The Secret Keeper by Dorien Grey

Author:Dorien Grey [Grey, Dorien]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2016-12-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Finding no messages on my office machine Wednesday morning, I tried to concentrate on reading the newspaper and doing the crossword puzzle in order not to start calling the Bements too early. After about fifteen minutes, I gave up and reached for the list Mel had given me, and the phone.

I’d left a message on Alan’s machine and gotten no response, so tried him first. The phone was answered, “Bement residence,” by a woman, and I wasn’t sure if it was his wife or a maid. When I identified myself, mentioned I had left a message earlier, and asked if he was in, I was informed he had gotten my message (with no further explanation), was not in at the moment, and she did not know when he would return.

I left my number again and ramped up my earlier message, saying I needed to speak to him regarding his grandfather’s death. Though I didn’t say so, I determined that, if he didn’t respond, I’d keep after him until he did.

I next tried Stuart, and I dialed his number without much hope of success. His machine did not kick in after four rings, and I was just about to hang up when I heard the receiver being picked up, followed by a rather groggy-sounding “Yes?”

If Stuart Bement were, in fact, gay it could have been a trick answering the phone for him, but I made a leap of faith.

“Mr. Bement, this is Dick Hardesty calling again. I left a message on your machine—”

“Yes, I know,” he interrupted, “but I’ve been far too busy to get back to you. Do you always call this early?”

Early? It was nine thirty in the morning! In my world, that isn’t considered early.

“Sorry if I woke you, but I did want to talk to you about your grandfather’s death.”

“So you mentioned. But I have no idea why you might want to talk to me. There’s nothing I can tell you. What is it, exactly, you’re investigating?”

“The possibility his death was not a suicide.”

“Ah, yes. Mel. The fair-haired apple of my grandfather’s eye. Mel is as delusional as his mother.”

I let that one pass and moved on.

“I gather you weren’t particularly close to your grandfather?”

“You might say that. He was a miserly old fool who did his best to destroy our entire family and begrudged any display of entrepreneurial talent. His despicable treatment of my grandmother was inexcusable. I could tell you stories…”

I’m sure you could, I thought. But before he could get started, I interrupted with “I understood he was quite generous with you and your brothers.”

His laugh was more of a snort, and had no humor in it.

“Generous? He had all the money in the world, yet we had to beg for every crumb he grudgingly tossed our way. I mean, we carry the Bement name. We have obligations.”

From the way he was talking, I got a mental image of a windswept hovel in a snowy forest, surrounded by wolves, with a young Stuart

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