Ghosted

Chapter Twenty

“I know Monday’s meeting turned a little chaotic,” Ms. Madison said. “So, I wanted to make sure you have a chance to ask any questions you might have, particularly regarding McCabe House.”

After going through the contents of John’s safe, Archie had phoned for an Uber and gone to a jeweler to buy a new silver chain for his St. Christopher medal. Then he’d gone shopping for clothes—primarily something to wear to John’s funeral. Clothes shopping was one of his least favorite things, but he could not continue making do with a handful of T-shirts and two pairs of jeans.

Proof that he was still a ways from being fully recovered, by the time he walked into Madison Law, he was starting to feel like a nap would be next up on the agenda. He needed to be alert and on guard during the séance at Leo Baker’s.

Archie said, “Let’s start with the house. Are there any conditions under which I can sell?”

“No,” Ms. Madison said firmly. “You may do anything you like with the house except sell it. You could even theoretically rent it out, though I know John hoped that would not be the case. However, after two years, you may sell the house.”

Archie nodded thoughtfully.

“After two years, you can do anything you want. You could even gift it to Mrs. Winslow, if you so choose.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Archie said. He’d changed his mind about that first instinctive offer. Recent events and reflection had hardened his feelings toward Judith.

“It’s such a beautiful house,” Ms. Madison sighed. “You don’t have any attachment to it?”

The question was unexpected. “Sure. It’s a great old house. But I live in D.C.”

“You don’t think that you might eventually want to move back to Twinkleton? Retire here perhaps?”

“Move back ?”

Ms. Madison’s smile was rueful. “Clearly not.”

Archie opened his mouth to reiterate all the reasons he didn’t like Twinkleton. But strangely, they no longer seemed as powerful as they once had. Yes, Twinkleton was a small town with all the drawbacks that entailed. But some of those drawbacks—how quiet it was, how insular, how removed from the center of, well, everything, suddenly seemed to have a flip side. There was nothing like living for months on end in intense, high-stress situations to give you an appreciation for physical and emotional space, for calm and predictability. Even the very new idea of a lighter, less life-threatening workload had an unexpected allure.

Into his hesitation, Ms. Madison said, “In any case, you have a full twenty-four months to decide what you’d like to do.”

“True.”

She tilted her head, studied his face. “Have you read the letter John left?”

“I haven’t found it yet. It wasn’t in his safe. It wasn’t in his desk. Mrs. Simms doesn’t know anything about it.”

Ms. Madison frowned. “The letter exists. John didn’t say he was going to write it. He said he’d written it.”

“I’ll keep looking, obviously.”

She tapped her pen, sighed. “Well, it’s immaterial.” She corrected herself. “I mean, not immaterial . But it doesn’t change anything as far as the disposition of John’s estate. And it doesn’t haven’t anything to do with what I wanted to go over today.”

Archie’s cell phone rang. He reached for it, frowned at an unrecognized number, pressed to accept.

“Agent Crane.”

Mrs. Simms said, “I’m so sorry, Archie. I didn’t want to bother you when you’re meeting with Dr. Perry’s lawyer, but Mrs. Winslow just left. She said she wanted to choose clothes for Dr. Perry’s funeral.”

Archie felt a pang. This was something that had not even occurred to him. He said gruffly, “Of course. That’s all right. Whatever she needs.”

“I assumed you’d say so, and I let her in. But when she left, she took several things with her. I don’t mean clothes for Dr. Perry. Things that aren’t hers to take.”

Archie said slowly, “Like what? What things?”

“Framed photos, a small vase, a porcelain figurine. She also took silver serving forks and spoons out of the china cabinet in the dining room. I’ve made a list.”

What the hell?

Archie expelled a long breath. “All right. Thanks for letting me know, Simmy. Can you do me a favor and phone a locksmith? I want all the locks changed today if that’s possible.”

Mrs. Simms said crisply, “I’ll do it now.”

“Thanks. I’ll be ho—back as soon I can.”

Mrs. Simms made a scoffing sound. “I’m not afraid to be in this house on my own. And I’m certainly not intimidated by Judith Winslow. I told her I was going to report every single thing she did.”

That must have been a jovial few minutes.

“Right. Thank you. Was Mrs. Winslow on her own or was Desi with her?”

“She was alone.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you shortly.” Archie pressed to end the phone call.

Ms. Madison, who had listened attentively all the while Archie was on the phone, said, “Do I understand correctly that Mrs. Winslow entered McCabe House and removed items?”

“That’s how it sounds.” And it was incredibly awkward. Archie didn’t want to take legal action against Judith. John would surely not have wanted that. At the same time, how fucking dare she defy John’s wishes? After everything he’d done for her through the years?

“If you can supply me with a list of the items Mrs. Winslow removed from the house, I’ll prepare a formal letter of demand, reminding her of your legal ownership and informing her that failure to return the items could result in further legal action.”

Archie said, “I’d really prefer not to take legal action.”

“I understand. But John was worried about this kind of thing, and I promise you, he expected everyone…to heed his bequests, which absolutely includes his bequests to you .”

Archie began to get an inkling as to why John had decided to leave his affairs in the hands of Ms. Madison versus his dear old friend Priscilla Beckham—who was also a dear old friend of Judith’s.

“Mrs. Simms kept a list of the items Judith removed. I’ll make sure you get a copy.”

“Thank you.” Ms. Madison studied him, made a little face. “I know. It’s an uncomfortable situation. But you didn’t cause this situation. Ideally, Mrs. Winslow will take the demand letter seriously and the matter can be resolved privately.”

Archie’s nod was noncommittal. Uncomfortable was not an issue. That said, nothing he knew about Judith led him to believe Ms. Madison’s hopeful scenario.

