Decker looked at Bogart. “Can we look inside it?”
Bogart glanced at Jules. “If your mother is a signatory on the box we’ll need her permission. Otherwise, we’ll have to get a warrant.”
“Get the warrant, because I’m not disturbing my mom right now. She needs to rest, not worry about signing papers.”
Bogart pulled out his phone and stepped from the room.
Jules looked around the space and her expression changed from flint to despair. “I grew up in this house. I love every nook and cranny of it.”
Jamison said, “I can see why. It’s beautiful. So warm and inviting. Did your mother do the decorating?”
Jules nodded. “She had an eye for that. Dad was great at his business. But Mom did everything else. She was the perfect partner. Wonderful hostess, a great sounding board when he needed it. And she raised four kids, mostly on her own because Dad was always traveling back then.”
Jamison said, “Wealth like this doesn’t come easy. A lot of hard work went into it.”
“Yeah,” said Jules absently.
“So his words to you, given what happened, make sense,” said Decker. “Sort of parting advice?”
She looked up at him, her face reddening. “So you’re suggesting he told me to get married and have kids before he goes and murders someone and then blows his own head off? How screwed up is that?” she added shrilly.
Decker said imperturbably, “But he might not have thought he had a choice.”
“What does that mean?”
“Did you know your father was sick?”
“What do you mean, sick?”
“He had an inoperable malignant brain tumor. He was terminal.”
Jamison gave a little gasp at Decker’s blunt words, but he kept his gaze squarely on Jules.
Tears appeared in Jules’s eyes. “W-what?” she stammered.
Decker sat down across from her. “The autopsy revealed the tumor and an aneurysm. He had maybe a few months left to live. You’re saying you didn’t know?”
She shook her head as the tears suddenly spilled down her cheeks.
Jamison pulled some clean tissues from a pack in her purse and handed them to Decker, who passed them to Jules. She wiped her eyes.
“Do you think your mother knew?” asked Decker.
She shook her head. “Impossible. If Mom knew we all would have known.”
“Even if he didn’t want the children to know?” asked Jamison.
She took a few moments to compose herself. “Wouldn’t have mattered. My mother is incapable of keeping something like that secret.”
Decker nodded. “Understood. Is there any reason you can think of for your father having done something like this?”
She barked, “You might as well ask me why the sun won’t be coming up tomorrow. This is…this can’t be happening.” The next instant, she bent over and started to sob uncontrollably.
Decker looked at Jamison with an awkward expression. Jamison rose and knelt down next to Jules, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and offering more tissues. “Decker, go get her some water,” she hissed.
Decker left the room and found the kitchen, a large, airy space that looked like it should be in the pages of an architectural design magazine. He opened some cupboards. In one he saw some medicine bottles. He quickly looked at the labels. One was for increasing bone density; another was Zoloft. He found the glasses in another cupboard, filled one at the tap, and walked back to the library. He handed it to Jamison, who helped Jules to drink it.
They heard a car drive up to the front door. Decker left the room again and walked down the hall in time to see the front door fly open. A woman stormed in and threw her coat and bag down on the hardwood floor. Behind her Decker could see an airport taxi gliding back down the paved driveway.
The woman was in her early thirties, with brown hair cut short, glasses, and the same tall, lean build as Jules.
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded.
Decker held out his FBI credential. “I take it you’re one of the daughters.”
“Samantha. Where’s my mother?”
“Sedated. Your sister Jules is in the library.”
Samantha Dabney brushed past Decker and hurried down the hall. Decker followed. He got there in time to see her kneel down and hug her still-weeping sibling. Jamison rose and backed off, giving the women space.
When Jules finally composed herself, she sat up.
Samantha said, “What the hell is going on? Why is the FBI here?”
Jules said, “I told you what happened, Sam. Did you think they wouldn’t be investigating? Dad mur…Dad shot someone. Right outside of the FBI building.”
Samantha collapsed into the chair that Jamison had been sitting in. “I know that’s what you told me. But it…it can’t be, Jules. You know that. Why would he do this? He had so much to live for.”
“Daddy was terminal. He had a brain tumor.”
The blood drained from Samantha’s face. She jumped up from the chair and glared down at her sister. “What? And you didn’t tell me?”
Decker interjected, “I just told her. His autopsy revealed it.” He paused. “Did your dad phone you recently?”
“No. About three weeks ago he sent me an email. Nothing special. Just checking in.”
She shot Jules a glance. “First Dad shoots someone. And now a brain tumor. What is going on? Wait, do you think the tumor affected his mind? Is that why he did it?”
Decker said, “Anything’s possible. But if there’s another reason, we need to find it. Have either of you ever heard your father mention the name Anne Berkshire?”
They both shook their heads.
Samantha said, “Is that the woman he shot?”
Decker nodded.
Samantha looked at her sister. “Jules? You kept in touch with Dad more than me. You sure it doesn’t ring a bell?”
“No. I never heard of the woman.”
Jamison said, “It might have been random. There might be no connection. Maybe he was affected by his illness. Maybe Berkshire was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Decker said, “I found some medicine bottles in the cupboard. One was for increasing bone density, the other was Zoloft. Who were they for? Part of the labels were removed.”
Samantha looked at her sister and then back at Decker. “For Mom. She’s had a problem with brittle bones. The Zoloft was for her depression.”
“How long has she suffered from that?” asked Decker.
“At least since we were kids,” said Samantha.
“She also has kidney issues,” added Jules.
“But she looks so healthy,” said Jamison. “Tall and athletic and robust.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” said Jules curtly. “Anyway, Dad took good care of her. Now, I don’t know. I might have her come and live with me.”
Bogart returned a moment later. He said, “The warrant is coming in now. Let’s head to the bank.”
Samantha said, “What bank?”
“Daddy sent me the key to his safe deposit box,” said Jules.
“Why, what’s in it?”
Bogart held up the key. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”
CHAPTER
13
EMPTY.