The Philanthropist's Danse (23 page)

Junior rose and balled his fists as a red mist filled his vision, but Judge Freeman cut him off before words came to his strangled throat. “That’s enough. Quiet down. Everyone just be quiet, this is not going to get us anywhere. I should not need to remind you that we have a deadline. I’m calling a break. I strongly suggest you calm down and start thinking about how we are going to resolve this impasse. It’s almost four, we’ll return to our business at five. I want everyone back here, ready to make decisions in an hour. Do what you have to do to calm down, talk to whom you must about how to proceed, but be here and ready to deal at five. Now, go.”

Junior was already exiting the room as the Judge finished his sentence. He needed to be alone, his head hurt with the fury he felt at the Elliot slut. How dare she talk back to him? He thought he’d shown her who was the boss last night, but it seemed she had already forgotten her lesson.

After only a few moments, the Judge and William were alone. William felt encouragement was called for. “You did well Judge, they might have gotten out of control had you not stepped in. You know a bunch of them want to make alliances again, and you gave them time to go do it. Well done.”

Freeman grunted. “I meant what I said about trying to have everyone take something away, you know. I don’t want to see another person tossed aside like I was and as Philip Thurwell has been. I have all the reason in the world to detest that boy, but to throw him out was an error. It raised tensions that might get in the way of an agreement.”

William had sympathy for the Judge’s opinion but could do nothing about it.

“I had no choice, my orders are non-negotiable. He didn’t tell the required truth, and there was only one possible outcome. If it makes an agreement hard, so be it. Philip is out, and he’s not getting back in. Sorry if it messes up your day, but there it is.”

William left the Judge, he needed to get his papers under lock and key and go foraging for a box in the boathouse.

W
illiam looked out of his office window and noted the fading light. Dusk came early this time of year and the late afternoon gloom’s dull pallor made even the fresh snow look gray. He collected his cashmere overcoat and a pair of rubber overshoes from his closet. He hoped he would not need any tools or he’d have to find Jeremy, and he preferred to keep this mission to himself. He scrabbled around in the bottom drawer of his desk until he found one thing he knew he’d need, a small plastic flashlight.

The boathouse was not far from the main building. In the summer, it was a pleasant walk under shade trees to the waterside. It was not so easy in January, and William found it difficult to put one foot in front of the other through the deep snow. The grounds keepers had not cleared the pathway to the boathouse, the lake was frozen over, and they’d been told no one would be skating this week.

Bird cursed, the snow was over knee height, and he had to throw his legs in the air in an exaggerated stride to get a decent step forward. He was only halfway to the boathouse when he lost his left overshoe and regretted its loss immediately. He had snow in his socks, but it made no real difference to his progress, which was glacial in its pace.

The trip would wreck his thousand dollar shoes and he wished he’d called on Jeremy for a pair of boots. The dark shadow of the boathouse rose in front of him as he breathed hard and pushed though the snow drifts. Branches rested on its roof, weighed down with snow to form a dark canopy over the wooden door.

William fumbled with the flashlight but dropped it as he tried to switch it on. He cursed and went after the light. It was easy to find, it had lodged a foot down in the deep snow, but his fingers felt biting cold snow as he retrieved it. Snow had found its way into his sleeve and now William wished he had gloves in addition to boots.

He shone the flashlight into the gloom and trudged to the door, hoping it wasn’t locked. He need not have been concerned, there was a bolt, but no padlock secured it. He pushed the door open and stumbled into the boathouse, glad to be out of the snow and on a firm wooden floor.

William had been to the boathouse many times, but never when the light was so poor. He had to pause to remember the layout of the place as he cast around with the flashlight beam. He soon found the old wooden chest and picked his way carefully through the dark to it. He sat down, he could at least take the time to empty his shoes of snow before he retrieved what he’d come for.

He tipped piles of snow onto the dry wood floor and was surprised by how much powder had jammed into his footwear. He slipped his shoes back on and stood to look at the chest. It looked heavy and had not been moved in a long time.

William would have to slide it away from the wall. He was just able to slot his fingers into the gap between the wall and the chest when he bent to move it. He braced himself and gave the chest a strong pull. It moved an inch and stopped. William expelled a loud breath and cursed, the chest was stuck.

He needed to find something to lever the chest aside. He shone the flashlight around until he found the oar rack, still loaded with stout wooden oars. He collected one of the strongest-looking oars and slid the blade into the gap between the wall and the chest, standing on it to get the blade as far down as possible.

