Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Eric pulled up to the gate at the Carmichael estate.
It was Coleman’s call that had Eric here, taking a break from investigating Susan’s accident.
Coleman beseeched him and said he was the only detective he had to call on at the moment, and he was strapped for patrol officers too.
But the request came at a convenient time, serving as a segue before Eric reached out to the eyewitnesses from the Crawford case.
It would also help him shake the meeting he’d had with Medina.
His sarge was right, though. Eric should have gone to him first.
A man poked his head out of the gatehouse, and Eric lowered his window.
“Can I help you?” the man asked.
“Detective Birch with the MPD. I’m here to speak with Peter Carmichael on urgent police business.” He flashed his badge.
The guard angled his head and narrowed his eyes. “What is this about? He’ll want to know that much.”
“It’s regarding Timothy Hanson.”
“Hanson? He’s—”
“Dead? I’m well aware. If you could just tell your boss I’m here, we can all get on with our day.”
After several seconds of holding the silence, it worked its power. The guard pulled back into the gatehouse and picked up the phone. Soon after, the gates opened, and Eric was waved ahead.
He dipped his head in thanks and drove slowly toward the vast house. What does anyone need with all this space?
After parking, he walked up to the front door and rang the bell. It was answered by a studious-looking man in his forties.
“Step inside, and I’ll take you to Mr. Carmichael.”
“Thank you.” Eric entered the home, absorbing the architecture with its sweeping vaulted ceilings and wood beams. A set of staircases wrapped around the outside walls, making for the most grand entry Eric had seen outside of movies.
The man led him to the rear of the home, which Eric soon found out was where the kitchen was located. Like the rest of the house, it was grand. Here, marble and stainless steel were everywhere.
An older man was sitting at a dining table with a newspaper and a half-eaten sandwich on a plate. He was drinking what looked like iced tea.
He set the paper down, nodded at his employee to leave. “Detective, I’m interested in what brings you here wanting to discuss the late Timothy Hanson.”
Eric walked toward the table. “May I?” He pointed at the chair on Peter’s right. The man dipped his head, and Eric pulled it out and sat down. “I’m hoping you could tell me what you know about Timothy Hanson.” With any luck, he could circumvent Carmichael’s curiosity. At least for the time being.
“To start with he’s dead.” Carmichael laughed.
The old man had a quirky sense of humor. “Yes, and he was your brother-in-law. My condolences for your loss.”
Carmichael batted his hand. “No need for that. I never really cared for the guy. Never made a secret of that when he was alive either.”
The back of Eric’s neck tightened. “May I ask why?”
“You may.” Carmichael took a few beats, a smile teasing his lips. “I just never liked the guy. He was two-faced and untrustworthy, but my sister obviously saw something good in him. What that was, I’ll never understand.”
“You said he was untrustworthy. Do you think he ever cheated on your sister?” Eric got the feeling Peter Carmichael was a man who liked things straightforward. Also with his professed dislike for Timothy, getting him to open up about him might be easier than he’d expected.
“I’d be more surprised if he hadn’t. That man was a womanizer when she met him.
All charm and charisma, no essence. But he was very intelligent.
If he had dalliances, he was smart about hiding them.
And he had good reason. Our father insisted my sister have Timothy sign an iron-clad prenup.
Her money was also family money, so she had little choice.
But there was an infidelity clause worked in it that if he cheated on my sister, he’d have to pay her one hundred and fifty million.
The cost wouldn’t stop there though. Such a scandal would destroy Hanson Property Development and cause their stocks to nosedive. ”
Eric was trying to catch everything Carmichael was saying, but he was stuck on the payout amount. That was one hell of a costly infidelity clause. “He definitely had a reason to be discreet in his affairs. Would you be able to provide me with a list of people who were friends with Timothy?”
“Friends?” Carmichael smiled, amusement lighting his eyes. “When you have the amount of money he did, that I do, you never have friends. You can’t trust anyone, not even people with similar fortunes. Those who have less use us to get ahead. And those who are equals scheme for ways to claw ahead.”
No matter how bleak Carmichael’s take on wealth, Eric would be all right with more in his bank account. “All right then, no friends. What about associates or a right-hand man?”
“Now, that he had. His main security guy. The two were attached at the hip up until Tim’s death. If Tim was a pharaoh, he’d have insisted the guy be entombed with his corpse.” Carmichael took a sip of his drink. “Surprised he didn’t insist on that anyhow.”
“Can you remember his name?”
Carmichael shook his head. “As horrible as it sounds, I’ve never been good at remembering the names of the help.”
That sounds horrible all right… Eric’s reaction was immediate, but he could appreciate Carmichael’s world was far different from his.
He grew up middle class with his only window into wealth being through Sandra.
But she and her adoptive mother, Margo, were down to earth and treated everyone the same regardless of financial portfolios.
Carmichael set his glass down. “I’ve been patient and played along, but don’t think that I’ve missed the fact you haven’t told me why you’re here asking questions about the dead bastard.”
Eric could tell he wasn’t getting out of answering that this time. “There have been some allegations made against him.”
“As we’ve established, he’s dead, so how could any allegations made possibly warrant police coming to my door?”
“It’s related to an ongoing investigation that could impact his family and the business’s future.”
“Huh. Well, if any of these accusations lead you to proof that Timothy Hanson violated his vow to my sister during the time they were married, that prenup survives her death and his.”
“Really?” The question slipped out, and his cheeks heated with embarrassment.
“Our worlds are different, Detective. My family’s fortune has a long reach into the past. It’s not just about the present generation, but the ones that came before and the ones who will come after. It’s a matter of honor and legacy.”
“Just to clarify. If there is evidence of Timothy’s infidelity, then the Hanson estate is still liable to pay the Carmichael family one hundred and fifty million dollars?” He almost choked saying the large amount.
“That’s right. It would be divvied between myself and some distant cousins.”
“All right. Thank you for your time, Mr. Carmichael.” Eric stood and pushed the chair back into the table.
“Be sure to keep me apprised on the findings of your investigation.”
Eric dipped his head and left the room. He’d just been handed a motive for Timothy Hanson to kill Susan Crawford. In fact, if he viewed her as a liability, he’d have one hundred and fifty million reasons to want her gone and then some.