Over His Dead Body Read online

  Charlie was digesting this information when the distracting sound of a flushing toilet came from behind the door markedLADIES. "That's a real shame," he replied. They were back on the stroke. He lifted one shoulder in what he thought was a sympathetic shrug.

  Ira took it the wrong way. "Now don't get me wrong," he said belligerently. "We're perfectly prepared to go through with the audit right now. This is for your convenience only."

  "I don't see how it changes the situation," Charlie replied blandly.

  "Of course, you know perfectly well in a private company it would make all the difference," Ira argued.

  Charlie shrugged with both shoulders. "I don't see how. Any adjustment that we might ask for would have to be complied with in any case."

  "Oh for God's sake, Charlie, my man, the company CEO is dangerously ill."

  "You weren't expecting him to participate at this point, were you?" Charlie stuck to his guns. He wasn't anybody's man.

  "Well, no, but his illness-"

  "You told me Mr. Sales had no intention of being present."

  "True, but-"

  Mona emerged from the bathroom and made a cute little face of contrition for interrupting again. "I'll just see about those lights for you." Now her jacket was unbuttoned. The little white thing underneath revealed her tiny waist. Charlie's eyes followed her as she walked away. He knew designer dresses when he saw them and wondered what the story was here.

  "Look," Ira said. "I'd like a postponement for a few weeks. Is that an unreasonable request?"

  Charlie sat back in his metal folding chair and pulled on his ear. From the moment the stroke had returned to the table, he had decided that an official delay was an excellent idea. It would give him time to do some background checking on the wine distribution business in general, and Sales's operations in particular. He wanted to check out the Sales house, talk some more with the wife, find out what the story was there. But he let Ira pompously argue his position. He always enjoyed hearing the arguments of the clearly guilty before giving them something that might lead them to think they had him in their pocket; they'd won the first battle.

  CHAPTER 29

  CHARLIE SCHWAB CAME OUT INTO THE SUNSHINE and plopped his hat on his head. The w arehouse was climate controlled to the temperature of an estate cave, Teddy had told him when he was leaving. That was the reason it was so cold. Outside, he paused while his skin warmed up and his eyes adjusted to the light.

  "I don't know what's wrong with this thing," Mona complained. She was click, click, clicking that fancy key door opener and not getting the response she wanted from the Jaguar.

  Schwab saw her in the parking lot and waved. She stepped away from the car feigning surprise to see him. "Mr. Schwab, are you finished already?"

  "Not even begun," he said.

  "Oh?"

  "There's been a postponement." He smiled.

  "Wow, you're amazing!" She took the two steps to where he'd paused by the row of short fir trees with dwarf conifers between them that separated the building space from the parking lot, grabbed his hand, and shook it warmly. "That's very handsome of you."

  Then she blushed for using the word "handsome." She'd meant that he himself, not just the gesture, was handsome, and wanted to make sure that that was how he'd understood it.

  "No, not at all," he said smoothly.

  "I know this will mean a lot to Mitch. The stroke has really knocked him for a loop."

  "I can imagine." Schwab was neutral.

  "You know, I'm glad you're here, because I wanted to clarify things with you. When we talked yesterday, I had no idea Mitch was really-that he really-" Mona stopped and lifted a crumpled handkerchief to her eyes. "I just wanted to set the record straight," she said, dabbing her eyes.

  "What do you mean?" Schwab tilted his head to one side.

  "I'm sorry." She flapped her hands delicately as if to rid herself of these embarrassing rushes of feeling. "I'm just all alone with all this. Isn't it funny I had no idea about the stroke when we met yesterday? I didn't find out about it until last night. I was-flabbergasted-to say the least." She shook her head. When he made no remark, she explained further.

  "What I mean is, Cassie is like that boy who cries wolf, you know? She lies so much that no one believes her. Yesterday morning she told you Mitch had had a stroke, but she didn't tell the rest of us. Here at the warehouse we didn't know a thing about it. Isn't that awful?"

  Schwab did not comment.

  "She just has no idea how to manage anything."

  "I understand."

