Fatal Impulse: A Widow's Web Novel (9 page)

Dana navigated a few more screens, and printed her findings. Flatlander Holdings owned half a dozen lots at Big Bear Cove, the new development just north of town. She stood up and grabbed Andi's arm. "Come into the library. I think we've got a plat map in here."

Andi followed her friend into the bookshelf lined room, where Dana pulled a stack of large, spiral bound books from a shelf. She spread them out on the conference room table, shuffled through them and said, "Here. This one."

Dana opened the book, flipped pages back and forth and finally pointed to a map. "Right here. These are the lots he bought."

Andi squinted at the small, slanted script, trying to make sense of the lines. She followed the coast line with her finger. "This is the harbor?"

Dana nodded. "And these lots he bought are on Big Bear Cove, just outside the city limits."

"Close to where they found his body." Andi's chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh. "The new condos where that little fishing village used to be."

Dana tapped the deed she'd printed. "And this says the mineral rights were included in the deal. That’s tough to get landowners to sell, with the number of semiprecious stones found up there.”

Andi raised her eyebrows and wondered if the rocks in her husband's valet were valuable. The dots were starting to connect.

Dana glanced over her shoulder and asked, “So you didn’t know anything about this company?”

Andi chewed her lip. There wasn't even anything she could think of in hindsight that would've pointed to anything he'd been up to. “Not a thing.”

Dana dropped into a chair and asked, “Mind if I ask how your finances were before his death?”

“He handled everything. I thought we were doing fine.” Andi pulled out a chair diagonally from her friend. Something nagged at her, but she couldn’t quite grasp it.

Dana twisted a strand of red hair around her index finger and frowned. “But where could he have gotten enough money to purchase something this big?”

"There's no way he would've had that much money." Then it clicked. The paperwork where he had refinanced the Jeep Grand Cherokee. But no, that wouldn't be enough. Unless he'd mortgaged their home, too. “But, I found out after he died that he borrowed money without telling me. Refinanced our Jeep. He even forged my signature to do it, so he wouldn’t have to tell me.”

Dana looked at Andi and frowned. “He was trying to come up with cash for an investment opportunity. And you think maybe the Woodson girl loaned him money, or cosigned for him, or something? What else did you find out at this attorney’s office today?”

Andi gave her friend the condensed version, and told her Chad had gone to the attorney for at least three different matters – the divorce, the Will and Trust, and this company. Then she unzipped the inside pocket in her purse and held up the check. "And they gave me this for 'my troubles'."

Dana gasped and her chin dropped. “And you took it?”

Andi shrugged and smoothed the check on the table. “Why not?” Given the state of her bank account, how could she not take it?

Dana opened her mouth, then pressed her lips together. Doubt clouded her expression. Finally, she said, “Why, indeed.”

The two sat there looking at each other. A light bulb in the ceiling buzzed loudly. Andi folded the check and slipped it back into the zippered pocket of her purse. She stood up and slung her handbag over her shoulder. "I won't use it unless I absolutely have to."

Dana pushed to her feet, too, and led the way back to her little office. As they walked, Andi asked, "Is there a way to challenge the Will?"

Dana leaned over to retrieve her purse from under her desk. "Most wills have a no contest clause. Benson Harrington would've done that, too."

Andi followed Dana out the back door. "So if I contest it?"

"You automatically lose any inheritance that you might have been entitled to."

Andi's shoulders drooped. "At least there's the life insurance."

"About that." Dana's eyebrows pushed together. "I called the insurance company and they want to see the police report and newspaper clippings."

"Newspaper clippings? Why?" Andi felt as if every nerve were on fire.

"Standard procedure when there's a suspicious death." Dana paused. "Have you seen the Morning Sentinel today?"

Andi let out a breath and deflated. "No. Don't know if I want to."

Dana patted Andi's arm and said, "It's going to be okay."

