The document ended with a note that it was his interim will until such time as his lawyer could draw up the full document. His signature was dated Tuesday.
That poor man, I thought. And poor Kitty. He really did care for her and wanted to change her life. Being involved with the wrong people was what got him killed.
I hoped Kitty never thought of it that way.
Now that I had the will, what was I to do with it? If I gave it to Eugenia, it most likely would never see the light of day. If she didn’t destroy it, the lawyer she would call would. I couldn’t very well do something with it. I knew nothing about wills.
What I needed was a lawyer. Or a law student, I thought. I had a few calls to make to a certain Texas Methodist University resident assistant. Perhaps he could—
“Missus Robertson?” Persephone called through the door, and I jumped. I pushed the papers into my pocketbook and called back.
“Yes?”
“Miss Eugenia’s coming down in a moment. She’s feeling a bit better,” Persephone said, I swear I saw her eyes roll as she said it.
“Thank you.” I straightened my jacket and hat, then walked into the sitting room to meet the lady of the house.
21
Mrs. Eymann was sitting on the same sofa where I had questioned her the afternoon before and seemed more alert than I remembered. She couldn’t sit still, I revised as I sat down. She was fidgeting almost nonstop with a small portrait of the departed Mr. Eymann.
“Did you find him? Max called and said you found him,” she said, looking up as I stood behind the armchair opposite her.
“Yes, ma’am, I did find him. He’s at the Prescott’s funeral home right now,” I said, and she sagged against the sofa arm for a moment like a rag doll.
“I’m so glad… I can’t….” She started to cry.
“Mrs. Eymann, you’ve had a nasty shock and a hard week, and I do hope it gets better for you,” I said, coming around the chair to make sure she heard me clearly.
“Thank you, you’re so kind,” she said, wiping a tear away. I thought about the will in my purse and wondered what it would mean for her.
“No trouble at all. If you don’t mind, this is the bill for my services,” I said, thrusting the little typed sheet into her hand.
I thought it was quite a reasonable fee, considering I almost got kidnapped and who knew what else, but it made me nervous to ask for money. Tom had insisted that I type the bill up, and that I get paid before anything else happened. It was a relief to know that I at least had something to show for my troubles, and that I might have a job to go back to.
She glanced at it, then at me, then back at the bottom of the paper where the total was. The paper was shaking a bit, and it took all of my self-control to keep from telling her not to worry about it; I didn’t need her money.
“Oh well.” She sighed, and then leaned to retrieve a little box that sat on the end table beside her. She pulled some cash out of it and handed it to me without counting, it seemed. I put it into a separate pocket in my pocketbook, which I left a bit open.
“Have you heard from Marvin, Mrs. Eymann?” I asked as I tried to count the bills as discreetly as possible. She shrugged.
“Not today, no. He hasn’t called or come home that I know of. He must be having fun somewhere,” she said sadly. That cad had left his widowed mother home alone for Thanksgiving. Maybe he didn’t want to see the deep sadness he had caused.
“Do you have any plans for the day?” I hated to think she was going to spend the day alone, moping around the house.
“No. Well, that is to say, Max said he would come by and get me to eat lunch at his house,” she said, hands twisting at her empty ring finger. She’d taken that wedding ring off awfully fast. “He said he worries about me and that he’ll take care of me.”
“It’s nice to have one less thing on your mind,” I said, and then flinched as I realized it sounded like I was assuming they would marry.
“Yes, it is. It really is. I do hope that he forgives me for being so silly all those years ago….” Her voice trailed off and her eyes refocused on the picture in her lap.
“I’m sure he will, ma’am,” I said, and took my leave. I walked out into the cold, bright sunshine and into Tom’s waiting car, and we rumbled off to Mississippi for the weekend. If we hurried and had some luck, we could get there in time for leftovers.
22
It was early the next Monday morning when I sat in the waiting room at Texas Methodist University, waiting to see the dean. The office girl had made it clear he was a very busy man, who didn’t meet with people without an appointment usually. I kept a smile plastered to my face as I politely insisted it would only take a moment or two of his time, and that it was an issue of ethics. She didn’t look convinced, but there wasn’t a good way to throw me out of the office either. I held my ground in a small padded leather chair.
She typed away with some efficiency, and I watched in a bit of awe. That typewriter was going to be the death of me, I knew it.
While I waited, I thought about what was before me. I’d had a chat on the phone with Buell yesterday, and he’d agreed to take Kitty’s case. When he graduated in December, he’d be a full lawyer. He’d help her get what belonged to her as his first case.
