Death on a Silver Platter (22 page)

“Did you know Elaine was your child?”

“Not until after she was born. Again, Millie said she didn’t want to know, but I had blood tests run.”

“Carl was your
dear
friend,” said Elaine, her voice oozing sarcasm. “Right.”

“What about me?” asked Danny. He’d said so little, it was as if the sofa had spoken. “I assume my father was sterile. That’s why Mom couldn’t conceive. Am I your third child? Did you have another affair?”

Doc Holland looked at Danny with a joyless smile, one that didn’t part his lips. “No, son. You were Millie’s miracle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Elaine.

“Millie was getting worried again about two years after Elaine was born. She came to me one night, said Carl wanted another child, but again, she couldn’t seem to get pregnant. She acted the seductress, but this time I was disgusted by it. I told her so. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I wouldn’t be used like that again. Turns out, a few weeks later, she told me she was pregnant. It was Carl’s child.”

“You’re sure?” said Elaine.

“Yes,” said Doc, giving her a hard look. “I am. I have the tests to prove it.”

“My God,” whispered Danny. “I’m the only legitimate heir. She knew it all along. She
knew
it.”

“I doubt your father ever had his sperm count checked, but I assume it wasn’t nonexistent, just low. I think Millie had made some kind of pact with God. If He gave her a child with Carl, she promised to devote her life to His service. She couldn’t fulfill that promise right away because she had to take over the reins of the company until you kids were old enough to assume the leadership.”

“But . . . there was some kind of prenup,” said Alex. “Dad forced Mom to sign it before they were married.”

Doc Holland seemed confused. “I think you’re wrong about that, son. Millie never said anything to me about it.”

“There
was
a signed agreement,” said Pearl.

Everyone turned to look at her.

“That’s the last part I need to talk to you about.”

“I don’t know why we should believe any of this,” said Elaine. She got up and wobbled over to the table that served as a small bar. She splashed straight gin into a martini glass and tossed it back.

“You can have DNA tests done,” said Doc. “I encourage you to do so. I hope, when you find out the truth, that you won’t hate me—that you’ll allow me into your lives. I love you all, ever since I first set eyes on you. In my own, self-pitying sort of way, I feel like the family I should have had was stolen from me. But I have no one to blame but myself.”

“I think we’ll need some time to think about
that,
” said Elaine.

“Of course,” said Doc. He seemed deflated now, thinner, smaller, like a ball that had been leaking air and was slowly turning into a rumpled shell.

“Tell us about the prenup,” said Alex.

Glancing down at her purse, Pearl removed a thick envelope, a contract with a blue cover, and smoothed it open. “This is it. When Carl was dying, he told me to go get it, take it from his office and burn it. He knew that if it was ever executed, that Alex and Elaine would be cut out of his will. He didn’t want that. He wanted all three of you to inherit his company. He had great faith in the business and in all of you. He knew the company would make a lot of money one day. If getting rid of the agreement meant that Millie would inherit, too, it was the way it had to be.”

“But you didn’t burn it,” said Danny.

“No,” said Pearl. “I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to see what Millie would do. If it looked like she was going to run the company into the ground, if she refused to take the advice of the men your father trusted, then . . . I was going to use it to take the business away from her.” She handed the contract across to Danny. “You see, Carl had made me the executor of his estate. Until you three reached your majority, he put me in charge of seeing that the company stayed on the right course. I watched Millie for many years. When Alex and Elaine were old enough, when they’d finally taken their places in the company, I put the agreement in a safety-deposit box and forgot about it.”

“So . . . it was never Mom’s company to give us,” said Danny.

“You mean, she made us sweat and grovel, and it was always ours?” said Elaine.

“Yes,” said Pearl. “But, I suppose, if Danny wants to take you and your brother to court, he could use this contract to have your mother’s will invalidated.
Danny
is the sole, legal owner of Veelund Industries, although Carl wanted you to own it jointly.”

Danny thought about it for a second, then burst out laughing.

Alex and Elaine just stared at him.

“Come on,” he said, slapping Alex on the back. “Don’t you see how ridiculous this is?”

“What are you going to do with that?” said Elaine, nodding to the contract.

“What do you think?”

“Toss us out on our ass?” said Alex.

Still laughing, Danny got up and poured himself a shot of bourbon. “This calls for something stiffer than iced tea.” Holding up the shot glass, he said, “To us.”