He dusted his hands off and braced his feet for good balance and gave a hard pull on the oar. He staggered back as the chest slid easily away from the wall, the oar worked better than he expected. He bumped into the doorway as he fell backward, but the frame stopped him from tumbling back out into the snow.

He propped the oar against the doorframe and returned to the chest. He knelt on the smooth lid and used the flashlight to inspect the exposed floor. He saw one board with a knothole just large enough for a fingertip. It had to be the board that hid the box. He leaned down lower, jammed his finger in the knothole and lifted the board out of its place. It came up easily, and he felt triumphant, he had been right not to bother Jeremy for tools.

He peered into the void, it was deeper than he expected, and he was forced to stretch until his fingers found a shape. He grabbed what felt like string and pulled it up. When he could see what he had recovered, he saw a ribbon neatly tied around a small metal box. He’d found what he came for. Bird placed the box on the chest and gave it a shove to put it back in its place. The chest moved easily now it had been disturbed, and he was pleased to see it return as if it had never been moved.

He bent to pick up the box but was startled by a voice behind him. “Billy Bird the turd, what are you doing in here, I wonder?”

William knew the voice even before he turned to see Philip Thurwell standing in the doorway. The lawyer dropped the box into his overcoat pocket and hoped the other man hadn’t seen it in the gloom. “Philip, what are you doing here?”

Bird was confused, what reason did the young man have for being at the boathouse? “I believe I asked first, Bill. Why don’t you tell me what you found scrabbling back there?” William cursed silently, Philip had seen more than he would have liked.

“It’s none of your concern what my business is here, Phil. Let’s go back to the house, shall we?”

He approached the door, but stopped when Philip reached and took the oar William had left by the doorway. Something in the manner Philip hefted the oar made Bird afraid. It was heavy, and if Philip decided to use it as a weapon, he could maim or even kill him. The young man stepped into the boathouse, swinging the oar as he moved it from one hand to the other.

“Better start talking, Bill. I saw you get something back there. Maybe it’s valuable. You know, it occurs to me if what you have in your pocket is worth anything, I might as well take it. After all, I won’t be getting any of my father’s money. Will I, Bill?”

William’s mouth was dry, he was scared. Philip’s voice was quiet, but he could hear simmering fury in it. William had disinherited him, and now he had the lawyer cornered alone in the remote boathouse. Philip had admitted murder only hours earlier, and a deep chill went down William’s spine.

“Now, Phil, wait a minute. Those were the instructions your father left, I just followed them. It was nothing personal.” William hated the fear in his voice but could not hide it. He knew Philip could knock him unconscious or worse and just take the box from him. Philip snorted, and the lawyer knew his appeal had been heard and denied. He reached into his pocket and felt the small box next to the flashlight when a desperate idea occurred to him.

“Okay, Phil. There’s no need for trouble. Here, let me show you.” Philip stepped closer as he drew his hand out of his pocket, but instead of the box, William drew out the flashlight. He flipped it on and shone it directly into Philips’s eyes, momentarily blinding him.

Philip roared in anger and swung the oar in a scything motion at the space where Bird’s head had been a second earlier, but the lawyer dropped to a crouch and dodged the blow. He scurried past Philip and saw his path to the exit was clear. Bird dropped the flashlight and ran. He heard a loud crack as the oar crashed into the doorframe, a vicious blow that could have killed him, had it connected.

The panicked lawyer waded through the snow, but it was like trying to run through quicksand. His legs were heavy, and his progress too slow. He felt like he was in a nightmare when he heard a wicked laugh as Philip came after him.

Bird looked around desperately. He was out of view of the main house, and the snow deadened sound so much that crying for help would be futile. He shouted anyway in the hope some brave soul might be outside. He turned and saw Philip close behind him, walking with ease through the deep snow.

“Say goodnight, Bill.” Philip brought the oar over his head and prepared a devastating swing at the lawyer, who crumpled to his knees with a whimper. William covered his head with his hands and realized with horror that he was about to die.

But the blow never landed. Bird heard a grunt and a soft thud. He didn’t dare move or look to see what had happened. He knelt, frozen by fear in the snow, and waited for the lights to go out.

A hand was on his elbow, gently encouraging him to stand. It took a while for him to react. “Come on, sir, it’s all right. Stand up now, we’ll have you back inside the house in no time.” William Bird looked up and was amazed to see Jeremy’s concerned face. The major-domo was dressed in outdoor gear. Behind him, William saw Philip face down in the snow. He was very still, the oar at his side.

“Is… is he dead?”