Tears welled in Andi's eyes as she stared at the ugly gray carpet. She'd been so busy, she hadn't allowed herself to think about what okay might mean to her. "People keep telling me that, but it's really hard to believe. Do you have a copy of the paper?"

Dana nodded. "In the reception area out front."

Andi pushed to her feet and walked down the hallway. It felt as though she were outside her body, watching herself go through the motions. The headline screamed at her as soon as she rounded the corner.

"Pillar of the Community Dead After Suspicious Fall"

How could anyone write something like that? She glanced at the byline, but didn't recognize the name. This wasn't good. Everyone would think she murdered her husband. She turned to Dana. "This is awful. I didn't do it!"

Dana covered the distance between them in two quick strides and wrapped Andi in a hug. "Oh, sweetie, I know you didn't."

Tears coursed down Andi's cheeks as she melted into her best friend's embrace. After a minute or so, she pulled back and sucked in a shaky breath. She blinked the tears away and angrily swiped at her eyes. She murmured a thank you, then turned away and snatched a handful of tissues from the box on the side table.

Tears. Finally.

Dana stood quietly as she rubbed Andi's back. After Andi's sobs turned to sniffles, Dana whispered, "I'm so sorry you're going through this."

Andi swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "Thanks. I appreciate your support."

One corner of Dana's mouth tugged up in a half smile. "You've definitely got my support. Now, what do you say we forget about this for a bit and get something to eat?"

Andi nodded. "I am a little hungry."

"Good. You can leave your car here and ride with me."

Dana hurried through the office turning off lights, then locked the door behind them. Andi hopped in with Dana and they headed down towards the Harbor. Dana took a left at Main Street. "How does Jolly Jack's sound?"

"Great. It's a beautiful afternoon -- maybe Faith can get us a table on the deck."

Dana pulled into the parking lot and they walked past the old wooden lobster traps and nets towards the green canopy emblazoned with a skull and crossbones. A few tourists sat around, but it was still a little early for them. They stepped into the cool interior and were met by Faith Sullivan, the owners' daughter.

"Hi, ladies. Two?"

Andi said, "Any chance we can get a table on the deck?"

Faith glanced at her chart, then over her shoulder. "Give me a minute to clean off a table for you."

Dana grinned. "No problem."

Faith hesitated, then inclined her head towards Andi. "So sorry for your loss, ma'am."

The young woman led them through the dining room and out to the back deck. Though the sun hadn't set yet, the lights strung around the perimeter were already twinkling. While waiting for the table to be cleared, the two friends leaned against the railing and looked out at the harbor, enjoying the salt air. Though Andi had lived in Maine for years, she was still amazed at the instant relaxation she felt at the water's edge.

Once they sat, Andi glanced around. The woman at the table next to them quickly looked down. A couple across the deck leaned together and whispered, then both looked over at Andi and Dana. After that, Andi kept her head down, all too aware of the whispers that swirled around her, taunting her. Maybe it was too soon to be out in public. To Andi's surprise, her friend chatted as if this were any other girls' night out. She even suggested that it was time to consider getting on with life.

As Dana swirled a shrimp in cocktail sauce, she said, “You weren’t happy with Chad, so it’s not like you have to serve required mourning. You want to figure out what he was doing – and I get that – but you need to put it behind you.”

“I’ll try,” Andi promised, but didn't know how she could. She needed closure. She'd just lost her husband, but she had so many questions.

“I bet the insurance money comes in soon.” Dana gave Andi a pointed look, “Use that money for you. Your new life. Put Chad behind you.”

That evening Andi went to the living room, sat in her favorite chair, and pulled the ivory chenille throw around her. She snuggled into its softness and rocked herself. The darkness crept in and surrounded her, and she welcomed it.

She slept in the chair that night, unwilling to sleep in the bed she had shared with Chad. Finding out about her husband’s indiscretions and secrets after his death left her feeling cheated. There was no argument, no confrontation. It ate at her, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

No one understood.

