Lowcountry Boneyard by Susan M. Boyer Page B

buttered my question and slid it in with a smile. “So, you have trust funds set up for each of the grandchildren, and the children as well, I expect?”
    The four siblings stilled and looked at their mother. Mrs. Bounetheau pressed her lips together.
    Before she could order me out, I said, “If you prefer, I could speak to Mr. Bounetheau. I suppose it’s better to ask him about financial matters, anyway.” My statement hung suspended in the air. It seemed everyone in the room had stopped breathing.
    In a regal tone, Mrs. Bounetheau said, “Do not bother Mr. Bounetheau with your outlandish ideas. He has no time for this nonsense. If nothing else will satisfy you—and I assure you, it has no relevance whatsoever—Mr. Bounetheau and I have established a family trust, which owns all of our holdings. Professionals manage it all, of course. There are separate trusts for each child and grandchild, but should tragedy befall any of them, their assets would revert to the family trust. When Mr. Bounetheau and I have both passed on, after charitable bequests, the family trust will be split equally between our children. Are you quite satisfied?” Mrs. Bounetheau was the only person I’d ever met who shot more lethal death rays with her eyes than my sister, Merry.
    “Quite,” I said, reflecting on just how far from satisfied I was. “Mrs. Heyward, what becomes of your and your husband’s estate should Kent be unavailable to inherit?”
    She took a moment to draw herself together. “Everything is divided between several charities.”
    I kept my voice low and gentle.
    “I asked your husband this, but if you don’t mind, I wonder if anything has occurred to you that may have been bothering Kent before she disappeared?”
    Mrs. Heyward looked over my right shoulder for a moment, then squared her eyes to mine, seeming to rally. “She and Matt were having problems.”
    I felt my face scrunch up. “I thought they were getting ready to move in together?”
    “What?” Abigail Bounetheau cast an accusing glare at Virginia.
    Virginia Heyward kept her eyes on mine, as if I were her lifeline. “That was their plan. I don’t think that had changed. Kent would have married him, I think. Except he wasn’t ready to make that commitment. That was the source of the friction between them.”
    “ Virginia .” Abigail spoke sharply, as she would to a disobedient child, which I suppose is how she saw her, but Virginia Heyward was fifty-three years old. “Why on earth did you not tell me about this?”
    Slowly, Virginia turned her head towards her mother. She was looking away from me, so I couldn’t read the message she was sending. For a split second, I would have sworn I saw fear in Abigail’s eyes. Then her face went completely expressionless. Damnation . Where was Colleen? I seriously needed a peek into a few of these gentrified heads.
    Virginia looked back at me. She took several deep breaths, swallowed hard.  “Forgive me for not meeting with you yesterday. I should have been there. For Kent. I’m holding on as tight as I can to the idea that she has run away. She’ll call any day, I tell myself. But I know that isn’t right. Colton is right. We need your help, Miss Talbot. Thank you.”
    Abigail brought a hand to her temple and remained quiet.
    Maybe Virginia wasn’t on drugs. Seemed like that would be harder to rally through than emotional distress. You can’t turn drugged on and off that fast.
    “Of course,” I said. “You have my word. I’ll do everything I possibly can. Did you mention this to the police? That Kent and Matt were having problems?”
    “No,” Virginia said. “At first it seemed so…prejudicial. Colton was giving them all sorts of ideas, pointing the finger at Matt. I didn’t want to make more trouble for him. I really don’t think he’d hurt Kent.”
    “Did your husband know Matt and Kent had been quarreling?” I asked.
    “No, that’s not the kind of thing she would confide in him. I