The Philanthropist's Danse (18 page)

Dennis shrugged, and Janice took over the narrative. “Mr. MacLean, you make the mistake of assuming the package Dennis spoke of arrived directly after Mrs. Thurwell’s death. In fact, he only received it a few years ago. When her old apartment building was renovated, a package was found hidden in the walls and was forwarded to the building’s owner. Mr. Thurwell still owned the building. It was a coincidence he ever got it. It lay there a long time, unremembered and unwanted. When he received it, it was unwelcome even then. His hurt was awful, and his rage was terrible to witness. So, you see Mr. MacLean, it’s only in the past few years your betrayal was uncovered, and Mr. Thurwell began actions against you.”

MacLean shook his head, not believing them. The only thing that had happened recently was his idiot brother blowing the family trust. He still thought the couple was lying. “Go on. What did you do? You and Dennis, in this absurd fantasy of yours, what did you do to me?”

“I’ll let Dennis talk about it. It was his idea, after all.”

She nodded at her husband, who smiled and turned to MacLean. “Mr. Thurwell wanted to take your life apart, Mr. MacLean. He knew he couldn’t do it without first making you dependent upon him. So we stole your family’s money. Or, to be more accurate, we had Robert, your brother, give it to us.”

Larry’s mind reeled. “You’re lying. Johnston was helping me. I asked for help, and he never hesitated.”

Dennis shook his head. “No, sir, I’m telling the truth. Your brother owed money to bookies all over the country. Let’s just say I have a bookie or two in common with Robert. Mr. Thurwell set me up with a lot of cash. I was to become Robert’s friend and that’s what I did. We gambled together, but I kept pushing up the stakes and encouraging him, until eventually Robert was in debt to some very bad folks. “Then we acquired some pictures of Robert with a hooker. Jan did a good job taking pictures and Betty provided the girl.”

Larry looked at Betty Freah, who sat with a stone expression. “Betty? You were in on this? But I introduced you to Johnston for Christ’s sake. You owed me.”

She scoffed. “You killed any loyalty I owed you when I found out what you did to your best friend’s marriage. You prick Larry, how could you sleep with your best friend’s wife? What you got, you had coming, I was happy to help JT out.”

MacLean shook his head, unable to believe the plot they had worked against him. “Okay. Robert’s an idiot. I know that about my brother, but if what you say is true and you took my family’s money, why would Johnston help me? It makes no sense. There are too many holes in your story Dennis, I’m not buying it.”

Dennis chuckled. “Robert MacLean owed a lot of money to a loan shark he thought was involved in the local mob family. He believed it because that’s what I told him. He was scared and desperate. We showed Robert pictures of him snorting coke from a hooker’s thigh, and some that were a bit more sordid, too. Then we told him to pay his debts in full, or the last thing his kids would see was pictures of their father up to his naked balls in coke and girls. “It was like turning on a spigot, the money flowed from your trust so fast that, in less than six months, we had it all. Robert was given enough to disappear, and all Mr. Thurwell had to do was wait for you to come looking for a handout.”

Larry shook his head, it couldn’t be true. Yet he had not been able to reach his brother since his lawyers called to tell him there was a problem with the trust. He looked at Dennis again, grasping for anything to make the man a liar. “Then why would he help me? It makes no sense.”

Dennis nodded and passed off the story to Janice. “You were lucky Larry, that’s what happened. You’ve lived beyond your means, even after Mr. Thurwell started helping you. He was waiting for your debts to grow, for you to finish digging a deep enough hole, then he was going to cut you loose and watch you fall. Your time was coming too. You know how much you need his money. You’re about done already. But Mr. Thurwell died before his plan was completed. I don’t know why you’ve been given a chance to save yourself by being included here, but I’m sure Mr. Thurwell had his reasons. Like I said, you got lucky.”

Freddie Hagood whistled. “Goddamn, Larry. I thought the man was tough as a rival before he took me out, but you reaped the whirlwind Larry. Damn.”

