Fatal Trust (13 page)

She stepped out of Nevermore into the pale gray coolness of
early dawn, crossed the dewy grass, and then walked into the trees to the path
that led to the lake. She’d been smart to bring a flashlight—the trees were so
dense she definitely needed it. The springy ground, pine scent, and silence
were relaxing muscles she hadn’t realized were tensed. She smiled faintly. Or
maybe a night of terrific sex had done it. She’d forgotten how good sex could
be, or maybe she’d never realized before today. Once she left Nevermore and
reverted back to Catherine, she was going to have to work on a new
relationship. She was never going without sex for long again.

The world grew a little lighter, and she paused, looking up.
The trees had thinned enough that she could see hints of sky, the gray now
touched with pale pink. She was starting to understand why Max had been able to
give up urban life for a place like this. She felt as if she were in a
cathedral, the dimly lit silence peaceful. The kind of place that fed one’s
soul.

After a few minutes, Lexie reached the end of the trees.
Directly ahead was Forest Lake, lapping gently against the shoreline. A loon
trilled, followed by the caws of a couple of seagulls. Even more muscles
relaxed. She was very glad she hadn’t insisted they stay in bed. She was
looking forward to experiencing an early morning sail.

She stepped out of the trees onto the rocky lakeshore—and
froze, her blood icing to slush.

Ben was there, and the sailboat was tied up to the dock. But
he wasn’t getting the boat ready. Instead he was dragging something toward the
open shed door.

The body of Max Windsor.

“What in God’s name is going on?” Lexie got out between
stiff lips. Her hand was shaking, her wobbling flashlight fixed on a dark stain
on Max’s blue work shirt.

“Help me get his body into the shed,” Ben said, still
tugging at Max’s corpse. “Someone could come down here. I don’t want anyone
stumbling over him before I figure out what to do.”

“He’s been dead more than a week.” Lexie’s legs felt like
giant ice blocks, too heavy to lift. “His body was incinerated. What is it
doing here?”

“He wasn’t dead,” Ben said. “He just pretended to be, hoping
he’d be able to smoke out whoever made the two attempts on his life. I’ve been
helping him. When I came down this morning, I discovered his body. I didn’t see
it at first, not until I went out on the dock.” He pointed. “It was on the
other side of those boulders.”

“You can’t move his body.” Lexie’s brain had resumed
functioning enough to know that. “We have to call the police. And an
ambulance.”

“I’ve already moved the body, and it’s too late for an
ambulance. I need to think this through before the police arrive and mess
things up. Give me an hour.” He held up a finger. “One hour. Please.”

“I can’t.” She didn’t have her phone, so she turned and
racewalked back to Nevermore, a hollow ache in her chest and gut. Max hadn’t
been dead, but he hadn’t bothered telling her. He’d let Ben in on his joke, but
Ben hadn’t bothered telling her, either.

Except it was no longer a joke because Max really had been
murdered.

She ran into Nevermore and used the phone in the foyer to
call 911. Then she went outside and plopped down on the front steps to wait.

After a couple of minutes, Ben sat down beside her. “We need
to talk about this.”

She met his eyes, the man she’d thought she’d known and
liked, the man she’d been so wrong about. Grief, shock, and anger had her
insides quivering. “Not now. When the police ask if we’ve discussed it, I’d
like to be able to truthfully say no. I’m sick of lying to everyone about who I
am and why I’m here.” She turned her head, staring across the lawn. “But I
guess I’m not the only one who’s been lying.”

“I didn’t want to lie to you.” Ben rested his hand on her
arm. “Grandfather—”

“As I said, I don’t want to discuss this now.” Lexie shook
off his hand, the emotions his touch elicited tangled and painful. She got up
and walked over to her rental car, then stood leaning against it, her arms
crossed. She couldn’t bear to look at Ben.

The police arrived twenty minutes later, lights flashing and
sirens blaring. Two cars pulled to a stop in the driveway, then three uniformed
men got out.

“What’s going on?” one of the uniformed men asked as he
approached Ben.

“Thanks for coming, Jim,” Ben said. “Although isn’t this the
sheriff’s jurisdiction?”

“He’s on vacation for two weeks, so the Lakeview police are
covering the county, too,” Jim said. “What happened?”

“Someone shot Grandfather and left his body by the lake,”
Ben said.

“I thought he died in a car crash.”

“He didn’t,” Ben said. “Follow me.”

As Jim, Ben, and another cop walked back into the trees,
Lexie plopped down on Nevermore’s front steps. She had no desire to see Max’s
dead body again. When the other family members came outside, she referred
everyone to the policeman stationed in front of Nevermore to explain what had happened.
As they made their way en masse across the yard to the path, the peaches,
tangerines, and roses of the dawn sky and the flashing red lights of two cop
cars reflected off nightwear and pale, tense faces.

