Chapter Twenty-Nine

She behaved badly.

Bev wouldn’t rationalize an excuse for her behavior with him. She wanted to move forward. As she and Len pulled up to the circular drive of the big house in Maine that Friday, there were several cars in the drive.

Good, she thought. Everyone received her message. Megan’s car parked in the drive, too. Reggie was meddling again. She deliberately kept her friend out of this meeting, but now she was here.

“I’m going to kill my mother,” she said aloud.

Her head of security snorted a laugh and then quickly cleared his throat to cover it. “Ms. Reggie cleared the additional guests, Ms. Winslow. I thought you knew.”

“No, I didn’t. But I’m sure she has her reasons.” She gestured to the entrance. “Let’s get in there. I’m starved, and my mother’s explanation will sound better on a full stomach.”

Len closed her car door. “Yes, Ms. Winslow.”

When Len opened the front door for her, Ryan, the guard assigned to her mother, waited to speak to him. Conroy flew around the corner.

“What is it, Conroy?” Bev asked.

“This is all highly irregular, Miss Winslow.” Conroy stopped in front of her. He straightened, took her briefcase and raincoat. Her two phones he placed in a basket by the front door. She wouldn’t have to listen to the near constant dings for the night. She was off duty for a bit.

Conroy pulled his vest down to smooth the wrinkles. “Excuse me, Miss Winslow. Welcome home.” He gave her that slight bow. “Would Miss Winslow like a glass of wine or milk?”

“No, I’m not upset. Yet.” She smiled. “Please tell me what is so irregular.”

“Ms. Reggie has taken over the kitchens. Cook is upset, as you can imagine. Ms. Reggie has given all staff the night off. Including myself. It really isn’t done.”

She didn’t dare laugh. “I get it, Conroy. I’ll speak to my mother. Why can't you take a night off?”

“We have arrangements for nights off, Miss Winslow. With you in Boston for the week, we would not wish to take time off during your time here,” Conroy said.

“Thank you. Like I said, I’ll speak to my mother. Perhaps you could smooth things over with Cook? Tell her I’m looking forward to her roast lamb Sunday night.” She thought she caught a ghost of a smile haunting Conroy’s lips. She ventured further into the foyer, intent on getting to the kitchen.

“Excellent, Miss Beverly.”

She whipped around to face him. This was the first time he hadn’t called her Miss Winslow. She swallowed and said, “If you are more comfortable with seeing to things for me on the weekends, I’ll let my mother know you are on call if I need you.”

Conroy’s mouth dropped open, but just as quickly he recovered and gave her his little bow again.

She glanced around the foyer. “The renovations look to be going smoothly.” The new paint and artwork adorning the grand foyer was a refreshing change. “Where are the rest of the Winslow portraits?”

“In the Winslow Room,” Conroy said. “The designer converted one of the ballrooms off the north corridor into a portrait gallery featuring all the portraits once hung here. She is naming it the Winslow Room.”

“Is there anything else I should know? I’ve come to rely on the fact you’re helping my mother with this renovation. Tell me if I should jump in.”

“Nothing of note, Miss Beverly. It is on schedule and within budget.” Conroy pointed to the right. “We have full use of your wing, and your suite of rooms is complete. We put guests on that side of the house.”

“I guess that leaves me to find my mother in the kitchens and ask about our additional guests.”

“Yes, Miss Beverly.” He bowed and left.

She was oddly touched by Conroy and his strange traditions. She pushed a stray curl behind her ear. Before she could head to the kitchen, Finn Callahan surprised her by coming around the corner from the drawing room.

Her stomach flipped. He looked good, like he always did. Gray sweater and jeans, perfect for a cool spring day. Sandy-brown hair smooth and unruffled except for that adorable piece that fell onto his forehead. Her hands itched to smooth it back. To touch him. Anywhere.

She immediately remembered how much she had missed him. How the last few days had been a little less without him. She couldn’t begin to let herself think of the sleepless nights. She missed his hands on her. Why did he have to complicate things? Why couldn’t he just go with the flow? His words broke through her foggy brain.

“That was very slick, Ms. Winslow.” He reached her and kissed her.

