by Jack Parker
Gracie looked dubious. "Wouldn't that give him more motive to kill John?" She thought about what Meredith had said about her brother; interesting that someone else confirmed the man's manner. She'd have to tell her about that; it might help.
Loretta's smile grew conspiratorial again. "Maybe he did! Though I doubt it; his solutions came from a bottle. Personally if anyone killed John it was Mother."
Gracie decided to play along. Idly she wondered if Loretta had had acting experience, or if she was just naturally that good. She lowered her own voice to a near-whisper. "Do you really think she did?"
"Well, she certainly had opportunity. A pillow against his face, the wrong dose of his meds. It was clever of her to do it in the hospital, too; fewer questions because the nurses were supposed to be watching him. She had the body cremated three days after he died, so no chance to dig him up and run tests."
"But wouldn't his doctor look for signs of smothering, or check drug levels?" Gracie asked.
Loretta shook her head dramatically. "John was dying, Gracie. It was just a matter of time after he entered the hospital. I doubt his doctor would do more than glance at the body because he expected the death. Even if he thought the man had died from asphyxia he'd probably assume John had rolled over and accidentally smothered himself."
"You sound like you cared more for John than Robbie," Gracie said.
"Oh, I did! He was a nice man and we spent a lot of time talking about the Scriptures together. He had some wonderful thoughts about how a good Christian should live."
"I thought you said he was controlling," Gracie commented.
Loretta waved her hand in dismissal again. "Only if you let it get to you," she explained. "I'd learned a long time ago how to let Mother's words slide off my back, so it didn't bother me at all."
"He didn't have any way to enforce it with you," Gracie said with sudden understanding. "He was only a step-father and you were an adult." She grinned. "And I can just see you flashing that twinkling smile at him as you told him you'd do as you please."
That self-same twinkling smile wreathed Loretta's face. "You betcha! You can't let people get away with that kind of thing. I remember one time he said..."
Gracie waved off the impending story. "Let's concentrate here, please. We've gotten way off base. Do you have any idea what's in Robbie's Will?"
"Nope, not a clue," Loretta replied. "I couldn't even tell you for sure that she had one."
Gracie frowned in thought. "Didn't you say she was always threatening to cut someone out of it?"
Loretta performed the airy wave again. "Doesn't mean she did. After all, it costs money to have a Will drawn up; Mother wasn't one to spend money on something that didn't benefit her." She paused to think, and Gracie could almost see the wheels turning in her head. "This state allows holographic Wills, she could've done that."
"Holographic? You mean hand-written?"
"Yep. The whole thing has to be in your writing, you can't even type in a date. She was spiteful enough that she might've taken the time to re-write a holographic Will every time she got pissed at one or the other of us."
"Do you know if anyone's found her Will yet?"
Loretta shrugged. "If they have, they haven't told me. Sure would be easy for whoever finds it to tear it up if they don't like what it says. No convenient copy at the lawyer's office to prove anything."
Gracie lapsed into silence for a few minutes, pondering what little she'd learned. She'd just drawn breath to ask another question when the doorbell rang.
Loretta looked startled. "My Goodness, who could that be?" She jumped up to answer the door.
Gracie reflected that the woman certainly didn't act like she had serious medical problems. She'd walked quickly and gracefully to the door. Did that mean she was making mountains out of molehills in order to gain sympathy? For all Gracie knew she was putting on a good front and would spend the next two hours in bed after Gracie left. Loretta had opened the door wide and was gesturing for someone to enter. Well, that shouldn't be any surprise, Gracie thought.
Ken stopped just inside the room. "Hello, Miss Greene. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Hi, Lieutenant. I was just talking things over with Mrs. Logan," Gracie responded.
At Loretta's gesture he walked over to the conversation area and took a seat. "That's fine. I won't take long; I'm here to get fingerprints from all the suspects. Your being here will save me a little time."
"Oh?" Loretta drew out the word, playing coy.
