Jeanne Stein - Legacy

I let him take the lead. The last time I saw him, he was in a panic, running up the court steps to Gloria and collapsing in her arms. Today, he’s calm and composed. He’s dressed exactly like a rich teenager on holiday break from prep school would be: Abercrombie & Fitch baggy jeans, red polo with the collar up, Vans with the laces untied. His young face is drawn, however, and he’s projecting the manner of someone much older—fourteen going on forty.

Maybe that’s what finding your father’s dead body does to you.

Once we’re seated, he starts right in. “How do you know Gloria?”

“She’s my business partner’s girlfriend.”

“What’s his name?”

“David Ryan.”

“What did he used to be?”

“A football player. For the Denver Broncos.”

“What’s he do now?”

“He’s a bounty hunter.”

He pauses. I guess I passed the audition because then he blurts, “Gloria didn’t kill my father.”

I stir my coffee, watching his face. “Your mother seems to think she did.”

“ Step mother. My real mother died two years ago. Right after my dad left us.”

The words are heated, but his face remains impassive, aloof.

“I’m sorry, Jason. I didn’t know about your mom.”

He shrugs. “She was sick. Had been for a long time. Timing sucked, though. You’d think my dad could have waited before leaving us. He knew how sick she was, but he had a new girlfriend and I guess he wasn’t thinking too clearly.”

Again, no rebuke, no real emotion in his response. Is it an act for my benefit? I pause a heartbeat before saying, “Must have made you pretty mad when he left.”

He meets my gaze. “My mom and dad had problems for a long time. Laura wasn’t his first girlfriend. Mom should have left his sorry ass years before he walked out. He was my dad and I guess I loved him, but he wasn’t nice.”

The answer is well thought out and delivered so calmly that I’m unsure how to proceed. Something about this kid’s demeanor is setting off warning bells in my head. No fourteen-year-old is this poised two days after his father’s murder. Maybe I should switch gears. “And Gloria? How do you know her?”

“She’s my dad’s business partner—” He pauses, re-phrases. “ Was my dad’s business partner.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you with her at the courthouse. You looked pretty upset.”

He picks at his scone. He hadn’t yet touched it or taken a sip of his coffee. Now he breaks off a tiny piece and raises it to his mouth. He doesn’t take a bite, though, and his hand falls back to the table. “I like Gloria. She’s nice. She always treats me like an adult. I know she was spending time with my dad. I know they had a relationship. She couldn’t have killed him.”

“And you know this . . . how?”

He folds his hands and places them in his lap. His shoulders hunch. “Because I know who the killer is.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You do?”

He sets his jaw. “It’s my stepmom. It’s Laura.”

“I thought you were with your stepmother all day. At least that’s what you told the police.”

For the first time, his composure slips. His eyes widen, fill with tears. “I don’t care. She did it. I know she did it. I even know why.”

I nod for him to go on.

“It’s because of the trouble my dad was in. I think he was going to be arrested. He was going to jail.”

Jason looks close to breaking down. I don’t want him to become so flustered that he runs out on me so I sit still and give him a moment to collect himself. He does. More quickly than I would have expected. The eyes lose their panic, his face relaxes.

Tentatively, I begin. “Why do you think your dad was going to be arrested? I don’t remember seeing that mentioned in any of the newspaper articles. It’s something I’m pretty sure the police would have known.”

He blows out a breath. “Maybe not. I heard Dad and Laura the morning he was killed. They were talking in the study and didn’t know I’d come in. I could hear it all from the hall. Dad said something was about to come out. Something bad. Dad said we had to leave the country now. Laura didn’t want to.”

“Did he say what the trouble was?”

“No. Only that we couldn’t stay here. If we did, we’d lose everything. Laura was furious. Said he was exaggerating. She said her life was here and she’d leave over his dead body.” He puts subtle emphasis on the last words. “That’s why I know she did it. I just don’t know how.”

I lean in toward him. “Why didn’t you tell the police what you just told me?”

His expression shifts, back to anger. “Would the cops believe a kid? And I told you, we were together all day. I’m her alibi. I don’t have any proof. But you can investigate. You can find something to prove Laura is the one who killed my dad.”

I sit back in my chair, studying Jason. He’s doing the same—studying me. Gauging my reaction to his charge that his stepmother killed his father. Hefty charge. He’s got his jaws clamped so tight, I see the muscles twitch.

After a moment, he says, “You believe me, don’t you?”

I’d like to. It would make more sense than Gloria killing O’Sullivan over—well, over anything. The realist in me knows that thinking something and proving it are two different things.

I’VE WAITED TOO LONG TO ANSWER. EITHER THAT, or my expression isn’t reassuring enough because Jason bangs a fist on the table. Our coffee cups, dishes and everyone in the place jump. Me included.

Gordon says, Everything all right over there?

Yeah. Sorry.

He turns back to his customers, but I feel his mind probing into my head. Great. Now I have to make sure I don’t project anything I don’t want him to pick up on. This is private, Gordon.

He doesn’t shut down right away, but finally, after a moment of dead air, his attention is back on coffee and scones and I feel the conduit close.

“Jason,” I say sharply. “Getting pissed is not going to help.”

“Then what is? You don’t believe me. I can see it on your face. You’re going to let Gloria be blamed for this and I’m telling you, she didn’t do it. Laura did.”

I hold up a hand. “I didn’t say I don’t believe you. Gloria doesn’t have a motive for killing your dad. At least not a credible one.”

Relief softens his face and shoulders. “The love affair thing? It’s bullshit. Laura didn’t know anything about Dad and Gloria. She couldn’t have. She wouldn’t have been so nice to her when Gloria came over to discuss business with Dad.”

“Well, she sure knew two days ago. Any idea how she found out?”

He shakes his head. “The only thing I can figure is that she must have started having Dad followed.”

“By a private detective? Why would she if she didn’t suspect an affair?”

He fiddles with his still untouched coffee cup. “Maybe she did suspect something. Not with Gloria . . . necessarily.”

I peer at him. “Your dad was seeing someone else besides Gloria?”

Jason’s eyes fill again. He looks down at the table. “I think he was seeing one of his lawyers, too.”

“What makes you think that?”

Again, he doesn’t look at me. “I walked in on him once. At the office. We were supposed to meet for lunch and I was early. He and this woman were kissing. They made some lame excuse that he was helping her get something out of her eye.” He grunts. “Yeah. Her eye. His hand was on her boob. How stupid do they think I am?”

“Did you tell your stepmom?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

His expression is suddenly cautious, hesitant and shadowed by guilt.