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Jarrod Barkley leaned back in his chair, lit the expensive cigar and took a long inhale. He blew out the smoke and watched it swirl away as he worked out what he was going to tell his mother about Nick's ‘accident' when she returned from visiting friends in Denver. The cinch of his saddle snapped, the handsome attorney decided, and made a mental note to make sure the leather was torn and frayed properly. The rest of the bruises and contusions on his brother's body from the tumble into the ravine would mask the mark left by a heavy branding iron to the skull. There was no need to tell anyone that he was already dead before he started his journey down the slope.
Jarrod got up, poured himself a glass of fine scotch and the sole remaining heir to the Barkley empire raised his glass in a silent toast to the portrait of the family founder. Tom's ruthlessness in acquiring the family's vast fortune had been passed on to his sons in spades.
"You always said ‘may the best man win,' Father," he said to Tom's image with a devilish gleam in his blue eyes, "and so he has." Jarrod drained the glass, picked up the bottle and returned to his chair and his quiet contemplation.
It hadn't taken long after Heath proved his claim as a Barkley son for Nick and Jarrod to realize their inheritance, which was already to be split four ways between them and their younger siblings, was now going to be further divided. After a long night's discussion over a bottle of Jarrod's best scotch, the two eldest decided they had to do something about it.
Eugene was the first to go. No one ever really missed him anyway with his being away so much at college and when he helped Professor Hawthorne prove his anthrax cure and was offered a spot at the Sorbonne, the two dark- haired brothers arranged for an accidental drowning before the exorbitant tuition put any kind of dent in the family coffers.
Audra had been easy. Far away from home on a tour of Europe, it was simplicity itself to send a few letters with a bit of cash to go with them. Neither Nick nor Jarrod had the heart to have her killed outright, so their beautiful blonde sister was now a pampered wife in some rich sultan's harem.
Then there was Heath. He'd started to get suspicious and it took a while to get him where they could get rid of him unobserved, but it was child's play to blame the fatal bullet on some old enemy from his past.
Jarrod chortled to himself. Nick really hadn't seen it coming. It was hard to fathom that he was naïve enough to think that Jarrod would permit their family fortune to be split between them, but the look of shock on his face when Jarrod swung the heavy bar at his head proved that he was.
The attorney slowly finished the bottle of scotch as he celebrated his victory. No one knew; his tracks had been covered well. Hopefully this last shock would prove too much for his mother. She was already distraught by the loss of her other children and Jarrod hoped he wouldn't have to hasten her demise as well to claim his rightful inheritance.
Suddenly, Jarrod didn't feel well. His head started to pound and his vision grew blurry. He didn't drink that much scotch, he told himself, but his stomach started to get queasy too. He heard the French doors to the library open and looked up to find a vaguely familiar face staring at him.
"Mother?" he asked when he recognized the silver hair. "I thought…" Agony cramped up his stomach and he doubled over in pain.
"You though I was in Denver?" the family matriarch queried. "Or just thought I wouldn't find out what you were up to?" Her voice was calm and serene. "Eugene I could accept as an accident and I never thought Audra was safe so far away from home by herself. Even though it was plausible for Heath to be shot by an old enemy, once is chance, twice is coincidence, but three times smells of conspiracy. And Nick just got what he deserved."
The lawyer stared in confusion. "Mother, I…" The room was spinning, his body screamed in agony and he had no idea why. "I don't feel well."
"That's probably because of the arsenic I put in your scotch, dear," Victoria informed him coolly " I really couldn't let you get away with it, you know."
Jarrod's muscles started to convulse and he couldn't stop himself from sliding slowly to the floor before the astonished man descended into a final oblivion.
Victoria picked up the glass that tumbled from his outstretched hand and placed it back on the desk before she made her way upstairs. If she was going to rescue her daughter from halfway around the world, she was going to need a good night's sleep.