F Paul Wilson - Novel 05 (29 page)

 
          
Julie
shook her head. "Not a bit."

 
          
He
shook his head. "I didn't think so."

 
          
"But
what happened to it?"

 
          
He
turned to her and stepped closer. "That's what
I'd
like to know.
I'm the one who found her on the floor, right in front of her easel. And it was
empty. Someone had been there and took the painting."

 
          
Julie
met his gaze levelly. "Eathan thinks it was you. And frankly, so do
I."

 
          
Did
she really? She wasn't sure....

 
          
"Not
me. I swear to God."

 
          
"Who
then?"

 
          
"Ask
your uncle."

 
          
"Eathan?
How can you say that?"

 
          
Liam
turned and gestured to the display inside the wall cabinet. "He seems to
be the world's foremost collector of Sammi's work."

 
          
Julie
stood silent for an instant, stunned by the implication. Then she shook it off.

 
          
"Yes,
but if you'll notice, he's also a major collector of Sam's sister's work, as
well."

 
          
"Well,
you've maybe got a point there. A bit weird, though, don't you think?"

 
          
"Obsessive,
perhaps. But Sam was right in a way. Our uncle has been hiding something. But
it's all innocent. Just memorabilia. Benchmarks from our youth."

 
          
"You
sure that's all?"

           
He began pulling open the
filing-cabinet drawers. The sight of him pawing through the file folders
offended Julie.

 
          
"Stay
out of there. That's none of your business."

 
          
"If
it concerns Sammi, it's my bloody business. Like I told you, she sent me here.
She said
—
" He stopped as he
tugged on one of the drawers of the locked file cabinet. "And what have we
here? Locked, is it?"

 
          
"I
was trying to figure out the combination when you barged in."

 
          
He
turned to her and grinned.
"Slipped
in, love. On little, cat's
feet." He swung back to the locked file cabinet. "So what could he be
hiding in here now, do you think? Maybe your da's, papers?"

 
          
"I
told you: They were all destroyed in the fire."

 
          
"Were
they now? Well, why don't we get this open and see? What have you tried so
far?"

 
          
She
explained about using permutations of birth dates
—
Eathan's and Sam's and hers.

 
          
"Well,
I'm thinking now, if this here cabinet hides your da's papers, why not try his
birthday?"

 
          
That
struck Julie as an excellent idea, except for one thing. One very embarrassing
thing.

 
          
"I...
I don't know my father's birthday."

 
          
Liam
swung on her. "You don't
whatl
Are you expecting me; to believe
that?"

 
          
"It's
true. I don't know my mother's, either, come to think of it. Nor their
anniversary date. We had no cause to. There were; never any birthday parties or
celebrations; we never had to buy them gifts." Julie hated having to
explain herself to this man, but felt compelled to. "Dammit, we were five
when they died."

 
          
Liam's
frustration showed on his face. "All right then. How about his
death
date,
then?"

 
          
"March
seventh, nineteen seventy-two."

 
          
"You
know the day he died," Liam said, staring at her, "but, you don't-"

 
          
"It
was the day that changed our lives." She stepped past; him to the locked
cabinet. "Let's try it."

 
          
She
set the numbers to 3-7-7-2 and pulled on a handle.

 
          
The
top drawer popped open.

 
          
A
strange feeling shot through Julie's intestines, a little pain, a little like
nausea. Eathan had used the date of her parents' death as a code number on a
lock. That wasn't right. Unless the contents were ...

 
          
She
spread the first of the hanging folders and ran her fingers across the tops of
the papers within. She saw a letter addressed to Nathan Gordon, Ph.D., and
something that said Last Will
and Testament.

 
          
"Your
da's papers, am I right?' Liam said.

 
          
Julie
nodded, unable to speak.

 
          
Dad's
papers.
Here all this time. Eathan had been lying to them all these years.
God, why?

 
          
She
felt as if her whole world were unraveling.

 
          
"What
did I tell you?" Liam was saying, oblivious to the turmoil inside her.
"Now aren't you glad I stopped by? If I hadn't you'd still be here next
year dialing numbers into that thing."

 
          
He
reached toward the open drawer but Julie slammed it shut, just missing his
fingers.

 
          
"You
keep your hands out of there. I'll go through this cabinet, and if there's
anything that concerns Sam, I may
—
may
—
let you see it."