Jeremy shook his head. “Oh no, sir. Out for the count, yes. Dead, no.”

“How? How did he find me? How did you find me?” Bird was talking too fast as adrenaline pumped through his body.

“Well sir, I don’t know how he knew you were out here, but I’d hazard a guess he saw you leave the house. His room overlooks this pathway. He probably spotted you and decided to follow.”

Bird nodded, he’d been careless. Jeremy continued explaining as he patiently waited for William’s legs to stop shaking enough so they could head back to the mansion. “As for me, I saw Mr. Philip hurry out of the house dressed for the outdoors and curiosity got the better of me, I’m happy to say.”

Bird owed his life to the major-domo, there was no doubt about it. “But, where were you, I didn’t see you when I ran out of there.”

Jeremy helped the lawyer walk slowly back to the house. “I heard voices in the boathouse and hid in the trees in case I was needed. When I saw Mr. Philip decide to put that oar into your skull, I took it away. I’m afraid I hit him harder than I should have, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Bird looked at the unruffled man and shook his head, bemused at how matter of fact Jeremy could be after so much violence. “Thank you, Jeremy. I owe you my life.”

Jeremy waved the thanks aside as they reached the house. “Now you go on up to your room, sir and have a shower to warm up. I’ll send up something hot for you. I had better fetch young Mr. Thurwell before he catches pneumonia.”

Bird could take no more. He nodded dumbly and headed for his room as Jeremy returned to the gathering darkness to fetch Philip’s unconscious body.

A
t
the moment William Bird was wondering whether or not to ask Jeremy for boots before venturing outside, Larry MacLean and Winnie Tremethick took a table together in the dining room. Their mood was solemn. Winnie was tired, and Larry felt like an outcast. She looked at Larry’s sour face and shook her head. “You look as if the whole world is on your shoulders.”

He sighed. “I’m alone. For the first time in my life, I have no family or friends. My brother has disappeared and even though I now understand why he left, I still don’t know where he went. My oldest friend is dead. I’ll always think of him as my friend, despite what I did to him. And what he tried to do to me. ”

Larry needed to get away from the mansion and back to his boat. He needed to find a new distraction with long legs and a deep tan. That would have to wait, however. If he was to have any kind of future, Larry had to take as much money as he could from the destructive vortex he and the others were caught in. His thoughts drifted to happier times when he and Johnston would sit together in easy friendship and chat long nights away with quality wine and cigars.

Winnie’s voice cut through his melancholy. “If you don’t start doing something, you’ll leave empty handed, mark my words.”

He started. “Pardon me? What did you say?” She looked at him askance, and he felt like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Okay, I heard you. What do you mean?”

She raised an eyebrow and waved her finger in his face. “I mean, you need to find yourself some new friends, and soon. Look around you. Everyone’s talking to anyone they think can help them get Charlie’s money. Why are you sitting with me feeling sorry for yourself? If you want to go home empty-handed, stay with me. If you want to save yourself, you had better get on with it.”

Larry looked at her with renewed respect. She was never quite the person he thought she was. He looked around the dining room, and saw the old woman was correct, many people were in the room and all of them were vying for friends or begging and selling favors. Winnie was right. He had to get back in the game.

He saw Freddie and Betty together. He could do worse than start there. Larry’s indiscretion had not directly hurt either of them, and the worst Betty had done to him was to provide a girl in the plot that brought down his brother. He didn’t like that she had participated, but he rationalized that if Betty had not provided the girl, someone else would have.

“What about you, Winnie? How will you manage? Do you want to come with me?” She smiled and shook her head. “I’ll be fine, Larry. You go on and do what you have to.”

He took her advice and walked with more purpose than he felt toward Freddie and Betty.

$

Winnie watched him go and was glad of the opportunity to leave the room. She was tired and needed to rest. The day had been too intense, and her head was filled with memories of Charlie Wells. She quietly slipped out of the dining room and walked to her suite. She closed the door behind her and breathed a long sigh of relief. She loved the quietness of her own space. Winnie was not used to being among so many people. At home, the only time she saw more than a couple of people in one place was at Church on Sundays. Most Sundays there were less people suffering the hard wooden pews than there were in the mansion.

She walked to the couch, slid her shoes off and flexed her old toes, happy to be out of her uncomfortable footwear. Winnie wore Wellington boots six days out of seven and had been in considerable discomfort wearing dress shoes. She closed her eyes, and when sleep came, Charlie Well’s face appeared to her, as handsome and happy as he had been many decades ago.

