Carol O’Connell - Winter House

Charles understood this from his host’s perspective. Quite comical, really. A man like himself, one with the attributes of an eagle beak and bullfrog eyes, would have so few choices; how could he fail to be flattered by the fixation of a neurotic elf?

Between one course and another, he learned that the Smyth firm had served the Winter family for more than a hundred years. The old man’s eyes were always fixed upon Charles, as if he regarded his guest as the most important personage on the planet. It was an illusion from a lawyer’s bag of tricks to win over juries and stalking victims alike, but Smyth had perfected it to a fine art, and Charles felt that his immunity to flattery was slipping.

Meanwhile, heads were turning at all the other tables. Mallory had arrived to work her usual effect upon a room. No one thought to stop her forward momentum across the wide floor. She was so obviously one of the power people in this gathering. What waiter would risk being trampled? There were nods of approval all around. Yes, the patrons assured one another, she was one of them, though so few of them carried guns to lunch. Hers was exposed – quite deliberately, Charles thought – as she swept the blazer to one side and reached into a rear pocket of her jeans, where she kept her gold shield.

Only now did Smyth realize that his table had become a spectacle. He looked up to see the young homicide detective standing beside his chair. She was no longer displaying the gun, but only discreetly holding out her badge.

Mallory gave Charles a curt nod. „Hello, Dr. Buder,“ she said, employing a title he never used, though his credentials entitled him to do so. And with this pointed formality, she wiped away their friendship, their business partnership and the years that they had known one another. They were merely recent acquaintances – that was her message to him. And now, after forcing Sheldon Smyth to wait out this little farce, she turned her eyes on him. „Your office told me I could find you here.“

„Really,“ he said. With those two syllables, Smyth managed to convey that some minion would be parted with his head just the moment he returned to his office.

Hardly inclined to wait on an invitation, Mallory pulled up a chair at the table. As if she did not already have Smyth’s complete attention, she asked, „Can you think of any reason why someone would want your daughter dead?“

Smyth stared at her, then shook his head and kept his silence, perhaps adhering to a lawyer’s code to ask no question to which he did not already have the answer. And then, of course, he could not have been more stunned if she had pistol-whipped him.

Mallory seemed to like that reaction. She liked it a lot. „Money motives work for me. Who inherits if your daughter dies?“

The words were slow to come. „No one,“ said Smyth. „I drew up her will myself. Her estate goes to the Legal Aid Society.“

„I know there’s a family trust fund.“ Mallory’s tone implied that she had caught the old man in a lie.

„My daughter has no stake in that. The only beneficiaries are her mother and her uncle.“

„And Nedda Winter?“

The old man nodded.

„Tell me why your daughter doesn’t benefit from the trust fund.“

It took a moment for Sheldon Smyth to adjust to the fact that he was not in control of this interview. He graced her with a radiant smile – an experiment that immediately failed. She had a natural immunity to charisma, and this seemed to irritate him. The old man made a great show of looking at his wristwatch, and he would not meet her eyes when he spoke. „I can’t discuss the trust fund with you.“ He addressed the empty chair on the other side of the table. „It’s privileged information. I can tell you that Bitty doesn’t need a. draw on the trust. I provide her with a generous allowance.“

„That’s not what I asked.“ Mallory leaned forward and raised her voice, as if the old man might be hard of hearing. „So, apart from you, her only source of income is her law practice?“

Charles sat up a bit straighter. „Bitty? A lawyer?“

„Yes, my daughter was top of her class at Columbia.“ The old man misunderstood Charles’s startled expression. „Of course, I wanted her to go to Harvard, but she preferred to stay close to home.“

Mallory called Smyth’s attention back to herself. „Where does your daughter practice law, and what’s her area of expertise?“

„She used to work for my firm, but now she’s on sabbatical. She’s always concentrated on contract law.“

„Would that include trust-fund busting?“

„You can’t mean the Winter family trust.“ Smyth was incredulous. „What would be the point if she didn’t – “

„I need copies of all the documents for that trust fund,“ said the detective. „I want them today.“

„Got a warrant, Detective?“ Smyth seemed suddenly cheered by Mallory ‘s prolonged quiet. „No,“ he said, „I didn’t think so.“

„You’re the executor,“ said Mallory. „You can give me any – “

„That trust fund has a long history. The documents – every bill and receipt and canceled check, paperwork for decades of transactions – it fills a good-size storage room.“ He leaned toward her with new confidence. „It would take a small army to copy all that paperwork, and the originals will never leave my firm.“

„Did I mention that I was trying to keep your daughter alive?“

„And were you listening when I said there was no motive for anyone to harm her?“

„It’s my job to decide that,“ said Mallory. „You’re only a lawyer. I’m the law“

Sheldon Smyth inclined his head and smiled, perhaps in agreement with this distinction, but more likely in approval, a sudden change in his opinion of this young adversary. „Detective Mallory, I can give you the basic structure of the trust. Cleo Winter-Smyth and her brother are entitled to a monthly draw.“

„And Nedda,“ said Mallory, reminding him once more of this woman’s existence. „She could also be a target. So if she dies – “

„It doesn’t change the amount of the draw. You should also know that the trust fund is entailed to charity. The payouts end with Lionel and Cleo’s generation.“

„And Nedda,“ said Mallory. „You keep forgetting her.“

Sheldon Smyth dropped his smile and laid his napkin on the table. „I think we’re done here, Detective. Talk to my secretary if you need more information. She’ll schedule an appointment.“ And now, because he must sense that she did not take direction very well, he added, „I’m afraid we ‘re boring poor Charles with all of this.“

After Mallory had kicked him under the table, Charles was encouraged to say, „Oh, no, sir. This is fascinating.“

„Well, Charles,“ said Smyth, „if that’s the case, I suggest you have dinner with the family tonight. You’ve been invited by my ex-wife. I’m sure Bitty would like to properly apologize for the unpleasantness with the police.“

„I assure you there’s no need for that,“ said Charles, shifting his legs beyond Mallory’s long reach.

„Say yes,“ said Smyth. „I’m asking as a favor. Bitty’s so easily crushed. Tell me you’ll go.“

In Mallory’s version of subtlety, she examined her fingernails – as if they might need sharpening.

„Of course,“ said Charles.

After signing a tab for the luncheon and leaving instructions to care for his guests, Sheldon Smyth departed, and the energy level of the dining room was diminished by half.

Moments later, Riker arrived, and he proved to be another head turner, attracting attention from every quarter of the dining room. He moseyed toward the table, followed closely by a waiter, who no doubt suspected this badly dressed man of a scheme to steal the silverware. Charles stood up to greet the detective, and the waiter, somewhat relieved, melted away.