Hear today and gone tomorrow

“Remember you promised to behave,” whispered Zoe Turner, as she squeezed the hand of her husband for extra emphasis.

The petite young woman, not yet thirty, had been obliged to pull out all the stops to convince Jack to attend the event. Even though she finally twisted his arm, she still feared he might resort to some sort of passive aggressive protest, on the night. He tended to be mischievous that way.

“Did I?” mused Jack Turner, with an exaggerated frown, “I only seem to remember agreeing to come?”

The wiry built man was older than Zoe by only a year, and they had been best friends since high school. The fact that they only become romantically involved some three years back, had seen them enjoy a strong, stable marriage.

“Jack!” hissed Zoe nervously as they stepped onto the short footbridge, taking them from the wharf onto the 285ft “O” series super yacht, Dotcom.

“Relax, pumpkin,” he sighed and gave her a peck on the cheek, “I will be on my best behaviour.”

Zoe nodded and smiled. She was still nervous. Jack had never set the bar too high, when it came to his best behaviour.

“Welcome, my dear!” exclaimed Nole Gibson, the revered IT pioneer and billionaire, as he welcomed his goddaughter on board, “I am so very glad you made it!”

“Would not have missed it, Uncle Nole,” smiled Zoe as she hugged her complicated and excentric godfather.

As a child she had been very close to him. Her parents both worked for Nole, managing one of his estates. Her father and Nole had become friends while serving in the military, long before any fortunes were made.

The families became estranged when certain financial irregularities were uncovered with the estate finances. This led to Zoe’s father and mother both resigning. A month later both were killed in a motor vehicle accident.

Oddly enough, Nole did not abandon his godfather responsibilities. He was far from a hands-on provider, but he did make sure Zoe finished school and college, and got a decent job in journalism. Of late however he had been making more of an effort, to reach out. She and Jack had visited him in New York a few times, and then got the invite to the event.

It was Nole’s sixty-fifth birthday. He had decided to throw the black-tie bash on his new yacht, and to combine it with a charity auction of his Neoclassic art collection.

“Good to see you too, Jack,” offered Nole as he extended his hand.

“You too, sir,” nodded Jack as he accepted the handshake.

Jack had only come to know the IT billionaire after Zoe’s folks has passed on. He never could get a handle  on the man. It was as if Nole managed his relationships like he did his businesses. The man was known for his ruthless approach to get what he wanted.

It was no wonder he had one failed marriage under the belt, an estranged son, and a second wife who was clearly only in it for the money. Jack however appreciated what the man had done for Zoe, and for that he admired him to a degree.

“Go and enjoy yourselves, mingle, have some Champaigne,” encouraged Nole, “Once I have taken care of my official duties, we must chat.”

Without really waiting for their answer, he turned to the next guest about to come on board and greeted them warmly. Jack and Zoe, were well used the mans mannerisms, and do did as he suggested.

“Looks like he has lost more weight,” remarked Zoe, as she accepted the Diamond and Crystal Champaigne flute from the passing waiter.

“Probably just a fad diet,” shrugged Jack, “Just eat right and exercise and none of that is needed.”

Jack also took a glass and tugged at the collar of his monkey suit. This was not his scene. He had not come from money, and he didn’t have any money worth mentioning. Still, the work he did with the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries, along with what Zoe brought in as a journalist, saw them enjoy a comfortable upper-middle-class lifestyle.

‘Oh, would you look at that, Dorien is here!” gasped Zoe.

Jack cast a glance over at where she was looking. Sure enough there was Dorien Gibson, the estranged son of Nole. On the last visit to New York, Nole had hinted at some repairing of bridges between the two. Clearly that had worked out well.

Few knew the real reasons for the estrangement, but the popular theory was that it was over the divorce. Dorien’s mother had been spectacularly booted to the curb by the billionaire, which saw her subsequently take her own life. The estrangement led to rumours of disinheritance and quite a bit more.

“You should go and say hello,” urged Jack.

Dorien and Zoe were of a similar age and knew each other well. Jack knew the man too but did not get on with him. Dorien was a bitter person, who liked to play the one-up game. He was one-up on everything compared to those around him. It seemed to bring him some perverse joy to lord things over Jack. The latter could not be bothered to play.

“How about we go and say hello?” suggested Zoe.

“Sure,” smiled Jack, “I will be right along, as soon as I have visited the men’s room.”

Zoe tilted her head and gave Jack that look. The head tilt and look was her way of telling him she wasn’t too happy. She was however not hopping mad, or both hands would have gone to her hips as well.

Jack offered her a smile, put down his glass, and nipped off. He hoped that by the time he jointed them, it would be toward the end of the conversation. Jack had never had concerns about leaving Zoe and Dorien alone. Zoe was about the furthest thing away from Dorien’s type.

