The Philanthropist's Danse (5 page)

“Then I am sorry for your loss Larry, truly sorry.” Larry nodded, the Judge seemed sincere, and there was richness to his voice he found comforting.

“How about you, Ron, how did you know Johnston?” The Judge paused and Larry thought he saw a flicker of annoyance, or embarrassment.

“I had business with Mr. Thurwell in Georgia.” His deep baritone contained a quaver Larry had not noticed before. He waited for the rest of the story, but none came.

“That’s it? You did a little business with Johnston, but you get to share his fortune? Hell, half the country did business with him, and they’re not here.” Larry’s voice had an edge to it, he was irritated. Who the hell does this guy think he’s holding out on, damned ‘business in Georgia.’ What the hell does that mean?

The Judge looked at Larry and shook his head. “I don’t know what else I can say, I’m sorry. I think we had better not say anything else until the meeting starts. There might be some ground rules about what we can say, or not.” It was a weak excuse, and Freeman knew it.

Larry was angry, he thought the other man was stalling, but there might be something in what he’d said, so he let it go. “Maybe. I guess I’ll take a shower and see you later.”

The two men walked in uncomfortable silence until the Judge reached his room and disappeared. MacLean arrived at his own room and closed the door too hard. The slam broke his angry funk. It was time to get ready, so he started the shower and stepped into the stream of water, cursing as it scalded his back. He adjusted the temperature and angrily scrubbed himself.
We’ll all need answers soon
, he thought,
or this meeting is going nowhere
.

$

William entered the dining room precisely at 7.45am dressed immaculately in a dark suit with a subtle pin stripe. He wore a fresh white shirt but his cufflinks were the same as yesterday, they were the lucky set his wife had bought him the first day he addressed a jury as a young lawyer.

He felt rested even though he had woken at 4.30 with nerves jangling and his stomach a mess of flutters. He had control of his emotions now as he looked around and saw Caroline Smith reading the New York Times.

He took a warm plate from the rack and nodded a good morning to Jeremy who stood to the side of the long buffet table. He assembled a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, hash browns and a small dish of fresh fruit and carried it to Smith’s table. “Good morning, Caroline. I hope you were able to rest?”

Smith looked up from her paper, the only evidence she had already eaten were a few crumbs on the table, but she had a fresh coffee in her hand. “William, good morning. I guess I got some sleep, but not much. It’s all so, well, sudden. For the rest of us.” She made certain William caught the slight that he was not considered one of the mourners. He took a seat opposite her, and she returned to her newspaper, leaving him to eat without her company.

As Bird began his eggs, Betty Freah entered the dining room. She looked unsure what to do, but the attentive Jeremy expertly guided her to the buffet. He plated a meal for her and led her to sit with the others.

Caroline had remembered everything about Betty in her room last night. She recalled Bethany’s reaction when Betty first appeared and realized the rumors that Thurwell kept a hooker on the payroll were true. She smiled but returned to her coffee and newspaper to let the whore and the lawyer chat. She hoped to curry favor with Bethany by attacking Betty, but would save her outrage for a larger audience when it would do her more good.

As more guests arrived, the dining room filled with the soft murmur of conversation and the clinks of heavy cutlery on fine china. The guests had spread out over the available tables. Philip and Junior sat together but had nothing to say to each other while Larry MacLean and Freddie Hagood enjoyed a quiet conversation across the room.

Only Bethany was absent when William walked to the center of the room. “Good morning, we’ll start promptly at nine in the conference room, I’ll see you shortly.” He left to collect his laptop. He was ready, even if his guests looked far from it.

W
illiam Bird entered the conference room and was surprised to see Bethany already waiting.
She looks like hell
, he thought, as he set up his workspace. His laptop stayed closed, it was only needed to record the group’s votes. Everything else was on note cards or committed to memory.

Once he was ready, he looked at Bethany who looked back through red-rimmed eyes. “How are you, Beth?” She said nothing. Her eyes left his and returned to contemplate the table in front of her. “Do you want me to get you a coffee, or something to eat?” She made no indication of having heard him, so he let it go.