She blinked in surprise, and then forgot everything and let herself sink into the kiss. His mouth worked magic. His scent reminded her of the forest, earthy and rich. The familiar warmth of it washed over her. Oddly, he calmed her down.

He stepped back from the kiss, leaving her to blink away the sexual haze and try to recover.

“What was slick?” Her voice shook.

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Conroy. It was slick how you smoothed things over. I think he’s warmed up to you too. You were very diplomatic, given the fact you wanted to laugh the entire time.” He leaned against the hall table.

“How did you know?”

“I’ve paid attention these past weeks. I’m learning your moods.”

“Why would you ever want to waste time doing that?” She moved until she stood in front of him.

“Learning all the curves of your mind and body is a pleasure. I look forward to educating myself further,” he whispered as he rubbed his hands down her arms and drew her to him.

She didn’t stop him. He kissed her softly. She backed away before the kiss deepened. “So we’re pretending we didn’t have a fight?” She wasn’t comfortable going down this road.

“I don’t ignore conflict as a general rule, but you distracted me when I first saw you. Sometimes you knock me off course.” He looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry about last week. And I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I can explain. But first I want to tell you I was wrong to pressure you the other night. You have enough going on; you don’t need to add me to the mix.”

Her heart thudded in her ears. Was he ending things? “So explain it to me.” She figured it was like tearing off a Band-Aid. Make him tell her quick so she could get over it faster.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He cleared his throat. “I’m a patient man. And I can wait for a better time to discuss the future.”

She couldn’t handle the thought of a “future” with him. It scared her. She dealt better with the here and now. She decided to come clean as well. “I was being a petty brat the other day. Everything rubbed me the wrong way. I try to be better than that most days. I’m sorry too.”

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone’s entitled to an off day.” He stuck out his hand. “Truce?”

She took his hand and shook. “Truce,” she agreed, still not knowing where they stood. Were they still involved?

He ended the question when he held fast to her hand and pulled her to him. His mouth slanted over hers in an assault that left her reeling. He growled low in his throat and whispered, “I’ve missed the hell out of you.”

Instead of holding back as she instinctively would have, she remembered Megan’s advice. “I’ve missed you, too.”

He looked down at her, his tawny eyes widening. “Now I want to throw you over my shoulder and haul you to bed even more than I did ten seconds ago.”

“What’s stopping you?” She circled her arms around his neck.

“Careful, Beverly. I’m not as mild-mannered as I seem.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I have to explain.” He straightened.

“Explain what?”

“I’m sorry about not contacting you. I didn’t call because I was giving you some time. I was surprised when you had Ms. Garrett ask me up here this weekend. I thought you needed a break from us.”

“I thought the same thing, but to be honest, I’m not good at ignoring problems. We have one big problem to deal with, finding out who is behind the threats. Then we can deal with us.”

“I like the sound of that. So what’s the plan?”

“I’m sick of waiting around. The people I asked here are all involved somehow, and I figured the more heads the better. Unfortunately, my mother decided to add Megan and God knows who else to the mix.” She shook her head. “It can’t be helped. I’m done worrying; it’s time to do something.”

****

Reggie made fish tacos, Bev’s favorite. Joe brought the fish up from Salem. Megan had driven him up to Maine. The security team followed a discreet distance behind. Finn, Tracy, and Jules rounded out their weird little group.

Her mother had indeed given Cook the night off, and now they all sat around the staff table in the kitchen. There was a red brick fireplace in the corner of the massive kitchen, warding off a late spring chill. It was homey and comfortable, which thrilled her. She needed some comfort food and family.

Reggie began to clear the dishes. Bev got up to help. Joe refilled wine glasses, and Finn emptied the trash. Jules, Megan, and Tracy put away leftovers. Everyone worked together companionably, and she wished they were all here under different circumstances. She sighed as they all sat back down. Might as well get it done.

“I asked everyone here to see if we could brainstorm, and I just want to begin by saying thanks for coming.” At their nods, she started. “Maybe Finn can start with anything he’s discovered. He had been looking into some archives of his work with Reginald. Would you mind?”

