Leslie Glass - A Killing Gift

"The time for what, Al?"

"Come on. We don't have a lot of time. Let's get with it and decide how you want to allocate your gift." Birdie laughed. She didn't mean to, but she couldn't help herself. No one understood that she didn't want to leverage her opportunities. She didn't want to be on boards, couldn't think of anything more boring. Now that she was alone she didn't know what she wanted, but she knew it wasn't that.

"What are you laughing at? Are you laughing at me?" His voice sounded hurt. "You have no idea how it is here, being brushed off by people with millions. Some of them are so… dismissive."

She flicked her manicured fingers at him. "Well, don't be silly; I'm not dismissive. It's just the idea of allocating my gift." She giggled, then sobered when Al looked annoyed.

"Oh, come on, you think it's fun having a responsibility like this?"

"Yes," he said fussily, "I do. And what are you going to do about it?"

She snorted to herself. That was the question they all asked her. The trophy wife with the size-two figure whom nobody ever took seriously now had the chance to be on the board of the ballet, the board of the museum-whichever one she wanted-also the board of the hospital. The Psychoanalytic Institute. Her eyes slid around the restaurant at the tweedy York U types lunching there. She'd wanted to be one of these thinkers, one of these intensely involved academics years ago… but not anymore.

"I don't know yet," she said honestly. "Maybe I'll develop my own board; we'll consider our options."

"What about York?"

She blinked. "Oh, for God's sake, Al. You have more money than God. You don't need any more."

"Birdie. We don't! And this is what I do for a living," he said hotly. "I raise money for this great institution. This is Harvard with heart, don't you understand? You can't disrespect us."

"Of course I understand, and I won't forget you. We'll find a slot for you." She smiled reassuringly. She hadn't been able to get down much of her salad, but she had liked the lunch and didn't want to hurt him.

"A slot! How much of a slot?"

"I don't know yet… We'll have to see." One thing Birdie had learned already was not to commit too soon.

"Are we talking six figures, seven figures, what?" He gave her an exasperated look.

"Don't get excited. I don't know yet."

"Give me a ballpark then," he pressed.

She shook her head, wasn't going to do it. "Walk me to my car," she said. She didn't even glance at the check. One nice thing was they always paid.

Back in her Le Baron and on the road again, April started breathing easier. This time she didn't have to check her map for the way to Bernardino's house. As she drove through traffic, she imagined Bernardino taking this ride every day back and forth to the Fifth, going from one world to another. But no, he would not have traveled the Deegan. He'd have taken the Saw Mill on the West Side, then the Henry Hudson Parkway along the river. Nice drive. Nice life.

Forty minutes later she turned into Bernardino's heavily bowered suburban street and slowed down to a crawl. Circus time. Where yesterday the block had been quiet, today there were news vans, Westchester news, the city stations, too, and lots of cars, including Crown Victorias. One of them was Mike's. April's heart beat a rumba. She parked way back and walked slowly toward the crowd of reporters stalled in the front yard of Bernardino's house. How to hide?

The house next door had an arbor and a front gate. April opened it, sighed, and strode through it as if she belonged there. In the house a dog started barking; it sounded like a big dog. She ducked her head and skirted the house, not pausing to glance at the windows to see if anyone was watching.

In the backyard an in-ground pool was still covered for the winter that was over. She searched for a gap in the hedge, saw one at the end of the half acre, and plowed through. On Bernardino's side, the lawn was full of dandelions and needed mowing. She walked toward the house. Kathy was working in the kitchen. She looked up and locked eyes with April. They met at the storm door.

"What are you doing here? They tell me you're not on the case," she said worriedly, then opened up so April could come in. "Your husband's here," she added. "He's on the case."

Not her husband yet, but who was quibbling? Speak of the devil. Mike appeared with an empty glass in his hand.

"Mind if I help myself to some more water?" His bushy eyebrows shot up at the sight of his novia, not where he expected her to be. "Hello, what are you doing here?"

Caught, April gave him a weak little smile. Then he got it and turned to Kathy. "Oh, I see. Girls sticking together. Okay, let's go for a walk." He took April's upper arm and marched her outside. She didn't resist.

"April, you coming back?" Kathy asked at the door. She seemed alarmed by the brevity of the visit.

April nodded and let herself be taken away by the man of her dreams.

"You didn't come home last night. You had me worried. I don't want you in that house alone." Mike let the fire die from his eyes as they walked to the edge of the patio and turned their backs on the house so no one could read their lips.

Then what about her parents. Didn't he worry about them?

"You didn't call in. I missed you." He said this softly. Here was the truth, but he didn't give her a hug. He was working.

She touched her mouth, flipped up her hand. I wanted my mommy. What can you do?

"Yeah, I know. You didn't want to be alone, but you've got to be careful." He touched her arm and she nodded again. She was always careful. Well, nearly always careful. Then she glanced back at the house to get off the subject. What's going on?

"You want to know what's going on?" he asked with a smile. "The autopsy came in. Bernie was yoked. I guess you knew that. But here's something you didn't know. About a month ago a check came in for his wife, Lorna, from the New York State Lottery. You know she hit the big one?"

Of course, who didn't? April nodded some more.

"Our Bernie deposited fifteen million in a new account at Fidelity. Lorna hadn't passed on yet. In an old will she left him everything and never changed it. But get this. As soon as she died, he withdrew four million, and no one admits to knowing where it went."

April registered shock, then turned around to catch Kathy's eye. She was working at the sink and didn't look up.

"Kathy says she doesn't know anything about it. We'll run a check on her accounts and of the banks out in her area, but the FBI does that routinely with their agents, so she would know not to hide any big money in plain sight. She might have used safety-deposit boxes. Other names. There are a lot of ways to hide money. She would know." He lifted a shoulder.

But why the need to hide it? It was their money. Oh, a tax reason? That would be so stupid and squirrelly. She frowned at Mike.

"Yeah, well, like I said, she claims Bernie told her he hadn't gotten the money yet."

That didn't make sense. Everybody knew the lottery paid off quickly. She tried to remember what Kathy had said about it yesterday.

"Maybe Bernie didn't want his kids to bug him. Maybe he had a different plan for it." Mike shrugged.

But it didn't sound like the Bernie April knew. She considered the time frame in light of yesterday's conversation with Kathy. Kathy had been out of town since her mother died. If Bernie had wanted to give his daughter a bunch of tax-free money, could he have gotten it out to Seattle without taking it there himself? Did he plan a trip later on? If he'd given a bunch of tax-free cash to Bill, would Bill have sent it on to his sister? If it went to the kids, it had to be about taxes, right? What else was there?