Fatal Trust Read online

  Catherine rolled her eyes. It hasn’t been a piece of cake for me either. “I can imagine, Mother.”

  “Steven’s from a very good family.”

  “Neil was from a good family,” Catherine couldn’t resist pointing out.

  “You were too involved in your career to be a proper wife to someone like him, a surgeon who has such a demanding job. He obviously wanted a wife who was willing to stay home and have children, since Deidre’s done just that.” Her mother sniffed again, her phone equivalent of a condescending look. “I don’t know why you insisted on working, since you certainly didn’t need the money. I’m sure you won’t make that mistake again.”

  Marrying someone who not only cheats with a twenty-three-year-old massage therapist but also gets her pregnant? “I certainly won’t, Mother.”

  “Good. You know, if you wait too long to start dating again, you’ll be too old to be attractive to any man worth having. I’d hate to see you turn out to be a childless spinster like my sister.”

  Catherine’s hand tightened around her cell phone. “Aunt Jessica had a wonderful life.”

  “She was a disappointment to our family in so many ways.”

  “She was a bestselling author and in a committed relationship with another bestselling author.”

  “She wrote trashy romance novels, for heaven’s sake,” her mother said. “And you know how I felt about Max Windsor. The only good thing is that they never married.” She sighed loudly. “But I won’t speak ill of the dead. Jessica was my sister, and I loved her.”

  Catherine chewed her lip to keep from responding. Defending Aunt Jessica to her mother was as big a waste of time as defending Max.

  “You know, if you don’t show up, people will assume you’re still heartbroken over Neil, since he and Deidre will almost certainly be there,” her mother continued. “Self-pity is not an attractive characteristic.”

  “I hope you’ll spread the word that work, not self-pity, kept me from attending,” Catherine said. “Now I need to go. Give my best to Dad.”

  “I’ll do that. Please change your attitude about dating. A Barrington does not give up because of one failure.”

  “I know, Mother.” Rule Number 23. The one right before Rule 24, no self-pity. “Thanks for calling. I love you.”

  She did love her mother. Although sometimes she didn’t like her much. Probably because her mother seemed to consider her as big a disappointment as Jessica had been.

  Catherine tossed her phone onto the unmade bed and headed for the shower.

  # # #

  “I told you I’d survive, Lexie,” Ben said, walking into the dining room where she was savoring a cup of French roast. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  Other than feeling a flick against her hair, Lexie’s body didn’t react to the kiss, thank God. She’d been right—exhaustion had been responsible for last night’s more heated response.

  “Is Dylan still asleep?” Cecilia asked.

  “Yep.” Ben slathered a bagel with cream cheese and carried it and his coffee to the table. “He didn’t even flinch when I went in to get my stuff. Much as I hate to agree with Jeremy about anything, I think alcohol played a major role in last night’s dream.” He sat down in the high-backed chair beside Lexie.

  “I’m not so sure,” Cecilia said, fiddling with the tennis bracelet circling her wrist. “Dylan’s right about those noises we heard when we were younger, tapping on the walls and strange footsteps and loud groans, things like that. We thought it was Grandfather, but he always denied it and insisted he’d bought some ghosts to haunt Nevermore. If anyone could arrange for a few ghosts, it would have been Grandfather.”

  “Provided you believe in ghosts, which I don’t,” Ben said. “I heard the same kinds of things, especially when I was living here. I figured Grandfather was behind it no matter what he said.”

  “Did anything ever happen when Grandfather was traveling?” Cecilia asked.

  “Sometimes. I assumed he’d rigged it to go off while he was gone,” Ben said. “Or that I was imagining things.”

  “I believe Dylan saw your grandfather’s ghost,” Lexie said.

  “You believe in ghosts?” Ben looked at her incredulously, an understandable reaction to her outrageous statement.

  She didn’t, but Lexie very well might, and that would give her an excuse to quiz Dylan about exactly what he’d seen and hopefully trip him up. “How can anyone not believe in ghosts? I watched this series about haunted houses on the History Channel.” Which was true—she’d watched for about two minutes until she’d concluded it was completely lame. Lexie clasped her hands together. “I never expected to ever stay in a haunted house myself. I can’t wait to talk to Dylan.”