He took a swallow of wine and nodded. “I’ve been looking through my files and all the correspondence I ever had from Reginald. There was precious little personal correspondence, and most of the business dealings we had were face-to-face. Reginald preferred it that way,” he said to the group.

“Why were you looking for letters from Reginald?” Megan asked. “He didn’t claim Bev as his granddaughter while he was alive. How would personal notes help?”

“I was hoping something would trigger for me if I went through my files. Something did.” He pointed at Jules to take up the explanation.

“When I was looking through the files with Finn, we found some scans of handwritten notes threatening your grandfather.” Jules looked at Bev and said, “Reginald didn’t think much of them, apparently, because he didn’t even have his security team check them out. But he asked us to keep them with his estate files, just in case.”

“What did the notes say?” Reggie asked. “What kind of threats?”

“What does ‘just in case’ mean?” Joe asked.

Finn held up a hand. “We don’t have any clue why Reginald asked us to keep the scans. He did a lot of strange things in regards to his estate.”

“No shit,” said Joe.

“Exactly,” Finn said. He looked at Reggie. “The gist of the notes is whoever wrote them wouldn’t stop until they had what belonged to them. Reginald owed this person. Even after Reginald died, they would keep after the Winslow family to make good.”

“That doesn’t give us a lot of information,” Megan said.

“No, it doesn’t, and it also means whoever sent the notes hates the Winslow family. Not just Beverly,” he clenched his fist.

“Oh good, a silver lining,” Bev said.

Reggie tapped her daughter’s hand. “Knock off the sarcasm, missy.” Reggie turned to Finn. “Now, what does all this mean?”

“It means we have yet another credible threat, Ms. Winslow,” Tracy finally spoke. “Finn called me after he and Jules found the scans. My lab at the FBI is analyzing them now, along with the note threatening Ms. Winslow.”

“Call me Bev, please. You’re doing so much for our family. I appreciate it.”

“Doing my job and also helping out a friend.” Tracy nodded at Finn and then looked at everyone at the table before she spoke again. “You are all in danger, in my opinion, so you need to take it seriously too. The security you have in place is excellent, but I’d ramp it up. Anyone associated with the Winslows needs to be cautious.”

Bev thought the security precautions she took would be enough—but now she wasn’t so sure.

“Finn has more information,” Tracy said.

All eyes focused on him. “Something has been eating at me about Reginald’s will.”

“Just one thing bothers you?” Bev asked.

“In this context, yes,” he said. “Reginald left Serena and her family a very small amount of money in comparison to what she believed she would get.”

“My sister hates to be disappointed,” Reggie said.

She nudged her mother. “Now who’s being sarcastic?”

“Anyway,” Finn broke in. “If you take into account the fact Serena didn’t get what she wanted, her husband John didn’t get the CEO position at Winslow Holdings, and Johnny and Amanda got even less, we have to consider the entire family as suspects.”

“I thought you were doing that,” Jules said.

“We have, but now the FBI is on board and included the children. They are of age and by all accounts probably pissed about missing out on their share of three hundred million dollars,” Finn said.

She toyed with a place mat in front of her. “So what is eating at you about all this?”

“It’s what Reginald wrote to Serena in his will.”

She slapped the table. “Yes! I forgot about that with everything else going on.” She sat tall in her seat. “That deserves an explanation.”

“What?” Joe snapped. “All of us wasn’t at the will reading.” He folded his arms.

“Right. Sorry. Reginald wrote in the will Serena knew the reason she wasn’t inheriting everything.”

“Sounds as if you have to ask Serena,” Megan said and got up to get more wine.

“She’s not likely to be forthcoming,” Jules said.

“Again, no shit,” Joe said. “But you gotta ask her anyway.” He looked pointedly at Bev. She sighed, looked to her mother, and got a nod.

“OK, I’ll make a call after we finish here and invite her up.”

“You don’t call Serena, sweetheart. Conroy calls Williams, their butler, and he relays the message,” Reggie rubbed her daughter’s shoulder.

“Jesus. It’s coffee, not a UN meeting,” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m never going to get used to all this.”

