The Demise (30 page)

Chapter 35

“Hi, Donella! I was wondering where you’ve been. How are you?”

Donella put her cell on speaker and placed it on the small table beside her. She crossed her legs and leaned back in the cushioned lounge chair. “Frankly, I’m still in shock. I never dreamed Mr. Lanham would be so generous.”

“But it’s so wonderful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes, it truly is. It’s bittersweet, of course. But nonetheless, very thoughtful of him.”

“Hey, we’re at Denton’s having dinner. Why don’t you join us?”

Donella reached for her glass of wine. “That’s very kind, Julie, but I’m actually not at home right now. In fact—”

“That doesn’t matter, come anyway!”

“Thank you, but I think not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. The reason I’m calling is to tell you I’ll be out of town for a while in case you try to reach me.”

“Oh?” Julie snickered. “Don’t tell me you’re heading off to Vegas with all that money burning a hole in your pocket?”

Donella swirled the cabernet before taking a sip. “No, I’ve never wanted to go to Vegas.”

“Oh, I was just teasing. You would never do anything so ridiculous. So, where are you going, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I have a friend in Canada I haven’t seen in years. I thought it would be nice to visit her.”

“That sounds lovely, Donella.”

“Yes, I thought so too. Regardless, I wanted to thank you for your friendship through these last few weeks. It was a difficult time for me, as you know, and I am most grateful for the way you reached out to me in my time of need. I truly am.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you to say. I’m so glad we’re friends. Especially now, with everything that’s happened. I hope we can get together, maybe have lunch now and then or something like that.”

“I’d enjoy that, Julie. Well, I must go. Thank you again.”

“Thanks for calling, Donella. Have a good trip, okay?”

“I will. Thank you. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Donella turned off her phone and rested her head back on the cushion. The warm Mediterranean breeze caressed her face as she relaxed, gazing up at the star-covered sky. “I could live here, you know.”

“Is that so?” He reached for her hand in the short distance between their chairs.

“Yes, I believe it is.”

“Why Tuscany? It’s only our first stop.”

She turned to face him, his kind smile visible in the glow of the table’s candlelight. “Because I shall never forget this moment.”

“And why is that, Mrs. Underwood?”

“I do love the sound of that.” A shy smile warmed her face as she reached for her glass.

He reached for his, lifting it toward her. “To us.”

“To us.”

Donella took a generous sip before he stood and took the glass from her hand. He set it on the table beside his, then opened his palm toward her.

“May I have this dance?”

She glanced around from the private balcony of their guest suite in the villa. “Jim, it’s two o’clock in the morning.”

He pulled her gently to her feet. “Yes, but our bodies are still on Tennessee time. If anyone hears us, they’ll think we’re just a couple of romantic American tourists.” He took her in his arms.

“We
are
a couple of romantic American tourists.”

“Yes, I suppose we are.”

But how can we dance with no music?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and pressed the song he’d downloaded moments ago. Violins accompanied Mario Lanza’s rich tenor voice singing, “Some Enchanted Evening.”

Donella smiled. “Perfect.”

“Perfect.”

They danced, lost in the impossible bliss of the moment.

“It’s one of the things I love most about you,” she said.

“What’s that?” He kissed her ear then nuzzled against her neck.

“Your spontaneity. Your complete abandon toward what others might think. You simply follow your heart.”

He twirled them slowly in the moonlight, kissing her cheek. “Guilty as charged. And my heart led me here with you.”

They danced for a few moments as he hummed quietly.

“Jim, the fact is, we’re both guilty.”

“Guilty of love? Nothing could make me happier.”

She lifted her head to face him. “Guilty of conspiracy. Guilty of malicious intent. Guilty of—”

“Shh, Donella.” He pressed a finger on her lips. “Let it go, okay? We’re thousands of miles away, and we covered our tracks every step of the way. No one will ever know.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

“Because I know. I just
know
.”

“I keep thinking of Brad sitting in that jail.”

“Where he deserves to be. After all, he finally admitted he was the one who tampered with Julie’s brakes. And let’s not forget he put a knife to her throat and held her hostage.”

“Yes, but—”

“He also admitted he was the one who attacked
me
at the marina.”

“I know, but—”

“Sweetheart, it couldn’t have played out any better for us when Brad freaked out and took Julie hostage. Think about it, Donella. It’s like he inadvertently provided all the cover we could ever need.” Jim threw his head back laughing. “C’mon, my love. Lighten up a little. We did it!”

Donella pulled back from him. “I just don’t understand how you can be so sure.”

He took her face in his hands. “Then you’ll just have to trust me. Can you do that?”

She raised her eyes to meet his. “I’m trying. I really am. I’ve just never done anything like this before. I was always the one who obeyed all the rules. The one who went to great lengths to do what was right.”

“And I get that. You’re way out of your comfort zone on this one, and no one understands that better than I do. But we’ve been over and over it. Just think about it, Donella. After all those years of Peter’s blatant rejection festering in your heart and soul, you, my dear, have had the last laugh.” He touched his forehead to hers. “I know it can never completely heal the emotional damage you’ve suffered for so long. But if nothing else, at least you can live out the rest of your life in luxury. And if we manipulated Peter’s will a bit to pad our new lifestyle, so be it. Just desserts, if you ask me.”

She tried desperately to trust him, to banish the fears that kept surfacing. She knew he’d done everything right to cover their tracks. At the reading of the will, they’d both performed flawlessly as they acted out their carefully scripted and well-rehearsed roles as the shocked recipients of Peter Lanham’s stunning generosity.

