The Fool Dies Last, page 20
‘Are they OK?’ Summer asked anxiously when her sister entered the living room after concluding the call.
‘Gram is fine. Morris is fine. They’re snug as two bugs in a rug.’ Hope restrained a smile as she said it. Although not curled up together, Summer and Nate looked quite snug themselves sitting on the same sofa.
‘I can send a car over to check on them,’ Nate offered.
‘That’s kind of you, but I don’t think it’s necessary,’ Hope replied, settling herself in one of the yellow-paisley wing chairs across from the sofa. ‘I was concerned mostly because Gerald – he’s the man who fell down the stairs – had Gram’s keys. That’s how he got into the house.’
‘It’s Gerald Norquist up there?’ Summer exclaimed in surprise.
Hope nodded. Immediately after the conversation with Gram, Sylvia, and Gerald in the hotel dining room, she had shared all the details with Summer, including regarding the tontine. ‘He was trying to get into the attic.’
‘And the attic decided against him, apparently,’ Summer chuckled.
A crease formed in Nate’s brow. ‘So it wasn’t an attempted burglary, after all? He isn’t trespassing?’
‘Oh, Gerald is definitely trespassing, and he was most certainly attempting to burgle us, but …’ Hope hesitated, deliberating how much information to give the detective.
‘But we would prefer to keep the matter private,’ Summer finished for her. ‘Gerald is the son of our grandmother’s friend, and we don’t want him to end up in court or jail when there hasn’t been any actual harm done. Isn’t that right, Hope?’
‘No harm done,’ Hope agreed, following her sister’s lead.
Summer turned back to Nate. ‘I’m sorry for dragging you out here so late in the evening – and on a Sunday, too. That’s twice today I’ve called you in a state of panic, wasting your valuable time, when there’s really been no need.’
‘You haven’t wasted my time tonight any more than you wasted it this morning,’ Nate corrected her. ‘I’m glad that you called me. I want you to call me—’ He stopped abruptly, no doubt realizing that he sounded considerably more personal than professional.
‘Thank you.’ Summer gave him a winsome smile. ‘You’ve made me feel much less guilty about it. Even so, I wish there was a way for me to make it up to you.’
‘That isn’t necessary. It’s my job to handle these sorts of matters and ensure the safety of—’ Nate stopped himself again, and this time he chose the personal. ‘I wouldn’t say no to a drink. Another evening, when I’m not here in an official capacity?’
A tinge of pink blossomed in Summer’s cheeks. ‘Another evening would be lovely.’
‘I can highly recommend the bourbon on the patio,’ Dylan said.
They collectively turned toward the hall, where Dylan had suddenly appeared. There was no sign of Gerald or the paramedics.
Hope rose from her chair. ‘How is Gerald doing?’
‘He’s in shock,’ Dylan told her. ‘And it didn’t help that we had to get him down so many stairs. Those narrow landings make it awfully tough to maneuver. But we did the best we could. They’re loading him into the ambulance now.’
‘Is he conscious?’ Hope started to move toward the hall, in the direction of the front door. ‘Can he talk?’
‘No, on both counts. So if you’re heading outside to speak to him, don’t bother. He’s been given a sedative. A strong one. He won’t be able to respond to anything for at least the next twenty-four hours, and it might be substantially longer. I was wrong about his ankle. The damage is worse than I initially thought. An orthopedist will probably want to schedule him for surgery as soon as possible.’
Hope frowned. If she couldn’t talk to Gerald, then he couldn’t tell her who had made him take Gram’s keys and who he was supposed to meet tomorrow in the spa. Perhaps he had told Dylan instead. ‘Did Gerald say anything to you when you were treating him or bringing him downstairs?’ she asked.
‘You mean aside from him sobbing in pain and hallucinating that the attic was going to attack him?’
Her frown deepened. Could Gerald have been hallucinating about having to bring the paper to someone at the spa? She didn’t think so. There was no question that Gerald had been suffering from his injuries, but he had seemed lucid enough. He had been perfectly clear about the time and location of the meeting.
