Page 80 of Hello, Summer
“My goodness,” G’mama said. She reached into a cabinet and brought out a blue graniteware stockpot, then dumped in the strawberries and the sugar.
“Symmes’s people were not wealthy. I mean, his stepfather was a manager at the plant, but they were middle class at best. How did he get so rich?”
Winnie snorted. “Blood money. He made all that money off legal fees from the railroad after they poisoned all of us. How much money do you think he got paid?”
“But that was so long ago,” Lorraine said. “He’s been in Congress all these years. I don’t think congressmen are allowed to make money outside of speaking fees and things like that. So he only had his salary, right?”
“Which was about 174,000 dollars a year,” Conley added.
“The rich get richer,” Winnie put in. “He probably got stock tips every time he went to dinner with those Washington lobbyists.”
“I found out he deeded a quail-hunting plantation with a farmhouse and eight hundred acres of land to his ex-wife a week before he died.”
“Toddie? He just up and gave her that farm? Oak Springs, over inBronson County?” Lorraine had been cutting up a lemon. She put her paring knife on the cutting board. “That doesn’t sound like the Symmes Robinette I know. The man was so tight his shoes squeaked when he walked. He wouldn’t even buy an ad in theBeaconto congratulate the high school graduating class for the special section we did every May. And I know Toddie used to sew the children’s clothes—and hers too—because he didn’t see any need for them to have store-bought when she could make them so much cheaper.”
“Apparently, he had a change of heart. According to the Bronson County tax assessor’s office, that was a gift worth two million. And he didn’t stop there. He also deeded over his old house, around the block from your house, G’mama, to Charlie around the same time. The place was worth over half a million.”
Winnie turned on the burner under the pot of strawberries and added water, picking up a wooden spoon to stir. “A lot of good all that money does him now,” she said with a glint of malice in her eye. “Like my mamaw always said, you don’t ever see a Brink’s truck in a funeral procession.”
“No,” Lorraine said thoughtfully, taking the spoon out of the housekeeper’s hand. “But now Vanessa Robinette is a very wealthy widow. And since she’s almost twenty years younger than Symmes, she’ll have plenty of time to spend all that loot he left behind. She knows how to spend it too. I’ve never seen her dressed in anything but the latest designer fashions, and I know for a fact that she gets a new Mercedes every other year.”
“G’mama!” Conley said, feigning shock. “I can’t believe you just said something that catty.”
“Well…” Lorraine had the grace to look a little ashamed. “Call me a narrow-minded, judgmental old biddy, but I guess I never did forgive her for sleeping with another woman’s husband. It sticks in my craw. It really does.”
28
As soon as Conley entered theBeacon’s outer office, Lillian King was at her side. “Heads up. You’ve got a visitor waiting to see you in Grayson’s office.”
“Who is it?”
“She just showed up here five minutes ago, demanding to see the manager. I don’t know her name, but she looks rich. And she’s definitely pissed about something.”
“Conley?” Grayson stuck her head out of her office door. “Need to see you.”
The visitor was seated on one end of the sofa in Grayson’s office. She was slender, dressed in black slacks and a sleeveless V-necked black top that showed off tanned, well-toned arms. She’d gone redhead since the last time Conley had seen her.
She’d had some work done too, Conley thought. The nose was shorter, the chin line sleeker, the lips were much plumper, but the changes were subtle. And expensive. The only jewelry she wore was a platinum wedding band and an enormous diamond solitaire engagement ring.
Grayson was clearly flustered. “Conley, you remember Vanessa Robinette, right?”
“Of course,” Conley said.
“Ladies, I’m going to have to leave you to chat, because I have a meeting to get to,” Grayson said. And then she fled the office as though pursued by a pack of rabid dogs.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Robinette,” Conley said, seating herself on the other end of the sofa. “But I’m actually glad you dropped by, because I was going to call you today. I’m working on a story about your husband’s death—”
“So my son tells me,” Vanessa said. “He said you ambushed him at the law firm and that you’ve been asking a lot of intrusive and embarrassing questions around town. I thought I’d just drop by today and get some things straight.”
“Intrusive?” Conley blinked. “The questions I was asking were pretty straightforward.”
“Hounding Charlie about the cause of his father’s death? Dear God! We haven’t even buried Symmes yet. Don’t you people have any sense of decency?”
“As I said, you and your family have my condolences. But your husband was a highly visible public figure in this community. And his death, and the circumstances surrounding it, are news. I merely asked Charlie if the medical examiner had determined the cause of death.”
“He burned to death in his car!” Vanessa snapped. “The sheriff over in Bronson tells me you were a witness to the accident. What part of this don’t you understand?”
“As you said, I was there. I didn’t witness the accident, but I must have arrived shortly afterward. So I don’t understand a one-car accident at three in the morning on a clear, cloudless night,” Conley said quietly.
