The Winner, Page 44

  Rollins rubbed his chin, unconvinced. “I’m still not seeing a story here.”

  “Thomas wasn’t clear in his mind about that yet. But he was getting closer. He called me regularly from the road to let me know how things were going, what he had found out. That’s why I was so worried when I hadn’t heard from him.”

  Rollins looked at his notebook. “Right. You mentioned danger in your phone message.”

  “Thomas tracked down one of the twelve lottery winners.” Alicia paused and struggled to remember the name. “LuAnn somebody. Tyler, that’s right, LuAnn Tyler. He said she was charged with murdering somebody right before she won the lottery and then she disappeared. He tracked her down, partly through her tax records. He went to visit her.”

  “Now, where was this?” Rollins was again scribbling in his notebook.

  “Charlottesville. Lovely country, some of the most beautiful estates. Have you ever been?”

  “On my salary, I’m not really into estate shopping. What next?”

  “He confronted the woman.”

  “And?”

  “And she cracked. Or almost did. Thomas said you can always tell by the eyes.”

  “Uh-huh.” Rollins rolled his own eyes. “So what was Donovan’s angle?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “His angle. What story was he going to write that you thought put him in danger?”

  “Oh, well, the woman was a murderer. She had killed once, she could kill again.”

  Rollins smiled lightly. “I see.”

  “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously.”

  “I take my work very seriously. I just don’t see the connection. Are you suggesting that this LuAnn person killed Roberta Reynolds? Why would she do that? We don’t even know if they knew each other. Are you suggesting that she may have threatened Donovan?”

  “I’m not suggesting that LuAnn Tyler threatened or murdered anyone. I mean I have no proof of that.”

  “Then what?” Rollins was struggling to maintain his patience.

  Alicia looked away. “I . . . I don’t know. I mean I’m not sure.”

  Rollins stood up, closing his notebook. “Well, if I need any more information I’ll be in touch.”

  Alicia just sat there, her face pale, her eyes shut. Rollins was almost at the door when she spoke. “The lottery was fixed.”

  Rollins slowly turned and walked back into the living room. “Fixed?”

  “He called two days ago and told me that. Thomas made me promise not to breathe a word to anyone.” She clutched at the hem of her skirt in her anxiety. “That LuAnn Tyler person practically admitted that the lottery was fixed. Thomas sounded, well, he sounded a little frightened. And now, I’m just so worried about him. He was supposed to call again, but never did.”

  Rollins parked his bulk on the sofa once more. “What else did he tell you?”

  “That he had contacted the other eleven winners, but that only one had called him back.” Her lips trembled. “Roberta Reynolds.”

  “So Donovan did meet with her.” His tone was accusatory.

  Alicia rubbed a tear from her eye. She didn’t speak but merely shook her head. Finally she said, “He had been working on this story for a long time, but he only recently confided in me. He was scared. I could tell in his voice.” She cleared her throat. “He had at least arranged to meet with Roberta Reynolds. The meeting was to take place yesterday morning. I haven’t heard from him since that time, and he’d promised to call me right after it was over. Oh, God, I know something terrible has happened.”

  “Did he tell you who fixed the lottery?”

  “No, but LuAnn Tyler told him to watch out for somebody. A man. That this person would kill him, that he was on Thomas’s trail and would find him. That he was very dangerous. I’m sure this person had something to do with that woman’s death.”

  Rollins sat back and stared sadly at her and took a big gulp of the hot coffee.

  Alicia didn’t look up. “I told Thomas to go to the police with what he knew.”

  Rollins sat forward. “Did he?”

  She shook her head fiercely. “Dammit no!” A huge breath escaped her lungs. “I pleaded with him to. If someone had fixed the lottery, all that money. I mean people would kill for that. You’re a policeman, aren’t I right about that?”

  “I know people who’d cut your heart out for a couple of singles,” was Rollins’s chilling reply. He looked down at his empty coffee cup. “Got any more?”

  Alicia started. “What? Oh, yes, I just made a fresh pot.”

  Rollins took out his notepad again. “Okay, when you get back, we’ll have to go over every detail and then I’m calling in some reinforcements. I’m not afraid to admit that this one is looking like it’s way over my head. You up for a trip to police headquarters?”

  Alicia nodded without much enthusiasm and left the room. She came back a couple of minutes later balancing the wooden tray, her eyes focused on the filled coffee cups, trying not to spill them. When she looked up her eyes widened in utter disbelief and she dropped the entire tray on the floor.

  “Peter?”

