Dee Henderson - The Witness

“Oh?”

“Marsh. A good man when you need a shooter at your side, not so easy to figure out off the job: at least that’s the private investigator’s take on the man.”

“A pretty accurate assessment, I’d say. Who was Henry using as his investigator?”

“Sam Chapel, of the Chapel Detective Agency.”

Luke was relieved at the name. “I know him well; he’s one of the best.” Sam hadn’t been able to find Amy either, but he’d at least been able to track her to Colorado before the trail entirely disappeared. There had never been a letter or further contact from her, and Luke had eventually accepted the fact she’d changed her mind. It was that or worry trouble had found her, and he preferred the easier answer of her choosing to continue going it alone. “You can be sure the leak isn’t coming from Chapel’s folks.”

Daniel waved it away. “I never expected the news to last more than a day or two once the will began to work through the legal process. There is only so much the lawyers’ office handling my uncle’s estate would be able to keep quiet. But I’d hoped for another twenty-four hours before the press arrived in the picture.”

“Caleb Marsh works homicide. I’d trust the man with my life; and he’ll take less grief than most from the reporters, so the younger sister’s got a good guy in her life when this hits. And the money isn’t likely to mess with his head like it would some.”

“That’s good to know. I meet with the older sister in an hour. What am I supposed to tell her? ‘Your father didn’t mention your name until he knew he was about dead’? That’s going to go over well.”

“Start with welcome to the family and from there take it pretty slow. Just how wealthy are they about to become?”

Daniel gave a small smile. “Thirty million apiece, give or take a bit. Let’s hope it smoothes a few headaches for them.”

“How much did Henry leave you?”

“Four times that.”

“Stressful day, Daniel.”

Daniel sighed. “Thank you again. Everyone else has assumed the cash is something I would be thrilled to receive. Not that I’m not going to enjoy it and heading the Benton Group, but it is not all good changes.”

“You were content with life when you were talking me out of investing that first ten thousand with you back in our college days. You’ll see that kind of money as a burden to manage properly. But you’ll do some good with it, which is more than your uncle did in the years he accumulated it.”

“I hope to. My uncle did like to hold on to his wealth.”

“I believe Marsh is skiing with his girlfriend this weekend and they are due back in town late Sunday, so you may have caught a break regarding the younger sister. I’ll get that confirmed for you before you meet the older sister.”

“I’d appreciate it. Marsh’s partner is still Connor Black? I know Connor pretty well.”

“Yes. They’re close off work as well as on, so if you need to get word to Marsh, don’t hesitate to give Connor a call. He’s on vacation at the moment and around this weekend.”

“I’ll do that, if only because there needs to be as many people helping smooth this out as I can find.”

“Come over for dinner tonight, Daniel. I’m putting steaks on the grill, and my sister is bringing her famous chocolate cake. You can tell me about how it went today, and we’ll talk about how I or this office can help you out. I can already envision a few unpleasant people crawling out of the woodwork at the news of that kind of money.”

“Sam Chapel is bringing in Silver Security, Inc. to help out with the press conference, so I’m starting to gear up for those realities. And I’ll gladly accept the dinner invitation.” He rose from the chair. “Tell Margaret thanks for fitting me in on short notice.”

Luke rose too. “I appreciate the heads-up on what is coming.”

Daniel watched the older sister circle his small office, looking at the artwork on the walls, and knew a profound relief that his first impressions of Marie were unqualifiedly positive. He liked her.

“Did you choose this one too?” She turned from the painting to look at him.

He liked her smile. It lit up her face and touched her brown eyes, and there were an appreciation in her words and a warmth that was more personal than formal. She’d swept her hair up and caught its long blonde tresses in an elegant rainbow bow. She was neither tall nor short, her moderate heels chosen for comfort, and the elegance of her deep blue dress suggested that her love of color and style was part of her personality. He leaned back against the front of his desk, relaxed and in no hurry to move her away from the comfort zone of art that was at least a passion they shared.

He indulged her with a study of the painting he had picked up in Texas years before and thought about the gallery owner he’d haggled with for a good half hour before winning the tussle on price and wished he’d had reason to shop Marie’s gallery before this day arrived. “I did, and it cost me almost my last farthing at the time.” He’d sold some old British coins to make way for the painting into his private portfolio and hadn’t regretted the change.

“You’ve got very good tastes, Mr. Goodman.”

“And occasionally the money to indulge them.” He smiled at her. “If I’m buying that Denart in your display window you can at least make it Daniel.”

“I’m not sure I’m selling. It’s not priced yet for a reason.”

His smile widened. “Yeah, I like that about you too. You know a very good painting when you have one.”

He waved his assistant in and took the note she carried. “Thanks, Virginia.” He scanned it and folded it over to slip into his pocket. “I said lunch and I meant it. Would you join me? We have some other business to discuss, and I’ve found a nice meal a better way to talk than sitting around a desk.”

“I’d enjoy that.”

She was being patient with the reason for this requested meeting, but it couldn’t be delayed any longer. He wanted a few things for them both-privacy, a place to walk, and time. It was the time that was running out on him. “Then let me escort you. This place has spacious grounds to walk, and we turned one of the walk paths to the next building into a year-round covered retreat and hothouse for roses with several niches set in for tables and private conversations. Consider it one of the perks of having had an architect in the family as my aunt.”

“Linda worked here too?”

Marie knew something of his family; good prep work before a meeting with a prospective buyer or something more than that? Daniel chose not to ask just yet. “One of the firms on the first floor bears her name.”

“I haven’t said yet that I was sorry to hear about your uncle; I was, Daniel. Henry was a nice man.”

“You met him?”

“A few times. When his wife was alive he liked to stop in and shop for an anniversary gift.” She gave a small smile. “He’d want to discuss the purchase price over coffee and invariably find the number he had in mind to begin with.”

“I didn’t know that, although the choice of paintings fit what Linda would have loved. Linda passed away three years ago, Henry last week, and it’s going to be a different place here without them both around.”

“You’ll miss them.”

“Yes.” There was also relief that some of what he would need to tell her would not be so much about strangers as about human failings.

He led her down the wide, curved staircase and back through the building that was an office building and yet in places carried the feel of a warm museum display gallery. His aunt had chosen well how to soften the marble and wide hallways and business-suite entrances with nooks of casual seating and lighting and carefully arranged art. A constantly changing display of fresh flowers from the hothouse added to the elegance.