Larry’s heart pounded in his chest. He accepted what the Elliots said was true. He had been living too high. Even cutting allowances to the rest of his family had not been enough to stem the tide of his accumulating debt. When Bethany asked for his help, he had seen his chance and demanded a large share. He looked now at Bethany, who looked away. Larry knew he would be lucky if he saw a penny of the Thurwell fortune and panic filled him. He was ruined. He heard Bird passing the Elliots into the next round, their secret successfully shared at his great cost.

$

Judge Freeman watched the undoing of Larry MacLean with the same morbid interest of a person watching a bad car wreck. His attention had been caught by something said at the end of the last exchange, when Janice suggested her employer had not had time to remove MacLean from this group before his death. Freeman had an excellent ability to follow complex arguments and to pay attention to details, an invaluable tool for a Judge. There was something so jarring in Janice’s statement, he knew instantly she was wrong.

Whatever else the dead Mr. Thurwell had been, he was not careless. If Thurwell had plotted as carefully as he had to bring about the ruin of his treacherous friend and to plan the blackmail clause the Judge himself had triggered, it was unlikely he had forgotten to disinherit MacLean. Something else was going on, something Thurwell had not shared with his loyal servants.

$

William picked the next name from the pitcher. “Caroline Smith. Ms. Smith, it’s your turn. You know what to do.”

Caroline was frightened. What she had to say would end her career. A cold bead of sweat ran from her armpit down her torso and made her shiver. She feared the judgment of the family, so rushed to get it over with. “As you know, I am Chief Executive Officer of the Thurwell Foundation.”

She put her usual emphasis on her title and then realized how hollow it would sound in a few seconds. “I am afraid I was not as honest in my position as I should have been, and as much as Mr. Thurwell could have expected of me.”

She heard Philip snort. “Get on with it Smith. If you’re a crook, just say so.”

Smith flushed at his description, but he was right. “I allowed some decisions about Foundation grants to be influenced by lobbyists. I accepted gifts to ensure the Board looked favorably on certain applications.” She stopped and waited for condemnation, but there was quiet. The silence was more unnerving than the outcry she had expected.

Bethany was the person whose reaction she feared most, but she was lost in her own thoughts. Junior was distracted and worried at his fingernails. What might have been a bombshell revelation a few hours ago was nothing after the dramas they had already witnessed. Her indiscretion was severe, but it paled by comparison to the family betrayals and back-stabbing. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked at the lawyer to see if he would pass her confession. “Well, William? Is that it?”

Bird nodded and pronounced her eligible to progress.

He was as surprised as she that there was no comment from the family. They all knew how important the Foundation had been to the philanthropist. Johnston Thurwell had been a deeply flawed man, but his public persona was greatly improved by the work of his great charitable enterprise. Sick children, struggling artists and dedicated educators, among others, had benefited directly from a man who would have terrified them had they known him in different circumstances.

Thurwell relied on the Foundation to give him an appearance of humanity, and when he discovered Smith sullied the Foundation’s purpose, he had been livid. She had been fortunate the information had only come to her employer’s attention a few weeks before his death, or he would have exacted a high price for her greed. Instead, for some reason he included her in this gathering. She would have to fight for anything and maybe get nothing. The lawyer had enough information to know what the broad outline of the
Danse
was, but he still had no idea of the end game. He’d find out in time, they all would. He reached for the next name.

$

“Camille Jolivet. Ms. Jolivet, if you please.”

He offered a half-smile and indicated for her to start. Camille was coy, she was not certain her deepest secret had been discovered and did not intend to blurt it out if there was a lesser misdemeanor she could admit. “Monsieur Bird, may I have a hint as to the general nature of what I am to say?” She gave the lawyer a coquettish tilt of the head and hoped her charm might make the lawyer agreeable. He looked at her in such a way she had no doubt that her attempt failed miserably. “Share your secret, or lose everything. That’s all the help I can offer.”

She pouted and gave a shrug. She saw some people were listening while others, including Bethany, seemed not to be aware of her at all. She took the time to light a cigarette, drew deeply from it and started to tell her story into a cloud of blue smoke. “I shared the story of how I came to America to find my father. It is true, he was my father. But, some parts of my history are not so true. I said my mother told me my father’s identity at the end of her life, and that is so, but she was not as strong and proud as I said. Mama had been an alcoholic for many years. She had no money and lived on the charity of the Church and her sister.”

