Mansions Of The Dead (31 page)

Sweeney’s father had found eventual success and Bill had eventually given in. But he had liked to remind himself of his misspent youth by staying in touch with Sweeney’s family. After Sweeney’s father’s suicide, Bill had been the one who had made sure there was money for Sweeney to go to college, who had made sure that some of the paintings went to places that Paul would have approved of.

Since he’d been wanting to talk to her anyway, she was hoping he could tell her something about Charles Putnam’s will in return.

After hugging Bill and catching him up on her job, Sweeney sat down in the comfortable leather chair opposite his desk, feeling the sense of calm and security that all of his clients felt when they sat there in that chair. He looked the way he always looked, an aging hippie dressed up for lawyering, his gray hair in a little ponytail, an exuberantly patterned yellow tie under the conservative blue blazer.

“I have a hypothetical question to ask you. Say that there was a family that had, over the years, through inheritance, acquired a lot of very valuable real estate, lots of other assets too.”

“Yes?”

“And say that a member of that family found out that one of the antecedents was illegitimate. In other words, all of the inheritances from that point on were based on a falsehood. What would happen, legally, in a case like that?”

“How long ago would the illegitimate heir have been born?”

“The 1860s.”

“God, that’s . . . Well, the inheritance itself would likely be deemed void by a court, but it would depend on who’s bringing the case. Would it be alternate heirs, the father’s legitimate children?”

“No, it’s kind of complicated. From what I can tell, this heir is the only child.”

“So what leads you to think he’s illegitimate?”

“It’s a Scarlet Letter kind of thing. I’ve found evidence that the son was born more than nine months after the death of the father. But I think it was, you know, hushed up or whatever was done in those days. She must have gone away to give birth and then said that the baby had been born earlier than it had. I think it was a matter of a few months, so it wouldn’t have been too hard.”

“Can I ask . . . ? This isn’t your family you’re talking about, is it?”

“No, no. I don’t know if I should say.”

“Okay, well. This would all depend upon a lot of things. If the father never knew that his son was illegitimate, never knew in fact that he was going to have a son, then it would have been typical in those days for him to leave his wife something to live on and to leave the rest of his estate to the closest living male relative. So let’s assume that that was the case. Presumably, then, when the wife discovered she was pregnant, she would have said she was farther along than she really was. When a son was born, the will would have been voided and the son would have inherited everything. Have you seen the will?”

“Yeah. That’s pretty much what it says. What would happen if someone found out about this now? Could everything be taken away from this family?”

“I highly doubt it. For one thing, there’s no way to prove that the
son was illegitimate. There wasn’t DNA testing back then. Unless there was some kind of document that existed that proved absolutely that the son was illegitimate, say a letter from another man acknowledging that he was the father or a signed testimony from the mother.”

Or a piece of mourning jewelry, Sweeney thought.

“But this is all so long ago now that I have trouble believing any court would go back and try to change it. There would have to be another family member bringing the case, a descendant of the person who would have inherited instead of this person. I assume that’s not the case?”

“Not that I know of. Although there must be cousins, I suppose.”

“And there’s the question of what the remedy would be. I mean, do you go back and give the inheritance to the rightful heir in real dollars, or do you account for what’s been done with the inheritance over the years? It would be such a mess that I have trouble thinking anyone would even touch it. But you never know. It’s an interesting case. Can’t you tell me any more about it? How did you get involved anyway?”

“Oh, it’s a cemetery thing. I found a discrepancy on a gravestone and I’m trying to figure out whether I should say something to the family about it. I’m just wondering if it would even change anything.”

“If I were you, I’d leave it alone,” Bill said. “It was so long ago. It doesn’t seem like there’s much good in bringing something like that out. Now, if my client was a descendant of the wronged family member, I might feel differently. In that case, I would go back and start looking into the family, see if there were any documents that proved the child had been illegitimate. But I don’t think I’d start spending the inheritance.”

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Now my turn: I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Have you thought anymore about what you’re going to do about your father’s work?”

Sweeney looked up at the brown and orange desertscape that her father had given Bill. It was a horizontal oil, the brown desert sweeping out toward a little gas station, the red, white, and blue Texaco station.

“There are something like a hundred paintings in storage, Sweeney.
With the way the market’s going right now, we could get a fortune for them . . . .”

“I’m not ready to sell them, Bill.”

“Then put them on your wall. Loan them to a museum. You’re an art historian, for God’s sake. Don’t you see that it isn’t fair to keep them locked up?”

“I know, I know.I just . . . There’s too much going on right now for me to think about it. I have to do it properly.”

“How are you doing for money? Have they given you anything more secure at the university?”

“No,” Sweeney said grumpily. “They only gave me two classes for the fall semester. There’s a tenure track job open, but I don’t think I’m even in the running.”

“You working on a new book?”

“Yeah. I think I’ve got the premise. I’m going back to colonial stones, looking at the early history of the country and a couple of very important carvers.”

“Wouldn’t you like to be able to work on it and not have to worry about money?” When she didn’t say anything, he raised his eyebrows at her. “Sweeney . . . ?”

“I’ll start thinking about what I want to do and I’ll call you. Okay?”

He hugged her. “Okay. Stay in touch.”

BY THE TIME SWEENEY
got to the Memorial Hall theater that night, it was about three-quarters full. The stage was decorated with bouquets of red carnations, and a huge red, white, and blue banner swagged across the front of the stage, read
YOUNG DEMOCRATS AND YOUNG REPUBLICANS WELCOME STATE SENATOR CAMILLE PUTNAM AND CONGRESSMAN GERRY DIFLORIA
. Since it was the first time the two candidates had debated, television cameras were everywhere.