How could they?

Gradually, it became easier to move through the house without thinking of him with every step. By the end of the first week, she slept in the middle of their king-sized bed, which she still made carefully each morning. The crisp corners and plumped pillows were just as they'd been when he was alive.

At the end of the second week, she caught herself redoing a corner three times to make it perfect. She stood back and looked at the bed, beautiful and elegant and precise. She yanked the comforter askew, mussed the sheets, then grabbed the pillows and threw them on the floor. As she walked out of the room, she smiled – really smiled – for the first time in weeks.

I
t had been nearly three weeks since the accident, and she was learning to adjust to living alone. She had just put a load of towels into the washing machine when the doorbell rang. She answered it, and a young couple stood there smiling. Both were dressed casually, in jeans and t-shirts. The sandy haired man hooked one hand over the woman's shoulder in a possessive gesture.

She didn't recognize them. "Can I help you?"

The man said, “I realize we should have called first, but we wondered if now would be a good time to look at the house?”

She blinked, “I’m sorry?”

The blonde at his side craned her head, attempting to look inside. “If now isn’t a good time, we can come back.”

Andi shook her head and blinked rapidly. The man pointed to the yard. "Should we call the agent to make an appointment?"

Andi stepped forward and looked in the direction he pointed.

At a For Sale sign posted in the front yard.

She laughed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, there must be a mistake. This house isn't for sale. The agent must've put it in the wrong yard."

As the couple backed their tan Honda out of the driveway, Andi walked through the dewy grass and tugged the sign out of the ground. She leaned the sign against the side of the house, went inside and moments later she was talking to the agent whose name was prominently displayed on the sign.

"I'm calling to let you know there's been a mistake. My house isn't for sale, but a sign with your name on it has been put in the yard by accident."

Gabby Martin said, "That's odd. I place all of my signs myself. Can't imagine how I would've put a sign in the wrong yard. What's your address?"

After Andi gave her address, Gabby sounded as confused as Andi felt. “I’m sorry – that house
is
listed with me. And who are you again?”

A feeling of dread began to build in Andi's gut. “Andi--Andrea--Adams. I own this house.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Adams. Let me pull the listing here.” Papers rustled in the background, “Here we go. The listing contract was signed by Benson Harrington, Trustee of the Chadwick Adams Trust. I ran my usual check, and he is the title owner of the property.”

Andi mumbled something and disconnected, then frantically pawed through the pile of mail on her breakfast bar. Moments later she was holding for Benson Harrington.

As soon as he got on the line, she cut him off. “Why is my house for sale?”

He responded with a slow, deliberate cadence. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who is this?”

“This is Andi Adams and there is a for sale sign in my yard. Would you like to explain that to me?” Panic caused to her voice to rise and she fought to keep it even.

“I’m not at liberty-“

"Not at liberty?" Her heart raced and she felt lightheaded. “This is my house. My husband and I bought this house together six years ago.”

“And as the Trustee, I'm happy to offer you the opportunity to continue living there until the house is sold, as long as you pay your rent on time-“

“Rent?!” She couldn't believe her ears. She trembled with anger.

“Yes, my client set his trust up so that you could continue to live in the home as long as you paid rent in the form of mortgage payments to the bank, but he also specified that the home be sold after his death. The home has been listed as he directed.”

She slammed the phone down and paced the hallway, scared and frustrated. Chad had covered every base. How could she have lived with him and not known what he was planning? How could he have been so duplicitous?

She snatched up the phone and called Dana on her cell. Dana answered on the third ring. Quickly, Andi relayed what happened. Dana gasped and Andi could hear Derek asking who it was. Dana whispered Andi's name, then told her the bad news. “He very well could be right. We haven’t seen a copy of the trust. It’s not normal, but it’s also not completely unheard of.”

Andi's breath expelled in a rush. Blood pounded in her ears and stars floated in front of her eyes. “So I have to get out.”