“Us?” said Alex.

“To my brother and sister and me. Titans of industry. You guys run the store and I’ll go back to New York and be a writer.”

“What about the people who offered to buy it?” asked Alex.

“Tell them to take a flying leap.”

“What about taking it public?” asked Elaine.

“Let’s just leave things the way they are for now. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Alex. “But . . . there’s the matter of Roman.”

“Make him walk the plank,” said Elaine, a wicked smile on her face.

“We’ll discuss it. At our next board meeting,” said Danny. He looked flushed with excitement.

Sophie couldn’t help but smile. At this moment, they all seemed so happy. After everything they’d all gone through, they deserved it. And yet, with all the questions still swirling around them, that happiness hung by the thinnest of threads.

33

Elaine was in a savage mood. She’d been hurt and she wanted to hurt back. On Tuesday morning, she entered the lobby of the new Savoy Millennium in downtown Minneapolis. Her eyes darted furtively as she clutched a shoulder purse to her side, heading straight for the elevators that would take her to the twenty-third floor. The penthouse suites. Zander was already flaunting the inheritance he’d received from her mother. It made Elaine sick to think about it. She’d called him less than ten minutes ago, so she knew he was in. When he answered, she’d hung up. She didn’t tell him it was time for a little “come to Jesus” meeting. When she left the hotel, she’d have her answers or Zander would be dead.

As she walked toward the room, she saw a hotel employee approaching from the other direction. He was pushing a room service cart, complete with white tablecloth, a fresh yellow rose in a thin glass vase, a silver coffeepot, a basket of rolls, and a silver-domed plate. There were only three other suites in this section, so Elaine waited, hoping the food was meant for 2416. She needed a way to get into the room, and it looked as though fate had provided her with one. She figured that, even without the ruse, Zander might let her in. But she didn’t want to take any chances.

The man pushing the cart looked up at her as he got to the door. Elaine smiled warmly. Lowering her voice, she said, “Is this for Mr. Zander?”

“Yes,” said the man. He was about to knock when Elaine slipped a fifty-dollar bill out of her purse. Her smile turned seductive. “Why don’t you let me deliver the food? It would be so much more fun that way.” She nodded to the door. “He’s a . . . friend.”

The hotel employee looked at the fifty. “It’s against hotel policy.”

“Yes, but it can be our little secret. What do you say?” She plucked another fifty from her purse.

“Well, I’m all for friendship.” He took the money and stuffed it into his back pocket. “Have fun,” he whispered.

She waited until he was gone, then knocked. “Room service,” she called. She felt for the gun in her purse, needing to make sure it was there. When Zander opened the door, he had the usual supercilious look on his face. She’d seen it many times before, but today it made her want to gag.

Finding Elaine standing outside, Zander’s look soured. “What do you want?”

“You better bring your breakfast in before it gets cold. Here, I’ll help.” She pushed the cart at him so fast and hard that he had to move or get run over. The door shut automatically behind her.

“I have nothing to say to you,” said Zander.

“Nice suite.” She glanced around at the furnishings. “Must have cost you some big bucks.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” He was wearing a crisp yellow Oxford cloth shirt, a gray silk tie, and dark dress slacks.

Elaine had on sweatpants and a Planet Hollywood T-shirt.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

She pulled the revolver out of her purse.

His eyes turned as round as saucers. “What—”

“Shut up. Turn around.”

“Why?”

“Do it!”

He turned his back to her.

“Put your hands behind your back. Do it!” Pushing the gun into the side of his neck, she clamped a pair of handcuffs onto his wrists. Big purses came in handy.

“Elaine, I don’t know what you think you’re doing. I didn’t hurt your mother or your daughter. And I don’t know who did.”

“Shut up.” She shoved him toward a chair by the window, then backed up.

He sat down slowly, his eyes fixed on the gun.

She’d been planning this for days, ever since her daughter’s death. Maybe she’d gone over the edge. She had a hard time believing that a normal, middle-aged woman could become so consumed by hate. But she was. Her old life seemed dead and gone. And she didn’t care. That’s what made her truly dangerous. “Recognize the gun?” she said, looking down at him. He was such a small man. He looked so pedantic, so clean, so harmless.

“No,” he said, his expression turning defiant.

“It belonged to my father.” As soon as she said it, she felt an odd emptiness in the pit of her stomach. Maybe Carl Veelund wasn’t her real dad, but it still felt like he was. “I’m told it’s a thirty-eight in perfect working order. The cylinder has six chambers, but only one bullet in it. And now we’re going to play a little game.”

