Chapter 6: Last Days

CHAPTER 6

Last Days

After Leo’s confession in the library, I was worried that the reality check he’d received about his father’s death would drag him into a deeper hole than he already seemed to be in.

But if there was one thing that could lift his spirits, it was the grand reveal of the completed and newly renovated kitchen. With the installation of the delayed, but well worth it, top of the line appliances, the space had been completely transformed.

“All new appliances, quartz countertops, brand new bespoke shaker cabinetry, vintage aged brass hardware, and antique, reclaimed tiling.” I touched each piece as I spoke. “Welcome to your new kitchen.” I smiled at Leo.

“It’s really something.” He gazed lovingly at the details, running his fingertips across the stunning one-of-a-kind countertop that he had scavenged from a stone yard an hour away. The veining brought out the colors in the tiling, some flecks of metallic coloring called out to the hardware, and the base ivory color went perfectly with the cabinetry paint.

“You’ve outdone yourself for sure.” Leo grinned at me. “And you too, Danny.” He turned his attention to the construction foreman, who was uncharacteristically quiet. “I can’t wait to see what the two of you do with the rest of the house—if the kitchen is any indication, I’ve got the right people for the job.”

“I’ll be back next week to work with the flooring guys,” Danny told Leo.

“Sure you won’t stay for dinner?” Leo had invited Danny to stay, as a thank you, but Danny had politely declined.

“Thank you, sir, but I’ve got to get home to my family.” The jolly contractor gave us both a brief wave before heading out.

“You must feel relieved to have a little of your space back.” I leaned over the kitchen counter, resting my chin in my palms.

“You have no idea.” Leo sighed contentedly as he began to open up the cupboards, searching for things. “But it was worth the wait.”

“What are you looking for—I tried to organize things for you, but we can move them around wherever you want.” I ducked around Leo, trying to help him.

“Danny may not be staying, but I’m making you dinner,” Leo stated.

I had figured Leo would want to cook something right away, but the thought of him cooking for me made me blush, and the flutter in my stomach returned as well. “Tell me what you need.”

“I’m making pasta from scratch and marinara sauce. Val already picked up fresh tomatoes and a few other things for me.”

“What do you need from the pantry?” I asked.

Leo rattled off a list of items, and I went about retrieving each of them, explaining my organizational system for the kitchen as I went. He nodded along as I pointed to the different sections.

“Apron?” Leo requested, as I tried to order all the items we had pulled out on the countertop.

“On the hook, behind the storage room door,” I told him. “What can I help with?” I wasn’t a great cook, but I was good at following instructions.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about what we talked about in the library last night.” Leo tied the black apron around his waist; it looked adorable on him.

“Oh?” I was surprised to hear him bring up the subject so nonchalantly.

“Can I run some theories past you? I think a fresh perspective on everything would be helpful.” He wiped down the counter with a wet rag, then went back over a second time with paper towels to dry the space before using a measuring cup to dump some flour directly onto the new quartz.

“Of course.”

“I’d like to start from the beginning—it may get a little morbid, I suppose,” he warned.

I thought maybe having this conversation while he was focused on the task at hand helped him disassociate from the fact that he was talking about his father being murdered.

“Can you give me a little more background about your father?” I asked nervously.

Leo glanced up at me after cracking his last egg over the mound of flour. “I thought Aunt Margot gossiped with you about everything,” he teased.

“She told me a little, but I’d like to hear your side—your experience,” I clarified.

“What exactly did Margot tell you?”

“That you didn’t get along with your dad growing up, and that you had a falling out after high school and spent years away, building your own consulting business without his help,” I recounted. “But then, when he got sick, Margot said she convinced you to come back and reconcile with him. So you spent the last year with him—dropped everything to take care of him.” I watched Leo mixing together the eggs and flour on the counter. “That was a very selfless thing to do…”

Leo’s gaze met mine for a brief moment, but then returned to his task. “Did she tell you why we fell out?”

“No.”

“He told me he’d changed his will to disinherit me, that he didn’t think I was grateful for everything he’d done for me growing up. I didn’t realize being an absent parent had taken so much from him.” Leo chuckled to himself.

“At the time, I was furious. I grew up thinking that I’d at least have a head start, with college being paid for, but Margot was the one kind enough to pick up the tab. I’m still not quite sure what I did growing up to make him hate me so much.” Leo kneaded the dough roughly, as if taking out his aggression from his childhood on the ball of pasta.

“Margot said it was because of your mom…” I had debated revealing more, but if Leo really was clueless as to the reason, perhaps knowing would help.

Leo stopped abruptly and looked at me, his brow knit. “What about her?”