She waved her hands around as she spoke, the dark smoke of her cigarette curled upwards in an acrid spiral. So far, most people paying attention found her smoke more offensive than anything she had said. “So, I found one day, a diary. It was Mama’s journal, and she had written the name of my father in it, with a few notes about his success in America. I looked him up, and that’s how I came to be here today.” She stopped and drew long on her cigarette.

Freddie was incredulous. “That’s it? You had a drunk for a Mom? Bill, I’m not seeing much there, is she for real?”

The lawyer shot a look at Camille. “Wait for her to finish, Freddie.”

Camille was suddenly frightened, he did know her deepest secret, and now she knew must finish the story. Camille had no idea how they had uncovered the truth, but she guessed rich people could learn anything if they really wanted to. She shook her head, lit another cigarette with trembling fingers and began talking, chewing her knuckles nervously between sentences.

“I see. Then, Monsieur Bird, you know everything. So be it. My mother, she was a drunk. She lost her mind long ago and only existed to shit and piss over my life. I found her diary one day. I discovered a rich American was my father and wanted to escape Paris with all my heart.” She paused and smoked for a moment.

What she had to tell the group was a memory she had suppressed since being accepted by the Old Man as his daughter. “My mother, she was sick from the booze, you see? She was not able to travel. She had no passport, no money. She had no dignity. Her health was failing, I could see her each day getting worse and the messes I had to clean, so disgusting. I wanted a new life, but Mama kept me chained to hers.” She took another drag of her cigarette, she was pale and there was silence as they waited for her to finish.

Some thought they knew what was coming next, but even they were shocked by the truth. “Mama often spent nights on the street. She would escape the apartment while I slept and would beg on the streets until she had enough money for a drink. She would drink until she passed out, sometimes in the gutter. We did not live in the best arrondissement, and there were plenty of bad people there. One night I woke, and she was gone. I took a flashlight and looked for her. When I found her passed out in a doorway, she had shit herself again. It was disgusting, and I was so angry I hit her, but she did not move, so I hit her again.”

Tears welled up as she described the last moments of her mother’s life. “I used the flashlight, and I beat her and beat her. I was so angry at her for keeping me in poverty while I had a new life waiting for me. She was a wicked, selfish old drunk, and I hit her again and again. When I stopped. I saw what I had done. It was horrible. I ran home and waited for the gendarmes to come.”

Camille’s tears flowed freely, and her voice cracked with emotion. “When they came in the morning, they told me mama had been killed in a robbery. They had no way to know she had nothing to take, not even her dignity. They did not suspect me. She was a street person, and they did not care so much about her, only that they could not explain why she was attacked. I told them that she wore a silver chain that was precious, and they said it was gone. It gave them a motive for the attack, and they never asked another question. I buried her and left Paris forever.” There was horrified silence after she admitted her matricide.

William was about to announce Camille’s task complete when a soft voice broke the quiet. “You’re going right to hell, my girl. You wicked, greedy creature.” Winnie’s voice was low, but it carried so everyone heard her. No one could recall a time when she had spoken without first being asked a question. She was clearly upset and pointed at Camille, her face set in stony disapproval. “Hell is waiting for you. To kill your own mother, can there be a worse crime—”

Bethany stood and screamed. “Don’t. Don’t you dare say that. Do not judge her, you have no right. Stop. Stop it now.”

Winnie did stop because she was surprised by Bethany’s outburst. Bethany dropped back into her seat, spent. She made no attempt to look at Camille but just trembled in her seat. Philip moved to his sister’s side and knelt next to her. “I think it’s time we took that break, don’t you Billy?”

The lawyer looked up, but Junior seemed shocked into agreement with his brother. Freddie shrugged, and Bird took it to be tacit agreement. He acknowledged Camille was eligible for the next session and called an adjournment for lunch. It took a moment for anyone to move, but Camille stood and quickly exited the conference room, headed for her room.