True to the Law (42 page)

* * *

“Did you hear that?” Finn whispered. He grabbed Rabbit by the back of his collar to bring him up short.

Rabbit swatted at Finn’s hand and turned sharply to face him. “Stop doing that!” He grabbed Finn by the collar and dragged him into the deeper shadow of the Stillwell’s front porch. “How do
you
like it?”

Finn wrested himself free. “Didn’t you
hear
that?”

“I got things on my mind, Finn. Like not getting caught crossin’ the street. Did you think of that?”

“Well, I got somethin’ on my mind, too. Wolves. I think I just heard one.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Am not. I heard it. Swear.” He crossed his heart. “Hope to die. It
howled
.”

“Then we should go. It ain’t safe here if it’s a wolf.”

Finn shook his head. “No. I think it came from inside Miss Morrow’s house.”

“That’s stupid. We both had a peep in the kitchen window. You saw same as I did that she’s got company. C’mon. We need to go.”

Finn dug in his heels when Rabbit tried to pull him along. “I’m going back. Maybe it was Mr. Mackey I heard.”

“You said it was a wolf.”

“I said I
thought
it was a wolf. I figure a man might howl like that if he’s hurt. I do.”

“That’s because you’re not a man. You’re a baby.”

“I’m going back.” He eluded Rabbit’s attempt to grab him and started off.

Rabbit called after him as loudly as he dared. “How are you gonna see in the kitchen window if you don’t have my shoulders to stand on?”

Undeterred by this very good question, Finn trudged on.

“Granny’s right,” Rabbit muttered to himself. “You are a trial.” Sighing deeply, he began to follow his brother. When he caught up, he said, “There’s other reasons a man howls, Finn, but I reckon we can talk about that later.”

“Sure,” said Finn. “We’re gonna have a lot of time in the woodshed.”

* * *

Andrew tipped the whiskey bottle away from Tru’s cup. “Go on. Drink.”

She stared at the teacup. Andrew had filled it nearly to the rim. “I can’t. I’ve had too much already. It will make me sick.” She pressed one hand to her stomach. “I don’t feel well, Andrew.”

“I’m sorry for that. I am. But I have to insist. You’ll thank me for it. When you hear what I have to say, when you understand what I have to do, you’ll thank me.”

Tru wrapped her hands around the cup and carefully lifted it to her lips. It seemed heavy, its weight out of all proportion to its delicacy. She sipped once. Twice. At Andrew’s urging, she took a deep swallow. The whiskey burned her throat and settled uncomfortably in her belly. She set the cup down but did not release it. “I can’t do more. Not now.”

“In a little while, then.”

Tru was aware that she was feeling the effects of the first round Andrew had poured, but she was still clearheaded enough to understand that he did not mean for there to be a long reprieve. “Tell me,” she said. “While I still have the hope of comprehension.”

Andrew moved the bottle to the side. “Yes. I should. I do want you to understand. Did you know that in making a will the mind of a testator must be free and not moved by fear, fraud, or flattery? Many states have something similar in their codes, but I am quoting Illinois law. That’s what is pertinent here. The testator—in this case, my grandmother—lived in Chicago all of her life, so there is no question that the statutes of Illinois apply.”

He pointed to Tru’s teacup and waited for her to drink again before he went on. Taking the brooch out of his pocket, he laid it on the table in front of him. “My grandmother’s mind was not free, not around you. I will testify, and the family will support me, that she would never have given this to anyone other than a Mackey if she had been free of fear and flattery.” His thin smile mocked her. “Even I can acquit you of fraud.”

“What makes you think your grandmother ever asked me for advice? She didn’t. Moreover, I certainly did not threaten her.” Tru pressed the fingers of one hand against her temple to quiet the throbbing. The gesture had no impact. She closed her eyes briefly, tried to gather the thread of her thought, and continued when she grasped it. The words came to her tongue more slowly than they came to her mind and the delay made her stumble. “She was . . . she was dying, Andrew. She had nothing to fear from me. And . . . flattery? Have you ever known Charlotte Mackey to have her head turned by smooth . . . smooth talk? She was unimpressed by . . . by sycophants, and she numbered quite a . . . quite a few of her family among the worst of them.”