  “Whatever makes you happy,” Ben said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her such an indulgent smile that she’d have slugged him if his reaction hadn’t been because she was pretending to believe in ghosts. “We can go for a walk before I head off to work. I’d like to show you the lake. Assuming you can stand to wait to talk to Dylan.”

  “I doubt he’ll be up for at least an hour,” Cecilia said.

  Lexie got to her feet. “Then let’s go now.”

  “It’s so nice to know you’d pick Dylan over me,” Ben said.

  “Only to talk about ghosts to, and you know it,” Lexie said. “That fake jealousy just makes you look like an idiot. I’ll meet you out front in five minutes.”

  Cecilia grinned. “The more I see you handle Ben, the more I like you, Lexie. Enjoy your walk.”

  # # #

  Lexie and Ben made their way through the pines and birch trees, taking the path that led down the hill to Forest Lake. The world was cathedral-quiet other than the clomp of their feet and crackle of dry leaves. Every breath of cool, pine-scented air seemed to scrub out Lexie’s lungs. After walking maybe five minutes they reached the lake. Sunlight sparkled off the crystal-blue water and made the rocky shoreline glow. A sky the same deep blue as the water provided a stunning backdrop to the velvety green pine trees and silvery birch that covered the hills surrounding the lake.

  “This is beautiful,” Lexie said quietly. Speaking at a normal volume seemed sacrilegious. “Is all of this Max’s property?” Other than a dock and a storage shed, there was no evidence anyone else used the lake.

  “Most of it. The rest is national forest.” Ben plopped down on a flat-topped gray boulder the size of a loveseat. “I thought you said you don’t believe in ghosts.”

  Lexie sat down beside him. “I don’t. But I thought pretending to would give me an excuse to quiz Dylan about last night, since he’s the most likely suspect.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “He said that Max told him he knew what he’d done, which I assume refers to the murder. No one besides us knows Max was murdered. So why would Dylan dream that if he didn’t do it?”

  “Because alcohol makes people paranoid and irrational, even in nightmares,” Ben said. “We also don’t know for sure that Grandfather’s comment referred to murder.”

  “True,” Lexie said, pulling a notepad from her purse. “But Dylan also has a gambling problem and owes money to someone possibly connected to the Mafia, according to Cecilia. He could be desperate for cash. Does he have a job?”

  “He freelances,” Ben said. “Believe it or not, he’s a computer genius. He could earn a fortune, but he doesn’t have the greatest work ethic.”

  “What a surprise,” Lexie said. “Checking into Dylan’s finances is the first item on my To Do list.”

  “I’ll talk to Cecilia,” Ben said.

  “Good idea. Do you want paper and a pen?”

  “Why?”

  “So you can write a To Do list.”

  “I think I can remember everything,” Ben said.

  “Are you sure?” She grabbed her purse and unzipped it. “I’ve got another pen.”

  “Lexie, I’m not incompetent,” Ben said, sounding offended. “I run a business. And I ha
te To Do lists.”

  Lexie rezipped her purse and returned it to the rock. “How do you know what you have to do each day?”

  “If it isn’t obvious, it obviously isn’t important. Since you’re clearly a big fan of lists, what’s item two?”

  She looked down. “Checking into whether other beneficiaries are in desperate need of money. Starting with Cecilia. How did her last divorce leave her financially?”

  “We can skip Cecilia. She’d never hurt Grandfather.”

  “We can’t skip her.”

  “You only suspect her because she’s been divorced three times. You figure there’s either something wrong with her or she’s a gold-digger.” Ben’s voice had an edge.

  “Why would I think that?” Lexie asked. “I don’t know her well, but I like her. It sounds like she makes bad decisions about men and has mother issues, which are two things we’ve got in common. Max wanted my objectivity. That means looking into everyone.”

  Ben let out a long breath. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little protective of Cecilia. I can pretty much guarantee she needs money. Cecilia’s an incurable romantic and always thinks this man is the one she’ll be with forever, so she signs truly lousy prenuptial agreements. But unfortunately she also has lousy taste in men.”