 
          
"Now
wait just a minute, darling. I'm the one
—
"

 
          
"No!"
The ferocity she felt surprised her. She was going to protect these papers
from Liam O'Donnell and anyone else who wanted to snoop through her father's
life. "This is my call, do you hear? You either accept that or get out!
Clear?"

 
          
Obviously
taken aback by the outburst, he held up his hands, palms out.

 
          
"All
right, all right. I know better than to get between a lioness and her
cubs."

 
          
Julie
pulled the drawer back open and returned to the first file. She removed the
thickest document, a thick sheaf bound by an old rubber band that broke when
she pulled on it. On top lay the
Last Will and Testament of Nathan Gordon.
Beneath
that was the Last
Will and Testament of Luanda Gordon.
And finally,
The
Insurance Trust
of Nathan Gordon and Luanda Gordon.
She flipped
through them, scanning the headings and some of the body.

 
          
"Anything
important?" Liam said.

 
          
Julie
shook her head. "Just wills," she said as she stuffed them back into
the folder.

           
If the need arose, she could go over
them in detail some other time, but she had a pretty good idea of how they ran:
If Dad died first, everything went to Mom, and vice versa. Then if the
surviving parent died, everything went into A and B trusts for the children.
But if both died in the same accident, Dad would be considered the first death,
then Mom, leaving everything in the trusts.

 
          
She
pulled out another sheet. This one was a letter to Nathan Gordon dated November
28,1970, from BankAmeri-card denying him the credit-limit increase he'd
requested.

 
          
Odd.
Why would they turn him down?

 
          
The
next letter was from the Millburn State Bank, dated December 12, 1971. A loan
officer was telling Dad that if he didn't pay something on his mortgage soon
the bank would be forced to begin foreclosure proceedings.

 
          
Julie
was stunned. Foreclosure? She'd had no idea Dad had been in financial straits.
How was that possible when they'd been left with such generous trust funds?

 
          
She
pulled out another sheet. This one was from the FDA, dated January 25, 1966.
Specifically from a Jack Winslow, Ph.D., informing Dad that his request for
approval of a clinical trial protocol for testing certain neurohormones
(detailed in clinical application #F97674-02) was being denied. The reason for
denial was the lack of sufficient primate trials required before moving up to
human testing.

 
          
"So
what's going on there, darling?' Liam said at her shoulder. "Anything
that matters?"

 
          
"Mostly
bad news," Julie said. "A whole file of bad news. Stuff I never
knew."

 
          
Dad,
it seemed, had had his share of problems.

 
          
She
shoved the letters back in and closed the file. Maybe the next
—

 
          
Suddenly
she heard Alma's voice in the hall outside: "Have you seen Julia?"

 
          
Her
heart pounding, Julie eased the drawer shut as quickly and as silently as she
could while Alma listened to a muffled, unintelligible reply, probably from
Sam's nurse.

 
          
Julie
leaned close to Liam and whispered in his ear. "Grab that door. She could
be coming in here!"

           
Outside, she heard Alma say,
"Well, if you see her, please tell her I'm looking for her."

 
          
Julie
had the right door, Liam the left; they were backed into the cabinet and
pulling them closed as the latch on the study door turned.

 
          
She
is
coming in!

 
          
They
stood there, cramped together in the darkness with the handles of the file
drawers pressing against Julie's back. She felt Liam close to her, heard his
breathing. She was surprised he didn't make a joke. Nothing seemed to scare him.

 
          
The
only light came from the bright slit between the doors. Julie put her eye to
it.

 
          
Alma
was crossing the room. She went to the windows that overlooked the gardens and
stared out.

 
          
Looking
for me?

 
          
"What's
she doing?" Liam whispered. Liam's lips were close to her ears.

 
          
Julie
didn't reply
—
it was reckless to say a
single word in here. He was close. She could sense the warmth of him, feel his
breath on her neck. So close. Almost like in the memoryscape...

 
          
And
then she remembered: She'd left the key in the wall-cabinet lock. What if Alma
saw it?

 
          
After
a moment at the windows, Alma turned away and headed for the bookshelves. She
found the book she wanted, pulled it out, and left, closing the door behind
her.

 
          
She
certainly seems to know her way around, Julie thought. How often does she stay
here? Julie had never given much thought to the women in Eathan's life.

 
          
She
pushed the doors open and turned to the file cabinet containing her father's
papers. She rolled the numbers on the combination lock.

 
          
"Now
why would you be doing that?" Liam said in a hushed voice.