Snow Blind-J Collins 4 (44 page)

Acting indignant when it didn’t?

461

If I had the chance to kill Jackal, would I do it?

I had an up close and personal view of his “humane”

execution of Trina. He’d left me to die. Jackal would happily destroy Martinez if given the opportunity.

Losing Martinez would destroy me. I’d finally begun to heal from losing Ben.

I’d convinced myself killing the person who’d killed my brother would be easy. It hadn’t turned out that way. I still suffered from nightmares.

But not from guilt.

So why did I see Amery Grayson’s murderous actions as wrong? How was what she’d done somehow worse? Even when I wouldn’t feel any differently if I knew she’d whipped out a gun and shot her grandfather rather than leaving him to freeze to death alone?

Were her motives less pure because of the vast amounts of money involved?

Was honor or revenge a more acceptable reason for murder than a financial windfall?

Yes. I don’t know how I’d come to that realization, but it worked for me. I’d colored it another shade of gray. If God, or Buddha, or Allah judged me harsh-ly, so be it.

That didn’t mean I wouldn’t allow the legal system to judge Amery Grayson given the chance.

As I was getting ready to leave, the intercom rang.

“Julie. Luella’s here to see you. Buzz won’t let her in.”

I stormed out my door and glared at my bodyguard. “She’s fine. Let her pass.”

462

Buzz shrugged and stepped aside.

“Hi, Luella, come on in.” To Buzz I said, “I’m not leaving the door open, so don’t even ask.”

“Coffee?” I asked politely.

“That’d be great. Black.”

When I returned with the cups, she was looking at the picture of Ben and me, taken the summer after I’d turned eighteen. We were both laughing. Happy.

Young. Cool. It was my favorite picture because it reminded me we had lots of good times before his murder. I’d placed it next to a picture of my mother and me mugging for the camera the summer before she died.

“Is this your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Handsome. What was his name?”

“Ben Standing Elk.” I braced myself for a gasp of surprise. Leticia’s death had caused huge ripples on the White Plain Reservation, and I’d found myself sucked into the riptide and spit out. I chanced asking,

“Do you know the Standing Elk Family?”

“No. I’m from Eagle Butte. And I won’t snap at you and assume you meant because I’m Indian I should somehow know all the other Indians in the state.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Sorry. I’m just a little sensitive about that.”

“I can imagine.”

She took the coffee and dropped her coat on the chair, and I fished out my cigarettes, giving her time to 463

settle. “What I tell you is confidential, right?”

Ethical dilemma.

No. It’s only a dilemma if she tells you what you don’t
want to hear.

My thoughts teetered between serving my

conscience and serving hers. I sighed. “Yes. It’s confidential.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said and I still don’t know what to do.” Pause. “I’m sure you figured out Vernon made another will just a couple weeks ago.”

“Yeah, I did. I guess I wondered how it happened.

Did he ask you to take him to a lawyer’s office?”

“No. He hated to leave the facility. We had a group seminar geared for the new residents, dealing with updating their wills, and Vernon showed up. I helped him fill out the paperwork, never expecting he was serious. The only reason he willingly hung around other residents was when I was there to act as a buffer.”

She cleared her throat. “It’s not what you think. We were just friends. Vernon hated group activity weeks because I usually did Admin that week and spent less time with him. Anyway, the will kit was a simple ‘do it yourself ’ jobber we use at the retirement center as a template. I didn’t notice he had it notarized until we were back in his room.”

I had guessed right about the will not being on file in some legal office. “Where is the will now?”

“At my house. And if your next question is if there 464

are copies elsewhere, the answer is no. I have the only copy.”

“What did Vernon change?”

She shifted. “Everything. He cut Amery out of it completely.”

“Who gets the estate?” Luella hesitated a beat too long and a sensation like I’d swallowed ground glass spun in the pit of my stomach. “You?”

“No. Worse. Prime Time Friends.”

Another ugly pause.

“Ironically enough, when I was put in charge of the program I was under orders from Mr. Boner to convince Vernon Sloane to gift some of his money to us. That was the initial reason I’d insinuated myself into his life. Horrible, isn’t it?”

