finished. “That’s an amazing story. Do you think any of it is true?”
Mel is a cop. Her first instinct is always to question-to wonder if someone is lying, and if so, why. But I knew as soon as I read the words that this was all true, every bit of it. Everything Sally Mathers had said in her letter corroborated what my own mother had told me. J. P. Beaumont wasn’t an orphan. I still had an aunt, one I had never met. I still had a cousin, a cousin who was reaching out to me, and some grandnieces and a grandnephew, too.
“What do you think she wants?” Mel asked. “Maybe she’s figured out that you have money and she’s looking for a handout.”
“That’s not what she said,” I responded. “She claims that the only thing she wants is for me to come visit a dying woman she believes to be my aunt, a woman who’s supposedly my father’s sister. But don’t forget, she also offered to pay my way there. If she had any idea that I had money, she wouldn’t have done that.”
“All the same,” Mel said, “before you go hopping on the first plane to Beaumont. . Now that you mention it, where the hell is Beaumont, Texas?”
“Near Houston,” I said.
When my mother told me my name had come from a city, I had looked Beaumont, Texas, up on a map. As a kid I spent years wondering what it was like and how it would be to live there.
“So,” Mel continued, “before you go hopping on the next plane to Houston, how about if we have Ralph Ames make some inquiries for us and find out if this woman is on the level?”
I probably would have argued with her right then, but the phone rang. Caller ID was blocked, but I answered it anyway. At first all I could hear was sobbing-a woman sobbing.
“Hello,” I said. “This is J. P. Beaumont. Who’s calling, please? Is something wrong? If this is an emergency, hang up and dial 911.”
“It’s Marsha,” she managed. “Marsha Longmire. The cops are here and the ambulance, but he’s gone. Oh my God. He’s dead!”
I had visions of Gerry Willis’s heart giving out from the strain of everything that had gone on the day before. And I couldn’t help but remember that one of the last things Marsha had said to Mel and me before we left the house-that if anything happened to Gerry because of Josh’s misbehavior she would murder the kid herself. I hadn’t taken the threat seriously then, and I didn’t now. It’s the kind of empty threat parents make from time to time-a variation on a theme of “ain’t it awful.”
So I have to admit that my first thought was about Josh. At age fifteen the poor kid had already been abandoned time and again, by his no-good parents and by a child protective services organization that had let him go back to a horrible situation. Now he was being robbed of a grandfather who was, as far as I knew, Josh’s only surviving blood relation. Marsha Longmire had taken on the guardianship more as a duty than as an act of love. From what I had seen of her, she had been less than enamored of the boy to begin with. Now, if she saw Josh as the proximate cause of Gerry Willis’s untimely death, I could well imagine the kind of anger she’d feel toward the kid, to say nothing of the kind of guilt she’d dish out.
“How’s Josh taking it?” I asked.
Marsha practically screamed at me. “Haven’t you been listening to a word I said? Josh is dead. I found him just a little while ago, hanging from the closet door in his room. He had strung together a bunch of Gerry’s old neckties. Then he tied it to the doorknob on one side of the door, threw the rope of ties over the top of it. He stood on a chair, put the noose around his neck, and then kicked the chair out from under him. He’s dead, and I can’t believe it happened! Damn! Damn! Damn!”
“Who’s there?” I asked. “Who responded?”
“I called 911. Olympia PD showed up with the ambulance, but since it’s the governor’s mansion, they weren’t sure about jurisdiction. They said someone should probably call the Washington State Patrol and I’ve notified my security detail, but after yesterday, I decided to call you as well.”
“Thank you, Marsha,” I said. “Good thinking.”
Mel was already out of the chair and slipping on her shoes.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Come on,” I said. “We’ve gotta go. It’s Josh Deeson. He may have committed suicide last night. Olympia PD is responding, but since it’s the governor’s mansion, they’re deferring to the Washington State Patrol. Governor Longmire decided to call us in as well. It’ll be a horse race to see who gets there first.”
Chapter 10
We took the Cayman. Mel drove and I called Ross Connors’s cell phone. That’s one of the things I like about him. His people, even the grunts out in the field, have access to the big guy, and I was able to get right through. But with the blue bubble on top of Mel’s car, we got to the governor’s mansion in no time, sooner than I was able to finish explaining to Ross what was going on.
“No!” the AG gasped when I related my bad news.
“The local cop shop is citing jurisdictional issues and has stepped down in favor of the Washington State Patrol.”
“I’ll call the head of the WSP and tell them we’ll be working on this with them. It’s a good thing Governor Longmire called you,” Ross said. “Give me a minute. I’ll get back to you.”
Ross ended the call. I got out of the Cayman and followed Mel up the paved brick driveway that led to the governor’s mansion. There were a couple of city cop cars parked out front and a WSP command car as well. If an ambulance had been summoned, it had already come and gone. In its place was a van with an insignia that said “Thurston County Medical Examiner.”
A baby-faced kid decked out in an Olympia PD uniform, who looked far too young to be on the job, opened the door. Mel showed him her badge.
“Oh,” he said. “You’re the ones the governor wants to see. She’s in her office.”
He gestured toward the study. When we knocked on the door frame, the governor motioned us in through the open door.
Between her tearful phone call a few minutes earlier and now, Marsha Longmire had managed to compose herself. She had donned her official look, in both clothing and expression, that announced to all comers: “I am the governor and I am in charge.” That maybe impressed the unsophisticated kid manning the front door, but I wasn’t as awed by the surroundings as he was. Besides, I glimpsed the gratitude on Marsha’s starkly pale face when Mel and I first walked into the room.
I caught the look and I read the message: Governor Longmire didn’t want
“Thank you for coming,” she said.
Since Ross had ordered us onto the case, doing anything less would have been dereliction of duty, but I didn’t tell her that.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “What happened? Who found him?”
“Zoe,” Marsha answered. “When he didn’t come down for breakfast, I sent her up to get him. And there he was. The way she screamed. .” Marsha paused and shook her head. “It was terrible. I’ve never heard a sound like that. She’s in shock. I called our family doctor. He’s going to come by and give her something.”
“He hasn’t yet?”
“No,” Marsha said. “He’s on his way, but as far as I know he hasn’t arrived.”
“Is there anyone else here besides Zoe?”
“No, it’s just the three of us. Giselle spent the night at her dad’s place.”
Mel stood up. “Where’s Zoe right now?”
“She’s up in her room on the second floor,” Marsha began, “but I’d rather you didn’t-”
“We need to talk to her now,” I explained, interrupting her objection. “If the doctor gives her something to settle her down, it may also remove some important detail from her memory of the scene.”
“All right,” Marsha said reluctantly. “Turn right when you get off the stairs. It’s the room at the end of the hall.”