“She said you reminded him too much of her, that he was devastated to be around you.”

Leo shook his head. “Of course I understand he never recovered after losing her, but to take it out on a child, that is something I will never understand.” He resumed his kneading.

“But you did reconcile with your dad…didn’t you talk about why you left…get some kind of closure about any of it?” I asked.

Leo chuckled. “Sometimes I forget you never met him. My dad never looked back. We never talked about what happened. He never apologized. But I knew him well enough not to expect anything. I came home just as much for him as I did for myself. Margot was right that I’d regret it if I didn’t. I didn’t expect that as an adult, as someone who made something from practically nothing, without his help, that I had managed to earn a shred of respect from the old man.”

“Did you get any closure before he passed?” I asked out of pure curiosity.

“Sure I did,” Leo said wryly. “My dad was never going to change; he expected everyone around him to adapt instead. So I adapted. But once I let go of the notion that he would suddenly become this loving father figure that I had wanted growing up, I allowed myself to start a completely fresh relationship with him. It wasn’t one of father and son, but one of simple mutual respect.” Leo formed the dough into a round ball.

“He respected that I made it without his help and came back to take care of him. And I respected him for standing his ground and not compromising, even when he was in a very vulnerable state.” Leo tucked a piece of plastic wrap around the dough ball. “We’ll work on the marinara sauce while that rests, but first I need to clean up this mess.” He gestured to the flour coating the counter and his apron.

“I can clean up,” I offered, hopping off the barstool across the counter from Leo. “You start prepping your sauce ingredients.”

“Thanks.” Leo wiped his hands on his apron and started to gather everything on a clean spot on the counter next to me.

“That must have been difficult, when you were young, to process being cut out of his will, trying to land on your feet. You must have felt alone.” I was selfishly using Leo’s openness to try to glean more information about his past. I wanted to know him on a deeper level.

“I was young and stupid, so yeah, I was angry for a long time, but I managed to channel that anger into motivation to succeed in school and business. I wanted to prove him wrong at first, but then after a while, and a lot of therapy, I realized that it was more important to prove to myself that I could manage on my own.

“I’d been doing it my whole life anyway, but to have something tangible, like a degree from an Ivy-league and a lucrative business, that felt more real,” Leo admitted. “The day I got to pay Margot back for my tuition and William back for his initial startup investment, those were good days.” He smiled to himself.

“You’re very resilient,” I observed.

Leo gave me a small smile. “Thanks,” he replied bashfully.

“So you’d been away for years—”

“Over a decade,” Leo corrected me.

“And then Margot gets in touch…” I inferred.

“We hadn’t talked in years—I think my dad found out she paid for my college, and it caused some issues between the two of them, so she’d kept her distance.” Leo set a large pot of water on the stove to boil, making sure to pour salt in and covering it before turning on the burner.

“That must have hurt—to have her kind of walk away like that. Was William your only ally?” I asked.

“Margot and her ex-husband fought like cats and dogs; they had a prenup, so I think she knew if they divorced—which they did a few years ago—then my father would be her only recourse. And my dad never found out about Uncle William’s investment—it was from an angel investor. I only found out it was William after Dad died, although I certainly suspected it was him,” Leo told me. “My father could be vindictive—he would have cut William out of the business and gone scorched earth if he found out.”

“How does someone so vicious manage to be so successful?”

Leo laughed. “He came from money, and his family had a lot of connections—nobody could turn him down. I think he was softer when he was with my mom, but losing her made him hard. But I’m sure the shark was always inside him.” Leo used a paring knife to slice an “X” at the bottom of each tomato. “It’ll be easier to peel them,” he explained without me having to ask.

“What did Margot tell you to convince you to come back home? What made you want to leave everything behind?” I took back my seat at the counter, watching Leo finish up with the tomatoes and set them next to the pot of water, which wasn’t quite boiling yet.

He leaned against the counter, facing me, looking a little apprehensive. “I’m sure there was a part of me that wanted to see if he’d changed—if my success would make him love me—make him proud of me…” Leo trailed off, formulating how to say what came next. “But I think I also kind of wanted a fresh start, and it was a convenient excuse.” He sighed. “Not so selfless…”

“It’s not like you had anyone else looking out for you,” I defended him. “What were you running away from?” I read between the lines.

Leo gave a humorless laugh, having been caught. “I was a bit bored with my work—I had a string of asshole startup CEOs, and was kind of over it at the time. And there was other stuff—a bad break up… I just needed an out.”

I wanted to ask him more about the break up and “other stuff” but decided not to push my luck since he had already been so open about everything else. “Were you worried about what kind of reception you’d get?” I asked instead.

