Tough Cookie (20 page)

QUESTIONS PERSIST IN DEATH OF HEIRESS cited the postmortem drug screen, which showed a blood-alcohol level in Fiona's body that made her legally drunk.

GILKEY CONVICTED OF CRIMINALLY NEGLIGENT HOMICIDE added that a mitten belonging to Jack had been found clutched in Fiona's hand. He had let her drink too much; he had let her go down a run she wasn't qualified to ski. The nail in Jack's coffin had been the fact that the ski patrol had apprehended him at the overlook the day before Fiona died. They'd yanked his ticket and warned him away from that spot. But the next day, he and Fiona had raced to the same out-of-bounds overlook. . . .

Since by law a person who in any way causes another person's death cannot benefit from it, the article concluded, Jack Gilkey was not inheriting Fiona's millions. Neither was her son Arthur, however. If Jack for any reason did not inherit, Fiona had specified that her money should go to charity: the Public Broadcasting System.

Finally, WAKEFIELD HEIR FILES COMPLAINT recapitulated Arthur's furious claim that Jack Gilkey had exerted "undue influence" on Fiona Wakefield in the making of her will. Before Fiona's remarriage, Arthur had been the sole beneficiary of a twenty-million-dollar estate. Suddenly, Arthur had become, instead of the heir to an immense fortune, the recipient of a paltry million-dollar trust fund. But nineteen million was not going to PBS if Arthur Wakefield had anything to say about it. The article added that ski patrol had verified that it had been Arthur Wakefield who had sent the patrol to the overlook, to try to find his missing mother. They'd found her all right, but she was already dead. Her neck had broken in her fall.

I stared at the silent television. Mile-High Stadium was a mute chaos of orange and blue. The Broncos scored a field goal; the crowd went wild; the station cut to commercial.

Who had left these articles for me? Why? What connection did Fiona have to Doug Portman? Could it have anything to do with my discovery of Doug's body? But what? Portman had granted parole to Jack Gilkey; Portman had also been despised and vilified by Arthur. Wakefield. What did that have to do with the avalanche that snuffed out Nate Bullock's life? I shuffled through the material again. The Stool Pigeon Murders had nothing to do with anyone or anything I knew about. Had someone been a stool pigeon? Who?

And then there was the avalanche book. I flipped' through it: Always test the snow in a slide area before traversing it. If you are caught near an avalanche, grab a tree, rock, or anything solid. Carry an avalanche beacon in all wilderness areas. Great. Three years ago, Nate Bullock and Fiona Wakefield had died on the same day, at the same ski area, albeit not on the same slope. Two days ago, Doug Portman, parole board member, had been murdered on a Killdeer ski run. An ex-con had been mouthing threats against the police. My van had been hit, perhaps deliberately. Could there be any connection between the deaths of Fiona Wakefield, Nate Bullock, and Doug Portman? Is that what someone was trying to tell me? If there was a connection, what was it, and how could I uncover it? Waiting for another anonymous library delivery was a slow way to solve a case.

Impulsively, I punched in the numbers for Arthur Wakefield's Killdeer condo. I'd pretend to have questions about his wine-tasting menu, then I'd ask him point-blank if he'd taken my library card. Then I'd ream him out.

Unfortunately, his machine picked up. Arthur's throaty-voiced recording featured Chopin piano music and a lofty greeting: He was off searching for the perfect pinot; when he found it, whoever was calling could come I over for a glass. I left a brief message asking him if he wanted a salad with all these main dishes; please give me a buzz.

Through an entire series of downs in which Kansas City drove to the ten-yard line and then fumbled, I scanned the two books and reread the newspaper articles. My bafflement only grew. Arthur had connections to Nate through PBS, and to Doug Portman, whose work on the parole board he reviled. Jack Gilkey, of course, had been married to Fiona and been paroled by Doug Portman. Did Jack's new lady love, my dear old friend Eileen Druckman, know all of this information? Was it my duty to make sure she did?

I frowned at my watch: Sunday afternoon, where would Eileen be? Probably on her way back to Aspen Meadow, so Todd could make it to Elk Park Prep in the morning. Would Jack be with her? With any luck, no.

