Traffic was light for a change. Cabot made good time getting back to the office. He opened the door of Cutler, Sutter & Salinas and came to a full stop. Virginia, however, kept going, slipping past him into the reception area.
Cabot ignored her. He did not take his eyes off the young male sprawled in one of the two client chairs. The teen was transfixed by whatever he was looking at on his phone. He worked the device in a slick, smooth, single-handed manner that made Cabot feel old.
The kid had dark hair cut in the latest trendy style. He was lean and gangly in the way of a boy making the transition to early manhood. He wore running shoes, ripped denim and a gray hoodie. Cabot figured him to be about seventeen.
The stranger lowered his phone and raised his head, revealing a sharply angled profile. He looked eerily familiar. Cabot had the sensation that he was seeing a ghost in a mirror – a ghost of himself when he had been the kid’s age.
He closed the door and looked at Anson for clarification.
“Meet Xavier Kennington,” Anson said calmly. “Xavier is your uncle’s son.”
“Uh-huh,” Cabot said.
“That makes Xavier your cousin,” Anson said meaningfully.
“Uh-huh.”
Anson moved on. “Xavier, this is Ms. Virginia Troy.”
Virginia smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Xavier.”
Xavier shuffled to his feet, ducked his head and mumbled an acknowledgment of the introduction. But his eyes were locked on Cabot.
“Hi,” Xavier said to him.
Cabot closed the office door with great precision.
“Do your parents know you’re here?” he asked.
“Yeah. I texted Mom a few minutes ago.”
Cabot glanced at Anson.
“I think you and Xavier should talk,” Anson said.
“Anson is right,” Virginia added gently.
Cabot turned back to Xavier. “My office.”
It was an order, not a request. Wary but determined, Xavier trailed after him. Cabot closed the door, took off his windbreaker and hung it on the hook. Xavier stared, fascinated, at the holstered gun.
He’s just a kid, Cabot thought. What happened in the past was not his fault.
“Have a seat,” he said.
Xavier lowered himself into a chair. He clutched his phone in one hand as if it were a protective amulet.
Cabot sat down behind the desk.
“Why did you come to see me?” he asked, doing his level best to keep the anger out of the words. It wasn’t easy.
“Figured I’d warn you,” Xavier said.
“About?”
“Burleigh.”
“The lawyer for your grandfather’s estate?”
“He was your grandfather, too,” Xavier said quickly.
“Biologically.”
“Look, I don’t know what happened back when your mom and dad took off, but everyone says that Granddad was really pissed.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“I know your mom joined some kind of cult for a while after your dad was killed,” Xavier said. “I know Aunt Jacqueline died in a fire and that you went into the foster care system. But that’s all I knew until recently because no one ever talked much about you.”
“I gather that changed after the old man died.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what was going on for a while, but I knew it had something to do with Granddad’s estate and you. Then I heard my dad talking to that lawyer, Burleigh.”
“And you found out that I was mentioned in the will, is that it?”
Xavier gave a disdainful snort. For the first time he seemed to feel as if he was on more solid ground.
“You really don’t know what’s going on, do you?” he asked.
“Not yet, but I assume you’re about to enlighten me.”
“I’m not sure of all the details, but from what I overheard, I think Burleigh is planning to screw you out of whatever you’re supposed to inherit.”
“Burleigh’s the lawyer who is handling the estate,” Cabot pointed out. “That means he’s not a beneficiary. What would he get out of the deal?”
Xavier frowned while he processed that. Then he shrugged. “I dunno. Best guess is that Dad is paying him off to screw you.”
“Why would your father do that?”
“Probably because his new girlfriend wants him to get you out of the picture so she can get more for herself. Guess I forgot to mention that Dad’s divorcing Mom so that he can marry Lizzie.”
“Lizzie?”
“Her real name’s Elizabeth but Mom calls her Lizzie, mostly because she knows it irritates Dad. Lizzie is just a few years older than me.”
“Sounds like this situation is somewhat complicated.”
“Got news for you. The whole family is complicated. If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one getting screwed. Mom made the mistake of signing a prenup.”
“I see.” Cabot folded his arms on top of his desk. “I appreciate the warning, Xavier, but I have to tell you that discovering that someone wants to make sure I don’t benefit from old man Kennington’s estate does not come as the biggest surprise of the year. If it makes you feel any better, I do plan to have my own lawyer look at whatever Burleigh wants me to sign.”
“Okay. Just thought I’d tell you.” Xavier surveyed the office with intense curiosity. “You’re a real private investigator?”
“As far as I know.”
“You’re wearing a gun.”
“I’m working a case at the moment, one that involves a death that occurred under suspicious circumstances.”
“A murder case.” Xavier nodded wisely. “So that’s why you’ve got the gun. That lady out there, Ms. Troy, is she your girlfriend?”
“She’s my client,” Cabot said. He stressed the word client.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Xavier, just how and when do you plan to go home?”
“I dunno. I’ve never been to Seattle. Thought I’d stay awhile.”
“Is that right? And just where will you be staying while you’re in town?”
“I dunno. I’ll figure it out.”
The phone rang in the outer office. Cabot ignored it but he got a bad feeling about the identity of the caller.
“That’s probably Mom,” Xavier said.
There was a single knock on the door. Anson opened it without waiting for an invitation.
