Another Dead Republican (7 page)

We were interrupted by a tap on the door.

ELEVEN

Wednesday 9:03 A.M.

The door opened. A woman peered into the room. She balanced a briefcase and a cup of coffee in one hand and held the door handle in the other. She said, “I was told Veronica was back here.”

I said, “She’s still with the children.”

The woman came into the room. She was in her mid-to-late-thirties, slender, and wore a white shirt and a dark gray pantsuit. She said, “I’m Enid Achtenberg, Veronica’s attorney.”

Mr. Grum said, “We don’t need any outside attorney. The family has attorneys. You’re not wanted. Get out.”

“You’re Mr. Grum,” she said.

“Yes, so what?” His voice was still at bellow level.

Nobody else from the family had rushed in to see what was going on. Maybe the rest of them were used to bombast beyond all levels of decency, or he was the one in the family who did the bidding and commanding and they didn’t dare interfere. Although, according to Veronica, Edgar’s mother ruled the roost.

Ms. Achtenberg said, “I’m here to see Veronica at her request. I can wait in the car.”

I said, “I’m Veronica’s brother. This is my husband Scott. We were here when Veronica called you.” I touched Scott’s arm. “Scott was the first one you talked to. You are welcome to wait for Veronica here with us.”

Ms. Achtenberg said, “Poor Veronica. Those poor kids.”

“You can’t ignore me,” Mr. Grum said. “You don’t get to say who stays or goes in this house.”

Before I could say, neither do you, Scott said, “Is there anything else we can help you with, Mr. Grum?”

The gargantuan hulk pointed at each of us in turn. He gulped and blubbered, made inarticulate noises. Finally, he stormed out the door.

Ms. Achtenberg clicked it shut behind him. She came over to the desk, placed her coffee on it, and put her briefcase on the floor.

I pointed at the heaps of stuff on the floor. “Mr. Grum seems to be intent on making a mess.” Scott and I bent down to pick up papers and paraphernalia. Achtenberg lent us a hand in cleaning up the Grum-induced chaos.

As we worked, she said, “He’s a hell of a piece of work.”

I said, “The whole family is nuts.”

She scanned the mess Mr. Grum had created on the floor and said, “Veronica’s father-in-law seems to have anger issues.”

We picked up the larger intact pieces of junk and put them off to the side. The larger smashed pieces we deposited in the trash can. The smaller bits and pieces would need to be vacuumed. We placed the papers back on the desk.

Finished cleaning, Scott and I sat behind the desk. Achtenberg took a comfy chair on the opposite side. She said, “Veronica always talks about you, how close you are. You’ve been a big help to her over the years. She says you both are good guys.”

I said, “Married into this family, she needed all the friends she could get.”

She looked at Scott, “How’s your shoulder?”

“Healing okay, thanks. The doctors have some hope.”

“Good, and thank you for taking a stand for the working people in this state.”

Scott said, “Just a link in the chain.”

The stand she was referring to was Scott’s activities on behalf of workers. Most professional athletes have unions and some even make statements supporting working people. Scott had issued statements, come to the state for rallies, and contributed substantial money to their causes. I’d joined him in many of these activities, but he’s famous and I’m not, so his presence was significant and mine wasn’t.

Scott’s fame can be a pain in the ass. Even if this injury ended his career, he had what some said were already Hall of Fame numbers. Fans can be a nuisance. In public, usually a ball cap pulled low over the eyes and a pair of sunglasses disguised his identity from all but the most discerning. Our favorite restaurants helped by seating us as far from prying eyes as they could. Leaving huge tips didn’t hurt either and quite often people are willing to go out of their way to please a star.

I said, “How long have you known Veronica?”

“We first knew each other at the University of Iowa. We’ve kept in touch over the years. She and I meet for coffee, not as often as we’d like. Maybe three or four times a year. I’d never met old man Grum until today. I’d only seen him at the wedding and that was years ago. This morning, she called you first?”

“Yeah. She called and we rushed up here. We arrived about dawn.”

The door opened.

TWELVE

Wednesday 9:21 A.M.

Veronica stepped in. The women saw each other and hurried into each other’s arms.

When they unclenched, I asked, “How are the kids?”

Veronica hesitated. “I think. I guess.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue she held crumpled in one hand. She shook her head. “Numb. We’re all numb. I asked what they wanted to do. They want to go to their favorite pancake house to eat. They need to eat something. I’m going to take them to eat.”

“Do you want us with you?” I asked.

“No. I think it should just be me. I want them to be able to talk if they want to. They’re getting dressed. We’ll leave in just a minute.”

Achtenberg asked, “Just a couple things before you go.”

My sister halted with her hand on the doorknob.

Achtenberg asked, “Do you have guns in the house?”

Veronica’s hand flew to her throat. “The police told me he was shot.”

“Yes. Did Edgar own a gun?”

Veronica’s hand swept around the room taking in all the stuffed dead animals and lifeless representations of woodland critters. “For all this, he’s got an arsenal. I made him keep them in a storage shed out in the back. I wouldn’t let him have them in the house. It was the first fight after we got married. Then when we had kids, I made sure he had it double and triple locked. I was not going to have an accident with those things.”