When the family members emerged from the trees several
minutes later, they all looked even paler and tenser. Cecilia was sobbing.

“What’s your problem, Cecilia?” Dylan asked. “You already
thought he was dead.”

“I know it doesn’t make any sense for me to cry like this
now. But seeing his body—” Cecilia broke off, wiping her face with her palms.

“Jesus, Seth, don’t take a picture of her,” Dylan said.
“It’s bad enough you took photos of Grandfather’s body.”

“Sorry,” Seth said, setting down his camera.

Actually, Cecilia’s tears made perfect sense to Lexie. What
she couldn’t understand was everyone else’s lack of tears. Even if you already
thought your grandfather was dead, wouldn’t you still be saddened seeing his
murdered body? Her own eyes had certainly welled up once the shock had worn
off. But no—the others’ main concern was likely whether this would restart the
two-week period they had to stay at Nevermore to inherit.

And one of them wasn’t a bit upset or even surprised to find
Max’s body. One of them had killed him.

Ben and the policeman he’d identified as Jim were also back
in front of Nevermore. “Explain this to me, Ben,” Jim said, resting a pen on
his clipboard. “I thought Max died in a car accident.”

“That’s what we wanted everyone to think,” Ben said. “
Grandfather was convinced someone was trying to kill him. He figured pretending
to be dead would help him figure out who.”

“That sounds a little far-fetched.”

“That’s what I said, but he was determined. You know
Grandfather.” Ben shook his head. “When he built Nevermore, he put in secret
passages, although I didn’t realize that until he told me a few weeks ago. He
planned to sneak around and listen to what people were saying. He also appeared
to people to make them think he was haunting them, hoping it might motivate
someone to confess. Or to let something slip, something that indicated the
person knew about the previous attempts on his life.”

Jim stopped his note taking. “What previous attempts?”

Ben explained.

“What about the car crash?” Jim asked when Ben had finished.

“I helped stage it,” Ben said. “I had someone teach me how
to hack into Grandfather’s dental records, claiming Grandfather wanted to know
how it was done so he could use it in a book. Once I could get in, I replaced
Grandfather’s records with ones that conformed with a skull he’d bought years
ago for research. We put the skull into the car before we burned it up.”

“Max burned his Ferrari on purpose?” Jim asked.

“He figured it was worth it to save his life. He could
always buy another Ferrari.”

“Then you just happened to stumble over Max’s dead body this
morning,” Jim said.

“That’s exactly what happened. I was going to take Lexie
sailing.”

“The Lexie who called to report finding Max’s body?” Jim
asked.

“That’s me,” Lexie said, approaching them. “Ben went down to
the lake to get the boat ready. I got there about fifteen minutes later and
found Ben with the body.”

“What’s your last name?” Jim was taking notes again.

“My nickname is Lexie, but my full name’s Catherine
Alexandra Barrington. I’m from Philadelphia and was Max’s estate planning
lawyer. I also represent First Trust in Minneapolis, the current trustee of his
trust.” The charade had to end now. She had no choice.

From the family members’ shocked expressions, no one besides
Trey had suspected she wasn’t a cocktail waitress.

“I thought you were Ben’s girlfriend,” Cecilia said.

“After Max supposedly died in the car crash, he had Ben
forward a letter to me claiming he’d most likely been murdered, and he wanted
me to work with Ben to find out who did it,” Lexie told the cop. “I was
pretending to be Ben’s girlfriend, hoping to get information.”

“What did you learn?” Jim asked.

“That everyone in the family had motive and opportunity. So
far we hadn’t found any evidence as to who did it.” She shot Ben a withering
look. “Probably because Max wasn’t even dead.”

“I would have told you if I could, but Grandfather swore me
to secrecy, Lexie,” Ben said.

“Are you the only person who knew Max was alive, Ben?” Jim
asked.

“Besides his killer,” Ben said. “Grandfather was staying in a
secret room, which he told me he’d had constructed when he built the house to
give him a totally private place to write. The room is soundproof and has a
bed, refrigerator, microwave, and bathroom. I left food and supplies for
Grandfather in the armoire in his bedroom. He also left me messages in the
armoire. I checked it twice a day, in the morning and right after dinner.”

“Why didn’t you leave things in your bedroom?” Jim asked.
“Or in his secret room?”

“Grandfather was afraid someone might see me if I used the
secret passages,” Ben said. “Or find things left in my room, since the master
key kept in the pantry works on that door. The only room the master key can’t
open is Grandfather’s bedroom.”

“Who else knew about the secret room and passages?” Jim asked.

“No one, not even Trey. Grandfather said the only person he
told was Jessica Stuart, but she’s been dead for seven years.”

“Eight years,” Lexie said. “She was my aunt.”

