The Heritage Paper

Chapter 41



Zach took out a flip-pad and pen. “Your were the last non-relative listed as visiting Ellen’s room at Sunshine Village. Could you tell me the nature of your business?”

“She called me and asked if I’d stop by.”

“What was her reasoning for such?”

“Ellen and I had known each other for years. I believe her purpose was nostalgia. When you get to our age, memory lane is a long and winding road.”

“Did she talk about taking her own life at any point during your conversation?”

His face saddened. “Ever since Harold died, some years ago, she had often mentioned a desire to join him. But after Carsten’s death, she really got bad. It always came up with her.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“The usual—I moved her mind to happier thoughts.” He pointed to a large family portrait on the wall. “I’m up to fourteen grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. It’s the thing that keeps us going at our age. She was excited about the project she was working on with Maggie. She talked about it at length, although she left out the part about her alleged Nazi connection.”

“So you were unaware of Ellen’s Nazi claims, which would create a lot of bad PR for you and your candidate?”

“No, I had been made aware prior.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know?” Veronica responded in an accusatory tone.

“No, I said Ellen didn’t mention it during my visit.”

Zach continued to push forward, “So with this knowledge, maybe you found it convenient to help out a friend who wanted to die, by slipping her some permanent-sleeping pills. It might benefit both your interests.”

The accusation reddened Sterling’s face. “I certainly did nothing of the kind. If I wanted to stop Maggie’s report, I would have. I think you are chasing ghosts just like Ben, willing to exploit a woman who was not in her right mind.”

Veronica was focused on how he’d “been made aware” of Ellen’s past. She knew it was through Carsten when he’d brought him the letters. But she conceded that if Sterling wanted to stop the Nazi connection from getting out, he could have silenced it without incident. The murder route didn’t seem prudent. People don’t become as successful as Aligor Sterling by playing such high-risk/low-reward odds.

“So you’re saying that you had nothing to do with Ellen Peterson’s death?” Zach asked.

Sterling shook his head. “After putting together a record of sacrifice for a half-century, wouldn’t you find it odd that suddenly at my late stage of life I’d put all that at risk?”

“What I find odd is how Rose Shepherd, a woman who seemed to live a nondescript life, and whose only brush with the law was a citation for nude sunbathing in Central Park in 1957, seemingly woke up one morning and decided to blackmail one of the world’s most powerful men, claiming to have sensitive information that could hurt Sterling Center.”

“Rose Shepherd was a fine photographer. She first worked my sister’s wedding and I fell in love with her talent.”

“She made it sound like there was more you fell for than her photography.”

“I don’t deny the affair, but that’s not why Sterling Publishing hired her. Her work spoke for itself. I was surprised by her claims against me. I was forced to act, so I worked with the police. It was a sad day for me. Further inspection found that Ms. Shepherd always lived above her means and had visions of grandeur—making financial gain a possible motive. Perhaps that is why she pursued me romantically when she didn’t like my kind.”

“Your kind?”

“We later discovered a history of anti-Semitic views and behavior. So in retrospect, her actions toward myself and Sterling Publishing made more sense than originally thought.”

“Even if she was a racist blackmailer being driven by monetary gain, murder seems like a pretty big leap,” Zach challenged, sounding skeptical.

“I’m not a trained psychiatrist, but I do know that Greta Peterson gained much notoriety for killing her husband—Mrs. Cleaver and all that business—which probably aroused Rose’s obsession with fame. I think that was the common theme of both crimes, no matter how different they appeared. Rose Shepherd was unstable and saw that killing Mrs. Cleaver could bring her the headlines she craved. And sadly, it did.”

“What was it that she claimed she had on you? The documents were sealed by the court.”

“She threatened to go public with her claims that the Sterling House was built on blood money. According to Rose, we would allow Nazi war criminals to walk free in exchange for a large monetary payment. This was a false accusation, of course, built on wild accusations and unsubstantiated rumors. But our enemies would’ve tried to use it against us, regardless, so we thought it was best for the organization to have sealed any documents that spelled out her accusations against us.”

Sterling reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a photo. He handed it to Veronica.

She studied it, recognizing a young Aligor Sterling and Ben Youkelstein with arms around each other in a concentration camp. Their faces were thin and gaunt, and they looked like two scared boys.

“It’s the only picture I keep in my desk. Any thoughts that Ben, myself, or anyone who went through what we did, could ever accept a penny of Nazi money is ludicrous. Some might not like the way we administered our brand of justice, but to say it was for sale, was, and still is, hurtful.”

“Why were the blackmail charges against Rose Shepherd dropped?” Zach asked.

Sterling appeared surprised by the question. “Since Rose was already going to spend her life in prison, we felt justice had already been served. It also made it easier to have the aforementioned records sealed, including the tape recordings made during the police sting, and avoid a public hearing on the matter.”

The guy had all the right answers. But Veronica still needed the one answer she came for. To the question that changed her life. Her gut was still screaming at her to get to Maggie and Jamie, so she had no more time to waste.

“Did you kill my husband?” she asked directly. “We know Carsten came to you with the letters that connected Ellen to the Nazis.”

“As far as I know, Carsten died of a stroke and Ellen is believed to have taken her own life, so I’m not sure why you speak of their deaths as if they were criminal. But yes, Carsten did come to me with correspondences he claimed were between Ellen and Heinrich Müller. And I helped him prove their authenticity.”

Veronica began rising off her chair in anger, but Sterling put up the stop sign. “After the letters proved to match Müller’s handwriting, Carsten asked me, as a so-called Nazi hunter, to try to use my connections to dig deeper into it. But shamefully, because of the potential bad PR for my center, I declined. I did send him to someone who I thought might be able to help. I loved Carsten—I would never harm him.”

“And who did you send him to?”

“Ben Youkelstein.”