Leo shrugged. “I mean, Dad immediately accused me of only coming back to be reinstated in the will.”

“And what did you say to that?” I laughed.

“I told him I wasn’t expecting him to do anything of the sort, but that I wanted to try to get to know him if he really was short on time. I had my own money; I didn’t need his. That shut him up real quick—I don’t think he was anticipating it. Rendering him speechless for once was a nice surprise.”

Leo seemed to recall the memory fondly, but it hurt my heart to think that his own father assumed Leo had only ever been interested in his money. But then again, money can easily corrupt people. Perhaps George West was just shrewd after a lifetime of feeling taken advantage of? Or maybe he was an asshole. He could have been both.

“Once he realized I planned on sticking around for a while, he opened up a little bit. Enough for me to realize it was probably a good thing that I had kept my distance, but I’d wanted to know him my whole life, and our time was limited, so I focused on making sure that he left this world with dignity. I thought I’d done that, but now I’m not so sure.” Leo gently dropped the scored tomatoes into the boiling water.

“What kind of cancer was it?”

“Pancreatic—absolutely cruel, and there’s barely any chance of survival. From the moment he was diagnosed, he knew…” Leo rinsed the plastic bowl and filled it half full with ice, then more water, before grabbing a second bowl from a lower cabinet.

“So you were here, helping him—”

“I mostly kept him company; he was pretty weak from the chemo, before he stopped treatment, and was just bored.”

“Was Margot here a lot?” I assumed she would have been, given how hard she’d told me she’d fought to get Leo back home…although Leo’s account didn’t sound like it had taken much convincing. But every story has two sides, and the truth usually lies somewhere in the middle.

“She had a hard time seeing Dad like that. I think he’d always been her protector growing up, and she couldn’t deal with all of it. And she’d only gotten divorced a couple years prior and was still rebuilding from that—it really shook her. Despite how much she fought with Uncle Ted, I don’t think she ever thought he’d actually trade her in for a younger model, but she was wrong,” Leo admitted.

“Who else was around at the time?” I was trying to piece together who would have had access to George West, and motive enough to smother him.

“Val and Carl have worked for the family for decades—Val was here every day back then; after Dad died, she asked if she could reduce her hours to one day a week because she wanted to take care of her grandkids. And Uncle William would be here more often than not—Dad insisted on staying up to date with all his business ventures and hated being on calls nonstop, so he preferred getting debriefed in person by William.”

“Were you the only person taking care of your dad?” I couldn’t picture Leo doing all the hard stuff that came with end-of-life care.

“We had two nurses. Julie was the main nurse, and Becky worked weekends and was backup for Julie if she was out. They were technically on call 24/7, but they’d go home at night, and I’d call them to come back if something came up that was beyond my capabilities. I only had to call them a couple times though—Dad’s meds left him so tired, he slept through a lot of the day and night.”

“What were they like with him?” I wanted to get a better sense of the relationship George had with his caregivers.

“Becky was timid but tough—she didn’t say much, just did her work and went home. Julie was here much more often, and she had an antagonistic but playful rapport with Dad. He didn’t like that he had to rely on her so much, and she didn’t like that he made things difficult. But I think they both felt bad for each other in a weird way…they could commiserate.” Leo used a slotted spoon to pull the tomatoes out of the boiling water and submerge them in the ice bath he’d created.

“What do you remember about the last day?” I asked softly.

Leo blew out a large breath. “It was such a blur…” He struggled to wade through specific memories while he began to peel the skin from the tomatoes.

“The morning was typical. I brought Dad coffee and helped him with his crossword puzzle. Uncle William arrived mid-morning, and I left them alone to go over their business stuff—they never asked me to leave, but I felt awkward staying. It was nice outside that day, so I ate lunch on the patio and read for a while—until Julie came out and said that she’d found Dad and that he was unresponsive.” Leo paused, leaning the edge of his palms against the counter, trying not to get the tomato juice everywhere.

“It’s okay, take your time,” I encouraged him when he didn’t continue for a moment.

“He had a DNR order in place—so once he was gone—he was gone,” Leo said, staring at the counter. “I was just kind of in shock. I didn’t really get to say goodbye—not like a proper goodbye. Julie took care of everything. She declared the death and arranged for transportation of his body. She was technically a hospice nurse, so she knew what to do, I guess. Someone called William and Margot—probably Julie—and they took over the funeral planning. I was like a zombie for days. I didn’t cry. I didn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t feel…anything.”

“Is that when the insomnia started?” I wondered aloud.