Nate turned to Summer. ‘I know you said a minute ago that you would prefer to keep the matter private, but I would strongly recommend against it. Whether the man is an acquaintance or not, it’s important that a report be made, especially when the paramedics have been called to the scene and serious injuries have occurred.’
Hope and Summer exchanged a glance.
‘We appreciate your advice,’ Summer replied, leaning slightly toward Nate as though to emphasize the point. ‘I understand why – under ordinary circumstances – a report would be best, but in this instance, Hope and I would rather have it stay quiet.’
‘You would rather defend a lawsuit?’ Dylan said.
They looked at him.
‘If Gerald decides to sue you for his medical bills, physical and emotional distress, and whatever other bogus claims some ambulance chaser comes up with, you’ll need a police report to prove that he entered the house without your knowledge or consent. Otherwise, you should get ready to write him a big, fat check.’
‘Dylan is right,’ Nate concurred. ‘Filing a report today is the best way to protect yourselves tomorrow.’
Summer shook her head. ‘I’m sure that Gerald wouldn’t sue us.’
‘You were probably also sure that your husband wouldn’t have an affair,’ Dylan remarked under his breath.
He was still in the hall, so only Hope heard him. She gave Dylan a sharp look, but she couldn’t argue with him. Although it was gone now, Summer certainly used to have a blind spot in regard to Gary. As to Gerald, however, Hope was inclined to agree with her sister. It was unlikely that Gerald would sue them, partly because Sylvia wouldn’t allow it for fear of her reputation being tarnished in the process and partly because of the attic. Regardless of how many sedatives he was given and surgeries he might have, Gerald was never going to forget the brownstone’s attic.
Nate continued to press the need to file a report, while Summer continued mildly but firmly to resist. Dylan walked over to Hope, who was leaning against the wainscoting at the edge of the living room.
‘Is she using the privacy excuse because she doesn’t want to tell him what Gerald was looking for upstairs?’ Dylan said in a low tone. ‘You’re going to have to tell the police eventually. You can’t avoid it forever, not if that paper has any relation to the two deaths.’
Hope sighed, knowing that he was right. She wasn’t eager to share Gram’s secret, but it couldn’t be helped. With Gerald’s fall down the stairs, the time had come for full disclosure. Or at least substantial disclosure.
‘As much as we might want to,’ Hope said to her sister, interrupting her debate with Nate, ‘we can’t keep it quiet. Not anymore.’
Summer wrinkled her nose in displeasure.
Hope nodded. ‘I feel the same way, but now that Morris knows, it’s only a matter of time before Dylan hears about it.’
‘What does my dad know?’ Dylan demanded. There was undisguised irritation in his voice. ‘Am I the only one who’s being kept in the dark?’
‘I haven’t a clue, either,’ Nate said, appearing equally annoyed.
‘Your dad just found out tonight, from Gram,’ Hope told Dylan. Then she turned to Nate. ‘Gram should have come clean with you, as well. Immediately. The moment that she – and Sylvia – realized there was a connection.’
‘In Gram’s defense,’ Summer interjected, ‘there isn’t any proof of a connection. It could simply be a coincidence.’
‘That’s true,’ Hope agreed, not reminding her sister that she was the one who supposedly didn’t believe in coincidences. ‘But proof or not, there’s no denying the facts. Two members of the group are dead, within a single day of each other, under highly suspicious circumstances. Gerald was the first to make the connection, and considering that he crept into the house and tried to search the attic, he’s obviously pretty convinced of it.’
‘What connection?’ Dylan said, still sounding miffed.
‘What group?’ Nate added impatiently.
Expecting that a lengthy explanation would be required, Hope returned to the yellow-paisley wing chair across from Summer and Nate. Dylan seated himself in the matching chair next to hers.
‘The connection between what happened to Marilyn and Roberta,’ Hope said, answering both Dylan and Nate at the same time, ‘and the tontine.’
She awaited a confused reaction. To her surprise, she didn’t get one.
There was a brief pause, then Dylan chuckled. ‘So Olivia is part of a tontine?’
