Steve tried to clear his throat before he answered his phone, but his words squeaked with the telltale sound of an interrupted nap. “What time is it?"
"It's two o'clock on a sunny day in Montana," said Heather. Her words came fast, laced with purpose and excitement. "Why are you sleeping in the middle of the day?"
He grabbed pillows, stuffed them behind his shoulders and raised himself to a sitting position. "I slept lousy last night." He didn't need to tell her that memories of Maggie came calling, as they sometimes did.
"Oh. Sorry. Did you take the Melatonin I packed for you?"
"I forgot, but before you chew me out, I promise to take it tonight." Steve yawned and stretched life into his legs.
"Tell me about yesterday's meeting.”
"No blood but I need some advice. Mae brought her attorney, a fellow named Patrick Shaw. There’s more to them being together than legal briefs."
Heather chuckled at the inuendo. "Did anyone else show up with a mouthpiece?"
"Only Mae. I think Pat’s intentions toward her aren't honorable." Steve reconsidered his last statement. "He and Mae seem to be cut from the same bolt of cloth. To hear Roy talk, there's not much chance that either could sully the other's reputation. Pat’s presenting their idea of a fair division of property to the rest of the siblings today. Roy’s taking odds that the plan will be less than equitable."
"Don't take the bet. Roy may be obnoxious, but he's a shrewd gambler. I checked his finances on the flight yesterday. He's doing well for himself."
"And the others?"
"Mae spends more than she makes. Sue Ann and Grant have credit card debt beyond their ability to pay. Rance is at the tail end of paying off student loans. Two years at A & M set him back a pretty penny, but that's all he owes."
Steve took in the information and placed it in mental files. One sibling needs money to keep her children fed, one wants wealth to obtain a lifestyle, one works hard to earn his way in life, and the other makes big money by counting cards and distracting opponents until they make mistakes.
"Back to the attorney," said Heather. "Did others object to him being there?"
"Roy expressed his opinion."
"I bet he did."
"Even quiet Rance found his voice when Pat tried to bulldoze him. There's more to that young man than meets the eye."
"If you could see him through the eyes of a woman, you'd double that opinion. He's a tall, dark-skinned cowboy with lonely-looking eyes. The type some sweet girl would love to walk into church with and walk out as Mrs. Rance Voss."
"Have you been reading western romance novels again?"
Heather's laugh was a good sign. She must be on the right track for finding information on the mine. But first, he needed to finish telling her the rest of the story of yesterday's meeting and get her advice. "I'm giving Patrick thirty minutes to make his pitch. After that, I told him he’d have to leave. Marvin made it clear he'd enforce my decision to limit attendance to those mentioned in the will."
"Perfect," said Heather. "Is that all?"
"It hasn't come up yet, but I'm expecting Mae and Roy to challenge Grant’s right to be in the meeting. What do you think?"
Several seconds passed. "You can decide either way. The will gives you sole discretion on how to interpret Charley Voss's intentions. It gets complicated because of the state's community property laws. It's the old, 'and the two shall become one' argument."
"What would you do?"
Heather exhaled a full breath. "I'd let him stay. He's already sat through two sessions and didn't cause any problems."
"That's what I thought, too. Now tell me what you've found out about the mine."
"Not much, but enough to make me suspicious. I checked with the power company that services the mine and discovered their use of electricity started dropping a little every month last year. I spoke with property managers and real estate agents who serve the areas that house mine workers. They report a slow, steady rise in vacancies."
Steve knew that both might be signs of a work slowdown, but they could have other logical explanations. He didn't want to interrupt Heather when she was hot on a trail.
"I should know soon if this is a huge con-job or if the mine is for real. Last night Tim and I went to a bar on the same side of town as the mine. I tried to pump some guys that worked at the mine for information. They were tight-lipped, like they’d been warned not to talk."
Steve stood and stretched as Heather continued.
"Tim had better luck. He plied a girl with drinks and spent the night twirling her around a tiny dance floor. She explained to him that a gold mine runs on diesel. If you want to know the health of a producing gold mine, see if the diesel usage is going up or down."
"Well? Which is it?"
"She didn’t know. She confirmed there’s been a slowdown, but the quality of the ore is as good as it's ever been. She operates some sort of machine in the mine. I'll find out this evening about the diesel usage when I wine and dine the fuel supplier and his wife. Either way, I'll fly back tonight. Are you still in my room?"
"Still here and with no cougar bites."
Heather's laugh caused a smile to part Steve's lips. She ended with, "Good luck at today's meeting."
"Thanks. I'll need it."
Roy's bray of a laugh cut through the room five seconds after Patrick Shaw finished his twenty-five-minute presentation of what he considered a fair division of property. Roy followed his hysterics with a question. "Why didn't you use your red crayon and color in all the property for Mae?"
"It's equitable for all parties," said the attorney in his smooth-as-silk voice.