Gracie debated over asking if he had something to compare them to, but decided he probably wouldn't tell her since she herself was one of the suspects.
"Did you mother like chocolate-chip cookies, Mrs. Logan?" he asked.
Loretta shrugged, her eyes once again twinkling at the drama of having her prints taken. "Not especially, Lieutenant. But she had a bit of a sweet-tooth so I doubt she'd turn them down if someone offered. Is that what killed her?" Her question was asked in a positively ghoulish tone.
"We're not sure yet," Ken said. He couldn't afford to be accused of helping Gracie in her own investigation, yet he knew she was smart enough to get the hint. "There was a plate of cookies on her bedside table, but the lab hasn't had time to thoroughly analyze them."
Loretta smirked. "Let me guess. There was a fingerprint on the plate! And whoever it belongs to is the killer!"
Ken kept his face impassive. "It could belong to a kind neighbor for all I know at the moment. We're still processing the scene. In the meantime I need both your fingerprints; consider it for your own protection."
"Huh?" Loretta said.
"If we're innocent then our prints would eliminate us," Gracie explained. "At least from giving Robbie that particular plate of cookies."
"Yes," Ken said, inwardly heaving a sigh of relief. Gracie had gotten the message, but it remained to be seen if she could do anything with it.
CHAPTER 71
Monday
Ken pulled into the small parking lot in front of Connie Canardi's office. The building had originally been a home in an older area of the city, an area that was now in vogue for use as office space. This house must've once belonged to someone wealthy, but that was a century ago. It had been kept up nicely, but still spoke of a different era. Canardi didn't own it; she rented it along with several lawyers. Doubtless that kept the costs down, and from the lack of cars in the lot they might need to cut corners.
Ken opened the front door and stepped into a small reception area. The perky young woman at the desk instructed him to go through the door to his right to reach Canardi's office. He walked into another reception area where he found a stick figure of a woman putting papers into a filing cabinet. "Hello, I'm looking for Ms. Connie Canardi," he said.
The woman appeared startled at the question, whipping her head around to look at Ken. "Oh! Are you the policeman who called earlier?" she asked. Her voice was high and almost squeaky.
"Lieutenant Ken Freeman," he introduced himself, offering his hand.
The woman waved a long-fingered hand and turned back to the filing cabinet saying, "I expected you two hours ago, Lieutenant. I'll be with you in just a minute. It's my secretary's afternoon off."
"I'm sure you can appreciate that a homicide detective isn't exactly in control of his schedule," Ken remarked. Mrs. Redmond's family hadn't had good things to say about this woman in their dealings with her as a Trustee, and he wasn't about to apologize. Although he really didn't expect to learn much, long years of experience suggested that he'd do better to put this kind of woman off guard.
Canardi picked up the last file folder and scanned the labeled drawers to find its proper place. Having filed it, she gave the drawer front a shove and turned back to Ken. "Follow me," she said. The drawer bounced back open without her having noticed.
Ken followed her into her office, which looked more like an old-time men's club with lots of dark wood and leather chairs. He took a seat without waiting to be asked. "As I said on the ph
one, Ms. Canardi, I'm investigating the death of Roberta Redmond. Her husband John was your client before his death."
Canardi dropped into her chair on the other side of the massive desk. "Ah, yes, John. He was a nice old guy, though I think his mind was starting to go the last couple of years." She chuckled, though the attempt sounded more forced than jocular. "He didn't like lawyers."
"What makes you say that?" Ken asked.
Canardi leaned back in her chair, crossing one long leg over the other knee and steepling her fingers. "He came from a time when a man's word was his bond, and he hated the idea of having to spell things out and sign contracts. He complained about my fees; apparently thought I charged too much." She made a wry smile.
"All lawyers charge too much, far as I'm concerned," Ken commented.
Canardi shrugged. "They perform a valuable service."
"Tell me about Mr. Redmond's Trust," Ken requested.