I put in a call to the Druckmans' country club residence and reached Eileen on the first ring. After we chatted about the ninth-grade Elizabethan poetry assignment and the quantum mechanics mess - Todd had dropped pebbles onto, and broken, a glass coffee table - I took a deep breath and asked if she'd tell me: How exactly did she meet swashbuckling Jack Gilkey?

Eileen chuckled. "Through John Richard."

"My ex-husband?" I was stunned. "You met Jack through The Jerk?"

"Oh, come on, Goldy." She was instantly defensive. "Am I a welfare lady who visits convicts because that's the only way she can get a date?" I said nothing. "Don't you remember," she went on, "last summer? When Tom was trying to fix up your kitchen? You asked me to take Arch down to visit John Richard a couple of times, since you hate to do that."

"Eileen. Sorry. Of course I remember. I just didn't think you'd be getting involved with him. I mean, John Richard."

Her tone softened. "Goldy, I know John Richard was terrible to you." Terrible doesn't begin to cover it, I thought. The man is in jail for assault. Eileen went on: "But I think he's changed. Anyway, John Richard was awfully nice to me. When I said I was thinking of buying a new business in the ski area, maybe a restaurant, John Richard said I was in luck, there was a chef right there in jail with him. This chef had been messed up royally by his lawyers, John Richard said, and I should meet him. I did, and now Jack and I are together, and I can't remember the last time I was this happy."

"Did you check the facts of his case?"

There was a pause. "Gee, thanks, friend." But Eileen's voice had hardened again. "I've already told you: Jack didn't kill Fiona. Somebody else did. I think I that son of hers murdered her, hoping to get her money. Or maybe he hired someone to kill her. He just didn't know she'd already rewritten her will so that either the money went to Jack, or it went to PBS. Now he's asking the probate court to set aside the will. And Arthur wants: to look like such a good little boy to the probate court. He loves PBS, that's why he works for them for practically nothing. He wouldn't mind if the money went to public broadcasting, but really, it's his. Please, spare me!"

"Eileen - "

"For heaven's sake, Goldy! Do you really believe I'd be living with a killer? Would I make my own son vulnerable?"

"If you'd just - "

"I believe Jack. He did not kill his first wife. He's a good man trying hard to rebuild his life. I even offered him money for lawyers to appeal his conviction. He said no. He said, 'That's not the way to be healed.' "

I shook my head and turned my attention to the television, where I watched the Broncos execute a successful down-and-in pattern. I asked, "Are you planning on marrying him?" I wanted to add, Since he seems to prefer older, wealthy women, but thought better of it.

Eileen snorted. "Goldy! For heaven's sake!" She raised her voice a notch. "Listen to me. Here's how nice Jack is." On the screen, the Broncos punted, and the illuminated billboard at Mile-High exploded with the words Defense! Defense! "Jack doesn't have any money. He wants Fiona's money to go to charity. Even Doug Portman was convinced of Jack's goodness, that's why he let him out of prison. Jack is a good man. That's what petty, greedy, deceptive Arthur Wakefield really can't stand."

"Okay, I just wanted to hear what you were thinking about this. . . . You know, we always talk about everything - "

"I'm sorry, Goldy. I don't want to fight with you. I just. . . was so unhappy until Jack came along. At least you didn't say that Jack's with me because of my money, and that if I didn't have any, he'd find somebody half my age."

"You are smart, funny, and beautiful. What more could a man want?"

"Yeah, yeah. Look, if Jack were after my money, don't you think he would have asked me to marry him by now? And if he really intended to harm Fiona for her money, don't you think he would have taken out a fat insurance policy on her or something?" She sighed. "Not to worry, my dear friend. How's the planning going for your last show?"

I laughed and admitted the planning so far was zilch. We decided on times this week when our sons could work together to finish up their science projects before Christmas break. Hopefully, neither would burn the house down in the process. We hung up smiling. Thank God. Old friendships are too important to lose. . .especially over vague rumors and unsubstantiated suspicions. Speaking of old friendships –

I called Information, got Rorry Bullock's number, and punched buttons. Rorry sounded very surprised to hear from me.

I said, "We prayed for you in church today. You're having trouble with your pregnancy?"

"Still in Med Wives one-oh-one, eh, Goldy?" she shot back. "It's just a little separation of the placenta. I'll be fine."

