“Let Travis drive-you’re upset.”
“Steer a van up mountain roads with one hand? Not if you aren’t used to it. But now he’s wondering what has happened. Explain it to him, will you?”
I handed the phone to Travis and started up Waterman Canyon. He spoke briefly with Rachel, hung up, then said, “I’m sorry, Irene.”
“Just a car,” I said, which was such total bullshit, I’m surprised he didn’t call me on it. But he fell silent, which is what I needed.
I was grateful for the mountain roads; they required my absolute concentration. The sun was setting, and by the time we reached Mr. Brennan’s large, lake-view mountain home, it was dark. I parked along the road, took out a large flashlight that Jack had apparently included in the price of the van, and Travis and I stepped outside. I felt the chill mountain air, heard the crickets sing, smelled the pine fragrance and saw the stars overhead. I promptly bent over double and started throwing up.
“Irene!” Travis rushed over to me.
“Some water, please,” I said between dry heaves. “Bottle in the van fridge.”
He brought it to me. I rinsed my mouth out. “Is it because of your car?”
“No.”
“The curving road?”
“No.”
“The altitude?”
“No. The mountains,” I said.
“The mountains?”
“I’m-I’m afraid of the mountains.”
He stopped asking questions.
“I was taken to a place not far from here once,” I said. “Against my will. Locked me in a little dark room. Spent three days beating the shit out me. Haven’t been to the mountains since. And if you ever want to see me go nuts, lock me inside any confined space.”
He reached over, took my hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You had enough on your mind. Besides, I have to try to get over this sooner or later.” I laughed. “Frank is going to be so pissed.”
“At me? I won’t blame him.”
“No, me. He owns property up here. I always make him go without me.”
I stood up, took a little bit of time to get myself back together, or what I hoped would pass for together. It was an act, of course, but sometimes you have to make do with an act.
There was a dignity about Ezekiel Brennan that made one approach him calmly and quietly. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a full head of perfectly combed white hair, watchful gray eyes-slightly enlarged by the lenses in his pewter-rimmed glasses-a strong nose and chin, a firm mouth. He wore casual clothes when he greeted us at the front door-a light sweater and jeans-but it wasn’t hard to picture him in a finely tailored suit, carrying a leather briefcase.
Brennan was gracious to both of us, a perfect host. Travis obviously meant more to him than the average client. It would be easy to assume it was the millions, but even before he started talking about Arthur Spanning, I knew that he looked upon Travis as he might a grandson.
When he first saw my cousin, his smile became much warmer. “Travis!” he said in his deep voice, embracing him with an arm around the shoulder.
“Thank you for allowing us to come to your home on such short notice, Mr. Brennan,” he said, returning the embrace.
“What has happened to your hand?!” he asked.
“Oh-that’s a long story,” Travis said, then added, “I’m so glad to see you!
The hand on Travis’s shoulder gave it another squeeze. “An extremely difficult time for you, I know. I am so very sorry.”
“My dad-your friendship was so important to him. He was grateful for all you did to help him over the years.”
“That was my pleasure. And his friendship was equally important to me,” Brennan said. “I find myself somewhat at loose ends these days-I do miss him.”
He showed us into a spacious living room, where a small fire burned in a brick fireplace. Large windows and sliding-glass doors looked out on the lake below. It was too dark to see much more than the outline of the shore, but in daylight, it would be a beautiful view. Travis was watching me nervously. “I’m okay,” I said softly.
We declined the offer of a drink. With nothing more than a raised eyebrow, Mr. Brennan indicated to me that he expected to have a private conversation with Travis.
“I want her here,” Travis said, reading the look. “She may hear anything you have to say to me.”
“Whatever you wish, of course,” Brennan said, “but wouldn’t it be better-”
“When my father warned me about being bothered by the family,” Travis interrupted, “was he referring to the Kellys?”
“No,” Brennan admitted. “Your father was referring to your uncle Gerald and his other in-laws, the DeMonts.”
Travis studied the lawyer for a moment, then said, “I am willing to explain why I want Irene to be here, but I don’t want to upset you-”
“My boy, I am old, but I am healthy, and working in law has strengthened my nerves remarkably. Say what you have to say.”
“Irene is helping me to discover who murdered my mother. She needs to hear everything. And she’ll have some questions of her own.”
But Brennan was still caught on one word.
“Yes.” Travis seemed unable for a moment to go on, and said, “Irene- will you please tell him?”
Brennan listened in silence as I told him what we had learned about the hit-and-run accident. He offered condolences to Travis, and seemed genuinely shaken.
“I was there when she married him again,” he said. “I was their witness. They were both very happy, despite the circumstances-Arthur was in the hospital, of course. But I must say, Travis, that your mother’s presence gave him strength.” He paused, then said, “Once, when she had left the room for a few moments, your father spoke of you and your mother coming back into his life, and of-of forgiveness. He said, ”Zeke, never doubt that I will die a happy man.“”
His voice caught on this last and he stopped speaking for a moment while he pulled out a handkerchief, ostensibly to wipe his glasses. He took a few minutes to do this, then said, “She never wanted his money, of course, but he made sure that she would be provided for. When she learned of it, I think her first thought was of you, because she asked me to make a new will for her.”
“Tell me that she signed it,” I said.
He looked surprised, then said, “Why, yes, she did.”
“Oh, thank God!” I said. They both looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “Please call Detective McCain of the LAPD for me,” I said. “Although he’ll probably tell you that I couldn’t have known about the new will.”
Travis understood then, and explained to Mr. Brennan, adding, “Most people wouldn’t be so happy over losing half a million dollars.”
“Peanuts, if it gets McCain off my back.”
“I’ll have a talk with him, if you like,” Brennan said.
“Thank you. Would you please help Travis make out a new will tonight?”
“A new will.”
“Yes-and for godsakes, leave me out of it. Travis’s will is made in favor of his mother, and I’m afraid there is at least one person who would like to see him die intestate.”
“Good Lord.”
“In fact, perhaps you could clear something up for us. Do Robert or Horace DeMont have any claim on any portion of Arthur’s estate?”
“Absolutely not. But a mere matter of law won’t stop those two. Robert and Horace are imbeciles. Their only