The pain in her voice made me cringe.

“But the plan backfired on me.” She made dents in the top of her Styrofoam cup with her fingernails.

“The more I got to know Vernon the sorrier I felt for him and the more I wanted to protect him. Everybody wanted a piece of him, and no one saw what a sad, lonely little man he was. I did.”

“So by playing on his sympathies, you got him to sign over everything anyway?”

Her skin became a deeper shade of scarlet. “It might seem that way. I did feel guilty, which is why I initially never told anyone about the new will. He gave it to me because he said he didn’t want it around, but I don’t know if he meant for me to hide it or destroy it.

465

So I don’t know what to do.”

“Your option seems pretty cut-and-dried to me.

You turn in the will, get to be the big hero to Prime Time Friends, and Amery gets nothing. I doubt we can prove she killed him—”

“But what if she
didn’t
kill him?” Luella’s eyes finally met mine. “Like you said, there’s no proof.”

“Now you think it was an unfortunate accident?”

“I hate to say this, but Vernon had been known to wander. Out looking for his car. Waiting for his daughter to pick him up even though she’s been dead a while. One time last fall I found him in the drain-age ditch.”

“Why are you waffling on this, Luella?”

“Because I don’t know which one is worse. Amery getting the money or PTF.”

“But wouldn’t you get five percent of the five million as a finder’s fee?”

Another bout of silence.

“I don’t want it.”

“Why not? That’s like . . . a lifetime supply of cash.”

“It’s blood money. Do you really think Bradley Boner is just gonna hand it over?” She shook her head.

“He’s been trying to get rid of me since he took over.

He’s racist. He thinks I’m too old. Mark my words, he’ll find some way to keep every penny and make me look bad and where will I be?”

Was her paranoia justified? Was that why she 466

hadn’t told Boner?”

“Doesn’t matter if Amery or a staff member killed Vernon; it doesn’t change the fact I’m benefiting from a man’s death, when the man shouldn’t be dead. When I should’ve been more vigilant about protecting him.”

“Luella. It’s not your fault. But I missed something when you said a staff member might’ve killed him. Why?”

“What if Vernon told someone else who works at Prairie Gardens besides me about changing his will?

That would give Prime Time Friends the exact same motive as his granddaughter. And when I really think about it, it’d be easier for someone who’s there all the time to lead him astray. If Amery did it, why didn’t anyone see her?”

I hadn’t thought of that. Sharp-eyed Reva hadn’t seen Amery at all in the last few months, and if anyone knew the goings on at Prairie Gardens, it was Reva.

I didn’t see Boner trusting any of his shitty staff to do the job and keep their mouth shut. Nor did I see him doing the dirty work himself. Leading me back to square one: Amery.

Again, I listened to my gut instincts. Amery was responsible for Vernon Sloane winding up dead. She flat out admitted the cold and snow didn’t bother her. No one would’ve noticed her in the middle of a blizzard, with her back against the brick wall as she watched her grandfather die.

Like you knew in your gut your father had nothing to
467

do with Melvin Canter winding up dead?

What a fucked-up mess.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Luella, besides the five million will make lots of older, lonely people like Vernon happy. In Amery’s case, it’ll make one person happy. Sloane left the responsibility to you because he trusted you to do the right thing. I think you know what the answer is.” I didn’t need to pander and remind her of the Lakota philosophy, which, in a nut-shell, was “share and share alike,” nor did I interrupt her internal struggle.

Luella sighed. “You’re right. What do I do now?”

I glanced down at the long silvery ash in the ashtray. Another cigarette burned to nothing. “I think you should talk to Bud Linderman, CEO of Linderman Properties Limited, before you approach Boner. Do you know him?”

“I’ve met him a couple of times. He hangs around the offices some nights.” She looked at me expectant-ly. “Since you know him, will you come with me?”

Not with a bodyguard dogging my every move. “I can’t. But I’ll call him. I’ll send my partner, Kevin, along with you.”

Her silence was weighted between fear and anger.

“Trust me. He’s the best choice. Hang on.” I dialed Kevin’s office and he scooted right in. I smoked and listened to Kevin’s quiet assurance and Luella’s acceptance of it and him.

