She was in gauzy white amid a sea of phalaenopsis orchids, wearing rows and rows of pearls that dipped deep into her ample cleavage. “Cyanide,” Jackson said. “How and why?” Chance was incredulous. “I’m more interested in knowing who,” Jackson said, straightening the shoulder on his six-foot frame. “And how we find out how and who,” Chance added. “Right now we’re not exactly the poster boys for honesty and decency,” Jackson said. “Will anyone care?” He sighed. “While we’re ‘in great news’ mode, you should see this.” Jackson picked up his iPad from the side table and opened Spectator.com. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Chance winced as he saw the first full list of investors who’d been royally duped by their father all these years. “So many in the medical profession,” Jackson said, shaking his head in shame. “Nurses, technicians, even hospital workers. I remember Dad telling us how he liked to help the little investors too.” “Helped them out of their retirement,”