“You’re doing fine,” her mother said. “To be honest, most people aren’t as fussy as Serena, whether they have money or not. She’s just who she is.”

Bev got up to use the wall phone and spoke to the butler, who picked up immediately. He must have the phone attached to his hip.

“Ask John, too,” Tracy called out while she was still talking. “I wouldn’t mind asking him questions as well.” She cracked her knuckles. “As a friendly FBI agent.”

“I can’t,” she said as she hung up and sat back down. “He’s down in Plymouth signing contracts for a new fishery we’re buying. He won’t be back until Tuesday.”

“We’ll start with Serena then,” Finn said. “But before we go anywhere else, we need to talk about another possibility.”

“What’s that?” Reggie gripped her hands together. “Someone else is behind this?”

“Possibly, I’m afraid,” Tracy said. “The Hamiltons come off clean, and so far our limited surveillance has yielded nothing. We can’t break laws to get to people, so we keep watching for someone to screw up. Finn brought me another idea which I’m looking into.”

“What is it?” Bev asked. Why hadn’t he said anything to her?

“Your father,” he said and didn’t meet her gaze.

“If you think I’m shocked my father would be after money, you’d be wrong. It’s unlikely Chuck Devon would trouble himself enough to kill anyone, though.”

“We have to include him in the mix. He’s made threats to you and your mother in front of me. He may be trying to scare you into giving him a payout.”

“Blowing up my offices and attacking Joe seem extreme—even for him. And why would he care if you were my attorney or not?”

“No idea.”

“He’s totally predictable,” Bev said. “He even came by the house a few days after I found out I inherited—just as I’d expect from him.”

Finn pushed forward in his chair. “Wait, what?”

“You didn’t say anything, Bevie,” her mother said.

“Jesus, girl,” Joe spat.

“Hey, stop picking on me,” she held up her hands in surrender. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t tell any of us he paid you a visit,” Finn said for all of them.

She sensed a mutiny. “Guys, I’m sorry. It honestly didn’t come up. With everything else, I got caught up in the crazy.”

“All right. So tell us what he said,” Tracy leaned forward.

“He congratulated me on my grandfather’s death. I commented on his lack of good manners. He speculated my ma would get some money. I wasn’t worried because I knew I could stop him from harassing her if I took the inheritance myself. Then he threatened to go to the press anonymously if Ma didn’t inherit anything. He said, from what he remembered, Auntie Serena wouldn’t like the Winslow name in the press, lest public pressure forced her into sharing the wealth. Then he said for me to make sure my mother fought for what was hers, because he intended to get a piece too.” She let out a pent-up breath. “That covers it.”

“That son of a bitch,” Joe growled.

“He isn’t father of the year,” Megan said and gave her friend a quick wink. “Last I heard from Bev, after Finn told him he wasn’t going to get a dime, he dropped out of the picture. Disappeared.”

“He did,” Tracy said. “Completely off the grid…and that is a concern.” She shrugged. “I’m inclined to agree with Bev here. Chuck Devon, before he was in the wind, was small time. It’s been almost two months since you took over the Winslow inheritance. He isn’t into the long con,” Tracy said.

“But we can’t rule him out, which brings me to our last two items,” Finn said.

“Fire away, Counselor,” she pointed to him.

“First, and this is the item that is first on my list to figure out,” Finn said, “someone tried to access some of our files in the law office. I’m not saying it has anything to do with this, but I don’t want to miss anything either.”

Jules pushed curly hair off her forehead and leaned on her elbows on the table. “Our security in the building is adequate for law offices but not for much else. We have a doorman/security guard, but if you tell him you have an appointment with any of the lawyers in the building, he’ll let you through.” She huffed out a breath. “Up until this point, it hasn’t been a problem. We’re a high-rise co-op of attorneys, not a banking conglomerate. The idea someone would be stealing anything seems strange.” She paused. “Unless you consider someone could be stealing information.”

“What do you mean?” Bev asked.

“The person security saw on the footage was wearing a hoodie. No way we can get identification. They didn’t leave with anything discernible in the video. No bulges in the sweatshirt or bags. That leaves us with someone trying to get information or just gossip about you or the will.” Jules said.