“You never touched them?”

“Never. I don’t know what kinds he had. I didn’t want to know what he owned. I’ve never fired a gun.”

Achtenberg said, “Good.”

“Are they saying someone with one of Edgar’s guns…?” She couldn’t finish.

Achtenberg said, “I’m covering all the bases. I want to anticipate what the police might ask.”

Veronica nodded. “I’ve got to get to the kids.”

“Anything we can do here?” I asked.

She came over to the desk. “Yes, keep those people out of here. Before you showed up, Edgar’s family had already been talking about the family Trust. About inheritance. About the will. Already talking about it! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them!” She was breathing almost as hard as her father-in-law. Ms. Achtenberg put a hand on Veronica’s shoulder.

Veronica took a huge breath, calmed somewhat. “Their son is dead, and they’re talking money. I’m going to need help fighting those people. Enid, can you go over our family papers with my brother and Scott? I know you can’t be here every minute, but the more people on my side who know how this works the better.”

Enid said, “I have your permission to talk to them freely?”

“Yes.” She pointed to the closet. “Our family stuff is supposed to be in that room. I know I made Edgar get copies of all the family Trust documents. Even that was a fight. They accused me of trying to steal the family money. It was one of the few times Edgar stood up to them. He said as long as he was part of the family Trust, he should have copies of everything.”

Achtenberg opened her briefcase and took out a one-inch-thick packet of paper and handed them to Veronica. “These are the documents from your file. I stopped at the office on the way here. This might save us some time. These are the documents I worked on for you and Edgar.”

Veronica pointed to the closet and said, “Our copies must be in there with everything else.” She handed me the stack of stuff Achtenberg had just given to her. Veronica continued, “That room is a mess and there doesn’t seem to be any order to it. If you have the time now, I think it would be better if you go over your copies with them. Those people are worse than vultures who haven’t fed in a month. I need allies.” She hesitated. “What about the police? I can leave, can’t I? With my kids? To go eat?”

Enid said, “Yes. If they ask, I’ll explain where you are.” In walked my mom and dad, Veronica’s kids, several strangers, and Mr. and Mrs. Grum and her little dog, too.

Mom had several large boxes of pastries in her hands. Dad had two carrying trays with coffee with small packets of cream and sugar scattered among the coffee cups.

Mom and dad would know to bring food at a time like this.

THIRTEEN

Wednesday 9:32 A.M.

The kids looked dazed and confused. Patricia ran to her mother, grabbed her around the waist, glanced up at us, and then stuck a thumb in her mouth, a reversion in the face of unfathomable crisis. I didn’t blame her. Would that such simple gestures could solve all of our problems.

Two of the strangers wore ill-fitting sports coats and sported not-very-concealed weapons. The tall one in the brown coat and pants demanded everybody’s name. A third stranger wore a dark gray suit, with a pale yellow shirt, and a yellow tie with dark gray stripes.

The room began to seem crowded what with the cast bronze and iron beasts, whole stuffed dead critters, the heads of dead animals, and now the large herd of humans.

Achtenberg planted herself between the interlopers and the rest of us. One of the new guys towered over her. The other came to about her height. The tall one had demanded our names. Achtenberg said, “I’m Enid Achtenberg. Who are you and why should we give you our names?”

Good for her. This situation was out of control.

Mrs. Grum said, “Arrest them all.”

An image of the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland flashed through my mind, “Sentence first -- verdict afterwards.” This was making less and less sense. Assumedly the new guys were cops, or were they private security personnel working for the Grums, or they were random people off the street who happened to be wearing guns?

The tall guy said, “I’m Detective Brendstin. This is Detective Adlow.”

Achtenberg said, “I.D.s please.”

I liked her.

They took out I.D.s and flashed them for a second, put them away.

Achtenberg held up a hand, “Again please, gentleman.”

Brendstin looked like he was holding himself in from reaching out and throttling her. Adlow, much older than the taller detective, kept his eyes down. Maybe he was embarrassed and chagrined, which would be a new development among this crowd.

The third stranger in the black suit said, “I’m Albert Warner, the Grums’ attorney.” He handed Achtenberg his card. She didn’t bother to look at it.

She waited a few beats as the detectives glanced at each other then dragged out their badges. Achtenberg actually examined the detectives’ IDs, took out a pen and paper from her briefcase, and wrote down information from both badges. She didn’t hurry. She didn’t take her time. Just a professional doing a sensible job. I really liked her.

Mr. Grum reached to grab the paper she was writing on. She jerked it away.

An unchagrinned Mr. Grum said, “There’s no need for this. My lawyer has been meeting with the police.”

“Why?” Ms. Achtenberg asked. “Is he a suspect? Does he have information related to helping find the killer?”

Warner said, “I’m sure if we all just sit down and talk about this, we can work things out.”

Ms. Achtenberg asked, “Work what out?”

An excellent question. What the hell was going on here?

Detective Brendstin said, “We need to question everybody about the murder.” Maybe he was reasserting his need to control the situation. If he was supposed to be in charge, he wasn’t doing a good job of it so far.