"I'm quite sure Mrs. Redmond's family has told you all about it," Canardi said.
"Yet as both Mr. Redmond's attorney and the Trustee, you are the expert on the subject. You're more likely to get the details straight."
Canardi preened a bit under the praise. "First of all, I should tell you that while I was indeed Mr. Redmond's attorney at one time, I have since let my bar license expire."
"Oh?" Ken asked in surprise. "Why is that?"
The woman smiled. "Nothing sinister, I assure you. I simply decided that I could do better dealing in oil and gas leases. I've been working with them for some time now, and when my license came up for renewal I just didn't bother. Also, it was Mr. Redmond's previous attorney who wrote the Trust agreement; when the poor man died John hired me and had me appointed Trustee. To answer your question, Mr. Redmond set up the Trust in order to provide for his wife after his death. She was 5 years older than he, and didn't handle money well. He wanted to insure that she had money to live on, money she couldn't spend on a whim. Anyway, the Trust was funded by the proceeds of a mortgage for the sale of his business, and has been accruing funds for the past two years."
"So why did Mrs. Redmond and Ms. Rodgers take you to court last Friday?"
Canardi uncrossed and re-crossed her long legs. "A desperate attempt to get their hands on the Trust money immediately," she replied. "The Trust is not a part of Mr. Redmond's Estate."
"So you do have that assignment they're looking for?"
"The judge ruled that I must turn over all papers related to the Trust, and I shall do so."
That hardly answers my question, Ken thought. "Desperate attempt, you called it. Why did you use that word?"
"They both have reason to try to circumvent the agreement," Canardi replied. Her tone turned confidential. "Mrs. Redmond bought a lot of clothes, to excess I believe.
Naturally John wanted to keep her from spending all the money, leaving her nothing to live on. And he felt that his sister had already gotten her inheritance in the form of some kind of automobile. He asked me not to tell her anything about the Trust."
"But he didn't cut his sister out," Ken stated. "How could you legally not tell her about the Trust?"
"Not entirely," the Trustee replied. "Upon Mrs. Redmond's death any remaining monies will be divided equally among Ms. Rodgers and Mrs. Redmond's four children. He felt that Ms. Rodgers hadn't been a dutiful sister and didn't deserve all the money."
Ken let that go, though again his question hadn't been fully answered. The man had a right to dispose of his money according to his wishes, even if his sister didn't like it. And despite the request to keep her in the dark she clearly knew about it now.
"Mrs. Redmond had five children," he remarked.
Canardi looked surprised. "She did? Well, apparently John didn't wish to include one of them. It was his decision to make. Please remember Lieutenant, I did not write up the Trust agreement so I wouldn't be privy to his reasons."
"Had Mrs. Redmond applied to receive money from the Trust?"
Canardi shook her head. "The Trust cannot be accessed until the Estate is finalized."
"That doesn't answer my question." This time Ken said it aloud, rapidly growing tired of evasive answers.
"No, I haven't spoken with her about it. Is that plain enough?"
"How about a letter? Did she – or her attorney Mr. Allison – send any correspondence regarding accessing the Trust?" Ken asked, sensing another possible evasion.
"No. I've had no contact with her since she got Mr. Redmond's Will."
"When was that?"
"Shortly after John was hospitalized. And before you ask, what I gave her was a copy. John had the original document, though apparently he'd mislaid it. As I said earlier, his memory wasn't the best."
From what he'd heard so far about Robbie Redmond it didn't surprise him in the least that she'd ask for the Will even before her husband was dead. But something else was bothering him. "Why didn't you act as Mrs. Redmond's attorney in the matter of the Estate? You were still licensed then, weren't you?"
"No, Sir. I'd let my bar license lapse shortly after John became my client."
"Did Mr. Redmond know that?" Ken asked. At least this time the woman had made a clear statement.
