Chapter Sixteen
SIXTEEN
“Let me lay out the facts of the matter,” Elwin said.
Except he didn’t really say it. It wasn’t part of a conversation, or an anecdote.
It was a decree. An order. It was Moses coming down from the mountain with two stone tablets.
The desk before him might as well have been a judge’s bench.
“Deandra has been involved in a murder and subsequently kidnapped. Her kidnappers are asking for one million and one hundred fifty thousand dollars. A year ago, after the death of her husband, Deandra was awarded one million and one hundred fifty thousand dollars from his estate. His children were unhappy at the reading of the will. The vote is in two parts. The first: Do we tell the police about Deandra’s stepchildren?
Would anyone like to make an argument for or against? ”
Shepherd swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like he was back in school and asked to give a book report out loud to the class.
But no one raised their hand. Elwin nodded. “Nays?”
There was no response.
“Ayes?”
Everyone in the room replied, “Aye.”
“The ayes have it,” Elwin declared. “The second vote is as follows. Do we liquidate assets in order to meet the ransom demanded? Would anyone like to make an argument for or against?”
Vincent raised his hand. Elwin motioned for him to take the floor. With a dramatic clearing of his throat, Vincent stood and addressed the women on the couch. And Shepherd. Shepherd was on the low, dark velvet couch with the girls. Well, at least part of his ass was.
“I think,” Vincent said, “we should wait.”
Ginny gasped. “Vincent! How could you say that?”
“Because,” Vincent continued, “it’s gotta be Mom’s stepkids. They aren’t gonna kill her, Ginny. They’re just trying to get her money.”
Shepherd held up his hand.
Vincent pointed at him.
“Yes, hi,” Shepherd said. “Whoever took your mother murdered my landlord. So.”
“Yeah, that’s different. He isn’t one of us.”
Shepherd, who praised himself on being a good judge of character, judged Vincent’s character to be of a crappy variety. “He wasn’t, you mean,” Shepherd corrected. “Mr. Martin wasn’t one of you. It’s past tense now that he’s murdered.”
Vincent turned his attention away from the couch and towards the men who were allowed real chairs.
High-backed chairs. Chairs that said these were men of class, both literally and figuratively.
“Liquidating those assets requires a sacrifice on all our parts. Plus, this is incredible, incredible press. My campaign manager is blowing up my phone with interview opportunities. Obviously, the priority is Mom’s safety—”
Ginny said, “Bullshit.”
“But she isn’t in any real danger. We can wait twenty-four hours, see what the police and the FBI can turn up, and then decide if we should pay the ransom.”
Vincent sat down.
Elwin looked out to the room. “Anyone else have anything to say?”
“Grandpa!” Ginny stood up. “You can’t be serious? This is my mother! Of course we pay the ransom. Whoever took her has already murdered an innocent man.”
“We can’t attest to the man’s innocence,” Bradley said.
She glared at her father. “Dad, come on.”
He shrugged. “He’s unknown to us. We’ve never met him. Deandra hadn’t even told us about him. As far as we can see, he was a one-night stand. We have no idea if he was innocent in this or not.”
Ginny looked to Shepherd for help. He stood up, faltering only a little, and put a hand on the small of her back, a steadying gesture for him as much as for her.
“Mr. Martin was a good man. He was a fair landlord. I don’t believe he’d be wrapped up in anything so dangerous that it could get him murdered. ”
The elder Kents made eye contact with each other, some silent conversation happening between them. Ginny dried her wet cheeks with her knuckles.
“This is my mom, Grandpa. Please. She could be in danger!”
“Even Ginny says could be,” Brandy interrupted.
She didn’t even bother to stand. With her legs crossed, she kicked her foot back and forth, her shoe sliding off her heel.
The tennis sneaker, loosely tied, scuffed the Persian rug, uncaring at the damage.
“She could be in danger, but she’s probably not.
Besides, this is really her problem, not ours.
What is the downside of waiting for the police to find her?
Letting Vincent get some airtime? Letting our name get some press?
It can’t be bad for the firm to be in the news. ”
“Brandy’s right,” Scarlett said. “We might even get some new clients from this.”
“New clients?” Ginny laughed in disbelief. “What would you know about clients, Scarlett?”
Scarlett reeled back as if she’d been slapped. “I worked at the firm, Ginny.”
“You worked for a single week as a secretary!”
“Virginia.” Elwin’s voice was biblical again. “These arguments are for facts, not for personal attacks.”
“It is a fact that she was only a secretary for a week! And not a very good one! Now, see, that was a personal attack.”
Elwin’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. Ginny stood her ground, but her breathing was shallow and fast, and her shoulders slumped forward.
Shepherd eased his way in front of her, taking the brunt of her grandfather’s judgment. “Sir, I know I’m not a family member yet. But it seems like a bad idea to me to leave a person with a kidnapper if you’ve got the means to end it. The sooner the better.”
Elwin’s narrowed gaze swept him up and down. He pointed to the couch with his chin. “You two may be seated. We will take the vote now. Do we liquidate assets to get the cash today? Ayes?”
Ginny said, “Aye!”
It was quiet for a moment. Bradley sighed. “Aye.”
She beamed at him, but her stepmother’s face scrunched as though she’d eaten a lemon. Bradley Kent would be hearing about that vote tonight.
“Nays?”
Everyone else said nay.