The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries Book 9
by Heather Haven
Chapter Four
“Let’s return to the nephews in Marin. Who are they?” Lila asked.
Richard looked at his computer screen. “Wyman and Winston Del Vecchio, twin brothers living in Mill Valley.”
“Twins!” Lila exclaimed. “How fascinating.”
“Sons of Lionel Del Vecchio’s older brother, Mario, also deceased, and the only other living relatives. Wyman and Winston are forty-one and single, living alternate lifestyles. They own a pastry shop called Perfected Pastries by W. and W., in Mill Valley. In true Marin style, the pastries are organic and made with nondairy products. Online chitchat says they want to expand but have no money. The Marin side of the family has been estranged from the Sea Cliff side for decades, but that doesn’t seem to have made any difference to Del Vecchio Senior. If they’re related by blood, they’re in the trust.”
“Let’s leave this Marin side of the family for the moment,” Frank said. “I want to know about the two ex-wives of Marvin Del Vecchio.” Frank looked at Richard. “Got any of their names?”
Richard turned to the screen of his computer. “Elizabeth Hofsted was wife number one. They married young; she was eighteen, he was twenty. That was thirty-seven years ago. They were married ten years. No trace of her that I can find yet, not even an online photo—which is strange—but all of this was before the internet got to be what it is today. If the estate lawyers don’t have anything either, I’ll put Andy on it. He’ll do the search the old-fashioned way i.e., make phone calls, to find either a birth or marriage certificate. Hopefully, both.”
Andy is Richard’s second-in-command and an even bigger geek. He lives on Diet Pepsi, yogurt, and pizza and at five foot six, tips the scale at a hundred pounds. He shares his home with a sulcata tortoise named Buster, who weighs more than he does.
But I digress. Richard went on.
“As I said, Elizabeth Hofsted was married to Marvin Del Vecchio for ten years. From what I can glean, she was a bit of a mouse. Didn’t even drive a car, so no driver’s license. No online ID at all that I can find. No kids. Del Vecchio dumped her for Claudia Gracioso, a Miss Italy, who gave him David and Donna in the six years they were married. Claudia left him for Paul Rinken, owner of a chain of health clubs in the Bay Area. Never married him, though. Del Vecchio got custody of the kids.”
Richard tapped on a key or two, then said, “Wife number three, Madison Cartwright. They married four years ago. She’s an on-the-fringe socialite who makes a specialty of marrying older men. She signed a prenup, which meant if she divorced Del Vecchio or he left her, she wouldn’t get anything. But if she survived him, which she did, she splits a third of the estate with his two ex-wives and nephews, roughly ten and a quarter mil each. And as for Donna,” Richard added, waggling his eyebrows. “She doesn’t look as dumb to me as she acts.”
I digested this. Putting waggling eyebrows aside, Richard has a vast knowledge of all things technical and digital, but his people skills are wanting. They were practically nonexistent until Vicki came on the scene. His wife more or less socialized him, something his family could never accomplish. But he still eats liverwurst and onion sandwiches right before client meetings and often forgets to put his shoes on, so I can’t give him any marks for socialization higher than a C minus.
“Good Lord,” Frank said. “I need a chalkboard and a pointer. Just how many people are in this trust, Richard?”
“Let me think. Eight. Two kids, two nephews, three wives of various standings, and a butler.”
“I wonder why Marvin got custody of the kids,” I said. “Isn’t that a little unusual?”
“Not so much now, but back then, for sure. No idea why. I’m looking into that. I think a judge is involved, but I’ll let you know.”
“Can you send me whatever you have on file for these people?” I asked of Richard, waving my phone at him. “Include the butler. Is he the only member of staff that is in the trust?”
“Yes,” he said. “The rest of the staff are paid well but tend to come and go. Mr. Wong was hired by Lionel Del Vecchio, and according to what I found out, could not be fired by Marvin Del Vecchio or anyone else, unless there is clear proof he is…” Here Richard paused and read from his computer. “’Unless there is clear proof he is stealing from the estate or household funds.’ Needless to say, Wong’s monthly household accounting is scrupulous.”
“Wow,” I said. “In some ways, I feel sorry for Marvin the Magnificent. Talk about controlling things from the grave. He didn’t even have the power to fire a member of staff.”
“When did you say the old man died?” Frank asked.
“Fifteen years ago,” Richard answered. “Pneumonia. I’ve got more, but those are the highlights.”
“A job well done, Richard. Well done,” Lila said.
“Yeah, but from my point of view,” I said, “it’s all a little daunting.” I closed my eyes and rubbed them with my hands.
“Liana,” Lila said, becoming Mom again. I opened my eyes and looked at her. “Don’t rub your eyes like that. It causes wrinkles.”
“Anything else going on? Where does the case against Steven Kutner stand now?” Frank asked loud and fast. I don’t think he wanted to hear about Lila’s beauty dos and don’ts. It worked. Lila became distracted and turned her attention back to him. And I stopped rubbing my eyes.
“Yesterday,” Lila said, “Richard came across some emails from Steven to Donna. They were sent from North Lake Tahoe. Apparently, the Del Vecchios have a rustic log cabin there.”
“Not only do I want to find Steven, now I want to find Donna,” I said. “She’s become my main suspect in her father’s demise. I could almost swear it was her I saw in the wings, but I may be talking myself into that. Before all this happened, my plan was to fly there this afternoon, look around, and take the last flight back. I’m going to still do that.”
“You’re not supposed to leave the Bay Area, Lee,” Frank said. “A condition of your release into my custody.”
“I’ve only got three days to prove my innocence. I have to go,” I protested.
“Then I’ll go with you,” he said mildly. “It’s Sunday. All Abby and I are committed to is a party at a friend’s who makes the driest grilled chicken on record. Abby won’t mind going by herself.” He rose. “But first, I’m going home to change into something wilderness appropriate. I’ll meet you at the airport in an hour. So, shake a leg. And get two round-trip tickets on the Tahoe Express. Your treat,” he added with a smile.
