For Every Evil (22 page)

“Ben,” said Sophie, her voice taking on a cautionary tone, “right now I’d like to keep this just between us, at least for a few more days. There are some facts I need to check out before this gets around. I’d like to handle it myself.”

“Oh.” Again, he seemed disappointed. “Sure. I suppose.”

“Thanks. Good to see you again, Rhea.” She wondered what two newly divorced people were doing spending so much time together. Well, to each his and her own.

“You’re sure you won’t stay and have some dinner with us?” asked Rhea. She grabbed the sacks from Ben’s arms and headed into the kitchen.

“No, thanks. Another time perhaps.”

“Sure thing,” said Ben, walking her to the door. “You let me know if there’s any way I can help. This is all pretty incredible. I feel like Sam Spade!”

He looked more like Alec Baldwin. She couldn’t help but sigh. Oh, well. Bram wasn’t exactly chopped liver.

Ben entered the kitchen and got down two plates and two wineglasses from the cupboard. Rhea was already sitting at the kitchen table, unwrapping the cartons of food. “Did you get the shrimp toast?”

“Would I forget your shrimp toast?”

He grabbed the bottle of chardonnay off the kitchen counter and sat down. “No.” He grinned. “Not if you know what’s good for you.”

“I’m not sure I do,” she said, her eyes grazing his.

“Oh, come on. Like I said, one day at a time.” He handed her a plate and then poured the wine. ‘To us,” he said, holding the glass high.

“To …” She stopped.

“… us,” he said, completing her sentence.

Reluctantly she nodded, clinking her glass against his.

“I assume that you’ve heard about the reading of Hale’s will this morning.” He selected the carton of chicken and pea pods and dumped some onto his plate.

“No,” she said, continuing to sip her wine. “Other than what you just said. About Mr. Squire.”

“Hale left Ivy one dollar.” He laughed.

“You’re kidding!”

He shook his head. “That bastard. That stinking, slimy, arrogant bastard! He left everything to some old woman. Ivy didn’t inherit a penny.”

Rhea stared at him. “Why do you hate him so much?”

“Me? Who said I hated him?”

“It’s the way you look every time his name is mentioned.”

“You’re crazy. I just don’t like to be shafted in a business deal.”

“No, it started before that.”

“Eat your pepper steak.” He popped a piece of the shrimp toast into his mouth.

After a few minutes of total silence, he said, “Now who’s acting funny?”

She felt a chill in the room. “I’m just not very talkative tonight.”

“Well, then I’ll do the talking. First order of business is” — he made a trumpeting sound — “I may have a solution to all your financial problems.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know a way to get my hands on the money you need to sponsor a tour for your dance company.”

“Ben —”

“Now,” he said, holding up his hand, “don’t worry. It’s all legit.”

“I doubt it.”

“You wound me when you say things like that, Rhea. Sometimes business … has rough edges. But we can’t let that stop us. It never stops the big boys. Just wait and see.”

Ben had always wanted to play in the big leagues, as he called it. One day she hoped he’d finally grow up and realize that wheeling and dealing weren’t going to get him anywhere. It was his talent he needed to rely on. Maybe she was naive, but that’s what she believed. “Are you going to tell me what you and Sophie Greenway were talking about?”

“Eventually.”

“But it has to do with Hale’s death?”

He nodded, his mouth too full of food to talk.

She stared off into space.

“Say, what
is
wrong with you tonight? You’re a million miles away.”

“Maybe so.”

“Care to talk about it?”

“Not really. Except —”

“What? You can tell me anything.”

She finished her glass of wine. She was beginning to feel a slight buzz. “Well …”

He poured her more wine.

“To be honest, I know something about the night Hale died.”

He stopped chewing. “Like what?”

“It’s a secret.”

He became instantly angry. “No secrets, Rhea. That’s what got us in trouble last time.”

“What are you talking about? Secrets had nothing to do with our breakup. Why are you getting so hostile?”

“Just tell me!”

She finished the second glass of chardonnay. God, she loathed white wine. She wished he’d opened a bottle of cabernet. “If you must know, I saw someone.”

He stared at her. “Define
saw someone.”

“I saw someone outside the night of Hale’s party.”

“Who?”

“No, you don’t.”

“This isn’t a game!”

“I know that!”

“Then tell me.”

“I won’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I promised this person I wouldn’t say anything until we had a chance to talk.”

“You’ve already talked to …
someone
?”

“Briefly.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

As she picked up her chopsticks, she realized that she’d completely lost her appetite. “I want some information.”

“About what?”

“Look,” she said, leaning back in her chair, “I’m simply not going to talk about this anymore. I should never have brought it up. It’s just, you were being so smug about that conversation you had with Sophie.”

“And you’re too damn competitive to ever give me an edge.” His smile returned.

“I hate it when you wax psychological.”

He slipped his hand over hers. “All right I’ll stop.” His expression turned serious. “Want to see my new rubber ducky?”

“Huh?”

He wiggled an eyebrow.

“You mean a bath?”

“If you’ll join me.”

She hesitated. She’d never felt so torn in her entire life.

“I’ve got the music all selected. The sandalwood incense is waiting to be lit. And I have a bottle of merlot and two glasses waiting for us tubside.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I know.”