“Unfortunately, probably yes. Let me call my boss and then I’ll call you back. Don’t move.”

Andi literally didn’t move. Didn’t even put the phone down. When Dana called back, Andi answered on the first ring. Dana's boss agreed to call the attorney in Bangor. They were acquaintances, but Edward hadn’t sounded optimistic. Andi hung up and walked around the house, taking a mental inventory of everything and wondering what was hers and what wasn’t.

And she wondered where she would go.

Alone.

Unemployed.

Homeless.

Later that day she received a polite but brief and to the point letter from Mr. Harrington stating that the home would be sold, and all the furnishings would be sold at public auction, upon the sale of the home, pursuant to the terms of Chad’s Trust. The polite tone of the letter didn't make up for the fact that he listed the home without informing her first.

Just as she tossed the letter in the trash, the telephone rang. She snatched it up when she saw Dana's name on the caller ID.

Her friend wasted no time. "I hate to saddle you with more bad news, but I called the insurance company to make sure they got everything they needed. Turns out, the adjustor is holding the check until the investigation is complete."

Andi dropped into a kitchen chair and sagged against the table. "Investigation? What investigation?"

"The adjustor contacted the Buccaneer Bay Police Department for more information and the detective apparently told them he hasn't cleared you yet. The adjustor can't pay out on the policy until the police complete their investigation."

"How long will that take?" Andi massaged her temple with her fingers.

"Hard to say. I asked her worst case scenario. She said it sometimes takes a couple of years."

Andi sat up and stared at the basket of bills on the kitchen counter. More came in the mail every day. How could she possibly keep up?

Dana said, "I'm sorry. I've asked her to do everything she can to expedite the claim."

"I know. I appreciate it. I really do." Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her blood pressure was probably through the roof. "I've got something on the stove. Got to run."

She gripped the receiver in white knuckled hands. Though she'd told herself not to count on that money, she had been. Every scenario she imagined included using that money to pay off her debts. What would she do now? What could she do?

She shook her head. No sense wallowing in self pity. She grabbed the Morning Sentinel and went to the den to peruse the classified ads and apply for jobs. Most jobs that offered benefits and decent pay required a degree and, even more often, experience, which Andi sorely lacked. One job promised “interesting work with new challenges every day for the person with good interpersonal communication and research skills, possibility of working out of home.” It sounded great, but was for a private investigator by the name of Jimmy Webster out of Bangor. It sounded good, but she didn’t think she could work for a grown man who still went by the name Jimmy. He was either awfully young or a mobster.

She kept reading, and another ad caught her attention. The local tourism office needed someone to hand out brochures and direct people who needed assistance. The pay wasn’t great, but they weren't picky about qualifications, either. It would mean an income, though piddly, but more importantly, experience.

Andi sat down at the computer and created a resume. It needed massaging, since she didn't have any work experience. At least she could include things like serving on the Friends of the Library Board, and other charitable functions she'd helped with since she'd been in Buccaneer Bay. The printer beeped to alert her to add paper, so Andi opened the top drawer of Chad’s desk to retrieve his linen stationery. When she pulled out a few sheets, a sheaf of papers of a different color caught her eye. She pulled them out of the drawer.

They were photocopies, and poor ones at that. Whoever copied them had done a sloppy job, resulting in crooked pages. The top of the first page was cut off, but the words “Woodson Enterprises, Inc.” were printed right below whatever was missing. It looked like some sort of accounting document, with columns and numbers – lots of very big numbers. She flipped to the back page and saw that it had indeed come from a CPA’s office, and had been copied to Benson Harrington III - the same attorney who prepared Chad’s new will.

