The Fallen Angels Book Club (21 page)

“Hollis, good to see you. There's something I want to show you. Can you come to my office?”

“Of course.”

My curiosity was in overdrive. Since our last conversation, I didn't think Ms. Murray cared for my interfering in her turf. I followed.

“I wanted to follow up with you about Lily's medication. I asked her doctor to double-check our records and to give her a blood test to make sure mistakes weren't being made.”

I was impressed. I hadn't thought of blood tests.

“And?”

“He found nothing to indicate things weren't as they should be.” Opal folded her hands on the desk.

“Did he examine her? Did he talk with her? Lily's acting strangely and getting worse each day.”

“Lily's getting old. I made a special effort to talk with her and interact with her during community time. Her behavior isn't out of the ordinary for someone her age.” She picked up a cup and took a drink. “I know you care about her but this type of thing is inevitable.”

“I'm not naïve. I know she could be a victim of dementia, but I don't—”

“You know I can't discuss Lily's health with you. I just wanted you to know I took your concerns seriously and followed up with the doctor.”

I nodded. “Just tell me one thing. Have you seen a change in her? She's fine in the morning, but in the afternoon she drifts and becomes almost incoherent.”

Opal frowned. “Yes, I know. It can be explained. Her doctor says her condition is to be expected. Dementia can come on suddenly.”

Her words rolled off me. I believed that she believed the explanation. But I knew Lily and I knew I'd have to take things into my own hands.

At home I finished putting together my recommendation packages for Rita and Avery to complete. I fixed myself a cup of tea. If I was right, this whole thing with Lily would be wrapped up quickly. I made another cup. When I looked at the clock again, it was almost midnight. I wasn't sleepy and I still smelled Bill's cologne. Why had he made such a big deal out of seeing me? He didn't say anything he couldn't say on the phone. I had a suspicion that, like any dog, he thought that territory once marked could always be reclaimed.

Well, he thought wrong.

T
oo many restless nights and not enough sleep were starting to take their toll. Stifling a yawn, I snuck a look at my watch and hoped Avery wasn't planning on an extended team meeting.

“Okay, where are we with the Riddick matter?” Avery slapped several thick pale-green legal files between us, forming a low barrier. For the past twenty minutes, he hadn't looked up, and he was rambling through a description of the case status, repeatedly losing his train of thought.

I exchanged looks with Mark.

“Well, Hollis and I contacted all the heirs. Each of them signed the declaration and release.”

“Spouses as well?” Avery asked.

“Spouses, too.” Mark looked at me with an acknowledging nod.

“Good.” Avery pulled a pad out and started writing. “Hollis, contact this appraiser and have him go out to the Riddick house as soon as possible. Try for next week. No later than the week after.” He passed the paper to me.

I looked at the information. “I know another appraiser who has worked for the firm in the past. He is fast, professional and a lot cheaper. I could give him a call.”

“No, use Putnam. The firm will get a break on his fee because I've given him other properties as a package deal.” Avery put the Riddick file in front of Mark. “I'd like you to prepare the court petition, declarations and order. I don't want this to drag out, so let me see drafts by the end of next week.”

Mark nodded.

“All right. Anything else before we move on to the Gleason matter?”

Mark straightened up. “Yes. Isn't it kind of strange that Imelda Riddick would have a will made up when she was only twenty-three? I did some preliminary research. Imelda's relatives came from lower-to-middle class families. They didn't have any assets, didn't even own their own homes. Why would a young woman like that make out a will?”

Avery's jaw stiffened and his eyes narrowed. Not a good sign.

“What's your point?” His voice would have frozen lava.

I struggled with jumping in to save Mark, but he clearly was on a suicide mission and appeared to be oblivious to the mounting tension in the room.

“Shouldn't we check more into her husband's background? Maybe there are more assets or heirs on his side. There could even be a later will that—”

“Stop right there. Interesting, but irrelevant. I hope you didn't bill the client's estate for any of your wandering research. I'm the supervising attorney and you check with me before you go off on your own fantasy assignments.” He picked up the next file. “Now, have you closed your old cases?”

Mark looked as if he'd been socked in the nose. I didn't give my sympathy often but he had it.

“I … I'm fairly close to finishing. I just have some client letters to dictate. The Riddick heirs took up a lot of my time and—”

Avery held up his hand. “This is embarrassing. At least it is for me. You have time to go off on a tangent about a simple estate matter but not the time to do your job. You're on thin ice here, Mark. Don't risk losing it all.”

I realized my hands were twisting in my lap. I was mesmerized. Avery was acting uncharacteristically mean. He wasn't usually the type to reprimand an attorney in front of staff or anyone else.

Something was wrong.

“Avery,” I said, “I'm partly responsible for holding Mark back. I'm drafting the final client letters and haven't been able to dedicate the time needed to get them done. You'll have them on your desk Monday morning.”

Avery jerked his head over to me as if he'd forgotten I was in the room. “Is that right?” His tone was disbelieving. He gave me a touché nod. I hadn't fooled him. “I'm a patient man. I can wait forever to make something happen. You both are wasting time by getting distracted.”

Mark looked over at me in surprise. “You can work that fast?”

He had to be a lousy poker player
.

“Not a problem.”

Avery regained his composure, but the rest of the meeting wasn't over soon enough for any of us.

Mark and I had our own after-team meeting in the lunch room. Accompanied by the background hum of the vending machines, I slowly drank my tea. Mark showed his agitation by pacing the room.