"And they said something had happened to your car?"

"Borrowed and trashed. This trailer park is the worst place for security in all of Killdeer, and we don't have anything like what's in the rich folks' houses!"

I murmured my sympathy, and offered to bring her some casseroles the next day. Once again, food worked its magic. Rorry softened instantly arid said she'd love them. After I left the dinners, she added, would I mind driving her to work at the Killdeer warehouse? I'd passed the warehouse, one of the dark-painted service barns owned by the Killdeer Corporation, when I'd been looking for Arthur's condo. No problem, I'd be glad to take her to work. When I got off the phone, I realized I'd forgotten to ask her what precisely had happened to her car. I did not call her back because at that moment, Tom walked through the door.

It was the end of the third quarter; the Broncos were leading ten to zip. To my surprise, Tom shuffled heavily into the room and glanced at the score without much interest.

"Tom?" He sat on the couch and set three sheets of paper on the coffee table. Then he turned and took my hands. "Tom? What is it?" His expression frightened me. "Someone broke into Portman's condo the day he died. He'd lived alone since Elva divorced him, so it was definitely his stuff somebody was after." Tom sighed. "If anything's missing, we have no way of knowing. We seized all the files that were there, and we've ordered his bank records. We're trying to fit up a series of deposits with his parole recommendations, but so far we haven't figured out if he was up to anything."

"Do you think he might have been taking bribes, then?"

Tom nodded. "Portman was under investigation. A number of prisoners in Canon City and at the Furman County Jail have told investigators how he asked them for money. He always did it when the stenographer wasn't there. He always wanted the money to be brought to him personally by a relative or friend. And judging by the stuff in that condo, the guy was loaded. Even with his side business of dealing in military collectibles, and the bit he got from being a critic, there's little chance you could live the way he did on sixty thou a year from the parole board."

"So he didn't get a big divorce settlement from Elva?"

"Not according to our court records. They didn't have a prenuptial agreement. She sold her gallery and kept the proceeds. She's on record as saying she hoped he'd have to go digging ditches. Plus, he gave up the forensic accounting when he got the parole board job."

"What about Jack Gilkey?" I asked. "Did you find any connection between Doug and Jack?"

"Nothing yet. If Gilkey gave Portman money in exchange for an early release, we can't find any record of it. We talked to Jack, and to Eileen, very informally, and both say Portman really liked Jack, and that there was no money involved. We checked out Jack's alibi for the times of both Portman's death and the break-in. There's one person who remembers being with him for most of the lunch prep. Four people were with him while they were cooking the meal itself. By the time Jack got off work, Portman's place had been burgled. The receptionist at Portman's condo complex said a man in a uniform came in around noon, showed ID, claimed he was there to check the security system. She didn't see him come out, so she figures he was the one who broke into Portman's place. Eileen says she was skiing most of the day. But she was alone, no witnesses."

"So her alibi isn't airtight," I said reluctantly. "What about Arthur Wakefield?"

Tom shook his head. "Swears he was skiing alone. No alibi for the time of Portman's death, no alibi for the time of the burglary."

I thought for a minute. "Could Doug have kept another office, apartment, or house, where he might have hidden records of bribes? A lot of folks have condos in Killdeer as second homes."

"Not that we've been able to determine. He only listed the Killdeer condo with the parole board for an address. Now here's something puzzling: Portman hadn't quit the parole board, but it looks as if he was leaving or moving, because most of his belongings were in boxes. His military memorabilia were carefully packed in about forty or so boxes marked Store. Whether that meant put these in storage or sell these at a store, we have no idea. We're still looking into it." I nodded, mystified. Tom glanced at his first sheet, then paused. Finally he asked, "Goldy, how many antiques dealers did you contact about selling the Tenth Mountain Division skis?"

"I called a guy in Lodo, a couple on South Broadway, and a woman in Vail. Not one of them was willing to give us more than five thousand dollars, and then they wanted to take a commission on top of that. Wholesale, they called it. But everyone said the skis were worth at least ten thousand. So I figured we - I - ought to be able to sell them on my own."

"So you offered them to Portman. Because you knew from your dating days that he had an interest in that kind of thing."

I nodded, but, watching the expression on Tom's face, felt increasingly uneasy.