$

Freddie saw Larry’s approach and whispered a warning to Betty. She had been gossiping about MacLean, and how she had known him before her introduction to the Old Man. Her recollections were not flattering. Betty heeded the warning and turned to flash one of her best smiles at Larry as Freddie greeted him. “You look like hell, Larry. Sit down, won’t you?”

Larry grimaced at Hagood’s rough greeting but accepted the invitation. Freddie wasted no time. “So what can we do for you, Larry?”

Betty was happy for Freddie to take the initiative. They had agreed that adding allies to their group was a smart strategy. Betty had suggested Larry. Freddie had balked at the idea initially, but she had been winning him over slowly, so he was prepared to see how it played out now they were talking.

Freddie looked at MacLean and saw a beaten man, which pleased him. Beaten men were easy to manage and often cheap. “Larry? I assume you’re not just here for our company, as sparkling as that may be.” He smiled at Betty, who gave him a playful slap on the wrist.

“I need a couple of friends in the room with me. I think the family might try to short-change me in the negotiations, and I can’t afford that. I suggest the three of us collaborate in a mutual protection of interests, as it were.” He rushed through his unrehearsed plea and looked at the others with a worried expression. Betty was unreadable. She projected a friendly demeanor, but he had no idea what she was thinking.

Freddie showed interest in what Larry had said, but it was a cool, passing interest. “I see. Your idea has merit, Larry, but you are somewhat toxic as far as the family is concerned, wouldn’t you agree? I don’t know that Betty and I would be well served throwing our lot in with yours.”

Betty appeared to be in complete agreement with Hagood, but Larry missed the sharp look she fired at her partner and the return glance that told her to be patient. MacLean sighed, he couldn’t give up. Freddie and Betty represented his best chance of an alliance that could protect him. “I know, but while the two of you can protect each other now, you might need another vote, to be safe. I can be that vote.”

Freddie pretended to consider the plea. He had already decided to accept MacLean, but he reasoned there was no need to associate his and Betty’s interests with Larry for nothing. “We could get another vote with less baggage attached, Larry. I’m sorry, but I don’t see why we should take you on and risk diminishing our own chances of success.”

Hagood watched MacLean’s shoulders sag under the weight of the rejection and knew he had him at his most vulnerable. “That is unless you can make it worth our while to support you.”

Freddie was forced to suppress a triumphal sneer when he saw Larry making desperate calculations in his mind. “How much? How much will it cost me to get your support?” Larry was trapped, and he knew it, if he walked away, he would risk being isolated and vulnerable. If Freddie and Betty could help secure him a fair share, he’d still be better off. He looked at Hagood and felt a flash of anger amid his desperation. Freddie was taking advantage of his weakness, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Freddie’s eyes became slits as he laid out his demand. “I think half will do, don’t you Betty?”

Betty’s eyes widened, she had not thought Larry could be made to pay for their support. She looked at Freddie with admiration of his skill at exploiting MacLean’s vulnerability. Larry knew he was defeated and agreed to Freddie’s outrageous terms. She laughed inwardly, she might be the whore at the table, but Larry was the one who had been screwed.

MacLean knew he had no choice but to agree to Freddie’s demands. Half of something was better than nothing. He would accept their terms and try to figure out a way to make it work. The three of them shook hands, and Larry left them. He needed to be alone, he was nauseated by the deal he had been forced to accept.

$

Ron Freeman was pleased with himself. Twenty-four hours ago, he had been thrown out of the meeting with no money and faced a ruined career. Now he was the leader of the group and Philip Thurwell, the cause of all his troubles, had been disinherited. He smiled as he reflected on his change in fortune when a soft tap on his shoulder disturbed him.

He turned to find Dennis Elliot hovering behind him. “Sorry to disturb you, Judge, but Jan and I were hoping we might have a chat, in private.” Freeman saw no sign of the manservant’s wife and wondered what was on their minds.

“I guess that would be fine, where is your wife?”

Dennis leaned down and spoke in a near whisper. “She’s in the library, sir. We want to speak with you, but where there are fewer ears, if you know what I mean.” Freeman saw interested looks aimed at the manservant and himself and understood perfectly. “Okay, let’s go.”

The others watched them walk out together, which made Dennis’s attempt to hide their conversation redundant. It was obvious they intended to talk. Dennis led the Judge to a quiet reading nook where his wife waited in an overstuffed wing chair. She smiled when she saw her husband return with Freeman, she had been pleased with Dennis’s solid resolve since she had told her story about Junior.

