Heather gave three sharp knocks on Sid Green's door and waited for Butch to release the lock and allow entry. She directed her first words to the nurse/bodyguard. "Any sign of entry on the bottom floor?"
Butch shook his head. “All doors and windows are secure, and the security system is, and was, fully functional."
Sid's voice rose in volume and intensity. "Don't stand over there whispering. Tell me what you found in Lucy's room."
Heather bristled at the tone, but the patriarch had a right to demand answers. After all, his daughter-in-law had died in his home.
Butch melted into the background while Heather took her previous position on the couch. She began what proved to be a ten-minute report, beginning with her and Butch leaving the room and concluding when she knocked on Sid’s door.
No one asked questions during the narrative, but Sid cut to the chase as soon as she finished. "Well? Is it a murder or not?"
"Too soon to tell," said Steve.
Sid shifted rheumy eyes to look at Steve, who took in a deep breath. "From what I heard, there are several potential causes of Lucy’s death. Some involve homicide, while others don't. First, it's possible Lucy Green died of natural causes. Second, a combination of prescription pills and wine might have been enough to kill her. The question becomes, if pills and alcohol are involved, was it accidental or intentional? There's no crime if it's accidental. If intentional, then did she commit suicide, or did someone force her to ingest pills? Finally, the wine might contain poison."
Sid considered the options. "Lucy thought too much of herself to engage in any sort of self-harm." His gaze shifted back to Steve. "Cut to the punchline, Mr. Smiley. Was she murdered or not?"
"The police will know after the medical examiner completes toxicology tests."
The old man rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin. "I told you someone would die, and now they have. I wasn't sure who it would be, but I didn't suspect they'd go after Lucy."
"Why not her?" asked Steve.
"She's a Green by marriage only. She was the peacemaker in the family. Thought the feud that's been going on between us and the Webbers was stupid."
He rubbed his face again. “I'm not long for this world. I think someone in the Webber family wanted to hurt the next patriarch of the Greens. They poisoned Lucy's wine to get back at me and Howard."
Heather joined the conversation again. "We're getting way ahead of ourselves by speculating with no proof. Until we know the cause of death, talking about murder is a waste of time."
Sid's eyes narrowed as he challenged her statement with words of absolute surety. "I know without an autopsy."
"How?" asked Steve.
"The same way I know if a well is going to come in rich with crude or if it’s natural gas. I feel things in my bones, and I'm telling you, this is murder."
The air in the room took on the feel of cold fog. Several seconds passed before Steve spoke again. "I understand what you mean by knowing things, and I'm not one to minimize something just because I don't understand it. However, it always helps to have proof."
Heather added, "We won't have a lot of time before detectives knock on the door, so tell us how the feud started between the two families."
Sid spoke over his shoulder to Butch. "Get me a bottle of water. I'm not used to this much talking."
A small kitchenette stood in the corner, which included a refrigerator. Instead of returning with one bottle of water, Butch brought three. Steve and Heather accepted the hospitality and issued words of thanks.
"My father was best friends with Peter Webber," began Sid. "Both men were self-taught geologists. They worked the oil fields in Pennsylvania in the late 1800s and knew they'd never get rich if they didn't do something big. In 1901, someone poked a hole in the ground near Beaumont and oil shot a hundred and fifty feet in the air. Dad and Mr. Webber watched from a distance for six months and realized everyone was concentrating on finding more oil around the big find at Spindletop.”
“Not the rest of the state?” asked Heather.
"The rest of Texas, Oklahoma, and Louisiana were wide open. The two men found enough financial backing to support themselves for two years; then they hit the road, buying up mineral rights for next to nothing. Enough wells came in to keep them on the road for the rest of their working lives. By the time they educated me enough to go with them, they'd been on the road so long my dad was ready to turn over our half of the business to me. That's when the big split began."
Heather nodded in agreement to keep the old man going. His faltering voice needed regular sips of water to keep the words flowing. As further encouragement, she asked, "What triggered the severing of the partnership?"
"Mother was ill with TB. They called it consumption back then, and Dad must have caught it from her. That old buzzard, Peter Webber, didn't think I deserved a half cut of the leases because I was new to the game. He was used to dealing with Dad, and didn't like the idea of someone my age having as much authority as him. Things dragged on, Mom died, Dad got sicker, and Peter Webber wouldn't agree to a reasonable division of assets.
“By that time, I'd hit my stride and concentrated on the big ranches in West Texas and Oklahoma. Mr. Webber was a hard worker, but I worked hard and smart. He may have signed more leases, but I locked up a lot more land that produced a better quality, and quantity, of oil."
