“Les, I know you’ve suffered a real blow today, but this is official business. Questions need to be asked. And you need to answer them, okay?”
Les turned to face the windows, his back to the bed. “Okay,” he said dully.
“Are you sticking to your story that you slept straight through the night? Because if you want to change it, now is the time.”
“It’s not a story,” he protested. “It’s the truth.”
“You honestly didn’t hear Norma go downstairs in the middle of the night?”
“I honestly didn’t, I swear.”
“Take a minute, Les,” she cautioned him. “It’s possible that you remember something without realizing it. Like, say, Norma getting back into bed with you, snuggling up close. She would have been real cold from being downstairs, in need of warming up.”
“I don’t remember anything like that,” Les insisted, watching the swirling, windblown snowflakes smack against the window. Des was tired of looking out at the snow herself. In fact, she’d be happy if it never snowed again for as long as she lived. “And, quite frankly, I don’t see the point of this,” he added reproachfully.
“I’m trying to figure out what happened.”
“We know what happened. Norma ’s heart gave out. There’s nothing complicated or sinister about it. To suggest otherwise is a real reach. And I resent it.”
“Les, how much do you know about Ada’s finances?”
“I know the old girl never really cared much about money,” he answered. “She gave away most of her father’s fortune to various political causes over the years. She owned her villa in Italy, the town-house in London. And she still had a pretty steady royalty income. Those old plays of Luther’s are considered classics. They still study them in drama classes.”
“What about this remake of Ten Cent Dreams} How was she going to make out from that?”
“Quite well. It’s based on her original work, so they had to pay her a decent sum.”
“Are we talking six figures?”
“I’d imagine so, plus a percentage of the profits. Plus they’re reissuing the original. There’s a book of her photos coming out, too. There’s no question that Ada was looking at a lot of new income. I can’t tell you how much because I genuinely don’t know. But Ada did raise the subject with us the very first night she got here. She’d already been in contact with Bruce Nadel about it.”
“And Bruce Nadel is…?”
“The fellow in New York who handled her legal affairs. He’s on West Fifty-sixth Street. His father, Bert, was Ada’s lawyer before him. She wanted us to know that she was leaving her entire estate to the American Civil Liberties Union. She claimed that the ACLU needed the money because our government was no longer protecting the rights of individuals, only those of corporations. Her words, not mine.”
“How was Norma with this news?”
“Fine. She certainly wasn’t surprised.”
“And Aaron, how was he?”
“Predictably furious. Not because she was giving it away, but because she was giving it to a gang of failed paleo-socialists. His words, not mine. My own view was that it was her money and she could do as she wished with it.”
“You weren’t worried?”
Les frowned at her. “What about?”
“Keeping this place afloat.”
“When you run a big place like Astrid’s, you never come out ahead,” he answered carefully. “Your profits, assuming you have any, get plowed right back into the business. Something always needs repairing or replacing. It’s a lot like running a farm, in that sense. But we’ve been keeping our heads above water. We do okay.”
“I know that Aaron comes into the castle now that Norma is gone,” Des stated. “As her executor, you’re in a position to know if she provided for anyone else, am I right?”
“You are. And she did. She made provisions in her will for several others.”
“Such as who?”
“Well, there’s Teddy. And the kids, Jory and Jase.”
“You didn’t mention that to Aaron this morning.”
“I know I didn’t. It’s none of his damned business.”
“May I ask you how much money we’re talking about?”
“Actually, I don’t think you have a right to ask me that. The terms of Norma ’s will are confidential until it’s been filed with the Court of Probate.”
“I have every right to ask. Just as you have every right to not answer. You’re not obligated to, but if you want to help me…”
“I do want to help. Really, I do.” Les fell silent a moment, making up his mind. “Strictly between us, Norma left fifty thousand apiece to Jory and Jase. Seed money, so they can start up a small business or buy a home or whatever. She wanted them to be provided for.”
“Are the two of them aware of this?”
“Norma asked me to keep it between us. She may have told them. I didn’t.”
“And Teddy?”
“The same amount, fifty thousand. The poor guy is always scuffing. She took pity on him. Norma had a soft heart. Too soft, if you ask me.”
“And what did she leave you?”
Les coughed uneasily. “She’d earmarked the money from Paul’s life insurance policy for me. She’d never touched it. It amounted to two hundred thousand.”
“A man can do a lot with that kind of money. What are your plans?”
“My plans?” he shot back incredulously. “I’m just trying to figure out how to get through this day. My entire life is in ruins.”
“Believe me, I understand.” Des counted to three, then squeezed a little harder. “How’s your personal debt situation, Les? Do you owe anyone a lot of money?”
Les didn’t respond. Just clenched his jaw muscles.
“If you do, I’ll find out. You may as well tell me now.”
“Tell you what? This is outrageous! First you drag me in here in front of my poor dead wife. Now you so much as accuse me of lying to you. How dare you? What do you think you are doing?”
“My job. I have to ask pretty harsh questions sometimes.”
“I noticed.”
“Les, you’ve been married before, am I right?”
“Twice,” he answered coldly. “And in answer to what is no doubt your next harsh question: Yes, I do still pay alimony and child support to my second wife, Janice, thereby leaving me penniless. I don’t even own the car I drive. The castle leases it for me.”
“How were you and Norma getting along?”
“We were happy together. I told you that this morning.”
“True enough,” she acknowledged. “But you didn’t tell me that you’re involved with another woman. Who is she, Les?”
Again, he fell silent. But this was not an angry silence. This was the last of his manly resolve leaking slowly out of him, like the air out of a worn-out radial tire. She could practically hear the hiss. And the physical change in the man was really quite startling. His skeletal structure seemed to give way from within, leaving behind only a limp, quivering meat sack. “You actually think I filled Norma, don’t you?” he said to her forlornly. “Well, I didn’t. And shame on you for even thinking it. Maybe I wasn’t altogether happy, but so what? Most of us aren’t altogether happy. That doesn’t make us killers. It just makes us normal.”
As Des studied Les’s sagging self there at the window, it occurred to her that he had not denied having a girlfriend. In fact, he had managed to avoid the question entirely. All of which translated to this: She could easily like him for plotting to kill Norma, and then killing Ada because she’d somehow stumbled upon what he’d done. Des could like him a lot. After all, $200,000 could buy a lot of happiness. And yet she also could not help shaking the nagging feeling that Les had been much better off with Norma alive than dead.
Her cell phone squawked now.
She thanked Les and asked him to return to his room. He did not pause on his way out to take one last look at Norma. Just oozed on out the door, shutting it softly behind him. He had not been able to look at her the whole time he was in there.
“Resident Trooper Mitry,” she said into her phone.
“Yo, Master Sergeant,” a voice exclaimed in her ear, the connection crackly but plenty audible. “I understand you’ve got yourself a situation.”