“You’d . . . you’d never use that gun on me. Come on, Elaine. Stop this. I’m happy to talk to you, but not at the point of a gun.”

“Because you’re such a reasonable man.”

“I
am
a reasonable man. Yes.”

“Good, then our game shouldn’t take us long at all.”

He breathed out slowly. He was starting to sweat. “The police have already talked to me. I know they found my tie clasp in that apartment at the Maxfield, but someone must have planted it. I have an alibi, Elaine. I was never there and I can prove it.”

“Can you?” She cocked the trigger.

“Stop it! This is ridiculous. I was your mother’s trusted assistant for years!”

“You helped her.”

“What? Yes. Of course.”

“You organized her life.”

“Yes.”

“And when you thought your inheritance was threatened, you ended it.”

“You’re wrong.”

Elaine had formed a theory. She’d come here today to prove it. Maybe she could. Maybe she couldn’t. But as far as she could tell, the police weren’t making any progress in figuring out who’d killed either her mother or her daughter. Elaine was sick of waiting.

“You’ve been under a great deal of stress lately, Elaine. A great deal. You need to calm down, step back, and see that I’m your friend. I’ve always been your friend.”

“You’re right about one thing. I am close to snapping.”

Zander looked as if he’d just been shocked by a jolt of electricity.

“That snap could come at any moment, Zander. Let’s start.” She uncocked the trigger, spun the cylinder, then cocked it again. “I’m going to ask you a question. If I don’t get an answer, or if the answer feels like a lie, then I pull the trigger. You’ve got a one in six chance of, well”—she walked closer and pressed the gun to his forehead—“of having your brains explode all over that wall. I think you’re a very bad man, Galen, so if that happens, frankly, I don’t much care.”

“How can you be like this? How can you be so cruel, so . . . cold?”

She shrugged. “One too many Lehane novels?”

“What? Elaine, think! You’ll go to jail.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I can always say it was self-defense.” She glanced over at her purse. “Actually, I’ve got some other stuff in there that I can use to set the scene for the police. I’ve thought about this very carefully, Galen.” She knew he hated his first name, so she decided to use it exclusively. “I really don’t think I’ll go to jail for your murder.”

“But—”

She pressed the barrel into his ear. “First question. Did you molest my daughter?”

“No.”

She pulled the trigger.

“God!” he screamed, ducked down and cringed. “God, stop it!”

“Let’s try that again.” She spun the barrel and cocked the trigger. “Did you molest my daughter, Galen? Think a little harder this time.”

“I—”

“Come on. Just get it off your chest. You’ll feel better.”

“I . . . I—”

“The
truth
, Galen.” She could feel herself quaking inside.

“I . . . didn’t mean to. It was . . . I’m—”

“You’re what?”

“Sorry.”

“You’re a stinking, slimy, goddamned
pedophile,
that’s what you are.”

“Yes. Okay, yes.”

She wanted to kill him. But slowly. She wanted to watch him suffer. “What about the baby she was carrying. Is it yours?”

“Baby? What baby?” His eyes grew wild. “I don’t know anything about a baby.”

“Did you rape her? Again? Recently?”

“No. God, no. She’s much too—”

“Old? Do you know what you did to my daughter’s life? Do you even care?”

“I told her how sorry I was.”

“You terrified her!”

“I had to. Nobody could know. But I tried to make it up to her. I helped her, just like she asked.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It was when she came to your mother’s house to stay, after the suicide attempt—I mean, I don’t know. She was different. You’re right, she used to be scared of me, but she wasn’t anymore.
She
threatened
me
. If I didn’t do what she wanted, she was going to tell your mother what I’d done to her.”

“So you killed her.”

“No! I didn’t kill anyone.”

Elaine pulled the trigger.

“Help me!” he pleaded, falling off the chair, curling into a ball.

When Elaine looked down, she saw that he’d wet his pants. “Get up,” she said, yanking him back into the chair. She cocked the trigger.

“You didn’t spin the cylinder,” he said, sweat beading on his forehead.

“No, I didn’t. That’s right. You’re a gambler. You must be calculating your odds. Well, asshole, I just reduced your chances to one in five. Tell me what Tracy said to you.”

“That . . . that she wanted to get back at someone.”