She had to admit, she felt a certain sense of justification after all those years of signing Peter’s signature to corporate letters and documents. How many times had he asked her to pen a personal note for him? He’d often teased her that she wrote his handwriting better than he did. In the end, he was right. And it all paid off. Literally.

Who’s laughing now, Peter?

When Jim first conceived the idea, she thought he was out of his mind. In her entire life, she’d never once thought of breaking the law, and she wasn’t about to tarnish her good reputation at this point. But as Jim laid it out, piece by piece and step by step, she warmed to the idea. He was right. It would be so easy.

And in the end, it was.

The night they’d been waiting for came sooner than expected, but they’d been ready. Since the night Peter invited Jim to his yacht and told him about the second will, Jim had been following his boss from a safe distance. On that Monday evening when Jim followed Peter to the vicinity of the water tower, he parked his SUV out of sight, then watched and listened from a short distance as Peter and Brad talked.

“It was an accident, Brad! You told me yourself you read Shannon’s diary! Besides, it was her idea to raid the liquor cabinet that night while Mom and Dad were out of town.”

“Oh, that’s convenient. She’s DEAD and can’t corroborate your story. But then, you’ve always made sure to keep your sterling reputation aboveboard. Well, except for all those whores you slept with.”

Peter dropped his head in his hands. “Brad, just listen to me. I never meant—”

“No. NO! I won’t listen to any more excuses! You killed that kid; you forced Mom to help you dump his body in the river; then you threatened her so bad, she never had a chance for a normal life. So shut up and do as I said.”

Peter let his head fall back as he looked up at the sky. “I’m really glad Shannon didn’t live to see you like this. It would have destroyed her.”

“No,
you
managed to do that before I was even born.” Brad started walking the other direction. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to turn yourself in. If you don’t, I’ll turn Mom’s diary over to the police.”

Jim watched as Brad got in his car and drove off. He waited almost half an hour until he saw Peter climb up the tower’s rungs. He waited, wondering what was going through Peter’s mind. Then, a few minutes later, Jim walked out to the base of the tower and asked Peter what he was doing. It was obvious he’d been crying.

“It’s none of your business,” he yelled down.

“Ah, c’mon, Mr. Lanham. You don’t want to do anything stupid.”

“Why not? I’ve been doing stupid things all my life.”

“But that’s no reason to give up.”

“I think maybe it is. Stop the pain. Stop the regrets.”

“Whatever it is you think you’ve done, I’m sure it’s—”

“No offense, Jim, but you know
nothing
about me.”

“Are you kidding? The way I see it, I probably know you better than anyone.”

Peter grew quiet. Jim waited. Then he slowly began to climb the rungs.

“Don’t, Jim. Don’t come any closer.”

But he kept climbing, rung after rung. And when he stepped onto the platform, in the last remnants of light from the sunset, he saw a man he hardly recognized. Standing with his back to the rail, Peter’s face was chalky white, his eyes red, the bags beneath them puffy and bruised.

“Jim, I’m begging you to leave me alone.”

“Mr. Lanham, talk to me. Nothing could be this bad.”

Peter dropped his head and raked his hand through his hair. “You have no idea.”

Jim moved closer. “Maybe so, but—”

“Stop. Right there. Don’t come any closer.”

“There has to be another way. Tell me how I can help you. Tell me. Anything at all.”

Peter thought for a while. As he did, Jim slowly closed in a couple more steps.

Peter swung his head up and pointed at him. “You take one more step, and I’ll jump.”

“Mr. Lanham—Peter—please. Please don’t do this.”

“Leave me alone!” He sobbed, climbing onto the first rail. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Okay! All right! I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone. But promise me you won’t do this. Promise me you’ll give yourself one more day. Just one more day.”

He cried then grew silent as he stepped back down. “One more day.”

“You promise?”

He nodded.

“Do I have your word?”

Peter nodded again, then looked back at Jim with the saddest expression he’d ever seen.

“Okay. Good. Then I’ll go back down. But I’m holding you to your word, okay?”

Peter closed his eyes and nodded, then looked back out at the town below.

“Okay,” Jim said, making his way down the steps.

He hadn’t known then if he’d done the right thing. A braver man might have saved Peter Lanham that night. But Jim knew if he were up on that tower when Peter jumped, he’d be a suspect. And who would believe him? He was halfway to his car when he thought to clear his tracks in the dry dirt below the tower. He slipped off his shoes and quietly made his way back, then used his sock-covered feet to brush away his footprints.

One had to be careful in these kinds of circumstances.

The next day when Peter’s body was found, Jim shook off the what-ifs and put a plan in motion. Since Patricia told him she wouldn’t need his services that night, he drove to the marina and opened the safe. He found the packet with Peter’s new will, then looked around for something to stash it in.

That’s when he noticed the red duffel bag.

And that’s when it all came together.

A few days later, after finally convincing Donella of his plan, she helped him rewrite Peter’s will. A
re-distribution
of funds, they’d called it. A million here, a million there; ten here, ten there. No one would question Peter’s extreme generosity. Donella penned a perfect reproduction of Peter’s handwritten will, this one reflecting the changes they made. It was Donella’s idea to add the proviso that Jim must wait six days after Peter’s funeral before taking the new will to Hank Ormsby.

“A little extra time,” she’d suggested, “to cover all our bases.”