"If you think that, I'll take the four miles of lakefront with adjoining property and Mae can have my land you colored in yellow."
Mae didn't disappoint as she barked out, "Shut up, Roy. Pat has the floor for thirty minutes. Listen to all he has to say."
Steve leaned back and tried to appear as an impartial spectator. In fact, that's what he hoped he would be at the Saturday afternoon edition of battling siblings. Everyone had listened quietly to a polished attorney make an impassioned plea for the waterfront land to remain intact, along with a mile and a half setback to accommodate a marina, luxury waterfront homes and tall condominiums with views of the lake. The carrot the lawyer offered was a promise to give the remaining siblings a ten percent share of the profits from the sale of the developed properties.
It came as a surprise that Roy sat in silence as Patrick made his pitch. What didn't surprise Steve were the challenges he now sprayed like confetti.
"Pat, I have to hand it to you; that was an impressive presentation. I liked the pictures of multi-million-dollar homes and the smiling women sunbathing. Let me see if I have this right. Mae gets all the best land. Everything touching the lake, everything a mile and half back from the lake, and land for new roads, each with a generous easement. Is that right?"
"The land on either side of the roads will only be a hundred and fifty yards deep. That will allow for future commercial development, which will profit everyone."
"Profit. Now there's an interesting word. If I heard right, Sue Ann, Rance and I will someday get ten percent of the profit from this deal, once you recoup your investment. Right?"
"We take all the risk and front all the capital," said Patrick.
Roy left his seat and paced on the opposite side of the table from Mae and the attorney. "That means Mae gets seventy percent of the profits."
"But you'll have your sections of land to sell or keep or develop."
"What's the valuation of the land Mae will receive as compared to ours?"
"It's a fair deal. You'd be foolish not to agree."
Roy stopped pacing. "You're bluffing with a deuce and a five as your hole cards. You spent your time working on a slick presentation instead of doing research." Roy paused. His words slid out on a laugh. "That's not right. You did both. That's the largest remaining tract of undeveloped lakefront property in the state. You know how much it's worth and so do I."
Roy seemed to enjoy himself. His pacing stopped. "Tell you what, Pat. I'm a gambler. I'm going to write a number and give it to you. If you agree to my price, I'll fold and let you fight it out with Rance and Sue Ann. But first, I'm going to write them a brief note, too. I've been in contact with local real estate brokers. They gave me their estimate of land valuations. Let's see how your numbers stack up against theirs."
A hush fell on the room as Roy settled in his chair. The sound of a pencil scratching paper reached Steve. Rance and Sue Ann both thanked him then Roy's footsteps circled the table.
It didn't take Mae long to react. "This is ridiculous. It's a hundred times more than what that property's worth."
Roy countered with, "Not when you consider all the future profits you're promising. In fact, it's less than the windfall Patrick said we’ll get in his presentation."
"I promised nothing," said Patrick. "Those were projections."
"Take it or leave it," said Roy. "By the way, Pat, your thirty minutes is up. Hit the road."
Marvin Goodnight stood. "Unless Mr. Smiley's changed his mind, only family members are to be here."
"If he leaves," said Mae, "Grant has to leave, too. He's not mentioned in the will. All he's added to these meetings is a nasty smell. Sue Ann, what did you ever see in this oaf? He can't even support you and the children."
No response came from Sue Ann or Grant.
This was the moment Steve had dreaded. He leaned forward and allowed seconds to pass as he reconsidered his decision. He folded his hands together like he was praying, which in fact he was. "I thought this might happen, so I consulted Ms. McBlythe to make sure I wasn't making a legal error. She said I could decide on allowing Grant to stay or leave. I've decided he can stay as long as he isn't disruptive. I've also decided that he can't address the group. He and Sue Ann can converse, but only she can speak."
Whispers floated from Sue Ann and Grant followed by her saying, "We're fine with that, Mr. Smiley."
"Well, it's not with me," shouted Mae. "You're all too stupid to know what's good for you. I'll wait and take my chances with the second part of the will. That old buzzard might have left everything to the eldest child like he should have."
She stormed out of the room. Rance asked her to wait, but she didn't respond.
As expected, Roy laughed when Patrick followed Mae and Rance out the door. "I told you she'd leave before the meeting was over. At least everyone knew better than to bet against me. I'm on a winning streak and I have a feeling it's about to get better."
Rance returned after only a brief absence. "I gave Mr. Shaw my estimates on the number of cattle. He said he'd try to calm Mae down and get her back tomorrow."
"Mr. Smiley," said Rance. "I'm laying a sheet of paper in front of you. It's a tally of the livestock divided into groups of bulls, steers, cow/calf pairs, heifers, slaughter cows and a few orphaned calves. I calculated the value of the livestock by what the latest sale prices are. Everyone has a copy."
