‘I was so scared,’ she admits.
‘I know. But now all we have to do is sit tight,’ he says, ‘and wait for the money to come through.’
She nods and walks into his arms.
He holds her, kissing the top of her head. They have nothing to worry about now. There were no fucking cameras! There are no witnesses. Nobody will ever know. He puts what else Ramirez said to him at the docks out of his mind. It doesn’t matter. ‘And tomorrow,’ he says, ‘we see the attorneys.’
Lara Donleavy is ensconced in her own luxurious brownstone, just a few streets away from Jill and Ted’s. She and Ben hadn’t overseen the renovations themselves, as Jill and Ted had; it had already been remodelled when they bought. Lara and Ben preferred it that way. And while the Westcotts had painstakingly preserved every historical detail, theirs has a more modern vibe. Now, Lara pours her husband a glass of wine– a crisp SauvignonBlanc. He’s just arrived home from work– he’s in mergers and acquisitions at a law firm in Manhattan– and as he enters the kitchen, where she’s prepping dinner, he loosens his tie automatically. She stops what she’s doing and watches him. She’s always enjoyed watching him loosen his tie– she finds it sexy. But tonight her mind is on other things. ‘I went over to Jill’s today,’ she says.
‘How’s she doing?’ Ben asks, interested.
‘She seemed pretty shaken up.’
‘Well, she would be.’
She tells him all about it. ‘She never mentioned anything about who inherits, and I didn’t feel I should ask.’
He raises an eyebrow and smiles at her.
‘Don’t pretend you’re not curious,’ she replies. ‘It was a bit weird, sitting there, with this big elephant in the garden with us. I mean, it was all over the news this morning that Greg’s estimated net worth is about forty-five million.’
‘Yes, I saw that.’
‘It’s a lot of money.’
‘It is.’
‘I just hope it doesn’t change things,’ she says.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You don’t think Ted and Jill will change if they inherit that much money?’
He shrugs. ‘Maybe. Money changes people sometimes. It doesn’t really matter to us, does it?’
She turns around and looks at him. ‘It might not matter toyou,’ she says, a little ruffled, ‘but Jill is one of my oldest friends. And I like things the way they are.’
Special Agent Ramirez is alone this evening in his cluttered apartment in Jackson Heights, a neighbourhood of Queens. He can’t afford to live in Manhattan or Brooklyn. He grew up in Queens. His father was a bus driver, his mother a schoolteacher, both now retired. Ramirez is unmarried, currently not seeing anyone in particular, and totally focused on his career, so there are no distractions. Now, he’s thinking about his current investigation.
He’d found absolutely nothing amiss on theFortune Seeker, or anything from his review of the accident report, or from the statement the day before, to suggest that Greg Westcott’s death was anything other than an unfortunate accident. Nothing in the way of evidence. But his interview of Ted and Jill Westcott this morning– and his gut– are telling him something else. He’s certain from their reactions when he mentioned cameras that things didn’t happen on that boat the way they said.
He’d deliberately goaded Ted Westcott at the end of the day at the marina. He probably shouldn’t have said what he did. But people like the Westcotts get under his skin without even trying. So much privilege. They think they’re better than everyone else. Ramirez knows already that he will probably never be able to nail them for what happened to Greg Westcott, but he wants them to know that he thinks they’re hiding something.
He’d reported back to Donovan Brady at the end of the day with his suspicions and his lack of evidence. They know that Ted Westcott is Greg Westcott’s only surviving relative. They know Greg Westcott was worth a fortune. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist. Brady had told him not to spend too much more time on a lost cause. Ramirez ponders it long into the night.
Chapter Fifteen
THE NEXT MORNING,Ted dresses with care in a slim, dark navy-blue suit, a smart white shirt open at the neck, and no tie. Jill is wearing a tasteful black dress with three-quarter sleeves and a hem that falls just below the knee. They want to look businesslike, but also like a family that is in mourning. Ted felt that wearing a black suit would be too funereal. He didn’t want to overdo it.
‘We look good, don’t you think?’ Jill says, coming up beside him, surveying them both in the full-length mirror in their spacious walk-in closet.
‘We do,’ he agrees, kissing her on the cheek. He looks back at the two of them smiling in the mirror. The world is their oyster. His mood is buoyant. He picks her up off her feet and twirls her around while she smiles down at him, protesting that he’ll ruin her dress.
They are going to this meeting with the lawyers. It’s what they’ve been waiting for. It’s what he’s fantasized about,dreamed of. He tells himself that dreams do come true. If you make them happen.
When they arrive at the law firm, they are greeted warmly by the receptionist and escorted directly into a boardroom with a long sleek table and several chairs and a glorious view of Lexington Avenue. They are told Marlon Fiddick will be with them shortly. They are offered coffee, which they accept. The receptionist retreats to get their coffees while Jill sits and Ted, still standing, looks out at the view and straightens his shoulders inside his suit. Their coffees are brought in and a moment later Marlon arrives, carrying a leather folder. Jill stands up, and Marlon shakes hands with each of them.
‘Let’s just have a moment alone before the others join us,’ Marlon says, as they all sit down. He smiles at them both, looking slightly uncomfortable. ‘Again, I’m so sorry for your loss,’ he says. Ted nods. ‘We don’t have to get into estate matters today, if it’s too soon. We can just talk about immediate steps, if you would prefer.’
