loss again.

  “They fought all the time but Teddy was very close to his father. They worked together all these years, kept the business afloat through rough times.”

  “Can we talk to you now?” I asked Amanda. “You know where Stan is, don’t you?”

  She got up and started walking toward Ted Junior’s study. I stared at a grandfather clock that stood in a corner. It was almost 2 AM. My stomach growled and I wondered where I could get a snack. I didn’t want to wake anyone up. I went hunting for the kitchen.

  The kitchen was another cavernous space at the end of the big hall. It sparkled with shiny appliances. There was a walk-in freezer and a sub zero refrigerator. Pots and pans hung off hooks, and a fully stocked pantry to the side overflowed with every product known to man.

  Stan is never one to turn food down. I hoped Amanda wouldn’t mind it if I made myself at home. Spying a box of pasta on a shelf in the pantry, I decided to rustle up something simple.

  The aroma of frying sausage soon filled the kitchen. I filled three plates with hearty servings of pasta and slid a fried egg over the top of each one. I added a fresh pot of coffee to the tray and added the silverware.

  “Am I dreaming or do I smell food?” Amanda’s voice came through the study door.

  I waited outside, hoping one of them would get up and open the door.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” I said as Stan held the door for me. “I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” Amanda confessed. “I feel guilty about it but I could use some food right about now.”

  I slammed the heavy tray on the desk and handed the plates around.

  Stan’s eyes popped out of his head. He barely said thanks before twirling his fork in the pasta. None of us spoke for some time. I mopped up the runny yolk with a piece of bread and took a good sip of the coffee. I felt a burst of energy run through my body.

  “You’re a lifesaver, Meera,” Amanda said.

  “Shall we do this now?” I asked Stan. “It’s very late.”

  “I don’t mind,” Amanda said. “The food will keep me going for some time.”

  “Let’s do this, then,” Stan nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

  He settled back into Junior’s chair and picked up his pencil. I forced myself to concentrate and trained my eyes on Amanda.

  Chapter 8

  Amanda looked cool as a cucumber, sitting there in front of us. She was as perfectly coiffed as she had been when we arrived earlier that evening. I wondered if she had actually redone her makeup during the night.

  “What do you want to know, Detective?”

  Stan blushed and told her he wasn’t a detective. He was just a small town policeman.

  “Do you have any idea who might have done it?”

  “That gypsy woman,” she said without hesitation. “She’s the only weird one out there.”

  “You mean Madam Isadora?” I asked. “She was in the living room when the shot was fired. She couldn’t have done it.”

  Amanda shrugged her shoulders.

  “Maybe she has powers.”

  I burst out laughing.

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?”<
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  Stan’s mouth set in a grimace.

  “Jokes apart, can you think of anyone who might have had it in for old Mr. Frank?”

  Amanda sobered up.

  “Dad was cranky at best, but he was always fair. He never gave anyone reason to hate him.”

  “Who inherits all this after him?” Stan asked. “We hear it all comes to your husband?”

  Amanda clasped her hands together and nodded.

  “We all get something, but the bulk of the estate goes to Teddy. And why shouldn’t it? He’s the legitimate son. And he’s worked for it all his life.”

  “Can you confirm that Noah Williams is the old man’s son?” Stan asked.

  “That’s right. Dad had an affair with his mother when Teddy was a toddler. She never told him about the child. No one knew until recently. Dad invited him here as soon as he found out.”

  “Why didn’t Mr. Frank split the estate between his two sons then?”

  “Noah is not cut out for business. He has no interest in it. He was happy with what Dad portioned out for him.”

  I stepped in.

  “Didn’t Mr. Frank mention Noah getting his rightful inheritance or something like that during dinner?”

  Amanda dismissed my question.

  “He was just having fun. He liked to taunt Teddy all the time. He would never make a business decision unless Teddy approved of it, though.”

  “Where were you when the shot was fired?” Stan asked.

  “I was in the living room, saying goodbye to Meera and her family.”

  I tried to remember where Amanda had been standing. It had been dark because of the candles Madam Isadora insisted on. I didn’t remember seeing Amanda anywhere near me.

  “Did anything strange happen today?” Stan asked. “I mean yesterday. Anything out of the ordinary, anything unexpected?”

  “You must have been busy with the party,” I suggested.

  “This year’s party was nothing like our usual one. Dad cut the guest list in half a few days ago.”

  “Any reason for that?”

  “He went on about how the business wasn’t doing well. I think he just wanted to needle Teddy. I am sure we can afford to invite fifty people to dinner.”

  “So it was just us and the Robinsons,” I prompted. “And your house guests.”

  “Sure. I had engaged a band to play for the party but Dad asked me to cancel them. I didn’t know he had invited that tarot woman until she turned up this afternoon.”