Not What She Seems (18 page)

“Edna, what is the purpose of Emily coming back here?” He sounded a little perturbed.

“Well, I think she’s down at the police station, talking to them.”

“Yes, I know. Have you heard anything about what she is saying to them?”

“Why, no, I haven’t rightly heard a thing about that. Police matters usually stay confidential, now, don’t they?”

Steven heard Theodore Grant sigh. “Hardly anything stays confidential in this town, Edna.”

“You do have a point there. I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Now, what can I get for you?”

“I’ll take a cup of coffee.”

“Coming right up.”
Edna hustled behind the counter. She ignored Steven, getting the coffee. He silently thanked her for not exposing them to Theodore.

He finished his lunch, and leaned over to Connor, who had eaten everything but the crusts of his sandwich. “Are you ready to go next door and get a hair cut?”

“Uh huh.”
He nodded.

“Okay, let’s go buddy.” Steven tossed a few bills on the counter, and helped him with his coat. He felt relief once they entered the barber shop. Admittedly, he would rather get a root canal than have to be the one to break the news to Mr. Grant that he had a four-year-old grandson.

Chapter Twenty Two

Emily gripped the cold handle of the phone. She held it up to her ear, and dialed the number on Vincent’s business card while the female police officer stood several feet away leaning on the counter and listening.

“Hello, this is Vincent.”

“Hello?” She cringed. Her voice sounded so small and hollow.

“Emily? Is that you? I can barely hear you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes, it’s me.” No more words would come out.

“Is everything all right? You sound funny.”

She braced herself, forcing calm into her voice. “I’m fine. Look, I’m going to have to take a rain check on dinner tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,
Em
, we can do it another time. How did things go today?”

She glanced at the woman police officer standing by the counter with her hands on her hips.
“Um, not so well.”

“Where are you? Are you still at the police station?”

The room blurred, and Emily bit her fingernail, unable to answer him.

“Emily? Are you at the station? Are they holding you there?”

She whispered, “Yes.”

“No, they can’t hold you there. What happened to William wasn’t your fault. Can’t they see that?” His voice started to rise. “What is wrong with these people?”

“It’s okay, really. My attorney said everything is going to be all right. I should be able to leave tomorrow.” She hoped her words didn’t sound as flimsy to Vincent as they did to her.

Vincent took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay. Um, call me tomorrow. Oh, do you need help with your little boy?”

“Connor’s fine. He’s with Steven.” She felt guilty letting Steven take care of him, but he really was good with Connor, and she knew she would be out of police custody tomorrow. Steven would pay her bail. She shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

“Right.
Steven. You know, he looks just like Steven Ashton.”

“He is Steven Ashton.”

Vincent laughed. “Right, Steven Ashton, the millionaire?”

“Billionaire.”

“Are you serious? What’s he doing here with you? You know what, never mind. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow. Call me when you can, okay?”

“All right.
Bye.” She replaced the receiver, breathing deeply before being escorted back to her holding cell in the basement. It was dark and musty-smelling, but thankfully clean. The small cot was old and rusty. The sound of metal scraping against the concrete floor rang out as she sat down. She looked at her hands, the dark ink stains from fingerprinting still on the tips of her fingers.

The events of the day swirled around in her mind. Detective Reed thought he knew exactly what happened. She could tell he wasn’t going to investigate any other options. To him, she was a murderer and that was it. She wondered if her attorney thought she was guilty too. She’d never forget the look on his face when Detective Reed said she was to inherit all that money.

They must have made a mistake when they figured William’s assets. His father was wealthy, probably worth several million. A mistake could have been made, or this could all be some wild rumor spread around town. When they married he didn’t have anything but the nice job his father gave him managing the country club, and a few family heirlooms, certainly not worth that much.

She cradled her head in her hands and tried not to cry. This was going to be Connor’s first night away from her. What was she going to do if they didn’t believe her? She clenched her jaw. She was not going to let that happen. If Michael wasn’t going to help her, she was going to have to prove she didn’t kill William on her own.

******

The soft footed pajamas were a little big on Connor, but he didn’t seem to mind. Steven watched him brush his teeth, foam gathering around his mouth. Connor’s eyes drooped, and Steven helped him clean his face before tucking him into bed. Steven closed the door, and went into the living room area of the suite. It wasn’t long before he could hear soft snoring coming from the bedroom.

Steven pulled out his cell phone and dialed Emily’s attorney.

“Michael,
it’s
Steven.”

“Hello, Steven.”

“Talk to me. What are we looking at here?”

“Honestly, things are not looking great right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I am going to represent Emily, I am going to need her to be completely honest with me. It does her no good to lie to me.”

Steven felt his stomach drop. He sat down on the calico sofa. He’d finally begun to trust her. Now here she was lying again. He almost didn’t want to ask, but he needed to know. “What did she lie about?”

“She was named sole beneficiary of William’s assets, a tidy three-quarters of a million dollars. She told me there was no life insurance, and that William had no money.”