Andrew tapped the brooch. “You persuaded her we were undeserving. Before your arrival, my grandmother dealt with us fairly. Her expectations were high, but not unreasonable. She held firm opinions, but she was not intractable. You changed that. How could she hear any one of us with you constantly whispering in her ear? It was what I feared from the beginning. I never made any secret of the fact that I did not want you there. You poisoned her against us.”

Tru’s head drooped slightly. She felt the heaviness and forced herself to sit up straight. “Didn’t,” she said softly. “I didn’t. The lawyers. There were always the lawyers.”

“Yes. The lawyers.” Andrew gestured to her to pick up her cup again. When she had it in her hand, he helped her tilt it to her lips. “A little more,” he said. “It will help your headache. You have one now, don’t you?”

Tru nodded slowly. She set the cup down and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Don’t be sick. You’ll only have to drink it again.”

She let her hand drop. On the way to her lap, her fingers struck the edge of the table hard. She regarded her hand as though it had betrayed her. She nursed it gingerly.

“The lawyers,” Andrew said again, drawing her eyes to him. “She paid them to listen to her. And they did. From your mouth to Grandmother’s ear. The lawyers might as well have been talking to you. I never said you weren’t clever.”

“Not . . . clever. Tired. But you’re sind to kay so.” Tru frowned. “Kind to say so.” Her head drifted forward again. She didn’t lift it until her chin touched her chest. It was difficult to focus her gaze on Andrew. She stared at the brooch instead. “Your grandmother loved that piece.”

“She did. So much so that I intended that she should have it pinned to her funeral gown. I was prepared to bury her with it. I looked for it with that in mind. Of course, I didn’t find it. I have to say that it never occurred to me that you would have it. I actually thought she might have lost it again.” He turned over his hand and studied the spot where she had driven the pin into his palm. He chuckled softly as he looked at Tru. “That damn clasp.”

“You wouldn’t have . . . buried it. Not that. Mackeys don’t put a fortune into the ground. They take it out.”

“Ah, yes. That. A fortune. You’re right that I wouldn’t bury a fortune. But this? I could have buried this. It’s worth its weight in sentiment.”

Tru frowned deeply.

“Paste, Gertie. It’s paste.” He shrugged. “It seems she didn’t tell you everything after all. I suppose she kept it from you because she put so much stock in you finding and returning it to her. That meant a great deal. You know that.” He pointed to her teacup. “Finish it. We’re almost done here.”

She was aware of him watching her closely. The thought of drinking more made her want to retch. She knew what good whiskey should taste like, and what he was insisting that she drink was not something she would have kept in her cabinet. The bottle was hers. She was sure of it. The bitter aftertaste in every sip was not something she could explain.

She wanted to sleep. She wanted to put her head down on the table and go to sleep. And because it seemed to be what Andrew wanted too, she drank. When she was finished, he smiled at her like a proud parent. It did not occur to her not to return the smile.

“I only learned the truth myself a few years back,” said Andrew. “I made the mistake of telling her that if she wanted to keep supporting that museum, perhaps she should stop pouring money into the project and donate something that she valued personally. I suggested the brooch. That’s when she told me that she couldn’t because it would involve an appraisal, and she already knew the brooch was essentially worthless. She had been prepared to have the clasp repaired after you returned it to her all those years ago, but when the jeweler examined it and informed her that it was so much colored glass, she decided to keep it exactly as it was.”

He idly turned the brooch with his fingertip. “Glass and gold-plate. That’s all this is. And now you know it too. The jeweler is dead. I asked. The truth is it doesn’t matter any longer that it’s worth so little. Its real value to me is what you
thought
it was worth and the importance my grandmother gave it as a Mackey family treasure. When I take it back, it will be appraised as part of her estate, and I will be as shocked as the rest of my family upon learning that it’s paste.”

