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“How are you holding up?” Sasha asked. She uncapped her pen and opened the notebook she’d liberated from a tidy stack at the reception desk.
“I don’t know. I still can’t believe he’s really dead. When I think about breaking the news to my parents …,” she trailed off and choked back a sob. “I just hope I don’t have to tell them one of his friends killed him. Could you imagine?”
Leo seized on the opening. “Tessa called your brother complicated. What do you think she meant by that?”
Annette barked out a short, dry laugh. “You’d have to ask Tessa what she meant. But if I called Rex complicated, I’d mean that while he was smart, driven, and charming, he was also ruthless, spoiled, and selfish.”
Sasha felt her eyebrows shoot up and hurried to smooth out her expression.
Annette noticed. “I know that sounds terrible. But I have to be honest if I’m going to help you find out who killed him, don’t I?”
“Yes, and we appreciate your candor,” Sasha assured her. She jotted down the adjectives Annette had used to describe her brother.
“Were you and Rex close?” Leo asked.
“Not really. We’re only two years apart, but we never had the same interests growing up—or as adults. He always wanted to be a master of the universe or a tech genius. And I guess he achieved that goal. He was what the business press called a serial entrepreneur. He ran an incubator where he developed all sorts of businesses—everything from dating apps to medical tech companies to software makers—and then sold them. I had different priorities.”
“Such as?”
This time her smile was genuine. “I run a tea shop/used bookstore.”
The Stoddard siblings definitely had disparate tastes.
Sasha’s gaze slid across Annette’s gorgeous designer gown. “And that keeps you in Alexander McQueen?”
“Close,” Annette told her. “This is Stella McCartney. And it’s vintage—or at least second-hand. I don’t buy new. I have expensive tastes, but I also have a budget.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” She looked down at the crimson stain on the bodice. “It was. Now I’m glad I didn’t spend a fortune on it.”
“Rex was wealthy, though,” Leo observed.
It was a statement, but she answered it anyway. “Sure. Our family has money. Rex and I both have trust funds. He used part of his to seed his business, and, according to him, his investment paid off wildly. I don’t know the details. I never asked.”
“And your trust fund?”
“I make donations to causes I care about, contributions to my niece and nephew’s college funds. Last year, I tapped it to replace our aging furnace. Nothing glamorous.”
“The niece and nephew are on Brian’s side?”
“Yeah, his brother’s kids. Rex is—was—my only sibling. No kids. At least none that we know about.”
“So, who stands to inherit Rex’s estate?” Sasha asked.
Annette’s eyes popped open. “I have no idea. Our parents, maybe?”
“Not you?”
She shook her head. “Doubtful. He didn’t agree with my approach to money.”
“How so?” Leo wondered.
“I view the money our parents gave us as a gift we didn’t deserve. So when I can, I use it to make our world slightly better. Or I use it on small luxuries to make my world more beautiful—fresh flowers, stuff like that. Rex thought I was a moron. He was always trying to convince me to let him invest it for me. He thought money only exists to make more money. He was greedy. He never had enough. He always wanted more, more, more.”
She said the words matter-of-factly and without bitterness, but they drove home her point: she and Rex were polar opposites.
Sasha switched gears. “Do you know everyone in this party fairly well?”