“Like a tabloid?” Megan asked.

“Could be,” Finn tapped the table. “I’m more inclined to think we might have a mole.”

“A mole? Why would you think that?” Her chest tightened. Would this ever end?

“It occurs to me someone wants the undisclosed portion of the will. What better way to set you up? If they know the ins and outs, they can figure out a way to negate the will before the year is up. If you go against one of your grandfather’s wishes, the money passes to the next in line.”

The person next in line was her mother, which Finn knew, but obviously didn’t mention in an effort to protect her. At this point, though, who didn’t know? She was thankful he didn’t bring it up all the same. The whole thing was terrifying. Imagine if this was happening to her mother?

“If it is something like that, why not just kill me outright?” Her stomach was doing flip-flops with fear. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans under the table.

“A lovely thought, Beverly Regina Winslow!” her mother shouted.

She winced. “I’m just trying to figure out why?”

“Stop trying to figure out crazy. It will get you nowhere,” Reggie said. “Crazy people just are.”

“And nothing makes ’em crazier than money, Sunshine.” Joe scratched his jaw. “I figure that’s why your grandpa picked you. He thought enough of your reputation you might not go batshit over the millions.”

“Excellent point,” Finn said. “But back to the original question. I’m not a criminal lawyer but I’d venture to say big money is a motive for murder. Still, if it were me, I’d try an easier way first.”

“Killing people without getting caught is hard work, and a lot of criminals, while motivated, are either lazy or lack the balls it takes to actually pull the trigger,” Tracy said. “I’m not privy to all the gory details of this will, but if an easier way presented itself, they might try it first. That’s why we have to figure the bomb at your office was meant to scare you. The warning to fire Finn and hurting Joe was the same thing. The notes, the same. They’re trying to get you to give up.” Tracy sighed. “That doesn’t mean it won’t escalate. Which is why we’re here. We’ll figure this out,” she promised.

“The FBI is going to look at the security footage from our offices for the last two months,” Jules said.

“If anything pops, I’ll call,” Tracy stood. “You aren’t alone. And if you think of anything else, call us. This may be a weird and scary situation you’re in, Bev, but all these people have your back. It’s got to be some comfort to you.”

She stared at her hands on the table. “I appreciate it more than I’d ever be able to say without feeling stupid. Thank you all again for coming tonight. I just wish it didn’t have to be under these circumstances.”

Jules laughed. “I get a full night’s sleep without my twins stealing the covers. It will be heaven.” Bev laughed too, looked at Finn. This was good. This was positive. She needed this. Apparently, he knew she needed it too.

“Thank you.” She looked into his eyes, willed him to see her sincerity. He looked surprised for a moment. Then nodded. She cleared her throat quickly before she lost herself in the compassion she saw in his face.

“I guess that’s about it. I just wanted to try to be proactive,” Bev explained. “Anyone have anything else?” He looked at her across the table. She couldn’t read his expression.

Conroy burst into the kitchen. “Miss Beverly,” he panted. “I apologize for the interruption, but I just heard terrible news.”

She came to her feet. “What is it?”

“Ms. Serena got on the phone herself and told me. The Boston Globe ran a picture of you and Mr. Callahan in a compromising situation.”

“What?” Finn’s chair toppled over as he jumped up. “What compromising situation?”

“Here.” Meg did a quick search, then offered her iPad. “It looks like you two on a side street downtown, kissing.” She shrugged. “What’s the big deal?”

“I’m the CEO of one of the biggest corporations in New England,” Bev yelped. “It looks tawdry, as if I’m trying to hide something. It’s bad press, and I imagine, ticked off Serena.”

“Yes, Miss Beverly. Ms. Serena said she will be here tomorrow as we asked. However, she said she now has things to discuss with you, too.”

“Thank you, Conroy.” The butler executed his little bow and walked away.

Finn’s face mottled with rage.

“Why are you so upset?” she asked. “The stock will take a hit, but it isn’t anything that hasn’t run in the Globe before about other people.”

“Other people don’t have a morality clause in their contract.” He stared her down. “You do.”