“Where were you last night, Ben?” Jim asked.

“Am I a suspect?”

“You knew Max was alive, and you inherit from him once he’s
dead.”

“I don’t need his money.”

“I hardly think even the outrageous salary you earned as an
I-banker compares to what Grandfather left you,” Jeremy said.

Lexie blinked. “You were an investment banker?” Had he told
her the truth about anything?

“Ben, do you have an alibi for last night?” Jim asked.

“The mayor called with an emergency car repair while I was
eating dinner,” he said. “I left the house around seven thirty and finished at
eleven fifteen, which the mayor can confirm. I came back to Nevermore, stopped
to check for messages in Grandfather’s bedroom, and then was about to open my
bedroom door when Lexie stopped me. She said Grandfather had appeared to her.”

“Max appeared to you?” Jim asked.

Lexie nodded. “At eleven forty-seven. He said he really had
been murdered and was counting on me to find out who did it.”

“I went into her room to discuss it with her.”

“Then you went back to your room?” Jim asked.

“He spent the night with me,” Lexie said when Ben didn’t
answer. After all the lies he’d told, she couldn’t believe he was going to be a
gentleman about this. “He was there until just after five this morning, when he
went to get the sailboat ready.”

“Was he with you the entire night?”

“I left for about fifteen minutes to shower,” Ben said.
“Around twelve thirty.”

Jim returned his attention to Lexie. “Can you confirm how
long he was gone? Or what time he got back?”

“I can’t because I fell asleep,” she said. “He woke me when
he got back, but I never checked the clock.”

“I need to look around,” Jim said. “Okay if I search the
house?”

“It’s okay with me, but I’m not the only owner,” Ben said.

Lexie cleared her throat. She’d failed to prevent Max’s
murder, but she still had a job to do. “The trustee is currently the legal
owner of Nevermore and won’t agree to a search without a warrant.”

“Things always go to hell whenever a lawyer gets involved, “
Jim muttered. “I’ll go call the county attorney. Then I’ll be back to question
everyone, so stick around.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ben sat on the living room couch, the
pain in his gut so intense he could barely breathe. Once again, he’d let
Grandfather down. And this time Grandfather was dead.

He poured himself another cup of coffee from the pot Igor
had brought into the living room. “Want a refill?” he asked Lexie, who was the
only other person in the room. Everyone else was either upstairs dressing or in
the dining room having breakfast.

“No, thanks.” Her voice and expression were so cold he
wouldn’t have been surprised to see her breath. She was clearly furious. No
surprise there.

He needed her help, which meant he had to make her
understand why he’d kept her in the dark. “Did your aunt or maybe Grandfather
tell you about when I came to live with him?” he asked.

When Lexie didn’t answer, he went on. “My dad was a real
bastard. Still is, far as I know, although I haven’t seen him in years. He’s
one of those driven corporate types, always too busy working to have time for
his family. And he cheated on my mom all the time. I don’t know why she didn’t
divorce him.

“My mom was terrific, though. Every summer she and I spent a
month with Grandfather at Nevermore. It was the best time of my life.
Grandfather was everything Dad wasn’t. He was way richer than Dad, but he
didn’t care much about money. He was happiest when he was out on his sailboat
or hiking through the woods identifying every tree and plant. Or writing, of
course.”

Lexie was staring straight ahead. Her expressionless face
gave no indication she was even listening, let alone understanding.

Despite the lack of encouragement, he forced himself to
continue. “When I was twelve, my mom was killed in a car accident. A drunk
driver hit her. Afterward my dad didn’t want a damn thing to do with me. I
figured it was because he blamed me for my mom’s death since she’d been driving
to pick me up after soccer practice. Hell, I blamed myself. Then two months
after Mom died, Dad told me he was getting married. Andrea was only twenty-five
and not up to having a twelve-year-old son, so he was sending me to boarding
school out east.”

He closed his eyes. Even after all these years, remembering
that time made him feel like he was engulfed in a black pit. “I was upset, to
put it mildly. I mean, not only had I just lost my mom, but then I was torn
away from my friends to go to school across the country. I’d always been a
fairly good kid, but I started sneaking out after curfew and drinking beer. I
thought if I was bad enough they’d kick me out of boarding school, and I’d get
to go back to L.A. I didn’t know that if you’ve got enough money, when one
school kicks you out, another will take you in, especially when your
grandfather’s famous. So I went to another school, got kicked out, and then
tried a third. By then I’d realized my dad would never let me move back to L.A.
so I decided to run away. I stole a car. I’d figured out how to hot-wire it and
decided to drive to Mexico. But I’d only gone fifty miles before I got caught
and arrested. They called my dad. He said he couldn’t control me and thought a
stint in juvenile detention would do me good, so I was on my own.”