She scanned the document again, but paid more attention to the last paragraph, which was entitled “Summary of Valuation.” It said there were 50,000 authorized shares of common capital stock in Woodson Enterprises, Inc., with each share valued at $10,000. She raised her eyebrows and whistled. No small potatoes. A table with names in the first column – August Woodson, Caren Woodson, Portia Woodson, and other names were too blurry to read - included a list of certificate numbers in the second column, and a final column that said ‘total number of shares’. A thick, bold circle highlighted the words Initial Public Offering at the bottom of the page. It was all Greek to her, but she'd seen enough movies and read enough books to recognize that whoever owned those certificates owned the company – and the company was worth a hell of a lot of money.

Like most people down east, she'd heard of Woodson Enterprises. Who in this part of Maine hadn’t? But she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what Chad would be doing with something like that, even if by some strange quirk of fate he actually had been having an affair with a Woodson. The quick photocopy job made Andi wonder if he was
supposed
to have it. Right behind the valuation packet was a legal pad with notes written in Chad’s small, neat print. There was a notation about current value of tourmaline, something about a geological survey and mineral rights, and then a bunch of numbers - 44°25'34.2"N 68°14'47.9"W - next to the words “pegmatite dike.”

None of it made sense, but the stuff about the pegmatite dike reminded Andi of the sticky note she'd found that marked a page in the Maine gem book. She hurried out to the living room and opened the book. It fell open to a picture of a large crystal that looked similar to the rocks in the valet with Chad's diamond cufflinks. According to the author, pegmatite dikes were elongated veins of gems that could be anywhere from half a foot to several feet thick, and the veins could run for hundreds of feet.

If Chad found what she thought he had, it could be worth more money than she could imagine. But what did that have to do with Woodson Enterprises?

The telephone rang and she picked up the receiver from the end table. The recorded voice, a woman, likely chosen for her kind but firm demeanor, calmly told her that her phone service would be disconnected in five days unless payment in full was received.

She sighed, then squared her shoulders and returned to the den, where she tucked it all back in the drawer and made a mental note to check it out thoroughly after she dealt with the more immediate issue – the necessary business of finding a job. She filled the printer, printed her resume, and headed for the Chamber of Commerce.

The woman at the Chamber was very nice, and seemed sympathetic to Andi's situation. Mildred Stevens was closer to 60 than 50, with close-cropped silver hair. "I'm afraid we don't have much in the budget for salaries."

Anything was better than nothing. "I understand."

"I'm afraid there aren't many benefits, either. We do offer six days off a year, for whatever reason you need, sick or personal or vacation." She peered at Andi over her reading glasses. "But we don't get holidays off."

Andi'd already gotten a call about the phone. The internet and cable had been disconnected. How long would it be before the electric was shut off? "I understand."

The older woman smiled apologetically and tilted her head, “And the hours aren’t regular. Are you sure you are interested?”

"Absolutely," Andi bobbed her head, then stopped, not wanting to appear too needy. "When do you expect to interview for the position?"

The woman reminded Andi of the local librarian who taught her a love of books when she was a child. She glanced around the cramped office overflowing with files and loose papers, all in neatly organized stacks. The older woman motioned for Andi to sit in a straight-backed wooden chair, while she took a seat behind the desk.

"I'm Mildred Stevens, the office manager." She peered over her glasses just as the librarian had when Andi was twelve and had asked her where to find the book about the dog by Stephen King. She pulled the glasses off and let them dangle on a beaded strand. “What do you know about local tourism?”

“I moved here with my husband six years ago, and have had a wonderful time exploring the area. This island has so much to offer. As an outsider, I know what appeals to the tourists, and what questions they don't know enough to ask.”

The woman narrowed her eyes and chewed on the tip of the earpiece of her glasses. “That’s an interesting take."

“I'm eager to work, and willing to do whatever needs to be done.” Andi pressed her lips together. She didn't want to seem too eager.

The woman crossed her legs and knocked over a stack of books. The toppled stack reached nearly to the edge of her desk. Andi immediately slid from the chair and began to restack the paperbacks. She held up one of the novels. "Lea Waite - I love her Antique Print series."