“Mrs. Melissa Kennington would like to speak to you,” Anson said as if the call were perfectly routine.
“Shit,” Cabot said. “What am I supposed to say?”
“Beats me,” Anson said. He closed the door.
Cabot eyed the phone. He had gone his whole life without hearing from the Kenningtons, and now they were popping up every five minutes.
He steeled himself and picked up the phone. “Cabot Sutter.”
“This is Melissa Kennington.” The voice was crisp and authoritative but it was infused with anxiety. “I understand my son is there with you.”
“Yes, he is. I believe he was just leaving.”
Xavier looked alarmed.
“He’s on his way home?” Melissa asked, urgent and hopeful.
“I’ll let you discuss it with him.”
Cabot held the phone out to Xavier, who groaned and reluctantly uncurled from the chair. He took the phone.
“I’m okay, Mom… Yeah, I know. But as long as I’m here in Seattle, I want to stay a couple of days. I can take care of myself. I’m almost eighteen. I’ve got some money and the credit card Dad gave me. Yes, I’m coming home soon, I promise. No, I’m not going to do anything stupid. Yes, sure, you can talk to him. He’s right here.”
Xavier held out the phone. “She wants to talk to you.”
Reluctantly, Cabot took the phone. “What do you want from me, Mrs. Kennington?”
“I want you to put him on the next plane home,” Melissa said.
Cabot studied the stubborn set of Xavier’s shoulders. “That is a very good idea, but I can’t force him to go home.”
“You have to do something.”
“What would you suggest?”
“I don’t know, but this is your fault. You’re the reason he’s there in Seattle.”
“You’re blaming me? I never even met Xavier until about ten minutes ago.”
“He’s heard about you for years,” Melissa said. “You’re the family mystery. Of course he’s curious about you.”
“I don’t know what you expect me to do. I can strongly suggest that he buy a ticket home but beyond that —”
“I know.” Melissa sounded defeated. “His father says I should step back and let Xavier experience the consequences of his actions. This isn’t the first time Xavier has run off. But he’s missing school and he can’t afford to do that. This is his senior year. He’s supposed to start college in the fall.”
“Like I said, there’s not much I can do from this end,” Cabot said.
“He went looking for you because he’s curious about you. No offense, but you are not exactly a good influence. My son is going to college. I don’t want him to be distracted. I’m afraid he’s developed a very unrealistic, highly romanticized impression of the sort of work you do.”
“Here’s the thing – I don’t want to be any kind of influence, good or bad. I just want the Kenningtons to go back to their long-standing policy of ignoring me.”
There was a short silence from the other end of the line. When Melissa spoke again, there was a very subdued note in her voice.
“Is it true that after your mother died, your grandfather let you go into the foster care system?” There was another pause. “I’ve heard conflicting stories.”
“It’s true.”
Melissa made a disgusted sound. “Your grandfather really was a bastard.”
“Something we can agree on at last. But you don’t have to waste any time feeling sorry for me. I got lucky in the system. That man who answered the phone a few minutes ago happens to be my dad.”
“I see. Mr. Salinas sounded very nice. Very understanding.”
“He is. I’m not.”
“Look, I’m sorry Xavier tracked you down, but we both have the same goals here. You want to send him home. I want him to come home. Maybe if you just answer some of his questions about the past and what you do for a living, that will be enough to satisfy him.”
“I don’t have an obligation to answer anyone’s questions,” Cabot said.
“I know you have no reason to give a damn about any of the adults in this family,” Melissa said, her voice sharpening again. “But I had nothing to do with what happened all those years ago and neither did my son. I hope you will remember that and treat Xavier with some kindness. His father and I are in the middle of a very nasty divorce. Xavier is not dealing with it well. Neither am I, for that matter.”
The phone went dead in Cabot’s hand. He set it down with great care and looked at Xavier.
“I understand you’ve got questions for me,” Cabot said.
Xavier flushed a dull red. “I just wanted to meet you.”
“You’ve met me. I don’t have time to answer a lot of questions. I told you, I’m working a case. Where do you plan to stay tonight?”
“I dunno.”
“You do realize that it will be next to impossible for a kid your age to check into a respectable hotel without an adult?”
That was clearly news to Xavier. But after a moment of confusion, he shrugged off the problem.
“I’ll find something,” he said. “Maybe one of the shelters.”
The vision of Xavier – a naïve kid who had grown up with money, private schools and designer clothes – spending a night in one of the city’s homeless shelters boggled the mind.
“I don’t have time for this,” Cabot said. He pushed himself up out of his chair, went around his desk and opened the door. “Anson, can you handle a houseguest tonight?”
Anson looked past him to Xavier, who bore a startling resemblance to a really stubborn deer in the headlights.
“No problem,” Anson said. “We’ll send out for pizza. You and Virginia can join us.”
“Love to,” Virginia said.
I’m doomed, Cabot thought.
Anson smiled at Virginia. “I’ve got some good news. The cleaners have finished up in your gallery. You should be able to open tomorrow. Business as usual.”
“Except that there was a murder in my back room,” Virginia said.
Anson nodded. “Except for that.”
Xavier stared at Virginia, fascinated. “Someone got murdered in your shop?”
“Long story,” Virginia said. “I’ll tell you all about it at dinner.”
“Excellent,” Xavier said.