“Who?”

“She didn’t say. I asked her, but she told me it was none of my business.”

“Was it a man?”

“Yes, I think so. But I don’t know for sure.”

“You’re such a liar. You lied to me about molesting my child. You lied—”

“But I’m telling you the truth this time, Elaine. I swear I am! Tracy told me to go get one of your dad’s rifles out of the rec room in the basement and leave it in the grove—by that big oak just south of the creek. I did it. I did just what she asked. She told me to make sure I left some shells with it. A full box.”

“Are you saying that she was the sniper, the one who shot at Alex and Roman?”

“She must have climbed out her bedroom window and down the trellis, just the way she did the night she took off.”

Elaine had to think fast. She doubted that Tracy was shooting at Alex. That left Roman. Had he been the one she’d slept with? Had he gotten her pregnant? Had he raped her? Elaine couldn’t imagine her daughter sleeping with a man like Roman.

Sweat poured off Zander’s face. “The guard was instructed not to go into Tracy’s bedroom while she was sleeping.”

“I know that.”

“But . . . that wasn’t all. There were other things Tracy asked me to do for her.”

“Like what?”

“Put the gun down, Elaine. Please!”

“Answer the question.”

Taking a deep breath, he said, “She told me to go get her a handgun from her grandfather’s gun cabinet. And then, later, after she’d taken off, she called. Told me she needed a video camera and a tripod. That I should go buy them—and that I should learn how to use the camera and make sure the battery was charged.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“And then what?”

“She said she’d call me. Tell me how I could get it to her.”

“Did she call you?”

“I was at the track. She said she planned to spend the night at the Maxfield Plaza in St. Paul. Gave me directions. I was supposed to meet her there at ten.”

“In Margie Baldric’s apartment?”

“Right.”

“So you went. You
were
there. Another lie, Galen.”

He ducked his head. “I thought that if the police found out, they’d think I was the one who strangled Tracy. But I didn’t. I just showed her how to use the camera, and then I left. But I lost the damn tie clasp. I thought I lost it later that night, in the hotel room with that bimbo I picked up.”

“The girl who gave you the alibi. I hear she was eighteen. That’s a little old for you, isn’t it?”

He looked away. “I didn’t kill your daughter, Elaine. I swear it.”

“Why did she want the camera?”

“Don’t shoot again, okay? Please? I don’t know why she wanted it. She never told me. But she set the tripod up in the bedroom closet with the camera pointing out through the crack between the door and the doorjamb.”

“She obviously wanted to film someone without them knowing it.”

“That’s what I figured, too.”

“But the police didn’t find a video camera, Galen. So if you’re telling the truth, what happened to it? You must have some thoughts on the subject.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe the guy who killed her took it with him.”

Maybe that guy was Roman Marchand, thought Elaine. She wondered how carefully the police had checked him out. “What time did you leave the Maxfield?”

“I was only there for a few minutes. I left around tenfifteen. Tracy said she needed more money. I was supposed to bring her ten thousand dollars the next morning. But . . . it never happened because—” He closed his eyes.

Elaine removed the gun from his forehead. Sitting down on the couch, she studied him. He was pathetic. A pathetic pervert, sweating though his Oxford cloth shirt like a pig. But was he a murderer? “Did you know about the money Mom left you in her will?”

“Of course I knew. How could I not know? I was there with her every time she went to see her lawyer. I drove her. I kept all her notes.”

“So you had a lot to lose if Tracy decided to tell my mom what you’d done to her. As I see it, it would have been easy enough for you to give my mother an extra injection of insulin. You could have told her that the first one only had half of what she needed. She would have trusted you. Or you could have done it once the sleeping pill had sent her to dreamland.” She thought for a minute. “Or maybe Tracy didn’t need to tell my mother. Maybe she figured it out all by herself. Did she confront you, Galen? You would have denied it, of course, and she had no proof. But all she had to do was talk to Tracy the next day. You couldn’t trust that Tracy
wouldn’t
tell her the truth. And you didn’t know that she’d picked that night to run away. You didn’t have much time, and you needed to make it look like a natural death. Except the medical examiner was too smart for you. They realized the death wasn’t natural. Mick discovered you downstairs that night, Galen. If memory serves, he said he ran into you in the pantry at three in the morning. You told him you couldn’t sleep, so you’d come down for some milk.”

“That’s right.”

“Milk, Galen?
Milk?
”