Sid required another sip to continue. "The strain of losing Mom, and Peter Webber's insistence that he be in charge, was more than Dad could take." He lifted his chin. "I'll admit I was mad enough to kill Peter Webber for the way he treated my father. He had no sympathy for all the years Dad spent with him. When my father couldn't perform any longer, Mr. Webber threw him aside like a used rag."
Steve asked, "Did he do the same to you?"
"Worse. At least he respected Dad until he couldn't go any longer. He never trusted me to do anything, and he sure didn't value my opinions."
Steve nodded and asked, "Who started the big split?"
"I did," said Sid, pride peppering his words. "Peter Webber had stopped talking to me altogether and I needed to protect what my father and I had worked for. I hired the best lawyer I could find while Peter went cheap. That old German squeezed a nickel until it screamed."
It was Heather's turn again. "I'm reading between the lines, but it sounds like the Webber family may think the division of assets wasn't fair."
Sid shrugged. "You of all people should appreciate the need for good legal counsel in business deals. Old man Webber thought he'd made a good deal when he received fifty-five percent of the leases to my forty-five. He didn't realize until later what a mistake he'd made."
"How much more production are you talking about?" asked Heather.
He grinned. "It's varied over the years. Overall, the Green wells have produced about seventy-two times more oil and gas than the Webber leases."
Heather realized the Webbers had seventy-two reasons to hate the Greens.
As if he could read her mind, Sid looked at Heather. "Peter Webber swore he'd kill me, and tried to, once. The shot only nicked my leg, but it was enough to send that old man to prison for three years. He came home in a pine box. His son, Peter Jr., came close to running me down with his car, but I was still quick enough to dodge him. Now, he's dead and buried, too."
Steve leaned toward the wily old man. "Any other attempts to kill you or any members of your family?"
"Not until today." He waved a dismissive hand in the air. "There's been a running battle in the courts, with each family finding something to squabble about, and the occasional throwing of a drink in the face at some social gathering, but nothing serious enough to hurt anyone.
"My son Howard is smart enough to let attorneys do his fighting.”
"And he married Lucy?" asked Heather.
Sid nodded.
"Any ex-wives lurking about?"
"None," said Sid emphatically, before he issued a coy smile. "I take some credit for the absence of divorce in this family. I have people do extensive background checks on any women who get too close to the Green men. If something surfaces that keeps me from sleeping, I present them with what amounts to a prenuptial agreement. The main stipulation being they'll have to live in this house and they'll get none of the Green family assets if they divorce."
Heather had a mental checklist of the Green family men, but wanted to make sure she cemented the genealogy in her mind. "I'm missing a generation. Your son is Howard, whose wife Lucy is now dead?”
"That's right."
"Howard and Lucy must have a son?"
"Tim, whose wife is Tammy. Howard and Lucy also have a daughter, Carol, who’s a handful. She's the only Green in ten generations who divorced, and her ex didn't get a penny."
Heather nodded. "If you're a great-grandfather, there should be one more."
He issued a deep sigh. "That's Chad, Tim’s son. Smart as Einstein, and marches to the beat of his own drum. Doesn’t believe in the feud and is engaged to be married."
"Can't you scare her off the way you did the other women?"
"It's not that simple this time around."
"Oh?"
"Her name is Anna. Anna Webber. Lives next door."
Heather didn't mean to groan, but it escaped her all the same. She tried to cover it with quick words. "By any chance, is she of the line and lineage of Peter Webber?"
"She's got the blood, but not the personality. I don't know how or why, but I like her. It's her family I can't stand."
"Will her parents allow her to marry someone named Green?"
Sid threw up his hands. "Neither family can stop it. They're both twenty-one, finished college two years early, and have decent jobs. They own one little car, but mainly ride electric bicycles. I think they're both vegan."
Steve then asked a question that crossed Heather's mind. "When's the wedding?"
"Three weeks from now.”
“On Christmas day?” asked Steve.
“Yep. I'm not sure if that's going to change now that Lucy's dead, but I doubt it. It's a destination wedding. I don't fly and neither do some of the others, so I booked all the close family on a cruise."
“What about the Webber family?” asked Steve.
Heather followed with her own question before Sid could answer. “Let me guess. Both families on the same ship?"
Sid chuckled, "That's the plan." He issued a mischievous smile. "Do you know if they have morgues on those overgrown barges with beds?"
"Deaths at sea aren't uncommon," said Heather after she swallowed hard. "They have ways of keeping bodies cold until they get to the nearest port, or the home port. They also have a brig for anyone who rushes the dying process."
The knock on the door brought the macabre discussion to an end.
"That will be the police," said Steve. "The knock sounds familiar."