Steven turned that information over in his mind. Why would Emily lie after telling him so much of the truth? He thought about the past few days. All the times he had asked Emily painful questions, and she had always seemed to answer him truthfully, even when he could tell it was mortifying to her. His gut told him she wasn’t lying. “Wait a minute. How do you know she lied? Is it possible that her husband had assets she didn’t know about?”

“The paperwork shows William and Emily had a joint savings account with seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars in it. I find it hard to believe she didn’t know about it.”

Steven stood and started pacing. “But she left without the money. Surely that shows she didn’t know about it.”

“The prosecution will claim that Emily left because she was guilty, and now has come back to claim her money.”

“Can she do that?”
   

“If she is not convicted of murder, she has a legal claim to all of the money left to her. I also just found out something else that isn’t good for Emily.”

He was afraid to ask. “What?”

“Two weeks ago Theodore Grant filed a petition to have Emily declared legally dead.”

“What does that mean?”

“In a nutshell, it means Theodore is seeking William’s assets. The prosecution will have a heyday with this. It makes Emily look like she resurfaced just in time.”

“How could she have known about the petition?”

Michael exhaled. “Honestly, I don’t think she did know. It is just one more thing that makes her look guilty.”

Eager to change the subject, Steven tried to remember what he had wanted to ask Michael. “Earlier today you said there was evidence that was overlooked at the crime scene.”

“Yes, there was a bloody shoe print on the carpet. A woman’s shoe, but the size of the print was much bigger than Emily’s foot. Also, there were a few smears of blood on the filing cabinet, and on the files, suggesting that whoever killed William was looking for something specific.”

“So, the shoe print proves that Emily is innocent, doesn’t it?”

“No. But it does cast doubt, and raises the question of whose footprint it is.”

“What other evidence is there against Emily?”

“There was no forced entry. Whoever killed William was let into the house. He had to have known them, trusted them. There was no sign of a struggle. The murder weapon was laying on the floor inches from his body. The only fingerprints on the hammer were Emily’s.”

******

Emily sat next to Michael, waiting for the judge to enter the courtroom. She ran her hands along the sides of the chair, its surface worn smooth over the years. The air was stale and smelled of old wood and shoe polish. She glanced around the room and her breath caught in her throat. Sitting on the back row was Theodore Grant. He hadn’t aged a day since the last time she had seen him. His grey eyes were cold, and he frowned when he saw her looking at him. Her heart pounded, and she turned back around. The court room quieted as the bailiff entered and asked for all to arise.

Judge Martin T.
Storlie
made his way up to the bench. “You may be seated.” He waved his hand a little, adjusted his glasses, and peered down at the paperwork in front of him. His silver hair was cropped short.

The judge looked up from his paperwork and glared at her. “Are you Emily Grant?”

“Yes.”

“You are being charged with first degree murder. Have you been given a copy of this information?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand these charges?”

“Yes.”

“What do you plead?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Not guilty.”

“Preliminary hearing is set for Friday, December twenty-second. What does the State recommend for bail?”

Emily glanced over at the prosecutor, a young man no older than herself. “Your honor, the state recommends Emily Grant be held without bail.”

Emily’s heart stopped.

Michael interjected, “Your honor, Ms. Grant is here by her own free will and choice. The defense requests she be released on her own recognizance.”

“Your honor, with all due respect, the defendant was on the run for five years. She is a serious flight risk, and should be held without bail.”

“Emily was held against her will,” Michael said, his voice rising. “She is the victim here.”

The prosecutor’s face flushed. “We have evidence that proves otherwise. Your honor, Emily Grant is a manipulative, calculating murderer. She killed her husband, fled the state, used false identification, and now has come back to claim the money her husband left to her. She has powerful connections. No amount of bail will be high enough.”

Michael was about to say something else when the judge lifted his hand. “That’s enough. I’ve made my decision.”

Chapter Twenty Three

Time crawled by for Steven as he waited to hear something from Emily or her attorney. Connor sat Indian style in front of the television, engrossed in an educational show on PBS while Steven typed on his laptop. He sent a quick email off to Rose, letting her know he was in Stapleton with Emily. His cell phone chimed, and he jumped up.

“Michael. What happened at the arraignment?”

“Things were a little tense for a while. The prosecution tried to hold Emily without bail, but we succeeded in convincing the judge otherwise, although her bail is set quite high.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “How much are we talking?”

“One million dollars.”

Steven exhaled.
“All right.
I’ll make the necessary arrangements. How is Emily doing?” Connor turned around at the mention of his mother’s name, his large grey eyes staring.

“She’s in shock right now. The prosecution fought hard to keep her in custody, and the possibility of staying in jail scared her. She also wasn’t expecting such a high bail. She is very concerned about it.”

“I’ll take care of the bail. Tell her not to worry.” Apparently Connor lost interest in the conversation, and turned back around to watch television.

“I think she is concerned about relying on you so much. She doesn’t want you spending that kind of money on her.”

“It’s bail. I’ll get the money back as long as she shows up for court.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“I trust her. She’s not going to run off again.”

“She has no reason to. Our case is getting stronger. I have found an eye witness who is prepared to testify that she saw Emily leave her house in the early afternoon that day. This corroborates her story, and is very good considering the coroner’s estimated time of death was around
five pm
.”