Kevin said, “Call Linderman. Give him my cell 468

phone number.”

After a very brief conversation with Linderman, and Kevin and Luella’s departure, I was back to staring at four walls, feeling distracted and . . . disappointed?

Why? Had I figured there’d be a bloody end to this case? Amery and I wrestling in a snowbank in frigid temps before I attempted to rescue a bound and gagged Luella from certain death? Amery laughing and balling up the only copy of the will and tossing it into the creek? Me diving into the icy water to save it? Managing to retrieve it, fighting with Amery and knocking her unconscious, trussing her up like a turkey until the cops came, after I’d saved Luella to boot?

Right. Most cases ended with a whimper, not a bang.

Some semblance of justice had been served. It was done. Over.
Finito
. I could leave this case. Walk away. Move on.

Or not.

469

Buzz and I ate lunch at Southside McDonalds.

The Kinsey Millhone hangover special for me. Four double-cheeseburgers and a yogurt parfait for him.

A few blocks down Mt. Rushmore Road I smoked the tail end of my cigarette and studied the travel agency, nestled in a remodeled 1940s ranch house. Why people didn’t buy airline tickets, cruises, and getaway specials online boggled my mind.

“What’re we doin’ here?” Buzz asked.

I’d called ahead to make sure Amery was working. “Kim is getting married in Vegas in a few weeks.

I need to check on ticket prices for me and Martinez.”

“Bossman know about this trip?”

“Ah. It’s a surprise.”

“He don’t like surprises.”

“Well, I wouldn’t just spring it on him, which is 470

why I want to look at all the options before I bring it up. The different hotels. Suite sizes. Entertainment packages. You know what I mean.” I shouldered my purse and paused. “You coming in to help me?”

The pained look on his mug told me how much the option appealed to him.

“No? That’s okay. I promise I won’t be more than five minutes.”

“Julie—”

“Listen. I’m not gonna ditch you. I’ll be in and out.” I pointed at the office drones working in front of the big windows. “You can even see me. I’ll stay in sight.”

“Five minutes or I’m comin’ in.”

Heeding his warning, I scooted inside and plopped right down in front of Amery’s terminal.

She blinked and glanced around. “Julie. This is a surprise.”

“Not as much of a surprise as it is for me to see you still playing the part of a working girl.”

“Excuse me?”

“God knows I wouldn’t be shilling cut-rate senior bus tours to Branson, Missouri, if I stood to inherit five million smackers. And that’s not counting the multimil-lion-dollar lawsuit you have brewing on the side.”

Her expression changed not one iota. “What do you mean?”

I leaned forward. “Cut the shit. The grieving granddaughter routine only goes so far, and you’ve 471

stretched it to the limits of believability with me.”

“I really—”

“—didn’t think we’d find out how much old Vern was worth? For Christsake, Amery, we
are
professional investigators.”

She bit her lip, but I didn’t buy her pitiful little-girl act. “Does Kevin know you’re here?”

“No. Kevin and I don’t see eye to eye where you’re concerned. He sees you through a fog of lust. I see you taking advantage of his trust.”

She permitted a tiny simpering smile. “Maybe you should talk to your partner first before you try to intimidate me and ramble on when you don’t know the score. Because it sure didn’t seem like I was taking advantage of his trust when he was in my bed last night.”

Kevin, you randy dog. You literally did pump her.

Not for info, but for revenge sex. I was impressed.

“Is that it? Came here to warn me off?”

“No, I’m here as a public service.” I leaned close.

“I’m onto you, doll. Every cold-blooded move you’ve made. Hiring Kevin to uncover the terrible things that
could
happen at your beloved Pop-Pop’s retirement home. Skipping off to his condo during a blizzard, right after you left your grandfather to fucking die alone like an unwanted dog. Then conveniently ‘forgetting’ your cell phone, so you’re out of touch. Jetting off to Vegas only to be called back to face the very tragedy you feared.”

472

Amery cocked her head prettily, like a beribboned cocker spaniel.

“Then, horrors! Everything you fretted about came true. But you forgot two teeny things. One—