He walked to the window and waited for the others. Over three feet of snow had fallen overnight, but the groundskeepers had cleared the drive for the delivery truck that brought the day’s fresh supplies, mail and newspapers. The drive was already covered again, the storm was relentless. It was going to be a long day for everyone, whether they were in the conference room or working at keeping its occupants comfortable.

He heard others arrive and noticed how their conversations dried up when they saw Bethany. Camille Jolivet saw her half-sister’s disheveled grief with a wicked satisfaction. The guests found their places without needing nameplates to guide them, they all remembered their places. Jeremy’s staff brought fresh coffee and stoked the fire, adding a couple of huge logs that would take hours to burn.

William stood behind his chair, his hands on the high back and waited for the group to settle. “Good Morning and thank you for being on time,” he realized he sounded formal but continued, hoping the occasion might benefit from a little formality. “Let me recap the purpose of this meeting so there can be no misunderstanding your purpose.”

No-one interrupted him today, even Junior just listened. “Mr. Thurwell has chosen you to share his fortune. There is no Will other than his instructions for the week. The decisions you make will be respected as Mr. Thurwell’s last wishes.” He paused and looked at Junior and Philip. “In the event of any legal contest to these arrangements, all disbursements will be voided, and the entire fortune will be seized and donated to the Thurwell Foundation.”

Junior’s eyes flashed in anger. William could tell the thought of contesting the process had already occurred to the eldest son. He scowled at the lawyer but said nothing. Bird was a pawn, his father had set up this humiliation, but for what purpose Junior had no idea.

Bird continued, relieved that Junior held his tongue. “As I told you last night, you have little time to complete your task. At midnight tonight, the fortune will be reduced by twenty percent. That penalty will be repeated each midnight until you reach a decision or there is no fortune left for you to share. The money you forfeit goes to the Thurwell Foundation.”

He looked around the table where the guests exchanged glances that might have carried meaning, or not. “My role is to ensure Mr. Thurwell’s last instructions are respected and to record the decisions you make. I can make no recommendations, nor can I change the terms of this gathering. If you successfully agree a person’s share, that person may be excused from further deliberations but must remain at the mansion until all business is concluded. If you prefer to take no part in the discussions, you are free to do so but will forfeit your share and have no right of return.”

“All decisions must be decided by a vote. Anyone may propose a motion, but it must be seconded. Votes will be cast orally, there are no secret ballots. Every vote requires a super-majority of no less than seventy-five percent. I will record your votes and will guide you on their validity. There is no limit on the time you have for debate, but the stroke of midnight will trigger the penalty, whether or not you are in session.”

He paused while the few that were writing notes caught up. “Are there any questions?”

There was a pause while the group absorbed the information, before Freddie Hagood broke the silence. “William, what’s to stop us from voting for a simple twelve-way split?”

Bird opened his mouth to answer, but Junior got there first. “What? Why the hell should you get the same as me, or Phil and Beth? We’re his family for Christ’s sake. We will take the largest share.”

Hagood let Junior finish before quietly responding. “Your father didn’t seem to share that idea, did he?”

Junior flushed red as his mouth worked and he tried to get words out through his rising fury, but William interrupted to regain control. “Let me stop you both. First, Freddie asked a good question to which there is a simple answer. There is nothing to prevent any outcome that has super-majority support. Second, as you can see Freddie, Mr. Thurwell’s son objects to the equal distribution of the fortune. Now you can see the magnitude of the challenge before you.”

Bird looked around the table and saw many questions, but none was given voice, so he began. “Good. Then I bring you to order and your deliberations may begin at once.”

$

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, punctuated only by the sounds of shuffling papers and the clink of cups. Larry MacLean broke the awkwardness. “If I may speak for a moment, it seems we have been issued an extraordinary challenge, one that would be difficult enough without the loss of our friend, parent, colleague and employer.”

