apartment, the door locking shut behind him, he realized that if he was late for this meeting, it very well might cost him his life.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The sun went behind a cloud and a shadow stretched across Manhattan, leaving Louis Ryan’s face gray in its presence.
“I want to talk to you about your mother’s death.”
Michael straightened in his chair. They were in his father’s office. Louis was seated behind his desk; Michael in front of it. He thought Louis had asked him here to discuss Leana Redman and the party he had been sent to last night, not his mother.
“Why?”
“There are things you don’t know.”
“What things?”
“A lot of things.” Louis turned in his chair. “But before I begin, I want you to know I realize you should have been told this years ago, when you were young enough to understand it. Maybe, if you knew what I’ve gone through over the past thirty-one years, we could have been closer—as a father and son should be.”
He made an effort to smile but failed, his eyes belying the grief that still lingered within him. “I would have liked that.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. That was news to him.
“Do you remember what happened when your mother passed away?”
“She was in a car accident.”
Louis stepped to the far right wall of windows, where he watched workers remove the red ribbon from the center of The Redman International Building. “It wasn’t an accident. Your mother was murdered and what George Redman did to her was brutal.”
Michael couldn’t have heard him right. The sudden roaring in his ears dulled his father’s words, making it difficult for him to hear everything Louis was saying.
“…George and I were friends at Harvard….”
“…my partner in a development called Pine Gardens….”
“…Yes, I admit I lied in court. I even admit I used George. But I grew up poor. George had all the money in the world. The only reason I asked him to be my partner was because I thought we’d need his father to cosign a loan for us. When I learned I could buy Pine Gardens on my own, I did, and so he sued me….”
Michael shut his eyes. This isn’t happening.
“For years George tried to get his share of Pine Gardens. For years, he tried to prove we had a partnership. I refused to let him have any of it.” He paused. “That decision cost your mother her life.”
Michael looked up at his father, his concentration intense.
“Your mother was murdered just two days after Redman lost his final appeal in court. It was late and it was snowing. She was returning home from a friend’s house when George blew out her tires with a shotgun. Your mother lost control of the car, skidded in the snow and tumbled over the bridge that led to our house. It was a seventy foot drop. She didn’t have a chance….”
Michael looked at his father for some sign of the lie he was sure he was telling, but there was none. It was obvious he was telling the truth. For Michael, it was as if someone had shot him.
“I was never able to prove it,” Louis said. “But I know it was him. George Redman killed my wife—your mother. The moment I learned her tires were flattened by a shotgun, I knew it was Redman who pulled the trigger.”
“How could you know that?”
“Besides having the perfect motive—wanting revenge against me—George Redman is an excellent marksman. Once, when we were in college, he took me skeet shooting on his father’s yacht. Even with the rolling of the waves, George rarely missed. But George is smart. He got rid of whatever gun he used and made certain he had an alibi. When the police questioned him, he told them he was with Judge William Cranston’s daughter, Elizabeth Cranston, now Elizabeth Redman, during the night of the shooting.
“I don’t know how he did it, but he got Elizabeth to lie for him. Because when
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The sun went behind a cloud and a shadow stretched across Manhattan, leaving Louis Ryan’s face gray in its presence.
“I want to talk to you about your mother’s death.”
Michael straightened in his chair. They were in his father’s office. Louis was seated behind his desk; Michael in front of it. He thought Louis had asked him here to discuss Leana Redman and the party he had been sent to last night, not his mother.
“Why?”
“There are things you don’t know.”
“What things?”
“A lot of things.” Louis turned in his chair. “But before I begin, I want you to know I realize you should have been told this years ago, when you were young enough to understand it. Maybe, if you knew what I’ve gone through over the past thirty-one years, we could have been closer—as a father and son should be.”
He made an effort to smile but failed, his eyes belying the grief that still lingered within him. “I would have liked that.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. That was news to him.
“Do you remember what happened when your mother passed away?”
“She was in a car accident.”
Louis stepped to the far right wall of windows, where he watched workers remove the red ribbon from the center of The Redman International Building. “It wasn’t an accident. Your mother was murdered and what George Redman did to her was brutal.”
Michael couldn’t have heard him right. The sudden roaring in his ears dulled his father’s words, making it difficult for him to hear everything Louis was saying.
“…George and I were friends at Harvard….”
“…my partner in a development called Pine Gardens….”
“…Yes, I admit I lied in court. I even admit I used George. But I grew up poor. George had all the money in the world. The only reason I asked him to be my partner was because I thought we’d need his father to cosign a loan for us. When I learned I could buy Pine Gardens on my own, I did, and so he sued me….”
Michael shut his eyes. This isn’t happening.
“For years George tried to get his share of Pine Gardens. For years, he tried to prove we had a partnership. I refused to let him have any of it.” He paused. “That decision cost your mother her life.”
Michael looked up at his father, his concentration intense.
“Your mother was murdered just two days after Redman lost his final appeal in court. It was late and it was snowing. She was returning home from a friend’s house when George blew out her tires with a shotgun. Your mother lost control of the car, skidded in the snow and tumbled over the bridge that led to our house. It was a seventy foot drop. She didn’t have a chance….”
Michael looked at his father for some sign of the lie he was sure he was telling, but there was none. It was obvious he was telling the truth. For Michael, it was as if someone had shot him.
“I was never able to prove it,” Louis said. “But I know it was him. George Redman killed my wife—your mother. The moment I learned her tires were flattened by a shotgun, I knew it was Redman who pulled the trigger.”
“How could you know that?”
“Besides having the perfect motive—wanting revenge against me—George Redman is an excellent marksman. Once, when we were in college, he took me skeet shooting on his father’s yacht. Even with the rolling of the waves, George rarely missed. But George is smart. He got rid of whatever gun he used and made certain he had an alibi. When the police questioned him, he told them he was with Judge William Cranston’s daughter, Elizabeth Cranston, now Elizabeth Redman, during the night of the shooting.
“I don’t know how he did it, but he got Elizabeth to lie for him. Because when
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