“Thank you for in there.”

I ran my fingers through my hair and said, “Couldn't you tell he doesn't like surprises? Or playing guessing games, particularly with clients' funds? You can't plead a case if you don't look up to see a client's reaction.”

“I wanted him to know I had an inquisitive mind and could think outside the box.”

“You better tread carefully. Get through your probationary period first. Don't make any waves. Don't try to impress anybody. Just do your assignments.”

“Yeah. I got it.” He looked at me. “You'll actually do those client letters for me?”

I'd already started to berate myself for volunteering. “Don't push it.”

Back in my office, I was amazed by how quickly Mark moved to bring me his files. In fact, I didn't mind helping this once. The letters were pretty straightforward and they kept me busy. My modus operandi was to finish my work and complete my hours ahead of schedule, sometimes days ahead. That way I'd be seen as a superstar, but on my own terms. Mark's letters were done by the end of the day. I'd hold them a while longer before I handed them in to Avery. I wanted to ask Mark about Rena, but we couldn't find time to talk. He stayed in his office behind closed doors.

I headed for the center.

Fortunately, I knew where Marjorie's office was located. After giving Marla an awkward hug goodnight, I pretended to head for the break room. The hallways were empty and the residents were in for the night. I tried the door to the vacant office. Not surprisingly, it was locked. It took only a few minutes for me to make my way back to the lobby. I prayed Joseph hadn't figured out how I got the code.

He hadn't. It was still there.

I memorized the numbers and headed back down the hall. In less than a minute, the keypad beeped and I was inside. The office was dark except for glare from the streetlights that crept between the blinds. A desk with a lamp and chair waited for an occupant, but other than that, the room was empty. A door leading to what appeared to be a closet was half open. I opened it. It was a closet, but with a second door, it also served as a small pass-through to an adjacent room. This larger room was equally dark, but a tall table with a stool, a small brown box, a weighing scale and a small machine were evident.

A pill sorting machine.

I didn't turn on the light out of fear that someone would notice. Instead, I walked around the table and over to a waist-high shelf that held pharmaceutical supplies. Nothing appeared sinister or out of place. There was a stack of papers in an inbox on one of the lower shelves. I took a couple of the top sheets and walked over to the window to see if I could make out the words. They were notices from various manufacturers touting one medicine or advertising recent breakthroughs in the market.

Hearing voices in the hallway, I put my ear against the door. Two women. A male voice joined in. I quickly placed the pages back on the shelf and slipped into the pass-through. Cracking the door to see out, the keypad beeped. The door opened. Joseph entered and turned on the light. I slid back into the shadows. He didn't look my way but went over to the table and put the small box under his arm. He went to the door, glanced around and turned off the light. I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until I finally exhaled.

That was too close
.

Under my doormat I saw the edge of an envelope sticking out and recognized Bill's effusive handwriting. Putting aside the fact that he had come back after promising he wouldn't, I sat on the sofa and opened the letter.

Dearest Becky,

I know you want to be called Hollis, but you will always be Becky to me. I guess I never wrote you a letter. Too bad it can't be under happier circumstances. I did a poor job of trying to talk to you last time. You know I'm not good at that kind of thing. I don't think on my feet as fast as you do and I'm too impatient.

Anyway, I stopped expecting you to call my cell so I'm having it disconnected. I don't think you'd give it to the police, but I thought it best to remove that temptation.

Rory dealt with some very unsavory characters. He didn't take my advice and blackmailed one of his partners. Like I told you before, he got greedy. All I know is that Rory couldn't control him. Whoever killed him might know about me. It won't be long before he figures out I have something he wants. I put it in a safe place, with someone I trust.

I'm using another name, which I won't share with you. I know you'll try to solve all this, but for your own sake, I hope you don't. Just be careful. There's a man who has a grudge against me. He has the situation all wrong, but he won't listen. He may come after you. Don't try to reason with him. Call the police.

I hope you can forgive me one day. That's it. Have a happy life. That's all I wanted to say. Except, I wish things could have been different for us.

Love,

Bill

Bill had always been one for drama, but something told me that this time I wouldn't hear from him again. I folded the letter, putting it in the envelope and then into my purse. I knew I'd have to turn it in to the police. The letter answered a few questions, but it raised others. I had a lot of chores I needed to do. Instead, I sat and watched the last filaments of the sun fade.

The formation of the Fallen Angels had been based on trust, but now trust was out of the question. Our bond was broken. There was still one member for me to check out.

I had, unconsciously or not, saved investigating Miller to the end. While I wasn't ready to completely write off the others, I could almost check off all the boxes for Miller as the likely killer. Richard was desperate to keep his past from his wife, but he also seemed to have been willing to pay Rory for his silence, at least for a while. Gene's gay relationship with a minister gave him a strong motive, but I didn't believe he could have killed Abby. Rena had an alibi.

Then there was Miller.

I had brought Miller's Inquiry First printout home. It contained much of what Gene told me—which wasn't a lot. Even though our club selections were made by voting, Miller limited the books we had to choose from. He could select the books based on the murder scene he favored. Otherwise, the murderer would have had to read the club books after we voted. It took some planning to mimic the mode of each killing. I munched thoughtfully on a slice of pear. Finally, the murderer had to be a man. Whoever killed Rory and Abby had to be strong.

There was no time like the present. I punched in his number.

“Hollis, what's wrong? Why'd you call?”