  "And she doesn't want you to know about her, of course." Mona tossed her head. "And then I kept thinking and thinking about you. It was so strange. It was like destiny when we met like that… What were you doing at Cassie's house, anyway?"

  "Just looking around." Schwab shrugged.

  "That's so thorough. Do all IRS agents do that?" Mona gave him an interested look, but he didn't help her out.

  "Do what?" He tilted his head to one side again, his attitude watchful.

  "You said you were looking around. What are you looking for?" Her wide, lovely eyes were frankly curious. She was giving him her full range of expression, but he wasn't responding. She found him heavy going.

  "Whatever there is" was his answer to this question.

  Mona persevered. "That sounds so mysterious. I mean, I'm into the wine and the customers. I don't get the business end at all. All of this is way beyond me."

  "It's pretty simple, really," he said. "I bet you know all about it."

  She almost brushed his tennis arm. "I bet I don't."

  He smiled.

  "You don't say much, do you?" she murmured.

  He moved his chin a little, but didn't answer.

  She inhaled, started to say something, then stopped. "Well, I know I'm supposed to keep out of it…"

  "I understand," he murmured.

  "I just, I thought, well, is there any way I could be of help to you?"

  Finally his smile broadened a little. "Maybe."

  "What with Mitch out like this, I guess I'm going to have to learn what's what. Maybe I could facilitate in some way." She said this as if it were a surprise even to herself.

  "Well, that might be very helpful," Schwab said.

  "Of course, Mitch is the complete business genius. He pretty much runs the show," she said quickly. "But I'm the spirit of the enterprise. I love the wines, you know. They have such a life of their own, like characters. Do you like wine?"

  Schwab became sheepish at the question. "Oh, I don't know much about it."

  Mona clapped her hands. "A beer man, I bet. I could teach you, and you could teach me about taxes. Wouldn't that be the greatest? You know, I could make you the envy of all your friends. Wine is very in, you know, and we deal only in the best."

  "No kidding." Schwab seemed to ponder this question.

  Mona had the oddest sensation. Here was this attractive (but not well-dressed) man who seemed intelligent and should be attracted to her. But his eyes were cold, and he was a lot of work. She didn't get it. Most men were not so much work. She was doing everything exactly right. She let the silence hang there for a few moments while she examined him further, trying to size him up. Maybe he was a gay IRS agent. Maybe he spent all his time watching sports and didn't have any conversation. Or he was married. That would account for the blush and awkwardness. Some men were faithful. A few.

  She smiled. On the other hand, a lot of people were getting divorced these days. Maybe this Schwab's total lack of finesse was his newness to the dating game.

  "Would you like to have lunch sometime?" she ventured.

  "Well, that would be nice," he murmured.

  "Are you allowed to fraternize with the enemy?" she joked, taking it a little further.

  "I have no enemies," he replied quickly, his blue eyes wary, wary.

  "Oh, yes. You work for the government. Your job is to make people's lives miserable." Mona shook her finger at him, enjoying this. "
I hope you're one of the reasonable ones. You'll be reasonable with poor Mitch, won't you?"

  He laughed at the word "reasonable." "I'm always reasonable."

  "That's good, because I know Mitchell Sales wouldn't do anything wrong. I've worked for him all my adult life."

  "It doesn't look like that's been very long," Schwab said.

  "Thank you, but I'm older than I look."

  He lifted a shoulder, noncommittal.

  "So, we'll have lunch. That's great," she murmured. She was going to go a tiny bit further, but didn't have time.

  Suddenly he was on the move, a little nervous, a little excited. Hurrying on to the next part of his day. It was a male reaction Mona was very used to. They always got nervous when they liked a girl.

  AN HOUR LATER Mona was having lunch with Mitch's lawyer, Parker Higgins, at the American Grill, in Garden City. Parker had been one of those tall, good-looking boys who was just so cool, everyone had always known he'd get ahead in life. He and Mitch had gone to Hofstra together. Even before that they'd known each other in high school. His offices were on the boardroom floor of a ten-story building that used to be a bank. He owned it and the one just like it directly across the street.