‘Together with Sylvia, Marilyn, and Roberta?’ Nate said.
Summer, who – like Hope – had never heard of a tontine before that afternoon, frowned at them. ‘You know what a tontine is?’
‘I didn’t graduate from the police academy yesterday,’ Nate responded. ‘I have been a detective for a good long while.’
‘Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply …’ Summer let the sentence trail away awkwardly.
‘And you?’ Hope asked Dylan.
‘I’m familiar with tontines,’ he told her, ‘because I’m in one.’
‘You’re what?’
Dylan chuckled again. ‘Am I correct in assuming – seeing as there’s been two murders – that Olivia’s tontine is based on the members’ lifespans?’
Hope was too flabbergasted to do more than nod.
‘From what I understand, that’s the most common type,’ Dylan said. ‘My tontine is different. It’s based on marital status.’
Nate grinned. ‘I’ve heard of those, but I’ve never met anybody who’s been part of one before. How did you get involved in that, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘I don’t mind in the least. It was during medical school. A bunch of us – all guys – spent a couple of days at a friend’s beach house after exams. As you might guess, there was quite a bit of drinking and discussion of women …’
Nate grinned some more.
‘By the end of the weekend, we had formed a tontine. The last bachelor standing wins.’
‘Still ongoing?’ Nate inquired.
‘Still ongoing,’ Dylan replied. ‘Only a few of us remain in the running, though. There was some debate after the first divorce took place whether re-entry would be permitted, but the consensus was against. It was deemed a violation of the spirit of the contract.’
‘Not to mention that allowing re-entry would worsen the other members’ chances of winning.’
‘Damn right. There’s a fifty-year-old bottle of Scotch at stake. A single-malt Glenfiddich, distillery bottled.’
Nate gave an appreciatory whistle. ‘Very nice. You’ve got some fancy friends. Invite me to one of their parties, won’t you?’
‘So long as you realize that you can’t join the tontine this late in the game.’
As Dylan and Nate shared a laugh, Hope and Summer looked at each other. For all their astonishment at the course of the conversation, they had learned something that neither one of them had been absolutely certain of previously. Dylan and Nate were both single.
Dylan turned to Hope. ‘While we’re on the subject of winning, what’s at stake in Olivia’s tontine?’
‘Money, I believe. Gram said something about a small annuity every year. And Gerald mentioned a pot at the end.’
‘Yes, but how big is the pot? How much money are we talking about?’
Hope shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask.’
For a moment, Dylan appeared incredulous. Then he smiled. ‘That’s a refreshing change. You’re probably the only woman I’ve ever met who wouldn’t think to ask.’
‘Then you’ve met some lousy women,’ Summer snapped. ‘Hope is worried about Gram – and the others. She doesn’t care about a couple of bucks stashed in an envelope decades ago.’
Dylan’s smile grew. ‘There’s no need to get defensive. I was giving your sister a compliment.’
‘In all likelihood, it’s considerably more than a couple of bucks stashed in an envelope,’ Nate told Summer. ‘Otherwise, I wouldn’t be investigating two deaths. The desire for money is a powerful motivator.’
‘But that’s what I don’t understand,’ Hope said. ‘The only people who can get the money are the original members of the tontine. I can’t see one of the six killing the others, regardless of the sum involved.’
‘There are just six members?’ Nate asked her. ‘Marilyn and Roberta. Olivia and Sylvia. And who else?’
‘Kirsten Willport and Rebecca Huber.’
Nate leaned forward with interest. ‘I haven’t heard of Rebecca before.’
‘She died – of natural causes – a year or two after the tontine was formed.’
‘Which leaves three,’ Dylan said. ‘Olivia, Sylvia, and Kirsten.’
Nate nodded. ‘All three were at the community center.’
Dylan nodded back at him. ‘And all three are familiar with the spa.’
‘Except none of the three could be the murderer,’ Hope countered. ‘That’s my point as to the money. Neither Gram nor Sylvia nor Kirsten is interested in money.’
