“You really are a ray of sunshine, aren’t you? Couldn’t you have given him some sugar when you picked him up?” Shireen stared pointedly at George.
“Any more sugar than he already has ingested and he could go into a diabetic coma,” George deadpanned.
“Oooh, so it’s one of those days.”
“Could you two please stop talking about me while I can still hear you?” Andi’s tone was close to getting impatient, something George liked to avoid at all costs. He motioned with his head for Shireen to proceed. The hacker was well enough acquainted with Andi’s moods to understand the silent nudge.
“Well, despite me being super busy with all kinds of important stuff, you know, something got me thinking about the sons of your victims. I mean, isn’t it strange that three young men, sons of highly successful fathers and with the best education money can buy, aren’t at a more elevated state in life? One of them could be written off as a normal family fallout. But all three?”
That got George’s attention. They had briefly toyed with the same question and the idea that the sons could have been involved in their fathers’ killings, but with so many more likely suspects they had put the sons on the back burner.
“You have a point. What did you find?” George was curious now, as well as Andi, who had made a step toward the huge flat-screen on the wall.
“That’s just it. Nothing. One moment they were their daddies’ darlings, going to the same alma mater, spending their time in the same fraternity, all busy being rich sons, the next they were all on their own, trying to get a scholarship for their last semesters at Harvard. If it weren’t for a secret benefactor paying for them, they would have dropped out for lack of money. Their trust funds dried out more quickly than spittle on a hot stove, all thanks to Portius, Dyson & Partners, and there wasn’t some lavish traveling after getting their degrees or high-paying job offers as you would expect for people with their fathers’ kinds of connections. And now David Hector Portius III is working as a second-rate lawyer who has problems paying his rent and loses most of his cases because his grasp of the law is flimsy at best, Lester Miller has never held a job longer than a few months, has already founded and crashed two companies and is now busy doing the same with the third, all due to a terrible lack of understanding for finances as his accounts suggest, and Dominic McHill is so up to his nose in debt that his monthly paycheck evaporates the moment it hits his account. These three men are sad, weak shadows of their fathers’ glory, and even if we assume the fathers knew this and were disappointed, why didn’t they at least try to help their own offspring?”
“You’re telling us there was some kind of fallout. Something big because it involved all three of them.” George and Andi exchanged a long glance. This was interesting indeed. “You don’t happen to know what they did to fall from grace?”
Shireen sighed. “I’m still looking. It’s the things I didn’t find that made me suspicious in the first place. It’s as if the last semester before they were estranged hasn’t existed except for their names being in the official documents.”
“Like fathers, like sons?” George asked, staring at Andi, who nodded.
“It’s definitely worth considering. Question is, what did they do?”
“I’ll keep digging. If I was able to find out about Gideon Gartner, I should be able to find out whatever the sons did, right?” Shireen had that determined line between her brows, telling George to not contradict her.
“Absolutely, Shireen. You’re the best.” Andi, too, knew how to read their resident hacker. “Have you found any signs that the sons had contact with each other?”
Shireen shook her head. “No contact through their phones, and none of them is on social media. No Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram for those three.” She furrowed her brows. “Almost as if they’re hiding….” Her tone took on a faraway quality. After a moment of intently staring at nothing George could see, she started typing on her tablet.
“Did you have a chance to take a look at Portius’s affairs?” Andi queried, even though Shireen seemed to be engrossed in what she was doing.
“Huh?”
“Portius’s affairs? I sent you a text. His wife is concerned about something.” Andi was patting the back pocket of his jeans, searching for his cell.
“Ah yes, I remember.” Shireen kept typing. The flat-screen flared to life again. “She has every reason to be concerned. It seems David Hector Portius II changed his will without telling her. A great chunk of his money goes into a trust to enable children from lower-class families to go to college. It’s airtight as far as I can see and one of the few good things this man ever did.”
“So she’ll get nothing?” George thought that was a valid reason to be agitated.
“Well, nothing is a big word here. She won’t get as much as she probably expected, but I don’t call two villas and a seven-figure fortune, mainly in bonds, nothing.” Shireen tapped her index finger against her chin. “Compared to the eight-figure sum that goes into the trust, it is nothing, though. Numbers are always about the right relation, you know.”
George looked at Andi. “Back to Tamara Portius?”
Andi nodded. “Back to Tamara Portius.”
“Thank you, Shireen, you’re the best!” George blew her a kiss, which she caught, examined, and then stuffed into the front pocket of her dress or whatever the bag-like thing in bright violet and pink she was wearing was.
TO SAYTamara Portius wasn’t happy to see them was an understatement George didn’t want to make. They had given her a call telling her they would be coming over because they had some more questions. Tamara Portius had been terse, saying something along the lines of doing what suited them. George and Andi had decided to take it as an invitation to just drop by. Before they had rung the bell, Andi had informed him that today there were four people inside the house with her. Two of them in the kitchen, one in the laundry room, and one upstairs with a vacuum. It was safe to assume they were all servants. No sign of Jake Dyson, which probably meant Tamara Portius wouldn’t talk to them at all.
To George’s surprise, she opened the door herself, staring at them as if she had forgotten they would be coming.
George nodded at her politely. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Portius. May we come in?”
Tamara Portius made a huffing sound at the back of her throat, her eyes narrowing to small slits. She looked upset and agitated, and when she stepped aside to let them in, her body language spoke volumes about how much their visit was inconveniencing her. She didn’t even invite them to sit down. Which was fine by George because he was more than ready to take the gloves off. He had felt pity for her because she had obviously drawn the short straw in the husband department, just like Sophia McHill, but that didn’t give her the right to be such an impolite bitch.
“Mrs. Portius, we’d like to talk to you about your husband’s will. Will Mr. Dyson be here shortly?”
Tamara Portius managed to turn her expression into a mask of pure fury despite the Botox hampering her efforts. “That’s not his will. Not the real one, anyway. The money is mine. And Dyson won’t be coming to this house. Never again!”