  Parker was as tall as Mitch, quite a bit heavier now, with a deep tan from weekly visits to a tanning parlor where he also got intimate massages. Mona knew this as she knew almost everything. Mitch talked. Parker had less hair than Mitch, but wore a lot of gold to compensate. He wore thick gold chains around his neck and wrist, a gold Panther watch, and the same large eighteen-karat gold golf ball cuff links that Mitch and Mark wore, though only Mark played golf. And he was very shaken by Mitch's stroke. He was wearing a black tie.

  Mona was doing everything she could to engage Parker in a useful conversation, but all he wanted to do was talk about old times. They'd been served their two grilled chicken Caesar salads and two glasses of iced tea. While he waited for the salads to arrive, Parker had wolfed down the entire bread basket. When his salad arrived, he wolfed that down. Mona hadn't touched the mound of limp, overdressed lettuce loaded with thick croutons from a box and whole anchovies that were so salty and prickly with tiny bones, her mouth rebelled just at the thought of them. Parker loved this place with the fake palm trees and trellises on the wall with fake ivy all over them.

  "That six months we backpacked around in Europe after college was the best time of my life," Parker was saying for about the tenth time. Next would come the stories of drinking and Mitch's falling for the wine and how he'd borrowed ten thousand dollars from Cassie's father to start his business. Mona hated that story.

  "I know, must have been the greatest." It was getting really hot in there, so she unbuttoned her jacket. "Parker, I know how busy you are, and I really need to go over some things with you."

  "Of course you do," he said, still mooning over hostels he wouldn't dream of even entering, much less staying in now.

  "You've been to see Mitch, yes?" She knew he had.

  "Yes. This is really a shocker. One day in the pink of health, and the next day-grim reaper. It doesn't look good. Mark told me he's brain-dead." Parker shook his head and glanced around for a waiter.

  Mona guessed that he figured he'd been "good" for all of thirty minutes and now could no longer resist having a drink.

  "We'll have a Bloody Mary over here," Parker called across the room to a girl who wasn't paying attention. "You?" he asked Mona.

  Did she know people, or what? "Not right now," she murmured about the drink. "Look, Parker. Mitch is not brain-dead. He spoke to me clearly. Very clearly. He's on the mend. I swear it. Please don't write him off," she begged.

  "That'll be two Marys!" he yelled.

  When he turned back to her, her famous pout was on her face, and her famous wheeze was beginning in the back of her throat.

  "You know I'm all alone with this, Parker." Her voice caught. This was no act. She was dying here. What kind of asshole was he? They'd traveled to Italy together. They'd chartered that sailing boat in the Greek Isles. She'd been completely nauseated the whole time. They'd swum with fucking dolphins in Mexico. Wasn't all that the best time of his life?

  His eyes were on the bar, yearning for those Marys.

  "Come on, have a heart, Parker. Don't back out on me now. There's no one but you," Mona said.

  Parker heaved a deep sigh. "This is a shocker, Mona, no question about it."

  Mona talked to her invisible audience. See what she had to put up with! A complete narcissist. All he could think about was himself. A genuine tear filled her eye. "What about the will, Parker? Not that I want you to reveal confidences. But you know what Mitch's intentions were. Did he sign his new will, or what?"

  Now he gave her a frank stare. "Look, Mona. I'm going to do the same with you that I did with Cassie, and Teddy, and Marsha." He made the motion of a zipper being closed across his mouth.

  "What the dickens is that?" She maintained her sweetness. She was not going to fall apart.

  "My lips are sealed."

  "How can your fucking lips be sealed, Parker? You know what your friend wanted. Did he get it done? That's all I'm asking."

  "You're not eating your salad," Parker said.

  "It's a yes-or-no question. You could even nod or shake your head. What's the big deal?" The tears welled into puddles, and Parker looked away. He was not one who responded well to emotion. "Parker, please."

  "I know how upset you are, Mona," he said softly, squirming for that drink.

  "We were getting married. We were having a family together. You know this, Parker. I may be pregnant already. I need you on my side. Don't let this wonderful man go," she cried. "I love him so much. He's my whole life. What do I care about anything else? Puh, I spit on everything else."