His eyes landed on people that fell into each category as he spoke and a few heads nodded. “I know some of you, others I have never met before yesterday. I think it is true that none of us knows enough about the others to decide anything. I suggest we take time for introductions, so we might better understand why each of us was chosen to be here.”

Caroline Smith leaned forward. “I agree, it’s impossible to decide anything if we have no context for each other’s relationship with Mr. Thurwell.” She smiled at Larry and he nodded at her, grateful for the support.

Junior acknowledged the sense in what Larry MacLean proposed, but not entirely. “Fine, let’s hear the introductions, but I want to make it absolutely clear that the family will take the largest share.” He had tried to sound statesmanlike, but had come off as petulant, and he knew it. He reddened as he tried to justify his position. “After all, we are his flesh and blood, and we deserve our inheritance.” He made his point, but badly.

William saw Camille Jolivet look at him with a question in her dark eyes he was unable to answer. He knew what the revelation of her relationship to Thurwell would do to Bethany. He also knew it was inevitable. He suspected Camille would enjoy the moment, and regretted it. He looked from the French girl to the Judge. Ron Freeman was outwardly calm, but Bird guessed he was desperately trying to think up a story. He would not willingly share the details of his real connection with the philanthropist.

Larry took the lead. “Perhaps we should practice voting? I propose we each introduce ourselves, can I get a second?” Caroline gave her support, and MacLean called the vote. “All in favor of introductions say ‘Aye’, those opposed vote ‘Nay’. William, do you need to record this?”

The lawyer nodded and flipped open his laptop to access a spreadsheet with twelve names listed. He entered a summary of the proposal and nodded at MacLean. “Ready when you are, Larry.” MacLean nodded. “I’ll start, I vote “Aye.” He looked to his right, to Caroline Smith who raised her hand and voted Aye, as did every person.

William leaned back in his chair as the vote passed him, unconsciously getting out of its way. He recorded the unanimous vote and looked at MacLean. “You have a successful motion, please proceed.”

“Thanks, Bill. Now we have the first vote out of the way, do we have a volunteer to start?” MacLean looked to see who would offer to go first, but most of them had suddenly found a mark on the table or floor to look at.

Everyone was surprised to hear Bethany’s quiet voice. “I’ll go first. I don’t have much to say. My name is Bethany Thurwell. I’m Johnston Thurwell’s daughter and an executive at Thurwell Industries. Last night, my father broke my heart. He’s dead and didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye. I don’t understand why we are being put through this, it’s so cruel.” She stopped as a tear rolled down her cheek.

There was a pause as Larry waited to make sure Bethany had finished. Only when he was sure she had said all she meant to say did he thank her and ask for the next volunteer. He was not kept waiting.

“My name is Philip Thurwell, and I’m the youngest in my father’s family. I don’t like this set-up any better than Beth, and I agree with Junior that the family should get the largest share.”

He glared in defiance at the faces around the table, especially at Freddie Hagood. As Philip finished, MacLean didn’t need to wait for people to volunteer, each person simply took a turn. Freddie Hagood introduced himself as a businessman, rival and admirer of Thurwell for more than 25 years. Janice Elliot introduced both herself and Dennis, emphasizing Dennis’s long service. She felt his loyalty to the Old Man was their best shot at a share of the fortune.

Smith then volunteered. “My name is Caroline Smith, and I am the Chief Executive Officer of the Thurwell Foundation.” She sounded imperious and important, as she felt. “I worked closely with Mr. Thurwell over many years and directly benefited his legacy with my tireless work. I recognize the importance of family, but I also recognize that, in the end, Mr. Thurwell chose to place us on an equal footing. We need to remember that as we move forward.”

Her speech prompted Junior to speak up. “I’m Johnston Thurwell the third, my father’s oldest son and heir, and I assert the rights of the family over you outsiders. Let me make it clear, I will not tolerate my inheritance being stolen from me by a bunch of strangers and sycophants.” His eyes blazed as he hissed his last sentence, he made no attempt to hide his rising anger.

