A Bad Boy is Good to Find(54)

“But don’t you get it? The house is yours. And from the sounds of it, Mr. Stapleton here is spending the trust money hand over fist while he builds up a tidy rentals business there. That explains why it’s so well renovated. He’s probably poured a million dollars into the place. New roof, new upholstery, soon it will have all central air. I’ve never seen such a thorough renovation of an old house, but it all makes perfect sense now. He’s deliberately trying to spend the money that came with it, so he can bankrupt the estate so it can’t pay the taxes, then when the taxes go unpaid, the town takes over the property and he buys it for peanuts. He’s trying to steal your inheritance.”

Con let out a growl of frustration. “Lizzie, the house isn’t mine. It never was and it never will be. I don’t really get why you’re—“

“Con, listen,” she leaned into him and hissed in his ear. “That slick bastard in there knows you are the heir. How could he not? He must know who your mother was, if they found out she was dead. So I bet he knows she has two sons, and what their names are. He may well know exactly where your brother is. But is it in his interest to tell you? To let you find out about any of this? Hell, no.”

Con stared at her.

She nodded. “Up until now he’s been sitting pretty on a goldmine that no living soul has a claim to—then you turn up like a bad penny. Right now he’s probably sweating bullets looking for ways to throw us off the trail. The one thing he forgot to do was scotch tape his secretary’s lips together. We’ve got to run with this information.”

At that moment the front door opened and Vera peered out. “He’s ready for you.”

Lizzie squeezed Con’s arm above the elbow, and followed him back in. Eric Stapleton summoned them back into his office with an avuncular wave of his meaty hand.

“So, we’re looking for Danny, aka ‘Tiny’ Beale…” he said, rifling in a drawer and emerging with a packet of extra-strong mints. “I’ll make a note for Vera to check the local prisons. Mint?”

“No, thanks,” said Lizzie, digging her nails into her palms. “We’re very much enjoying our stay in Dumas House. It is a fine old place. Must cost a fortune to maintain.”

“Labor of love, my dear. Labor of love. The place loses money hand over fist. Would have fallen down years ago if I hadn’t poured every penny I own into it. My wife wrings her hands over it every year, but to me it’s just my duty as a citizen of the parish.” He gave her a saccharine smile. “Now back to the matter at hand. As I said, it may be impossible to find Mr. Beale…”

“Your secretary said the renovations on the house are paid for by a trust,” cut in Lizzie. “A legacy that came with the house.”

“Why, yes, that is true. It was important to perform necessary repairs in order to preserve the integrity of the estate.” He linked his fingers together, looking relaxed as if they were discussing the weather prospects for his weekend golf game.

“Exactly how much is in that legacy?”

“Sadly, almost nothing at all, I’m afraid. It’s shocking the amount of money a place like that will eat through. As I said, it’s been a labor of love. I’m just glad of opportunities such as the one provided by the fine production company you’re working with. How many more days of filming do you have? Two, wasn’t it?”

“It could be a few more since the power outage has slowed things down.”

“I don’t know if that will be possible. I believe we have a long-standing rental next week that will require the property to be vacant. I’ve taken measures to make sure the electrical problems will be solved immediately so there should be no further delays in your filming.”

“Look,” Con leaned forward. “I’m not here to talk about the damn house. Can you help me find my brother or not?”

Lizzie’s ears pricked up at his aggressive tone.

“Regretfully, I suspect your brother has gone the way of so many of the men of your family.” The lawyer tipped his head to one side and lifted an eyebrow. “A fate most of us around here had sadly assumed to be yours.”

“Yeah? Well, guess what, I’m alive and kicking and I bet my brother is too.”

“I see you’ve inherited the Beale temper.” Stapleton leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “I bet you like a drink too, don’t you, son? Bourbon?” He reached into his desk and drew out a small bottle.

Con blew out a disgusted snort and placed a clenched fist on Eric Stapleton, esq.’s cluttered desk. “I didn’t plan to come back here—ever—but Lizzie brought me down here and now I’m up to my neck in the mess I left behind and I’m not leaving until I get some answers.”

Lizzie stared at him.

“I have reason to believe you know where my brother is, and if you’ll give me that information you won’t see me again.”

“I have absolutely no idea where your brother is. Drunk in a ditch somewhere, I expect, so don’t you come in here with that tone of voice. I remember you when you were just a snot-nosed punk brought into court for stealing a frozen turkey.” He broke into a grating laugh. Con seemed to shrink back a little. “You probably don’t even remember that, but I do. Another one of those Beale’s. Like father like son.”

“Don’t you talk to him like that!” Lizzie was on her feet before she knew what was happening. “We happen to know that he and his brother are the heirs of Dumas House and that you are deliberately concealing that knowledge from everyone in the hope of taking possession of the property yourself!” Her shrill voice startled her.

Stapleton’s lips parted for second, then he drew them back together in a crooked line. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, and I want you out of this office, now!”

He pressed his finger on the intercom. “Vera! Escort our visitors out immediately.”

“You haven’t heard the end of this, Mr. Stapleton,” Lizzie said calmly. “Conroy Beale is back and he plans to demand his rights.”

As Vera escorted them down the cramped hallway, Lizzie couldn’t resist asking, “So is Mr. Milford’s will kept in this office?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Stapleton is the executor of his estate, but of course there’s a copy filed with the—”

“Loose lips sink ships, Vera!” boomed the lawyer’s voice from behind them. “Get them out of here and come into my office immediately.”

“Y…yes sir,” she stammered, giving Lizzie a wary glance.

Out on the tiny lawn Con ran his hands through his hair. “Why’d you have to go off on a tangent like that? We should have played it cool. Now he knows we know and he’s basically the enemy. We’ll never get anything out of him.”

“That house is your right, Con.”

“Bullshit. It’s my nothing. That mean old bastard left my mother to die. Didn’t even open her letters. I don’t want nothing of his. You expect me to think about a house when we don’t even know if my brother is—” He shuddered and broke off.