  "Mona, please, it's not in my hands."

  "Don't give me that shit, Parker. A man's life is in your hands."

  "Mona!"

  "Sorry, sorry. You know I think the world of you." She controlled herself. She brought the sweetness back, leaned over the table so he could see her lovely breasts. "Parker?"

  He was too busy thinking about death to look at them.

  "Parker, speak to me."

  "I think the world of you, too, Mona. You know that." But where were those drinks? "Ah, thank you."

  The two Bloody Marys finally arrived. One was placed in front of Mona. Parker raised his glass to her, clinked the ice, and downed the drink in a few greedy swallows.

  Mona pushed hers across the table toward him.

  "Thanks, I'll just have a sip," he said. This one he drank more slowly.

  "Parker, you know I'll keep you as my attorney. You stand to keep Sales as a client-you know what I mean. Help me out, and I'll help you out." She watched him chew on celery, this man who all his life had despised vegetables.

  "What about the power of attorney? Surely you can tell me that," she wheedled.

  Parker finished the second Bloody. "Okay, Mona, he didn't sign it."

  Mona gasped. "He didn't sign it?"

  Parker shook his head.

  "There's no power of attorney?"

  "Nope."

  "Well, who's in charge, then?"

  "He is."

  "He's in a coma, Parker."

  "Yes."

  Mona gasped again. For sure she was going to die with her beloved. "Why didn't he sign the fucking power?" she wailed.

  "You know Mitch. Superstitious. He'd planned to when he got back." Parker shrugged.

  "Oh shit. So he didn't sign the will, either, did he?"

  Parker shook his head "no" to the will.

  Mona's blood pounded in her ears. The love of her life just couldn't let go. The story of her fucking life. She had to get a handle on this, couldn't let Mitch die. How could she save him? She watched Parker point at the empty glass for another drink. The waiter nodded. Alcohol might help. Mona knew about the girl in the massage parlor, and there were a few other things Parker wouldn't want his wife to know. He was a weak man,
putty in her hands. She thought of Mitch hooked up to life support. What had his last will provided? They'd been together twelve years, but she had no idea.

  Parker shook his head, waiting for his third Mary.

  "What about a living will? What about a health care proxy?" Mona demanded.

  He shook his head again.

  Mona perked up. "Well, that's good. If he has no living will, doesn't that mean Cassie can't kill him? You are aware Cassie intends to kill him, aren't you, Parker?"

  "No, Mona. She's not like that."

  "Yes, Parker, she is. She's been stalking me. She tried to kill me just yesterday. You know my loyalty to the family. I love the woman to pieces, but let's face it, she's over the edge. And quite frankly, if she hurts Mitch, I'll have your ass."

  "Oh, Mona, don't talk like that. You know you're no toughy."

  "Of course not, but I love him so much. He's my whole life. Except for you, he's all I've got. Is the power prepared?"

  "Huh?" The lawyer blinked in confusion.

  "The document giving the power of attorney to me, Parker. Remember?"

  "No." Now Parker shook his head firmly. He wasn't going there.

  "You remember, Parker. I was here when we discussed it. We can sign it now."

  Parker rolled his eyes and called for the check. "I have a meeting at two." Typical male fade away. It made her want to puke. This kind of thing might work with other people, but it wouldn't work with her.

  "Of course, no problem," she said graciously, and reached for her purse. She'd let it go now, but it wasn't over, not by a long shot. As soon as Parker was reminded that Cassie could cause him a good deal of trouble if Mitch died, he'd fall into line, she was sure he would.

  CHAPTER 30

  EVERY DAY, wearing a scarf and her daughter's huge sunglasses, Cassie went to th e hospital during the visiting hours of eleven to four to visit her husband in intensive care. On days five, six, and seven after his event he was no better and no worse than he had been on days one through four. He was stable and as uncommunicative as ever. As she stood by his side watching the machine breathe for him, she chewed on the inside of her mouth until it was raw. She wished she could make contact and have it out with him just once.