“Most of the company goes to me,” he said, instantly aware of just how damning that was to say. “Jessica—my sister—is to be given a smaller stake, and a sizeable cash settlement. And Neil, my brother-in-law, is looked after as well.”
“Did your brother-in-law and father get along?” Mr. Ashe continued.
“Like two peas in a pod. Neil was the son my father probably wished he had. Business driven. Loyal,” Beau replied, stifling down the hint of envy that twisted. Frank loved Neil. Loved him the way Beau could have only wished of his father. “I can’t imagine he would have bit the hand that feeds him.”
“Someone killed your father with a gun you owned,” Mr. Ashe said, looking down over the list, then back to Beau. “Was it public knowledge you had a pistol?”
Beau shook his head. “I bought it at an auction on a whim. I’ve never even fired the thing.”
“Who knew you had it?”
“The family of course,” he said, wracking his memory. “Probably half the businessmen on that list. They were at the same event.”
Beau continued with the interview, giving the detective as much information as he could about his circumstances, when Mrs. Hayes returned.
“Excuse me,” she said, looking from Beau to his aunt and uncle. “But the paper’s just come. I think you might want to see it.”
Archie rose and took the paper, pausing to read the headline. Archie was a hearty and hale man, but he visibly blanched. Aunt Vee went to his side, and her sharp gasp brought Beau to his feet. In a flash he crossed the room and took the folded broadsheet from his uncle.
Shocking Murder of New Brunswick Lumber King
Murder Weapon Found, Suspect at Large
Beau skimmed the story: Frank da Silva was found dead from a single shot to his heart in his study. The murder weapon was in the bushes on the grounds.
And the suspect? Right above the fold, was Beau’s face.
It wasn’t the first time Beau had been on the front page of the paper. As the only son of one of New Brunswick’s most powerful families, he’d landed there for any number of reasons, and not all of them were moments his father was proud of. But even his most embarrassing moment paled compared to this.
“It wasn’t me,” Beau said again, handing the paper to Dominic. “Frank and I had an argument—and it was a good one. I packed my bags and took the first boat I could out of Saint John Harbour heading across the bay. I got a train from Windsor the next day and landed in Halifax. I haven’t been home for two days.”
“Did anyone else know where you were going?”
Beau shook his head. “I’ve got some property outside the city. I’d recently been offered a deal for it, and it gave me an excuse to get out of town.”
“We didn’t even know he was coming until he arrived at our front door,” Aunt Vee said.
“Well, it seems I have my work cut out for me,” Dominic said. “I have a contact at the Chronicle. I’ll see what he knows about this.”
“And what do I do in the meantime?” Beau asked.
“Stay out of sight,” he said.
Aunt Veronica sniffed, sitting back down with a glass of something notably stronger than tea in her hand.
“We were at MacAskill’s this morning. It was full of people. No doubt someone will recognize him from that image. Why don’t you go to Europe, Beau?” she asked. “Just until Mr. Ashe can sort things out for you.”
“Aunt Vee,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve got to prove my innocence and start running the company so everything Frank built doesn’t run into the ground. I can’t do that from across the ocean.”
Silver Lumber was Frank da Silva’s legacy. Beau had been groomed to run the business since his father had first discovered Beau’s gift for coaxing the best deal out supplies and getting the best price for their goods. It was a talent Beau had honed to a fine point and he’d used to great effect over the years. It had not only helped the company’s ledgers, but his own personal fortune as well.
Still, it had never seemed enough. He’d spent a lifetime chasing Frank’s good favour, waiting for that moment when his father would clap him on the shoulder and tell him how proud he was of him. He’d never received it. Now he never would.
At least his proclamation that he was staying was met with his aunt’s approval.
“I appreciate that,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “But that handsome face of yours is probably on every newspaper from here to New York and Toronto. They will have you in irons and a rope around your neck if you’re not careful.”
His shirt collar had suddenly become a little tighter than it had a moment ago, but Beau resisted the urge to loosen it. He’d been in tight spots before—but this was something else entirely.