"Thanks, Rance. I appreciate your diligence." Steve faced the spot where Sue Ann and Grant were sitting. "Did you finish your inventory of the ranch house?"
"Huh?" said Sue Ann. "Were you talking to me?"
Grant's voice sounded as hard as the granite he mined at the quarry. "Answer the man. Tell him you finished at the ranch."
"Oh. Yes. I made copies for everyone. There weren’t much anything of value. I didn't go in Rance's room. Some things in the living room and the clothes in the laundry room are his."
Roy piped up, "There's nothing in that house I want. You and Rance and Mae can do whatever you want. My suggestion is you burn it down."
"Grant says we ain’t interested in anything in the house," said Sue Ann. "Can we leave, Mr. Smiley?"
"Let’s hope we make better progress tomorrow afternoon," said Steve. The room cleared and he wondered if Mae might be right. Perhaps the second part of the will would clarify the division of the estate and get him off the hook.
The voice of Bridget Callahan tumbled through the door, floating on wafts of perfume. "Yoo-hoo. Steve-e. You're not getting away from me tonight. I made reservations for us at the Yacht Club Restaurant, and after that we're playing a round of golf."
"In the dark?"
Heather ran her hand over the leather seat of her Citation M2 and thought about how much she loved its comfort and being able to fly anywhere at a moment's notice. Muted lights and the opulence of the cabin gave her a mixed sense of belonging and being somewhere foreign. A look out the window reinforced her thoughts. The plane cut through rarefied air, which reminded her of the wealth she'd been born into. She'd taken a ten-year break to become a policewoman and had come full circle back to extreme wealth. Well, almost full circle. Working murder cases with Steve kept her grounded and allowed her to right wrongs in a way she found satisfying. The red light on the tip of the plane's wing, however, seemed to blink a warning that great wealth came with great responsibility.
She sipped a cup of coffee and stared into the open door of the cockpit, where instruments cast a fluorescent green aura in front of the pilot, Johnathan, and co-pilot, Tim. Their training equipped them to make decisions that could affect three lives tonight. She also had a decision to make that might affect the lives of hundreds or even thousands of people. She picked up the phone from its recessed holder by the seat and placed the call.
"Father, it's Heather."
A stiff voice answered. "Do you know what time it is?"
"It's almost 1 a.m. in Boston. That means you've already slept three hours and you're in your robe checking the Asian markets. You'll be awake until two and then you'll go back to bed until six."
He didn't disagree. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? I know it's too late for you to be calling to say you've obtained the signatures on the acquisition."
"No, but the mine is the reason for my call. I've been in Montana the last two days doing research on the company and their operations."
"Why would you duplicate work?"
Heather closed her eyes. She'd expected resistance, and the tenor of his voice bore aggravation.
"I've had suspicions for quite some time that something is amiss."
His response came back with too much speed. "Successful businesses don't run on suspicions. I've gone over the reports you sent and this is a golden opportunity."
"Nice pun, father, but something's not right."
"I see you're still flippant. Why are you really calling?"
Heather knew she needed to be firm and decisive. "I'm putting off the acquisition until we can have new sample holes dug."
"That's not possible. We'll lose out to Apex."
"It would be a mistake to go forward."
She could tell by his tone her father was digging in his heels. "Perhaps I made a mistake in giving you such responsibility."
"Perhaps, but I'm not willing to do something we'll regret."
"Right now, the only thing I regret is taking the acquisition from Webster and giving it to you."
This wasn't the conversation she intended to have. Her Irish anger rose, but she knew she couldn't back down. "When you give it back to Webster, ask him why he didn't discover the electricity use at the mine has been going down for the last year. While you're at it, ask him why the housing vacancies in the towns around the mine are going up. See if good-old-Webster can explain why sales of diesel fuel to the mine are half of what they were this time last year."
"Logical explanations exist for each of those things. In fact, Webster and I have already discussed some of them. He assures me the slowdown is temporary and the drill holes show a new deposit twice as large as what they have mined up to now. I've seen the projections and the assays."
"Like I said, I'm suspicious. They look too good to be true."
Her father's voice had that ring of steel to it that always infuriated her. "This is a rare opportunity, child."
She cringed at the use of the patronizing replacement for her name but kept talking. "If that's true, why are they selling?"
The phone went silent for several seconds, followed by, "I've decided, Heather. I'm giving the job to Webster."
Something like a limb breaking from under her took place in Heather's soul. She straightened her back. "So be it. I resign from McBlythe Enterprises. I'll have my attorneys contact yours and work out the details. Since this airplane is in the company's name, I'll return it to you or purchase it from you with funds from the inheritance I received from Grandfather."
His voice cracked. "That was a Christmas present. I wanted you to have it."
"Then you should have given it to me yourself and not put it in the company's name. Give Mother my love."
She crammed the phone back in its holder and stared out the window. The blinking red light on the plane’s wingtip hadn’t lied.