  The remnants of Detective Rollins — wig, mustache, facial mask, and malleable rubber padding — were neatly positioned on the wingback chair. Jackson, or Peter Crane, Alicia Crane’s elder brother, was looking back at her, his features infinitely troubled as his right cheek rested on his right palm.

  Donovan’s observation that Bobbie Jo Reynolds had looked a lot like Alicia Crane was right on the mark. However, it had been Peter Crane’s alias, Jackson, disguised as Bobbie Jo Reynolds, who looked a lot like Alicia Crane. The family resemblance was remarkable.

  “Hello, Alicia.”

  She stared at the discarded disguise. “What are you doing? What is all this?”

  “I think you should sit down. Would you like me to clean up that mess?”

  “Don’t touch it.” She put one hand against the doorjamb to steady herself.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you so,” said Jackson with sudden sincere remorse. “I . . . I guess when faced with confrontation, I’m just more comfortable not being myself.” He smiled weakly.

  “I don’t appreciate this at all. I almost had a heart attack.”

  He rose quickly, encircled her waist with one of his arms, and guided her over to the sofa. He patted her hand kindly. “I’m sorry, Alicia, I really am.”

  Alicia again stared over at the remains of the beefy homicide detective. “What is this all about, Peter? Why were you asking me all those questions?”

  “Well, I needed to know how much you knew about everything. I needed to know what Donovan had told you.”

  She jerked her hand from under his. “Thomas? How do you know about Thomas? I haven’t seen or spoken to you in three years.”

  “Has it been that long?” he said evasively. “You don’t need anything, do you? You just had to ask.”

  “Your checks come like clockwork,” she said, a bit bitterly. “I don’t need any more money. It would have been nice to have seen you once in a while. I know you’re very busy, but we are family.”

  “I know.” He looked down for a moment. “I always said I would take care of you. And I always will. Family is family.”

  “Speaking of, I spoke with Roger the other day.”

  “And how is our decadent, undeserving younger brother?”

  “He needed money, like always.”

  “I hope you didn’t send him any. I gave him enough to last a lifetime, even invested it for him. All he had to do was stay within a reasonable budget.”

  “There’s nothing reasonable about Roger, you know that.” She looked at him a little nervously. “I sent him some money.” Jackson started to say something, but she hurried on. “I know what you said all those years ago, but I just couldn’t let him be thrown out on the street.”

  “Why not? It might be the best thing that ever happened to him. He shouldn’t live in New York. It’s too expensive.”

  �
�He wouldn’t survive. He’s not strong, not like Father.”

  Jackson held his tongue at the mention of their father. The years had not cleared up his sister’s blindness in that regard. “Forget it, I’m not going to waste my time discussing Roger.”

  “I want you to tell me what’s going on, Peter.”

  “When did you meet Donovan?”

  “Why?”

  “Please just answer the question.”

  “Almost a year ago. He did a lengthy piece on Father and his distinguished career in the senate. It was a wonderful, compelling testimonial.”

  Jackson shook his head in disbelief. She would have viewed it that way: the exact opposite of the truth.

  “So I called Thomas up to thank him. We had lunch and then dinner and, well, it’s been wonderful. Extraordinarily wonderful. Thomas is a noble man with a noble purpose in life.”

  “Like Father?” Jackson’s mouth curled into a smirk.

  “Very much like him,” she said indignantly.

  “It’s truly a small world.” He shook his head at the irony.

  “Why do you say that?”

  Jackson stood up and spread his arms to show the entire sweep of the room. “Alicia, where exactly do you think all of this came from?”

  “Why, from the family money, of course.”

  “The family money? That was gone. All of it. Has been for years.”

  “What are you talking about? I know that Father ran into some financial difficulties along the way, but he recovered. He always did.”

  Jackson looked at her with contempt. “He recovered shit, Alicia. He didn’t earn a dime of it. It was all made long before he was around. All he did was blow it. My inheritance, your inheritance. He pissed it away on himself and his lousy dreams of greatness. He was a fake and a loser.”

  She jumped up and slapped his face. “How dare you! Everything you have is because of him.”

  Jackson slowly rubbed his skin where she had hit him. His real skin was pale, smooth as though he had lived his life in a temple like a Buddhist monk, which in one sense he had.

  “Ten years ago, I fixed the national lottery,” he said quietly, his dark eyes glittery as he stared at her small, stunned face. “All that money, everything you have came from that money. From me. Not dear old Dad.”

  “What do you mean? How could you—”

  Jackson pushed her down on the sofa as he interrupted.