‘Everybody is interested in money,’ Nate said.
‘Yes, of course,’ Summer responded, a touch sharply. ‘Money is a necessary evil in the world. No one is disputing that. What Hope means is that Gram and Sylvia and Kirsten aren’t desperate for money. They can eat their fill each day, sleep in a safe place at night, and buy clothes to cover themselves.’
‘Not to mention book plenty of beauty treatments at the spa to maintain their divine skin,’ Dylan added wryly.
Hope was tempted to laugh – knowing that he was referring to Kirsten – but her sister was not amused.
‘That isn’t funny in the least,’ Summer rebuked him. ‘And frankly, I’m surprised at you, Dylan. Why are you so determined to make Gram look guilty? If you cared even slightly about your dad’s happiness, you would be putting your efforts and arguments into defending Gram, not accusing her of murder!’
Dylan rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be absurd. I’m not accusing Olivia of murder. I don’t think that she killed anyone. I do, however, think that you – and your sister – are relying too heavily on the notion that dire financial straits are necessary to commit a heinous act for the purpose of winning the tontine. In my experience, some of the people with the most money are also the greediest and will do anything in their power to get their hands on more.’
‘Exactly right,’ Nate agreed. ‘And conversely, it’s easy to be fooled by the appearance of wealth. There are plenty of people who look like they’re living in luxury, but it’s just a façade. In actuality, they don’t have two cents to their name. So I’m hesitant to place much importance on how rich or poor any member of the tontine might seem to be.’
‘But that doesn’t make sense,’ Summer protested. ‘Not in this case, at least. Not with the timing.’
‘The timing?’ Nate asked.
‘If the murders aren’t because somebody needs the money rather than simply wants the money, then why now? Why start killing members of the tontine nearly thirty-five years after it was formed? It isn’t logical.’
‘You make a good point,’ Dylan said. He considered a moment. ‘Perhaps there’s something about the tontine and the money at stake that has recently changed. The pot has grown substantially larger, for instance, due to a sudden stock appreciation or bond maturity. We need to know how the assets are being held.’
‘Gram should be able to tell us that. It’s probably also part of the paperwork in the attic.’ Summer turned to her sister. ‘What do you think, Hope?’
Hope sighed. ‘I think that I have to search the attic again, but considering the number of boxes and my lack of success this afternoon, the chance of finding anything quickly is pretty slim.’
‘We can all help search,’ Nate suggested. ‘Four sets of hands and eyes work a lot faster than one.’
There was a pause.
‘They’re hesitating,’ Dylan told Nate, ‘because of the attic curfew. We’re in the middle of the witching hour.’
Startled, Hope and Summer looked at him.
‘Midnight to four a.m., didn’t you say?’ Not waiting for their reply, he continued to Nate, ‘Apparently, the attic is off-limits during that time. Bad energy or something.’
Nate’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
‘That was my reaction, too,’ Dylan said. ‘But even outside of the witching hour, Summer won’t go into the attic. For some mysterious reason, Hope is allowed up there, but her sister isn’t.’
Hope rose from her chair. Summer rose from the sofa.
‘And now,’ Dylan concluded, his lips curling with a hint of a smile, ‘we’re about to be – ever so politely – kicked out of the house.’
TWENTY-TWO
The knob on the door turned, and a sliver of light crept across the bedroom floor.
‘Hope?’ Summer whispered.
Reluctantly, Hope’s eyes opened a crack. She had gone to bed shortly after Dylan and Nate had left, but sleep had been elusive. Her mind wouldn’t rest, jumping from one disjointed thought to the next. Who was Gerald supposed to meet at the spa? Where was the paper in the attic? Would Dylan win his tontine? Finally, she had managed to doze off, but it had been restless – and far too short.
Summer tried again. ‘Hope? Are you awake?’
‘I am now,’ she grumbled.
‘Oh, good.’
As the door opened fully, so did Hope’s eyes. Bright light flooded into the room from the hall lamp. Summer stood in the doorway in her bare feet and polka-dot pajamas.