Dennis seated the Judge, but Janice was in charge of the meeting. “Judge Freeman, thank you for meeting with us.” He offered a smile, despite his reservations about her.

“Dennis and I think it would be to our mutual advantage if we came to an agreement about how to vote in future sessions. I believe Dennis and I will be okay as long as we stick together, but it would be better to have three votes, than two.”

She watched the Judge’s face for any reaction, but detected nothing beyond polite interest. She made to speak again, but Freeman raised a finger to stop her. His easy air of authority made her obey. “Yesterday you both voted to have me thrown out. You do remember that, don’t you, Mrs. Elliot?”

Dennis muttered something, and though Freeman did not catch what he said, he understood the apologetic tone enough to know what had been meant. He continued. “Perhaps you can tell me why I should trust you now, only a day later? Perhaps you could also tell me why I should have anything to do with you after you humiliated me this morning? Need I remind you that you spat in my face? I realize my blackmail was clumsy, but no one else acted so disgracefully.”

Dennis gave Janice a concerned look. He had been worried about this morning’s incident and had warned his wife they might be wasting their time.

She told him not to worry and to stay quiet. Those words would have angered him yesterday, but things were very different between them today. Dennis felt needed again, and he liked the feeling. In turn Janice had softened her attitude toward him, and there was less snapping orders and more actual conversation.

He held his breath as his wife leaned forward and patted the Judge on the knee. “Now Judge, you need to move past this morning. I apologize for what I did to you, unreservedly. I was upset, but that doesn’t excuse my actions. I thought your blackmail cost Dennis and I our futures, I panicked, and overreacted. I am so, so very sorry.”

Dennis held his breath. He had never seen Jan so contrite, and wondered if she meant it or if she was giving the Judge what he needed so he would join them. It worried him that he couldn’t tell. He listened as she continued soothing the Judge.

“As for the votes yesterday, nine people voted against you. Only Freddie Hagood and that Smith woman voted to keep you. You might try again to get their support, but I think you need better friends. Dennis warned me that you might hold our vote against us, but something is different about you today than yesterday and that is why we should work together.”

Freeman was interested, Janice was frank and honest. More than that, he was intrigued to know what she thought was different about him today. But first he needed to heal the rift and acknowledge her apology. “Alright, I accept your apology Mrs. Elliot. I accept some responsibility for how you must have felt this morning. Perhaps I even had it coming. And you are correct about the votes yesterday. You were far from alone in working against me. I will move on and put the unpleasantness behind me. If you can do the same, then I believe we can work together.”

She smiled, and he knew they were agreed. “Now, perhaps you can explain what you think is different about me today?”

Janice breathed a deep sigh of relief that the Judge accepted her apology and was more than happy to move on. “We know a lot more about you, Judge, and you know more about us. Dennis and I helped Mr. Thurwell get to Larry MacLean’s brother. Dennis had been a tremendously loyal servant to Mr. Thurwell and never hesitated when he was asked to help. I had some worries about the nature of the task, but we did it. Our reward for that loyalty is to be included in this meeting. That, Judge, is what the three of us have in common. You helped Mr. Thurwell when you got Philip out of a jam. Your reward is to be here too.

“That you had to be forced to help wouldn’t have mattered to Mr. Thurwell, he would remember what you did. In short, the three of us helped Mr. Thurwell, and that puts us in a distinct minority when you look at the crooks in the midst of his family. You see my point, Ron?”

Janice patted Freeman’s knee again as Dennis looked at her in awe. She had put it simply, and even Dennis saw the truth in her words. The Old Man received more support from his employees and a coerced Judge than any of his children. Dennis was proud of Janice for her bright mind and way with words. He watched the Judge, who sat with his hands pressed together in a steeple, his fingertips on his lips as he thought about what Jan had said.

Freeman was impressed. The housekeeper had put together a persuasive argument, better perhaps than some lawyers he had heard from in his courtroom. She had revealed a truth that had not occurred to him before. Freeman had previously only felt anger at the philanthropist for threatening him. Now that he thought about it, he wondered if he too might cross a line to protect a child in trouble.

Thurwell had tried to honor his promise to aid the Judge’s career from beyond the grave by including him in the group that would share his fortune. It was twisted, but true. He and the Elliots had done more to help the dead man than his own flesh and blood. Johnston Thurwell had been surrounded with betrayal. His family betrayed him on many levels, his best friend had ruined his first marriage, and his Foundation’s chief executive was a crook. Freeman saw Janice smile. She had seen a change in his face that told her they agreed.