Ms. Madison straightened the papers in front of her. “All right. I’m not sure if you’ve been in contact with Mr. Baker regarding John’s investments?”

“No. I haven’t had a chance to look at anything in detail yet.”

“I see. Well, I can give you an overview. Shall we start with the smaller investments? Your father was also an FBI agent, I understand?”

That seemed a sudden digression. Archie said, “Yes. He and my mother died in a car accident when I was fifteen.”

“Right. Yes. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. Are you aware of the financial provisions your parents made for you?”

Archie said slowly, “I didn’t think there were any, to be honest.”

Ms. Madison’s brows shot up behind the red squares of her spectacles. “Oh? Well, yes. There were. Your father was employed under the Federal Employees Retirement System, which meant you, as his surviving dependent, received a lump sum payment after his death.”

Archie blinked. This was news to him.

“You also received a payout under the Federal Employees Group Life Insurance.”

“ I did?”

“And your father participated in the TSP, a federal retirement savings and investment plan. Those accumulated savings also went to you.”

“I see.” Except he didn’t. At all.

“The payouts were relatively modest amounts, of course, but John invested all of those survivor benefits on your behalf, and they’ve grown substantially.”

“Oh. Okay.” Belatedly, Archie asked, “How substantially?”

“Roughly speaking? Three-and-a-half million.”

“I’m sorry?”

Ms. Madison repeated briskly, “About three-and-a-half million dollars.”

Archie said weakly, “That’s nice.”

“It is. It’s very nice. Combined with John’s investments and life insurance, your net worth—including McCabe House and the yacht—is in the area of thirteen million.”

Archie felt lightheaded in a way he hadn’t experienced for several days.

Ms. Madison was gazing at him expectantly.

Archie managed, “Dollars?”

Ms. Madison made a faint sound. Not a laugh exactly, but not a cough either. Then she leaned forward and squeezed his hand. “You had no idea at all, did you? I didn’t realize. Are you all right? Would you like a glass of water?”

“What? No. I’m fine. I just don’t understand.”

Ms. Madison looked as though she didn’t understand what there was to understand. “John was very generous in his many bequests or that number would have been quite a bit higher.”

“ Higher ?” Archie protested, “I don’t need it to be higher. I don’t need…”

Thirteen million? It was an almost frightening amount of money. Almost ? Who was he kidding? It was a frightening amount of money.

People had been killed for less.

A lot less.

“John said you might not be entirely thrilled. Not as thrilled as some people would. But it’s not as though you need to, er, cash out. You can leave the investments to continue to accrue. Mr. Baker will be able to discuss those options with you.”

“Right.”

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “There’s one final thing. It’s a small thing, but it was important to John. He felt it would be important to you.”

Maybe it didn’t make sense, given the last few minutes, but Archie’s overwhelming feeling was one of unease. He’d been thinking the house comprised most of his inheritance. The numbers Ms. Madison had quoted were so far from anything he’d imagined, they seemed fantastical. He was truly alarmed at the idea of anything else.

“I understand that your mother was an artist?”

Archie nodded. “She wasn’t…a big name or anything. She wasn’t known , but she’d had a couple of shows and sold a few paintings.” He said briskly, over the tightness in his throat, “ We liked her stuff.”

“Of course you did. And John knew that. Over the years, he attempted to track down her paintings. It became a kind of quest on your behalf. Ultimately, he was able to locate seven of them, which he purchased and put into storage for you.”

So far from anything he’d imagined.

So incredibly kind.

Archie swallowed, nodded. He managed a husky, “That’s… I wish he’d let me know. That was…”

So John.

“He was one of the kindest people I’ve ever known,” Ms. Madison said. “Not just kind. Proactive in his generosity and advocacy.” She removed her glasses, wiped the lenses with a little cloth, and replaced them. “Questions?”

On no planet was the unexpected inheritance of significant wealth bad news.

All the same, when Archie walked out of the office of Madison Law, his uppermost feeling was shock.

He’d understood that John was comfortably off, perhaps wealthy by most people’s standards. Archie had received a Toyota Supra on his sixteenth birthday, but Beau had received a Jeep Grand Wagoneer, and then-Police Chief Langham had not been a rich man, by any stretch. John had not blinked at the idea of paying for Archie to go to law school—John had not blinked at the idea of anything financial, but he had not flaunted his wealth. He did not spend money extravagantly. Archie had just figured…

Well, he hadn’t thought too much about it, frankly.

There was a kid for you.

But also, he’d been a little preoccupied when he’d arrived in Twinkleton. It had never occurred to him to question, well, anything. His focus had been on getting through school and joining the FBI, which had represented…perhaps too much.

Not that he regretted his career choices. But he regretted decisions he had made along the way. Not being there for Beau. He regretted that. Not being there for John. He regretted that. Kyle. That one made him heartsick.

As he stood on the sidewalk, waiting for his Uber to arrive, his cell phone rang again.

He glanced at the caller ID and his heart skipped.

Beau.

He pressed accept, and was relieved to be able to say normally, “Hi.”

“Are you still meeting with the lawyer?”

“We just finished up.”

There was a hesitation on Beau’s end of the line. “Everything okay?”

Beau would already know what Archie had just learned. Maybe not down to the decimal points, but he’d have learned how much money was at stake when he’d contacted Ms. Madison on Sunday. At that point, Beau would have recognized how strong a motive, in theory, Archie had for committing murder.

Archie expelled a careful breath. “Yes. A few surprises. Which I assume you already know about. I’ll fill you in tonight.”

Another brief pause before Beau asked, “Where are you headed now?”

“Don’t worry. I’m going back to John’s.”

To his surprise, Beau asked, “Would you like to drop by the station and observe Jon Monig’s interrogation?”