  “What does she do for a living?”

  “She’s pretty much a professional wife,” Ben said. “She’s never had a paying job in her life. Her mother can’t survive without a man supporting her, and she’s convinced Cecilia that she’s the same way. Cecilia’s smart and talented and could succeed at any career she tried, but it’s hard to overcome years of your mother’s influence.”

  Lexie’s lips twisted wryly. “I can relate to that. What about Seth?”

  “Seth is supporting a wife and two little boys on what he makes videotaping weddings and bar mitzvahs. They also live in California, which isn’t exactly cheap. I’m sure he could use the money,” Ben said. “But he’s got a bigger motive. Seth’s share of the trust will allow him to finally break into films or television. And his wife Joanna will get to act in something other than local theater and tampon commercials, which I assume is a big part of why she married Seth.”

  Ben tapped his knuckles against his chin. “Actually, Joanna could be involved, too. She was here with Seth and the kids for Easter. She’s always struck me as one of those Lady Macbeth types.”

  “I take it you don’t like her.”

  “Not so much,” Ben said. “I think Joanna is my second favorite suspect.”

  Presumably Jeremy was his first. Lexie made another note. “How about Muriel?”

  “Aunt Muriel inherited quite a bit when her husband died,” Ben said. “But she contributes to a lot of religions and might have given more than she can afford. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “That leaves Jeremy. I’d better talk to him, since he clearly won’t tell you the truth.”

  “If he’s having money problems, he’ll lie to you, too, if only out of pride,” Ben said. “I’ll ask my ex-wife. She isn’t a big fan of Jeremy’s either.”

  “Doesn’t Jeremy live in New York?”

  Ben shrugged. “Olivia knows a lot of people.”

  Lexie looked down at her list. She’d reached the end, and every task had been delegated to Ben. “If you’re going to find out all the money stuff, what am I supposed to do?”

  “Once you’re done discussing Grandfather’s ghost with Dylan?” Ben asked, a corner of his mouth quirking. “Why don’t you ask everyone about Grandfather? Since he was famous, you’d naturally be curious about him. Maybe someone will admit resenting him.”

  “Wouldn’t I ask you?”

  “Tell people I’m too upset to talk about him.”

  “I guess I can also ask them about you,” Lexie said.

  “Me?”

  “I’m not about to take your word for it that you have no interest in Max’s money.”

  Ben narrowed his eyes at her. “Grandfather trusted me enough to appoint me a co-investigator. You’re just trying to get back at me for making you ride on my motorcycle.”

  That sparked Lexie’s temper, and she lifted her chin. “I’m not that petty. I’m trying to be thorough. I can’t exclude one beneficiary from the investigation.”

  “Fine. Ask all you want. But—” He pointed at the path. “Quiet,” he whispered.

  Lexie heard a couple of footsteps, then silence.

  Ben walked over to the path and started back through the woods. “What the hell are you doing spying on us?”

  Lexie rushed to the path. Ben had a tight grip on one of Seth’s arms.

  “I’m not spying on you,” Seth said. “I didn’t even know you were there.” He waved his camera the best he could since Ben was holding his arm. “I’m taking photos of Grandfather’s land. Nevermore is probably going to be sold, and this might be my last time here. It’s been such an important part of my growing up that I want to make sure I’ve got photos of it. For myself and to show the boys.”

  Ben stared at Seth for a moment. After last night’s car discussion, Lexie braced herself for a loud argument and maybe even a few thrown punches.

  Instead, Ben dropped his cousin’s arm, smiling faintly. “You really have gotten sentimental, haven’t you?”

  “Fatherhood will do it to you. You should try it,” Seth said, and then he grimaced. “Sorry.”

  “No big deal,” Ben said.

  “You know, I have a feeling that Grandfather got sentimental, too,” Seth said. “That’s why he wanted us to spend two weeks here, both so we’ll appreciate Nevermore and so we’ll start to appreciate each other.”

  “You honestly think that was Grandfather’s motivation?”

  “It makes sense.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. “I think you’ve been in California too long.”