Tru gave a start when Andrew hit the tabletop with the flat of his hand.

“That’s better,” he said when she blinked at him. “Do you understand what I’m telling you? This piece of glass is perhaps the best evidence I possess to have my grandmother’s will declared invalid. Her mind was
not
free. Had her judgment remained sound, she never would have given you the brooch. That’s what people who knew her will say. And by extension, it will be clearly understood that she would not have named you as heir to one third of her personal fortune.”

Andrew’s short laugh was devoid of humor as the impact of what he’d said made Tru push herself fully upright and press her spine against the back of her chair. Her hands were braced on the edge of the table to support her rigid posture. “Yes,” he said. “I see that
now
I have your full attention. Not quite sober, I think, but no longer listless. That will have to change, of course.” He pulled her cup toward him, filled it halfway, and then pushed it back.

The room tilted as Tru shook her head. She heard someone moan and realized only after the fact that she was responsible for it. She set her jaw mutinously. She hated that he merely looked amused.

“In a moment,” he said. “I know you’re curious, and I always intended that you should know how well you manipulated a woman I thought could not be bent. As I said, she left you one third. Most of the remainder of her fortune will be divided equally between Olde St. John’s Church and the arts museum. I say most because you were clever enough to make sure she did not write us out of her will altogether. We could have contested that and perhaps won. But no, the greats are all named. She left us one hundred thousand dollars to share equally. That’s twelve thousand five hundred for each of us. A not insubstantial sum until one considers the depth and breadth of Grandmother’s wealth. If I cannot challenge her will, we stand collectively to inherit less than three percent of her fortune.”

Tru was vaguely aware that there was something here that she needed to grasp. He was explaining something to her that she should understand. She was frustrated that he insisted that she drink and then expected her to comprehend the forest when she could only see trees. She shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked. “I can fix that. I
will
fix that. A fire, I think, is what will help. You’d like a fire, wouldn’t you?”

His stare, as much as his words, drove ice into her marrow. She remembered the fire. The Great Fire. Andrew Mackey could set her ablaze right now and she would still die cold.

“Why isn’t Frank with you?” Tru asked suddenly.

Andrew did not try to hide his surprise, but he answered the question in spite of it. “He’s in jail.”

“Oh. Yes. I remember now. Cheating. He was cheating.”

“That’s what Miss Ross told me.”

Tru pointed a finger at him. “You should leave Miss Rosh . . . Miss
Ross
alone.”

“Eventually. I left her sleeping soundly.”

“In your room,” Tru said.

“In my bed.”

“In your bed,” she repeated. “You should leave her alone.”

“Yes, you said that. I was with her when she fell asleep, you know. And I’ll be with her when she wakes up. She’ll swear I was with her because she doesn’t know differently.”

“She cares for you.”

“I know. I wonder how things might have turned out if you had cared for me.”

“I did once.” Her mouth formed a perfect O; her eyes opened almost as widely. She quickly covered her lips with her fingertips. From behind them, she whispered, “I wasn’t going to tell you.” She giggled. “When I was a little girl I wanted to marry you.”

It was then that Tru was finally able to step back far enough to see the forest. She tried to make herself sober in his eyes, but the best she could do was to flatten her rather ridiculous smile as she leaned forward and set her folded hands on the table. Her earnestness was undermined by a gaze that had dimmed and remained slightly unfocused. When she spoke, she heard the halting cadence and heavy accents of a drunk.

“Thass why you want to . . . marry me. You don’t
love
me. I’m an heiress now. ’Magine that. You’d be rich.” She blinked. “
Richer.
All my money for yourself. I don’t think you would share a nickel of it with your family. Is that why Frank’s not here? You don’t want to share?”

“Frank’s in jail,” he reminded her.