Gage eyed the daughters—their anger had turned to concern.
Claudia continued. “To that end, I’ve employed the finest legal team in Germany to verify my state of mind. I’ve endured batteries of psychological testing by the top experts in their field. The legal team has assured me that no court will consider overturning my decisions. Furthermore, your trusts have always been fully revocable.” She stabbed the arm of her chair with her finger. “Fully revocable.”
“You can take my trust back?” Ina asked, bewildered.
“I already did.”
“What?” Katja shouted.
“As of today, each trust was revoked. The full value of each has gone back into the estate,” Claudia replied. “There is a small amount of money still in escrow, for fees and what not, but you can’t touch that. Per the agreement of the trust, one final payment was made to your bank accounts before the revocation. By law, you have sixty days remaining on the property. The countdown starts tomorrow. At sixty days, you’ll be evicted. Whatever money you’ve saved is yours.”
There was a protracted moment of silence. Gage wasn’t breathing, nor did he think either sister took a breath. They were all too stunned.
Claudia broke the silence. “What are your questions?”
Then, the lack of substantive reaction ended.
Abruptly.
There was yelling. Screaming. Finger pointing. Weeping. Cursing. Gnashing of teeth. Gage stood, keeping himself between the daughters and Claudia.
The daughters said horrible things about their mother before they turned on each other. The insults and innuendo came at machine-gun pace. Gage couldn’t keep up.
“…all because you’re such a conniving, narcissistic bitch…”
“…probably has to do with that whore you were screwing…”
“…you always thought you were better than everyone…”
“…wouldn’t put anything past you, especially after…”
It was quite a show. And Claudia seemed to drink it all in with pleasure. Thankfully, neither of the daughters came after their mother. After a few minutes of shouting, the cacophony wound down.
“I’d like each of you to leave now,” Claudia stated, sighing contentedly.
Wiping her mascara-tinged tears, Katja asked the most pertinent question Gage had heard all day—screamed it, actually. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded.
Pushing up with her arms, Claudia stood and walked to her wheelchair. When she sat, she answered Katja. “I’m doing this because I want the killer to confess to Karl’s murder. And until that person does, or someone provides me with indelible proof, my plans shall move forward.”
“Why would we kill him?” Ina demanded.
“You know why,” Claudia responded. She turned to Gage.
“Show them out and lock the door, please.”
Then Claudia halted the group as they reached the hallway.
“I could die at any moment,” she said. “When I do, nothing can be undone.”
“If one of us did do it, why would we confess?” Katja pleaded. “Someone capable of murder isn’t going to confess just so her sister can get an inheritance.”
“Then I guess you’ll both have to finally go make your own way in this world.”
“You old bitch,” Ina hissed.
“Out,” Claudia replied.
Gage nearly had to get physical to get the two sisters out the front door. He watched through the window as they again yelled at one another in the courtyard. After a moment, Ina and Katja started walking toward their homes, going their separate ways in a hail of foul German words.
Once the house was quiet, Gage wheeled his employer to her room. While he pushed, he thought he heard her sniffling.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Now that it’s over, I’m sorry for what you just witnessed. I can’t imagine what you must think of me.”
They stopped outside her bedroom and Gage stepped around the wheelchair so Claudia could see him. “That was, uh…well, that was unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed.”
“The affair, Gage…it was the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.”
He averted his eyes. “But you made peace with your husband.”
“No, not really.” It seemed she might say more but she stopped short.
“Would the other man have had any ill will against you or your husband?”
“He’s dead, Gage.” She stared up at him. “He was murdered.”
“Oh,” Gage said, unsure of how to respond. Two murders?
“And here’s the connection I’ve not given you yet, Gage, so you’ll please forgive me, but it’s a primary reason for my choosing you.”
“What’s that?”
“You knew the man who murdered my lover.”
“I did?”
“My lover was killed by a mobster named Nicky Arnaud.” Her eyes were clear and intent. “It happened in Paris.”
Nicky Arnaud, the psychotic don of Les Glaives du Peuple, the French gang Gage had tangled with over the diaries. Gage remembered Nicky quite well. The last thing he’d done to Nicky was to drop a colony of angry fire ants onto his bleeding body.
Claudia extended her strong hand and Gage took it. She stood, gripping his arm tightly. “That, Gage, is how I came to know about your story. My influence buys many friends, and when I learned you were the man responsible for Nicky’s death, I knew you were the one to be by my side.”
“I didn’t actually kill him.”
“The man named Marcel killed him. I know, Gage. But Nicky would have died within hours. I know that part of the story.”
They were now in her bedroom.
“Was your…um…paramour involved with Nicky somehow?”
“His name was Yves. There’s no story there, believe me. He was a businessman who kept a rather low profile. He ran afoul of Nicky through some innocuous business dealings, and that’s what got him killed. He’s one of the many who lost their lives to
