Epilogue

March 23rd, 1995, 3:05 PM EST, Essex Hotel, New York City, NY

Justin and Krista wearily opened the door to the condominium they had rented for several years now in the Essex Hotel. It was a luxurious two bedroom, two and a half bath, with kitchen, and large living room, suite. Krista collapsed on the sofa in the living room. This was not an experience either of them really wanted to repeat. They hadn't heard from Barry or Jill in days.

Justin noticed that the hotel phone indicated that they had a message. Justin figured this was probably Barry and went into the bedroom, stripped off his clothes, and took a nice, long, hot shower. Then, drying himself off, he put on his silk robe before walking over to the phone and bracing himself for an onslaught. He never got it.

"Uncle Justin, it's Jill. I am here of my own free will and wish to stay here. You can reach me at the following number..." which the machine then gave.

Justin immediately called that number.

"Hello?" John Caldwell answered the phone.

"I'd like to speak with my niece, please put her on," Justin requested.

"I'll go see if she wants to speak to you in a moment," John told him, "but first let me tell you the situation. The body, such that it is, has not been identified yet, but Barry Bostwick's body was washed off the front of Union Pacific's SD90MAC #8000 a couple of days ago."

"You killed him?!" Justin averred with shock.

"No, he honestly was running away and wasn't paying enough attention," John told him, "Jill wants to see you and the other custodians in the family soon. We need to discuss how to proceed forward from here."

"I don't know what the fuck we need to discuss," Justin growled.

"A lot of things, sir," John told him, "A great lot of things. Now let me see if your niece wishes to talk to you."

Justin heard John yelling to Jill and asking her if she wanted to talk to her Uncle Justin. He even heard the yelled back response of "No fucking way."

"She-" John started saying.

"I heard," Justin cut him off, "Ok, I'll see what I can do to get us there. Realize I'm not the only one, etc."

April 3rd, 1995, 2:05 PM PT, Silver Penthouse, Los Angeles, CA

Putting on his best face, Justin tried hard to be gracious and polite as he walked up the stairs to the vestibule of Silver Penthouse. John recognized that he was trying to be as reasonable as he could in an unreasonable situation. Krista, who did not look quite so willing, followed him.

John offered his hand to both of them. Justin shook it willingly, Krista with great reluctance.

"I'm John Caldwell, George's father," John told them, "Before I go further I want to tender my deepest and sincere apologies for what happened on the Broadway Limited. Tiny is not my employee, and he was acting on his own. I even understand what he was trying to do, but leaving you off in the middle of nowhere like he did, would not have been my choice."

Krista softened up noticeably at this apology. John then led the way into the living room. Seated around the room were George, Jill, and Gretel. Brenda had decided to go back to Salt Lake City some days earlier.

"Please make yourself comfortable," John told them, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"A can of beer, if you have it, thank you," Justin told him.

"And you, madam?" John smiled disarmingly.

"Bourbon on the rocks, and a lot of it," she snarled, still not in a good mood.

After everyone was seated with their drinks, John attempted to start the conversation.

"I really want to reach an equitab-" he started.

"Fuck that," Krista cut him off, "You fucking kidnapped my slut niece and then you fucking assisted in the fucking death of my idiot brother. You fucking go to fucking jail, you fucking bastard," she snarled, "And I'm going to fucking sue you for all you're fucking worth!"

John was not a PR man. His son came by his nasty Irish temper honestly- he had one too. He did not like her, in particular, referring to Jill as a slut. He had come to love this young woman as a father- or as a father-in-law- over the past few days.

"HOLD your tongue, you greedy little grimalkin!" John roared, "I can read your personality from here. I doubt you cried even one tear over your sister's death. I had someone look into you and your sister's will. All you want is her money.

"It made specific proviso's for you to only spend money on Jill and to take a fair share as a salary," John continued, "You took more salary than you spent on her. You rented a Central Park apartment and bought a Jaguar XJ12. You have clearly abused this will. I'm trying to be nice, I really am." He held up a paper, "Jill has signed this action, which will bring against you a legal inquiry that examines the utilization of the will, and will also put a temporary moratorium on its spending.

"You told me over the phone that your relatives have agreed to let you represent them," John continued, "That's grea-"

"NOOOO! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Krista screached, "I NEED THAT MONEY!" She glared at Jill, "You are STEALING it from me, you little BITCH. I have been PUTTING UP WITH YOU for years after my stupid bitch of a sister had the gall to get killed and burden me with you and not give me any money! I TOOK WHAT WAS MI-"

Jill had clearly gotten angrier and angrier, and George could see that. But when Krista insulted Jill's mom, it reached a fever pitch. Before George could stop her Jill was sailing through the air and knocked Krista onto the floor. She beat her and scratched her up and screamed and cried.

George grabbed her off Krista, whispering in her ear, "Calm down, calm down, she's not worth it, calm down."

John coughed, "I hope you're ok, Krista," John told her, "What I was going to say is that there is a second option. I have noted that you had a private detective do private inquiries into me. As you might note, I don't need your money or anyone else's. I don't want it, I don't care for it, I don't need it.