Due to not being familiar with the vessel, Jack realised he had taken a wrong turn on route to the men’s room. As he retraced his steps, he overheard something.

“Expect there to be some fallout,” the vaguely familiar voice of a man stated.

It came from the cabin to his left, with the slightly ajar door. Jack froze.

“Eccentric to the very end,” sighed a woman, “But yes, you are right. It’s going to be a mess, at least for a while.”

From where Jack stood, he saw only a fraction of the cabin. It appeared to be some sort of an office. The speakers were unsighted, but Jack did glimpse what looked a red frock.

“Not much that can be done about,” the man responded, “It’s all down in black and white. Its signed and sealed.”

“But not with the lawyers yet?” checked the woman.

“Monday,” stated the man.

“So not quite signed and sealed,” the woman pointed out, “The old will is still in force till then.”

“Technically,” conceded the man, “But as it stands, the document is legally binding.”

“If it sees the light of day,” pointed out the woman.

“What on earth are you suggesting?” gasped the man.

“I think it should have gone to the lawyers today, to be safe,” the woman stated, “The black widow won’t stand for this.”

Jack recognised the derogatory term applied to Mrs Chrissy Gibson, the socialite, former model, thrice widowed, second wife of Nole.

“She might not know about it yet,” the man remarked, “And it’s not like she can do anything about it anyway. It’s too late for her.”

“Oh, is that so?” scoffed the woman, “Are you forgetting who it is we are talking about? I would not put it past her to be happily widowed a fourth time, if it meant staying in the will.”

“I told you, Chrissy isn’t out the will,” sighed the man, “Her share just drops to 10%, now that Dorien is back in. It’s largely irrelevant anyway, all things considered.”

“70% to 10%?” exclaimed the woman, “People have killed for less.”

“She isn’t the only one losing out,” pointed out the man, “All the charities are down to 10% as well, and that goddaughter drops to 2%!”

“I’d say a lot of people would be happier if the cancer took the old man before Monday,” remarked the woman.

“Aggressive pancreatic neuroendocrine tumours work fast, but not that fast,” the man muttered, “From what I know, he has two to three weeks.”

“Not if the black widow strikes,” snorted the woman.

“I am telling you, it won’t happen,” insisted the man.

A door slammed shut behind Jack, further up the corridor. The occupants of the cabin stopped speaking, and there was the sound of movement. Jack backpedalled and ducked down the very first side passage, hopefully before he was spotted.

He was back on deck at the party a matter of minutes later, his head still spinning from what he had heard. In addition, he had been trying to put faces and names to the voices. He was pretty sure that the man was Oliver Banks, Nole’s personal secretary. The woman however still had him stumped.

“Hey Jack, nice suit,” sneered Dorian as Jack approached, “Get lucky at a thrift shop?”

“Dorien,” groaned Zoe, as she had just asked him to lay off Jack.

“Thrift shops are too expensive for me,” smiled Jack, “I borrowed it!”

“That I believe,” nodded Dorien smugly.

“So, Dorien tells me he is moving back to New York,” stated Zoe quickly, in an effort to redirect the conversation, “Uncle Nole wants him on the board of executives.”

“Sounds peachy,” acknowledged Jack with a disingenuous smile, “Um, Zoe, I need a quick word.”

Zoe offered Dorien an apologetic smile, as Jack led her off.

“You could have tried to last five minutes,” she hissed.

“I tried,” lied Jack, “But tell me, have you seen Chrissy tonight?”

“She isn’t here,” revealed his wife, “She and Nole had a blow out earlier today, according to Dorien. He didn’t say about what, but apparently, she took the jet to Bali.”

“I might know why,” snorted Jack.

“How?” frowned Zoe.

“I kind off heard something I definitely wasn’t supposed to,” he whispered, “But tell me, what exactly happened to Chrissy’s other husbands?”

“Other than dying?” she scoffed, “Well the first one was that German industrialist who was past eighty when they married. He died of heart failure in bed. No great surprise there. What is this all about?”

“And the others?” pressed Jack.

As a journalist, Zoe had her finger on the pulse of a great many stories. She had heard all there was to hear about the black widow. Zoe also knew when something big was bugging Jack.

“The second one was the retired French F1 driver,” continued Zoe, “Ironically it was a car crash that took him, although I think I heard he might have suffered a heart attack first.”

“I see,” mused her husband.

“Before Uncle Nole, she was married to that guy with all the restaurant chains, down south,” declared Zoe, “He drowned while on vacation in the Seychelles.”

“Did he have a heart attack first?” checked Jack.