“No, it started as soon as I got back here. I didn’t realize how much suppressed trauma I had from growing up in this house, and I think I was worried something would happen to him at night. The anxiety just kept me up, and then after he was gone…I don’t know…maybe it’s just habit at this point. Sometimes I still think I can hear his heart monitor at night.” Leo looked up at me, his face pale. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

“No—you’re still grieving—there’s no right way to do it.” I reached across the counter and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back before releasing me to return to his cooking prep.

“You want to know the funniest part…?” Leo’s sarcasm was evident.

I waited for him to continue.

“He’d never disinherited me.” Leo laughed to himself. “His lawyer said the last time he’d changed his will was when my mom died. He left it all to me, with the stipulation that I’d make sure Margot was taken care of, and William became majority partner in all of their shared businesses, going from 49% stakeholder to 51%. That’s it.”

“Why do you think he told you he cut you out?”

“Maybe a test?” Leo guessed. “I was a kid—but I wouldn’t put it past him. I’m sure I wasn’t the best son growing up, but he was all I had left. I felt so betrayed when I left for college, and it turns out it had all been a joke to him.”

“What did Margot say?”

Leo shook his head. “She was just as shocked as I was—couldn’t believe he would do something like that to his own son. And it’s not like he’d changed his mind when I came back to care for him—he’d never touched the thing.”

Having strained the tomato chunks through a sieve to keep the seeds from the pulp, Leo set the bowl aside and began to chop some cloves of garlic on a cutting board.

“Earlier, you said you had some theories. Who do you think did it?” I inquired bluntly.

“It’s not that simple. I think plenty of people over the years would have wanted to kill the old man, but whoever did it would have needed not just a motive, but also means and access.” Leo’s tone was methodical—he was disassociating again.

“Suffocating someone with a pillow, even if they are completely incapacitated, can take a good five minutes. This wasn’t a crime of opportunity—it was premeditated, and it was personal. To stand there for five minutes and smother him…” Leo dropped his knife on the cutting board, the thoughts becoming too intrusive for him to focus on such a delicate and dangerous task at the same time.

“So let’s run through your list of suspects,” I proposed. “I suppose we can rule you out, because if you had done it, you never would have proceeded with all the private autopsies—”

“Or gone to the police,” Leo added.

“You went to the police?” I was surprised he was only mentioning it now.

“That’s where I was for most of the day yesterday. They didn’t take too kindly to me showing up and trying to reopen what they’d ruled an open and closed case—an easy natural death. A couple of the pathologists did warn me, to be fair.” Leo resumed mincing the garlic.

“Warned you about what?”

“Said the police didn’t like it when civilians second-guessed their work. The last one also said that the evidence she discovered looks like suffocation when it’s all put together, but individually, she understood why they gave the original cause of death.” Leo scraped the garlic into a pan, poured a fair amount of expensive-looking olive oil in after it, and then turned the burner back on.

“She said his eyes were bloodshot, which is typical of suffocation, but his meds made his eyes bloodshot too—and everyone knew that; he hated it and complained about it to anyone who visited. His appearance was important to him—that’s why he refused to go into the office or do video calls at the end.

“The first pathologist said they only found the fibers in his mouth because they were looking for them, the second also found what they call petechial hemorrhages on his lungs—the coroner didn’t open him up because they had no reason to before, so they wouldn’t have seen it. There were no signs of struggle, which meant he was likely sedated, but that wasn’t unusual for him. But all of those things added up. I just wish the police would have listened to me.” Leo sighed.

“What exactly did they say?” I ventured.

“That they’d look into it.” Leo rolled his eyes. “They had some desk jockey take my information. I could tell they won’t take it seriously. If I don’t figure this out myself, his killer will remain free.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you,” I promised him.

Leo gave a gentle nod of appreciation.

“Is that why the solarium is off-limits?” I asked, suddenly realizing, at the thought of the police, that maybe it wasn’t grief alone that kept that door locked.

“Yeah, but a fat lot of good that did.” He grimaced. “I still have no idea how it got open that day, but since it wasn’t you, I have to assume that the crime scene has been contaminated.”

“You think the killer came back?” I asked, brows raised. “Why?”

“No idea.” Leo shrugged. “Maybe if we can figure it out, it will give us a clue as to who they are.”

“So William was the last visitor, and then Nurse Julie found him,” I repeated. “Could someone have snuck into the solarium from outside? I know you’ve got the ancient security system, but I haven’t seen any cameras on the property.”

“I suppose someone could have. We didn’t keep the solarium locked during the day; if it was nice out, like that day, Dad liked the fresh air.” Leo began adding all sorts of spices and bits to the pan with the olive oil and garlic, using a flat wooden spoon to move everything around to keep it from burning.