  “I collected almost one billion dollars from twelve lottery winners, the very same ones Donovan was investigating. I took their winnings and I invested the money. You remember Grandfather’s network of Wall Street elite? He actually earned his money. I maintained those contacts over the years for a very specific purpose. With the fortune I amassed from the lottery winners, which Wall Street assumed came from the ‘family money,’ I was one of their preferred customers. I negotiated the best deals, was given first choice of all the initial public offerings, the sure-fire winners. That’s a well-kept secret of the rich, Alicia. They get first dibs on everything: A stock that I get at ten dollars a share right before it hits the market goes to seventy dollars a share in the twenty-four hours after it hits the market. I sell it to the ordinary folks, collect my six hundred percent return, and move on to the next windfall. It was like printing money; it’s all in who you know and what you bring to the table. When you bring a billion dollars, believe me, everybody sits up and takes notice. The rich get richer and the poor never will.”

  Alicia’s lips had begun trembling halfway through her brother’s explanation, as his speech and mannerisms grew more and more intense, more and more feverish. “Where is Thomas?” Her question was barely audible.

  Jackson looked away and licked his dry lips. “He was no good for you, Alicia. No good at all. An opportunist. And I’m sure he loved all of this. All that you had. All that I had given you.”

  “Was? Was no good?” Alicia stood up, her hands clamped so tightly together the skin looked boiled.

  “Where is he? What have you done to him?”

  Jackson stared at her, searching her features for something. It suddenly occurred to him that he was looking for some redeeming quality. From afar he had long held idyllic visions of his only sister, putting her perhaps on a pedestal. Face-to-face with her he found that image was unsustainable. The tone of his response was casual, his words far from casual, as he finally made up his mind.

  “I killed him, Alicia.”

  She stood there frozen for an instant and then started toppling to the floor. He grabbed her and laid her on the couch, this time not so gently. “Now don’t be this way. There will be other men, I can assure you of that. You can walk the earth searching for Father. Donovan wasn’t him, but I’m sure you’ll keep trying.” He didn’t try to hide the sarcasm.

  She wasn’t listening to him, however. The tears stained her cheeks.

  He continued despite her tears, pacing in front of her, the professor in front of his class of one. “You’ll have to leave the country, Alicia. I erased your phone message to Donovan, so the police won’t have that to go on. However, since your relationship has endured for a year, it must be well known to others. The police will come calling at some point. I’ll make all the arrangements. As I recall, you’ve always loved New Zealand. Or perhaps Austria. We had several lovely times there as children.”

  “Stop it! Stop it, you animal.”

  He turned to find her on her feet.

  “Alicia—”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Let me be quite clear. You know too much. The police will ask questions. You have no experience in these matters. They will get the truth from you quite easily.”

  “You’re right about that. I intend to call them right now and tell them everything.”

  She started for the phone, but he blocked her way. “Alicia, be reasonable.”

  She hit him with her fists as violently as she could. They did no physical damage to him; however, the blows conjured up the memory of another violent confrontation with another family member. His father, back then, had been physically stronger than he, was able to dominate him in ways that Jackson had never let himself be dominated since.

  “I loved him, damn you! I loved Thomas,” Alicia shrieked in his face.

  Jackson focused a pair of watery eyes upon her. “I loved someone too,” he said. “Someone who should have loved me back, respected me, but who didn’t.” Despite the years of pain, of guilt and embarrassment, Jack’s son still held long-buried feelings for the old man. Feelings that he had never dwelt upon or vocalized until now. The resurgence of this emotional maelstrom had a violent impact on him.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her roughly on the sofa.

  “Peter—”

  “Shut up, Alicia.” He sat down next to her. “You’re leaving the country. You are not going to call the police. Do you understand?”

  “You’re crazy, you’re insane. Oh, God, I don’t believe this is happening.”

  “Actually, right now, I’m absolutely certain I’m the most rational member in the family.” He stared into her eyes and repeated the words very slowly: “You’re not talking to anyone, Alicia, do you understand?”

  She looked at his eyes and suddenly shivered to the depths of her soul. For the first time during this confrontation, terror had suddenly replaced her anger. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother. The boy she had happily romped with, and whose maturity and intelligence she had been fascinated by, was now unrecognizable to her. The man across from her was not her brother. This manifestation was something else altogether.

  She hastily changed course and spoke as calmly as she could. “Yes, Peter, I understand. I . . . I’ll pack tonight.”

  Jackson’s face took on a level of despair that it had not carried for many years. He had read her thoughts, her fears; they were so plainly written on the thin parchment of her soft features. His fingers clutched the large throw pillow on the sofa between them.

>   “Where would you like to go, Alicia?”

  “Anywhere, Peter, anywhere you say. New Zealand, you mentioned New Zealand. That would be fine.”

  “It is a beautiful country. Or Austria, as I said, we had good