“There was speculation, but the autopsy revealed nothing,” replied Zoe.

 What Jack was hinting at was nothing new. It was why Chrissy had the tag black widow. There had even been many comments as to the capacity of the Seychelles authorities to conduct a proper autopsy. Zoe however knew that Chrissy was only present when her first husband died. She was nowhere close to the others. How did one give someone a heart attack anyway?

“How is Uncle Nole’s heart?” sighed Jack.

“Fine. Now what is going on Jack?” she demanded.

Jack took his wife by the hand and led her onto the upper deck, away from all the other guests.

“Do you think that Chrissy could have killed her other husbands?” he asked his wife.

“No. I think if she had, she would have been caught,” explained Zoe, “It is pretty hard to get away with murder these days.”

Jack confided in Zoe what all he had overheard coming from the cabin, with regard to the changing of the will. His wife’s eyes were wide as saucers, reflecting her genuine shock and surprise.

“I think Uncle Nole is in danger,” declared Jack.

“Chrissy? But she isn’t even here?” frowned Zoe.

“Look at her last two husbands,” Jack shrugged, “She wasn’t around then either.”

“How do I just march up to Uncle Nole and tell him I think he is about to die?” gasped Zoe.

“He knows he is dying,” winced Jack as he revealed the rest of the information he had overheard, with regard to Nole’s cancer.

Zoe took that news hard. Jack wrapped his arms around her for comfort, as it all sunk in. She began to understand why the man had all of a sudden started to reach out to her and Dorien, and do things like auction off his collections.

“This has to be done,” realised Zoe as she wiped back a tear, “I must speak with Uncle Nole.”

The two marched hand in hand back down to the party. Here and there guests were still arriving. Attendants were however also ushering people through to where the auction would be taking place.

“Have you submitted your charity of choice?” asked Nole, when he saw Zoe and Jack approach, “We are starting soon.”

He motioned to the ornate Waterford Crystal vase near the door with folded papers in it. Half the proceeds of the auction were set to go to Nole’s charities, and half to a random charity, picked from the options guests submitted.

“I must speak with you very urgently uncle,” begged Zoe.

Nole saw her concern and immediately took her and Jack aside.

“What is the matter? Are you ok?” he asked her.

“Uncle Nole, I know about the cancer,” she sniffed and almost broke down.

Spontaneously she threw her arms about the man’s neck and hugged him.

“There, there. I was about to tell you myself,” he sighed, “Don’t be too upset, please. I have made my peace with it.”

“We also know about the new will,” she revealed as she let go.

“Now that is supposed to a secret,” he responded, “At least for the moment anyway.”

“Chrissy knows, doesn’t she?” gulped Zoe, “That was what the fight was about today.”

“These are matters that should not concern you my dear,” Nole told her.

“But it does, uncle. I very earnestly believe your life is in danger,” she insisted, “I think that there is a very real possibility Chrissy will try to kill you before the new will is with the lawyers.”

Nole laughed, but it wasn’t the sort of dismissive laughter of someone finding mirth at the expense of another. He wasn’t laughing at Zoe and Jack. There was a soft empathy to it.

“That would be a good thing for you, my dear,” he told her, “I am sure you always knew I would put you in my will, but with Dorien the main beneficiary now, I am afraid what I am leaving to you is a paltry 2%. In the old will it was 10%.”

“Surely you know how inconsequential that is to us,” gasped Zoe, “It’s just money. You already have so little time left. I don’t want even that taken from you.”

“I assure you that I have at the very minimum three good weeks left to offload a few more collections, tie up some loose ends, and spend time with family and friends,” promised the old man, “Then there will be about a week I am not looking forward to. I will however have the best drugs money can buy!”

“But Chrissy…..,” began Zoe.

She stopped when Oliver showed up, holding a mobile phone. He nodded a greeting to Jack and Zoe.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you need to take this call, Mr Gibson,” he stated.

Nole took the phone and listened. He subconsciously nodded as one was prone to do, despite the person on the other side having no way of seeing it.

“Thank you,” he said after a while, “I understand. Yes, it is indeed. I will leave it to Oliver to make further arrangements.”

He hung up and handed the mobile phone back to his personal secretary. Oliver nodded and withdrew. Nole sighed deeply and then smiled.

“Good news or bad news?” asked Jack.

“Depends on your point of view,” mused Nole, “That was the office of the Directorate General of Civil Aviation in Indonesia. I am afraid my private jet went down off the coast of Bali about an hour ago. It doesn’t look good. Seems I might just be a widower.”

The man hardly looked traumatised by the news. He simply smiled at his slack-jawed goddaughter and her husband, and showed them through to the action area. There they saw Dorien seated next to a very attractive woman in a red dress.