Buell had done the paperwork and taken the will to be probated, whatever that meant, bright and early that morning. Hopefully that meant Kitty was on her way for better times, for the rest of her life. I also hoped against hope that I wouldn’t be called on in a court of law to answer questions about how it was obtained.
I still was puzzling over Mrs. Eymann. She had asked no questions about who had done what or why he was taken. I didn’t know if she was still drugged, accounting for her lack of curiosity, or if she knew she didn’t want to know the answers to those questions. Either way, I had her cash in my handbag, ready to present to Mr. Barret at the agency once my appointment here was done.
A thin, neat man in a wool suit had come in and out of the doors in front of me several times, scrupulously avoiding eye contact with me each time. Finally, he came out, nodded at the office girl, and shut the doors behind him.
“You can go in now, you’re expected. Don’t keep him a moment past necessary,” she called after me as I marched through the double doors into a well-decorated office that reminded me of bankers’ offices. You never would have guessed the college was only twenty years old, not one hundred. I’m sure that was the intention.
The man looked up from his seat behind an enormous desk but didn’t bother to rise.
“What can I do for you today, ma’am? I’ve been assured you have some urgent business to take up with me, but I can’t think of—”
“This is a Methodist university, is it not?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is,” he said with barely concealed annoyance.
“You’ll have to forgive me, I’m Baptist, so I don’t know, but how does the Methodist Church feel about gambling?”
“Gambling?”
“You know, playing the ponies, craps, the like.” I stood for a second while his eyebrows tried to decide what to do.
“Yes, I know what gambling is. It’s, of course, not something that students are allowed to do. The church does prohibit it. We aren’t a free-for-all, you know,” he said severely to me.
“That’s good to hear. I happen to know that one of your students has been gambling and losing, quite a lot. Wouldn’t seem like a good reflection on the school if that were to come out.”
“And how would that come out?” He looked a bit alarmed now.
“Oh, you know. Newspaper columnists are so gossipy nowadays. Not something I approve of, but if a family like the Eymann’s were to get dragged through the— You know the Eymann’s, right? Have you heard of Mr. Eymann’s tragic death?” He shook his head no. “So sad. Passed last week. His stepson Marvin goes here. He seemed like such a bright boy, but I have it on the best authority that he has a serious gambling and drinking problem.”
“Mr. Eymann passed away? How unfortunate.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it? Between you and me, I’m not sure how they’ll be able to afford his tuition next semester. And with the gambling problem….” He nodded along with me, looking sympathetic, but I could almost hear the sums running in his head.
“Thank you very much for bringing this matter to my attention, Mrs.?” he stood up and reached for my hand. I didn’t take it, and smiled.
“Just call me a concerned citizen, and if you don’t mind terribly, I’d like to keep this little visit a secret. I don’t want to pile onto the family’s troubles, you understand. I can’t help but wonder about the moral corruption he would bring to others.”
“Of course, of course. Well, thank you,” he said, and I turned and walked out of the office, feeling a moral victory was in hand.
23
Until I got off the elevator by the office, I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to throw up. Nerves weren’t really something I was used to; I thought it had been indigestion before. I took a moment to run into the ladies’ room and put a damp, cool handkerchief on my forehead for a second. With my eyes closed, I could almost feel relaxed.
Maybe this would go better than expected, like Mississippi had, I thought, then winced. I doubted I could sleep most of the way through this, and Mr. Barret was unlikely to decide I was too delicate to question.
I straightened my gloves, fiddled with my hat again, and made sure the collar on my coat was perfect, and then I marched back into the office.
I was absolutely positive that Mrs. Jacobs was going to throw me out on my ear, but surprisingly, she didn’t. Well, she was otherwise occupied, but I managed to make it all the way to Mr. Barret’s door without anyone intercepting me. I knocked twice, before my spine could fail, and he called me in.
“Come on in. Who is it?” His voice rumbled as I pushed the door open a bit slowly.
“It’s me, Larr—Laurel.” I sounded unsure of my name, for goodness sakes.
“Well, come on in,” he said, sounding a bit shorter. It was hard to tell if he was irritated at how slow I was walking or how quiet I was.
“I don’t bite, and you aren’t a mouse. Walk like an agent.” I wanted to disagree about the bite comment, but he caught me by surprise with the agent bit, so I had to push the door harder and quicken my step.
“Yes. Of course.”
He was leaning back at his desk, coffee cup in hand, and a handful of newspapers spread out around him, different articles cut out. I wondered what he was saving. Or looking for.
“Well?”