Freddie smiled, but said nothing. Larry MacLean decided it was time he took his turn and introduced himself, hoping to defuse a potential flashpoint. He sounded sad as he told of his long history with his friend and assured the group he would act only to preserve the good name of their absent host.

The people still to speak looked at each other, each unwilling to go next, until eventually the old lady spoke. “My name is Winifred Tremethick, but everyone calls me Winnie. I’m from Cornwall, in England, and I’m afraid I don’t know why I’m here. I think there has been a mistake.” She looked directly at Bethany, her eyes full of sympathy for the young woman. “I never met your father, miss, and I’d rather just go home. No offence, but I don’t want to be here.”

Bethany looked up, surprised to have been singled out, but smiled, not wishing to be rude. Junior had no such inhibition. “Perfect, then we can scratch one off the list. There’s no point in keeping someone that doesn’t want to be here, right Bird?”

The lawyer shrugged and tried to hide his irritation. “You should finish the introductions first. If you still want to send Mrs. Tremethick home, you can propose a motion.” Junior sat back in triumph at the notion of easily dismissing one of the rivals for his fortune.

Larry looked at the old woman. “Are you sure you never met Johnston? You must have been invited for a reason.” She shook her head, and Larry sat back, confused but determined to discover the old woman’s connection to his friend.

Betty Freah was nervous. She had no regrets about her long relationship with JT, but she did not like to admit the truth publicly, especially to her client’s family. She saw MacLean smiling at her and reluctantly accepted his cue. “My name is Elizabeth Freah, but Mr. Thurwell knew me as Betty. I was his… intimate companion.”

Bethany closed her eyes and tried to shut out the reality of Betty Freah. She had known about her, but preferred not to think about her father being sexually active with a whore. Camille’s eyes widened as she realized what she had heard, she’d had no idea there was another woman that could cause a scandal as great as her own.

Janice Elliot and Caroline Smith glared at Betty with open hostility. Both had offered themselves to the Old Man and had been rebuffed, or worse, ignored. They blamed Betty Freah for their failure. Each woman believed they were irresistible, if only Johnston Thurwell had been lonelier.

Betty sat back in her chair and tried to ignore the eyes on her. Betty could handle men, she knew how to disarm them with her abundant charm, but she often found herself defenseless against a woman’s judging eyes.

Larry looked at Ron Freeman. He was dissatisfied with the Judge’s first explanation about his relationship to Johnston and was curious to know the truth. The Judge saw his turn had come and took a deep breath. “I am Judge Ronald Freeman of Macon, Georgia. I did not have the pleasure of knowing Mr. Thurwell personally as a friend or colleague. I surmised I had been invited to a meeting with Mr. Thurwell because he had expressed an interest in supporting my candidacy for Governor. I am as surprised to have been included in this group as some of you are to see me here.”

Freeman looked at Larry as he finished, but he should have been concerned with Philip. The youngest Thurwell looked up with a sly expression. “Did you say Macon, Georgia?”

The Judge grimaced, and his eyes flicked nervously from Philip to William Bird, and back. Philip looked at the lawyer. “William, you and the Judge have met before, haven’t you?”

Bird remained impassive. “I cannot confirm or deny a prior relationship with the Judge. That is for him to say. Or not.” Tension thickened as Junior leaned forward on his elbows, interested in the unfolding story.

“What are you saying, Phil? What do you know about Georgia that makes you think Bill and the Judge have met before?”

Philip looked at his older brother and smiled the guilty smile he always used when he was caught. “I got busted in Georgia, and Dad sent Billy Bird to get me out. I never asked how he did it, but it sure seems like a coincidence that a Judge from the town I was busted in is here looking for a share of Dad’s cash. What do you say, Judge? You got a dirty little secret?”

Judge Freeman closed his eyes and recalled the exact moment he had ignored his inner voice that advised him to throw the slick New York lawyer and his sordid offer out on the street. Instead, he had accepted the man’s terms and had since convinced himself that the rich young man was a probably a decent kid and the life he’d live was worth more than one he’d taken. As the Judge looked at Philip’s mocking face, he no longer felt sure of his assumption.