“I should go home, take a quick shower, and hit the sack.”

“Oh, no,” he said, beating his chest and shrieking, “another attack of the
shoulds
!”

She started to laugh.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her to her feet. He put his mouth next to her ear and whispered, “I love you, you know? I never stopped.”

She felt his arms slip around her body. There was no use arguing. She didn’t want to leave. She simply had to put all her questions on hold. If everything went as she hoped, in a matter of days she’d know the truth.

Ivy dialed Louie’s home number. It was nearly midnight. Thankfully he rarely went to bed before one. As she switched off the sound on the TV with the remote, she heard him answer, “Hello? State your name, rank, and serial number.”

“Hi. It’s Ivy.”

“Hey, kiddo! Good to hear from you. I called your house earlier today, but you must have been out. Since I didn’t feel like shooting the breeze with the machine, I hung up.”

She could hear him crunch something. “What are you eating?”

“None of your business. I will say, since I’ve withdrawn my membership from teetotalers of America, I have developed quite a penchant for junk food. But, disciplined man that I am, I’m limiting my intake. Only so much a night.”

He sounded high. “If you won’t tell me what you’re eating, then what have you been drinking?”

He laughed. “Well, let’s see here. Ah, yes. The label on the bottle says rye whiskey. It’s quite good — at least, it has the desired effect.”

Ivy wondered if she should be worried about him. Alcohol and grief were often a potent combination. “How are you … feeling?”

“I’m holding up. But my stomach has been acting funny. I talked to my doctor and he said to try an antacid. To be honest, I was a little embarrassed when I bought the bottle. I’ve never had trouble with my digestion before.”

“Age gets us all in the end.” She could hear him crunching again.

“Hey, where’s my mind?” he exclaimed. “What happened this morning at the lawyer’s office? Am I now speaking to a genuine heiress?”

Ivy could feel her stomach tighten. “Oh, Hale was very generous.”

“Really? What’s the bottom line?”

She closed her eyes. “One dollar.”

The line was silent. “Pardon me?” he said after a long pause. He started to laugh. “This connection is bad. I thought you said one dollar.”

“I did.”

Again, silence. “How — how is that possible? You’d seen his will, hadn’t you? I remember years ago you mentioned he’d shown it to you.”

“He must have changed it.”

A more thoughtful crunch this time. “But he can’t do that. This is a community property state. You’re entitled to half his estate.”

“Max is checking into that with his lawyer, but it doesn’t look promising.”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

“It’s that prenuptial agreement we signed.”

“But that was in case of divorce.”

“Not according to Hale’s lawyers.”

“God, I suppose that does muddy the waters. Ivy, I’m so sorry. I really am. This is terrible. I should have seen it coming. I should have found a way to protect you!”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it is. I helped write that damn thing!” More silence. “Maybe there’s something I can still do — legally.”

“I don’t think so.”

“But I have to try!”

“Max wants to handle it.”

“But if there are loopholes, I’m best qualified to find them.”

How was she supposed to tell him that Max had insisted she find herself a new lawyer? No, not insisted,
demanded.
She was squarely in the middle — between the two men she loved most in the world — though she cared about them very differently. Max was her passion. But Louie had been a friend and ally since her youth. How could Max place her in such an unconscionable position? It was so callous of him.

“Ivy? Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll start tomorrow, then. I’ll force the court to see it our way, don’t worry. I’m every bit as good an attorney as those jackasses Hale hired. You’ll see.”

“Louie?”

“What?”

She had to stall. She couldn’t deal with this tonight. She got an idea. “Listen, tomorrow morning I was going to visit the
Times Register
offices and talk to Hale’s editor.”

“Why?”

“Well, to be honest, Hale never actually wrote that column in the paper. I did.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Afraid not.”

“Ivy, that’s incredible. That guy was a phony from the word go. Does anyone else know?”

“No. I promised to keep it a secret. But now that he’s dead, I want the paper to recognize me. I think once they understand, they’ll offer to let me continue the column. I can use the money.”

“Don’t worry about finances, kiddo. I’ll break that will if it’s the last thing I do.”

She felt warmed by his concern. “Maybe you’d like to drive over to the paper with me. I could use the moral support. Are you free tomorrow morning?”

“Completely. I’ve taken a leave of absence from the firm. Shall I pick you up?”

She smiled. “That would be great.”

“How does ten sound?”

“Perfect. And Louie?”

“What?”

“Thanks for always being on my side.”

“Always, Ivy. Always.”

By morning, after a long, sleepless night, Ivy had made a decision. When it came to Louie, Max was simply going to have to stuff his jealousy. She would not find another lawyer. She would not dump him as a friend. And that was all there was to it.

Louie arrived promptly at ten. By ten-thirty, they were seated outside the office of Aaron Johanssen, arts editor for the
Minneapolis Times Register.
Ivy had known Aaron for many years. She found him to be fair and generally quite pleasant. Ever since she’d made up her mind to tell the truth about Hale, and about her own complicity in his lie, she’d felt a sense of relief. She also relished the idea of exposing her husband as the fraud he was. It was like that fairy tale:
The Emperor’s New Clothes.
She couldn’t wait to show the world how naked Hale had been all these years.