“Here’s the cash from Mrs. Eymann.” I’d been turning it in my hands, and forced myself to set it down on the desk, near me. He actually set the coffee cup down and leaned across the desk to pick it up and study it. We sat in silence for what seemed forever.
“Yup. I see that. Next time you get a call like that, you wait for someone else to help, you hear?” He was growling. “I can’t have people running around half cocked, especially a woman running out to some house to meet any client who calls. Too dangerous.” He finished and leaned back, the coffee cup having returned home to its roost.
“Yes, sir,” I said, and wondered if I should turn and walk out? Or —
“So where did you find him?” He was back to looking at the newspaper in front of him again, but I heard the curiosity.
“He was in one of his ice houses, actually. His future son-in-law—”
“Don’t tell me details! I can’t know,” Mr. Barret interrupted quicker than I thought he was capable of speaking.
“Sorry. We found him after a long night, or I guess day of wild goose chases. Anyway, all’s well that ends well.”
“Maybe for you.” He took a sip.
“Yes, well. Should I go?” I wanted to be done in there.
“You can go. Go right on back to your usual seat. Mrs. Jacobs has almost cooled down. I don’t think she’s going to leave you in charge by yourself again, though.” Mr. Barret chuckled a little as he said it, belly bouncing.
My chest tightened some, but I laughed too. There was no way that woman would ever let me out of her sight again. I knew it.
“Yessir. N-no, sir. Thank you, sir.” I had the door open almost wide enough to pop out.
“Laurel, before you go—” I turned back and looked. “That was some good work. We’ll see if we can’t get you out doing things like that more often.” My eyes got big as saucers, and I squeaked something idiotic, I was sure. It was a bit fuzzy.
“Thank you, sir! Yes, sir!” Inside, I wondered if that was what I wanted. Invigorating but messy seemed to be what happened when I left. I supposed that was everyone’s choice. Between the comfort of the same every day, and the mess of excitement, I knew now why everyone back home should be worried about me doing this. What if I liked it?
Thanks for joining Laurel and the boys for their outing.
If you got a kick out of the story and have a second, there’s a couple of things you could do to help others enjoy it too.
Recommend it: Help others find the book by recommending it to friends, readers’ groups, discussion boards and by suggesting it to your local library.
Review it: Please tell other readers why you liked this book by reviewing it on Amazon or Goodreads.
Curious about how Tom and Pete met? Or what’s in store for Pete and Kitty? Sign up for Laurel’s readers list, and get the whole FREE story.
Love the fashions of the 1930’s? Check out a vast, curated Pinterest board of 1930’s fashion, lifestyle and slice-of-life. There’s more, book-specific boards and research available here.
Did you know you can follow your favorite authors on Bookbub? If you subscribe to Bookbub (a great way to find new books you’re interested in, with alerts for sales and new releases!) - follow me there to be alerted when the next book releases!
Historical Note
Ice boxes were the most common method of home refrigeration at the time, and there were several ice factories serving the Dallas market at the time.
In early 1928 Dallas, an employee of the Southland Ice Company began selling eggs, milk and bread out in front of one of the icehouses. Icehouses were one of the only businesses that were open on Sundays because of Texas blue laws, and people flocked to them. Another employee put a souvenir totem pole (I don’t know how you bring something that big home as a souvenir) from Alaska up in front, and they became known as Tote’em stores. Today, they’re 7-11.
I did take the liberty of pushing the development of the stores back a few years. By 1931, they had already started to add gas stations to the Tote’em locations, and employees had uniforms. The company also was flirting with bankruptcy at the time, hardly in the position to purchase a competitor, although it had turned around completely by 1934. More research on 7-11 and icehouses can be found here.
Hartgrave’s Cafe is just two blocks away from the pink house on Swiss, and is where Marvin went to use a phone booth to call the funeral home and Fitz. Bonnie worked at this cafe for about a year, in 1928-1929, before she met Clyde. She was there to earn money while her husband (whom she never divorced) was in jail. Here’s a great post by a local historian about the location and further context. Clyde actually had a job down the street at one point as well.
Note from Author
This case will go down as the first time a character completely hi-jacked me. The story flowed along, and then suddenly got stuck like a truck in the mud. I hopped to write the end, which I knew, and a completely unknown bad guy rudely showed up. It was Marvin.
It took months to uncover everything he was up to, and I’m not sure that being kicked out of school and deprived of a counted-on inheritance will be enough to make him turn his life around.
Also by Shannon D. Wells
The Case of Bonnie and Clyde
The Case of the Ice Man
The Case of the Osage Heiress due May 2019
annon D Wells, The Case of the Ice Man
The Case of the Ice Man Page 8