“But like you said, this was too personal, and would have taken too long. It’s unlikely to be an outsider—or if it was, they would have been assisted by someone inside.”

“Exactly.” Leo slowly began to add the tomato pulp into the pan. “I’ll look into a security system though, now that you mention it.”

“So who does that leave us with? Where was everyone that day, other than William and the nurse?” I returned to our list of suspects.

“Margot was a few towns over, helping with some charity event.” Leo continued to stir the sauce, adding more spices every now and then.

“But she was staying in the back cottage at the time?” I clarified.

“Yes; she’s been living there for at least three years.”

“And what about motive?”

“I mean, you could argue money for everyone on our short list.” Leo frowned. “But she’s got a black AmEx without a limit that my father paid off every month without asking questions, and I do the same. She wants for nothing.”

“Do you know where William was before and after his visit?” I asked.

“Probably the office; I don’t know if they’d have records—maybe GPS if his phone was tracking his location as he drove?” Leo suggested.

I was impressed with Leo; he’d clearly given this a lot of thought.

“He majorly benefited from your father’s will—getting to take over the businesses.” I liked William, but he had both means and motive. “And you said it yourself that he was here all the time—he’d know everyone’s habits and schedules. He was the last person to—”

“I know!” Leo snapped quietly. “I just—in my gut, I don’t think he did it. He’s been more of a father to me than my actual father. I just don’t think he has it in him. And my dad was dying anyway—why the rush? They didn’t have any major deals or issues at the companies around the time Dad died. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

I put my hands up defensively. “We’re just talking through the facts. I’m not accusing anyone.”

“Sorry…” Leo exhaled.

“It’s okay,” I consoled him. “This is…a lot.”

Leo covered the simmering saucepan with a lid, then returned to the counter, facing me. “Who’s next?” he said, ready to continue.

“You mentioned Val and Carl. How long have they worked for your family?”

“Val’s had to have been here for over thirty years; she practically raised me. I know she was here before my parents were married. Like I said, she was full-time up until Dad died. And for as much of an asshole as he could be, he was actually pretty generous with his staff: both Val and Carl.”

“Generous how?” I was curious.

Leo pulled the pasta dough from the plastic wrap and began to flatten it with a rolling pin after sprinkling some flour on the counter. “Gave them whatever time off they needed for family stuff and holidays, always gave large holiday bonuses. Growing up, I was always jealous because I thought he was nicer to them than he was to me.

“I don’t see a motive for either of them, regardless of access…unless there were some deep-seated feelings of resentment built up over the years or something?” Leo seemed to be grasping at straws. “There was just a camaraderie he had with both of them; they’re both hardworking, discreet, and loyal—that’s all my dad ever wanted from them.”

“We can’t exactly rule them out without talking to them. But I agree, they seem less likely.”

“So who does that leave?” Leo asked, as he started cutting the flattened dough into long strips, winding every couple strips together into a small twisted ball, then moving on to the next.

“The nurses.”

“Right.” Leo contemplated them for a few moments. “I suppose they had just as much access as me. Becky, the backup nurse, I’d put her on the bottom of the list with Val and Carl because she wasn’t around as much, and wasn’t there that day, that I know of. But I suppose we’ll have to confirm with her to rule her out as well.”

I watched Leo’s eyes darting back and forth, not focusing on the pasta in front of him, but rather, trying to review what he knew of the other nurse.

“I have no idea why Julie would have done it.” Leo sounded perplexed. “I knew her a little less than a year; she started right before I came home, when Dad was placed in palliative care here.”

I could sense there was something Leo was holding back. “What is it?”

Leo’s shoulders slumped. “She was here for a year, and she took care of him almost every day, and I feel like I don’t know anything about her—I never bothered to ask.”

He felt guilty.

“I think that was understandable, considering everything that was going on.”

“I guess—I just…” Leo paused. “You’re right.”

“William and Julie are still at the top of the list for me,” I decided. “Do you have any contact information for Julie?”

“I’m not sure; I’ll have to check.”

“What do you want to do about your uncle?” I asked gently.

“Nothing yet,” Leo said quickly. “I want to talk to Julie first.”

I nodded in understanding.

“I don’t think I can talk about this anymore tonight.” Leo’s face was drawn.

“Okay.” I smiled softly.

We didn’t say much else while Leo finished making dinner. The joy he’d felt at using his new kitchen for the first time seemed to have evaporated. But he appeared more resolute than he had at the beginning of the evening.

He had a mission now.

And I had the best bowl of pasta I’d ever eaten in my entire life…which I made the mistake of letting Leo know.

His ego had never been so out of control.