  # # #

  It was almost nine that evening when Ben knocked on Lexie’s bedroom door. “Sorry I missed sherry hour and dinner, but I got stuck at work. How was your day?”

  “Wonderful,” Lexie said, giving him a saccharine smile. “I spent several hours reading and memorizing everything I could about Lexington, Kentucky, in case Seth or someone else decides to quiz me about it. Which wouldn’t be a problem if you’d made me from a city I’d actually spent some time in.”

  “Too late now,” Ben said. “How was sherry hour?”

  “I didn’t show up until the end,” Lexie said. “I told everyone I felt uncomfortable about intruding on the family when you aren’t around, which is true. But I was there for dinner, and it was lovely. Seth kept taking pictures of everything and everyone. Dylan and Muriel got into a heated argument about whether God exists and Buddha’s role in the creation of the universe, since Muriel seems to think he had one. Then Jeremy and Cecilia argued over whether the fact she keeps signing bad prenups indicates she’s an incurable romantic or just stupid. Trey tried to keep peace and change the subject, which didn’t work. And despite my research, no one asked me a single damn question about Lexington. At least the food was good.”

  “I think I prefer the burger and fries I ate by myself at Dairy Queen before I came home.” Ben took Lexie’s arm. “You deserve a break. Let’s go.”

  “Go where?” she asked.

  “Trust me.”

  “Right. The last time I did that, I ended up riding a motorcycle and dodging a cop.”

  Ben grinned. “Relax. I’m just going to introduce you to a Rockville institution.” He opened the door. “We’ll take my truck.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Walt’s Tavern was a dive located a mile outside Rockville. Lexie and Ben walked through a cloud of smoke thick enough to slice, courtesy of a dozen men and women with drinks and cigarettes milling around the entrance. Although smoking inside was prohibited by state law, the front door was propped wide open, so a smoky haze encompassed a room packed with men wearing T-shirts, jeans, and swaggers, and women with shrill laughs and too much eye shadow. In a khaki skirt and navy silk T-shirt, Lex
ie felt overdressed—literally. Every other woman seemed to be wearing a cropped top, paired with either a miniskirt or jeans so tight they were superfluous as a body covering.

  Ben put his hand on Lexie’s back and directed her to the bar, an expanse of light wood covered with scratches and smoke burns. “What can I get you?” he asked, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the blaring jukebox and alcohol-loudened conversations.

  “I don’t suppose they have a decent cabernet,” Lexie said.

  “I wouldn’t try it.”

  “I assume the mixed drinks are watered down.”

  Ben grinned. “How else is Walt supposed to make a living?”

  “I’ll try a gin and tonic.”

  Lexie surveyed the room as she waited for her drink. From the minute she’d stepped into the place, she’d felt as if every eye was on her, and from the way people were unabashedly staring now, she wasn’t just being paranoid. She shouldn’t have been surprised—from what she knew of small towns, gossip was a major form of entertainment. She’d bet everyone had heard all about Ben’s girlfriend from Kentucky.

  “Here’s your drink,” Ben said, handing her a tall glass filled with a reddish-orange liquid and a few bobbing ice cubes. “It’s Walt’s specialty. He insisted. Don’t drink it too fast.”

  “Since you won’t buy me another one?”

  “I didn’t have to pay for this one.”

  Lexie took a sip. The drink was fruity but not overly sweet. She could barely taste the alcohol—hopefully it contained enough to kill any germs lurking in the glass or water supply.

  In contrast to everyone else’s interest in Lexie, Ben ignored her, instead scanning the crowd. “I’ve got to talk to someone,” he said after a moment. Then he took off, heading for a blonde who was leaning against the back wall, probably because otherwise her oversized bust would make her fall flat on her face. Ben took the woman’s arm and led her to a corner table.

  That’s why he’d come here, Lexie realized—to meet another woman. Although she had no idea why he’d brought her along. The probability she’d pick up any clues as to Max’s killer seemed about as likely as the blonde’s boobs being gifts of nature. People certainly wouldn’t mention any gossip they’d heard about Ben or his family to his girlfriend. She turned around and set her empty glass on the bar.