Sweeney had arrived late on purpose, hoping to slip into a seat in the back and therefore avoid Jack Putnam. He had called her a couple of times since the night she’d been at his house, never referring to Quinn or to the lie, but saying that he wanted to talk to her. She hadn’t called him back.

But as she scanned the crowd, she realized she needn’t have worried. Jack wasn’t there. She spotted Drew standing up near the stage talking to a group of people and Andrew and Kitty Putnam sitting in the front row. A young guy in a tweed jacket came up and said something to Drew, motioning for him to step off to the side. They talked privately for a few minutes, the guy writing down whatever Drew said in a notebook. Sweeney watched them. There was something familiar
about the guy, but she couldn’t figure out where she knew him from. Finally, Drew shook his hand and took a seat.

As it got closer to seven, the activity in the hall increased until finally, a young woman wearing a bright red miniskirt and blazer stepped up to the podium and adjusted the microphone. The room quieted as the student began to speak.

“Hi, everyone. It’s great to see such a big crowd here tonight. We feel very lucky to have State Senator Camille Putnam and Congressman Gerry DiFloria with us here tonight. We want to extend our deepest sympathies to Senator Putnam and her family at this very difficult time.

“Now, let me introduce the candidates. Camille Putnam is a state senator from Charlestown. She attended Choate Rosemary Hall and got her bachelor’s and law degrees from our own university. She was elected to the Massachusetts assembly at twenty-five. After two terms, she was elected to the state Senate, where her legislative work has focused on the rights of women and children and health care issues. She is now a Democratic candidate for Congress from the Eighth Congressional District. I present Senator Camille Putnam.” There was a round of applause as Camille came out. In a blue power suit that was a bit too big for her, she looked more petite than Sweeney remembered. But she was smiling broadly and had put on lipstick for the occasion. She waved to the crowd and took her place behind one of the podiums on the stage.

“And now I’ll introduce Congressman Gerry DiFloria, a Republican from Somerville. Congressman DiFloria attended St. John’s University. He attended law school here at the university and served as chief of staff to former Senator Chris Bartholomew for twenty years. He started his own law firm before running for Congress two years ago. Let’s welcome Congressman Gerry DiFloria.” There was another round of applause and a good-looking man of sixty-five or so came out onto the stage. He wasn’t that tall—five-nine or so—but he carried himself like a tall man and his suit made the most of his height. He smiled and waved at the crowd, then stood next to Camille at the second
podium, resting his hands casually in front of him. Camille was nervously picking at her skirt.

The young woman waited until the applause subsided. “We’re going to use a fairly straightforward format here. I’m going to give each candidate three minutes to introduce himself or herself. Then I will ask five questions and give each candidate five minutes to answer. We’ll finish up by giving each candidate three minutes to wrap up. Then we’ll take some questions from the audience. By coin toss before the debate, it was determined that Senator Putnam will go first. Senator Putnam?”

Camille leaned toward the microphone. “Hello. First of all I want to thank all of you for coming out tonight and getting involved. I wasn’t much older than many of you here when I first ran for the state assembly. People said I was too young, that I hadn’t had enough real life experience. But I knew that I cared about where our state and our country were going and I knew that I had something to contribute. You know, people said that my generation didn’t care about politics, that we were only interested in watching TV and playing video games. They say the same thing about your generation. But I got involved because I didn’t like being told that my generation wasn’t interested.
I
was interested. I cared about having an economy that would pay a decent wage to hardworking people, about having a health care system that would take care of the most vulnerable members of our society. I cared about having a clean environment, I cared about having the right to make my own reproductive choices, I cared about giving people a reason to believe in government again.”

She got an enthusiastic round of applause and went on.

“I hired some other young people to run my first campaign for the state assembly and we set out to do things differently. I wanted to run on a platform made up of the things I cared about. And you know what, there were people out there who didn’t agree with me on a lot of the issues, but they respected that I spoke my mind.

“Politics isn’t some obscure thing that happens in Washington. It’s what affects your everyday life. It’s whether your school has enough
money for books and paper, it’s whether families with two working parents can find quality child care. Politics is what keeps the environment clean and the world safe from war and social injustice. I jumped into this race because I feel that the people of Massachusetts need an energetic voice in Washington. A voice that isn’t afraid to stand up for what’s right, that isn’t beholden to special interests. A voice that respects you and your problems and concerns, not just those who have enough money to give to your campaign. Thank you!” There was wild applause and Sweeney found herself clapping right along.

Gerry DiFloria waited for the applause to stop and then leaned forward, gripping the podium. “First of all, I would like to start out by offering my deepest sympathies to Senator Putnam on the untimely death of her beloved brother. My wife Cheryl and I are thinking about the Putnam family at this sad time. I don’t know if Senator Putnam knows this, but I knew her grandfather—well, I knew both of her grandfathers, but I worked with Senator John Putnam—when I was a Senate staffer. He was a good man.” It had been a pretty sly thing to slip in there, Sweeney decided. The comment reminded the audience both that DiFloria had been helping to make laws when Camille Putnam was in diapers, and that Camille Putnam’s grandfather had been a Republican and a friend of Gerry DiFloria’s.

“I believe in your generation too. I believe that your generation wants opportunity and freedom. I believe you want a chance to work hard and make something of yourself, a chance to see your dreams and hopes become a reality. And I believe that I have a proven record of helping the people of Massachusetts to realize their hopes and dreams. Whether it’s my small businessperson’s grants bill or my support for the ‘Get America Started’ tax cut, I have fought for you and your family and I will continue to fight for you and your family. Thank you.”