Shadows At Sunset - Anne Stuart [46]
“And why should I trust you?” he demanded in a fractious voice.
“You’d be a damned fool not to, after putting this little matter in my hands,” Coltrane said lazily. “If the Justice Department catches wind of it, your entire house of cards is going to come tumbling down. I doubt it would have lasted this long without your knowing who you can and can’t trust.”
Meyer was glaring at him, unconvinced. “I don’t trust anyone completely. Not even you.”
Coltrane smiled at him. “Neither do I.”
Meyer stared at him for a moment longer, then nodded. “How’s that damned mausoleum? Falling down yet?”
“It has a certain gothic charm. It would really be quite spectacular if it were fixed up as it was in its prime.”
“Can’t be done.” Meyer dismissed the notion. “Sooner or later that crazy daughter of mine will realize it’s a lost cause and abandon it. And then I’ll have the place razed.”
“Why don’t you just kick them out now?”
“I would if I could. My goddamn mother left it in trust to them. She knew I’d tear the place down, and she was as sentimental as Jilly is. They’ll cling to it as long as they can, but sooner or later they’re going to have to give in. I’ll even help them out financially when they get resettled, which I’m not obliged to do. But then, I’m a generous man where my children are concerned.” He didn’t even blink.
“Why did your mother leave the place in trust to them rather than you?” Coltrane asked, taking advantage of Meyer’s uncharacteristically chatty mood.
“You know mothers,” he said with a harsh laugh. “Bitches, all of them. We never got along. She thought I was a conscienceless son of a bitch. Which, of course, was exactly what I was.”
Coltrane didn’t react, wondering what would happen if he threw Meyer through those heavy plate glass windows. He’d probably bounce rather than go crashing through. Patience, he reminded himself, as he looked at the man who’d stolen his mother.
“You ever live there?” Coltrane asked.
“At La Casa? No way in hell. That place was a ruin for as long as it was in the family. Mother bought it while I was in college, and by the time I got back I was engaged and setting up a place of my own.”
Coltrane said nothing, letting Meyer continue with his lies.
“I had no use for decaying grandeur. Jilly gets a kick out of it, for some twisted reason. Can’t imagine why. Her mother hated it, I hated it, and it’s been nothing but an albatross. If it were up to Dean he’d give the damned place to me, and so would Rachel-Ann.” His voice softened slightly, “Rachel-Ann would do anything I ask of her. But not Jilly. She’d see me in hell before she let me take that monstrosity off her hands.” He sat up, swiveling around to stare at the cityscape. “What did you think of her?”
Coltrane didn’t move. He knew by the oddly caressing tone in his voice that Meyer wasn’t talking about Jilly, but he chose to deliberately misunderstand. “Quite the Amazon. Have you made up your mind whether you want me to sleep with her or have her killed?”
“I was talking about Rachel-Ann.” Meyer’s voice was icy.
“I thought you didn’t want me to sleep with her.”
“Don’t be an asshole, Coltrane. What did you think of my daughter? Beautiful, isn’t she? Sweet and fragile and helpless.”
Meyer sounded almost abstract as he described his eldest child, but Coltrane wasn’t fooled. He’d known all along that Rachel-Ann was the only child he cared about. He still wasn’t sure just how deep that attachment went. Or how healthy it was, for either of them.
“Gorgeous,” he said briskly. “She doesn’t look much like you.”
“She’s adopted,” Meyer said stiffly. “You knew that.”
“I forgot. For that matter, Jilly doesn’t look like you, either, though Dean does. Are you sure Jilly’s mother wasn’t playing around on you?”
“I couldn’t care less. I’m not the paternal type—I don’t really give a damn about my children.”
“Except for Rachel-Ann,” Coltrane said.
“Yes. Except for Rachel-Ann. Are you passing judgment on me, Coltrane?”
“None of my business, boss,