"Yes, he did. I sent letters to all my clients informing them of the situation. In cases such as John's I made it clear that there was no reason I couldn't continue in the office of Trustee." Canardi paused, then added "Of course I cannot know for sure that he actually received the letter nor that he understood its meaning."
"How about Mrs. Redmond? Was she aware of the situation?"
"Apparently not," Canardi said. "She didn't say anything about it."
"She came and got the Will from you, but she didn't ask you to handle the Estate?"
"She did not. She showed up without having made an appointment and I was pressed for time that morning. Later I realized that we hadn't discussed the subject and
fully expected her to call back, but she never did. Obviously she retained the services of Mr. Allison instead. I couldn't tell you why she made that choice. Perhaps she knew I no longer practiced law or if she didn't know that then she might have thought it would be a conflict of interest since I am the Trustee."
"So you're just biding your time waiting for the probate to end before you handle the Trust," Ken commented rather caustically.
"No, I'm defending myself against this attempt to nullify the Trust," Canardi snapped.
"Do you need defending?" Ken asked curiously.
The lawyer sighed. "Poor choice of words, Lieutenant. However, it is my duty as Trustee to maintain the integrity of the Trust."
"And if the Trust isn't valid you'll hand over the money to the Estate?" Ken asked.
"The outcome remains to be seen," Canardi said.
* * * *
"So, do you think Loretta killed her mother?" Cheryl asked.
Gracie looked around at her two friends sitting on the purple beanbags in her room. "Just to let you know, I sure am glad you're all here to help me," she said. "It really helps for me to bounce ideas off you guys."
Shawna mimed dodging the metaphorical thrown object. "Just don't hit us too hard."
"Where's Kelly?" Cheryl asked. "He's had some good ideas on this. And I didn't even hint that we might go shopping this afternoon." She grinned.
"He said he'd be here later," Gracie told her. "And no, I don't think Loretta killed Robbie. She can be really evasive if she doesn't want to answer a question, but she didn't even try to get out of giving Ken her fingerprints."
"At least we think we know it was the cookies that killed her," Shawna said.
"Ken certainly hinted pretty strongly about that," Gracie said. "I know he can't talk to me about this case, but it feels weird not to."
"Loretta could've bought the cookies but someone else put 'em on the plate," Cheryl mused. "That way she wouldn't be worried about her fingerprints."
"Ooh, good point!" Gracie said brightly. Her face fell as she followed up the thought. "But anyone else coul
d've bought them, too."
"Even the killer if he was stupid enough," Shawna said.
"Charlie Stubblefield doesn't strike me as a very bright man," Gracie said pointedly. "And Loretta suggested that Robbie might have cut him out of her Will."
"Because he's not her favorite?" Shawna asked, obviously angry at the idea.
"It's not his fault he's the older brother," Cheryl said. "Half-brother, but still. Maybe John liked him better, though from what I've heard it sounds exactly like something Robbie would do because he wouldn't go along with her schemes."
"Has it occurred to anyone else that Robbie is an appropriate nickname for Roberta Redmond?" Shawna asked.
All three girls laughed uproariously. "Rob 'em and leave 'em, that was her motto," Shawna joked.
"Or maybe rob 'em and bury 'em when she'd gotten all their money," Cheryl said. "Which makes her murder an appropriate form of revenge."
"Only if it was one of her kids that killed her," Shawna insisted.
"Well, who else is there?" Cheryl asked. "We know it wasn't Gracie, and Ms. Rodgers really doesn't seem the type."
"The kids' spouses," Gracie replied. Someone else she'd gotten money from. Meredith says she'd joined a bridge club, maybe she lost big-time."
"I can't exactly see some loan shark using cookies to off her," Kelly said from the doorway.
"Kelly!" Gracie jumped up and ran to hug him. She took his hand and pulled him across the room to her beanbag.
Kelly gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, but extricated his hand and moved toward the chair at Gracie's desk. "Been working on Chris' car," he said. "I'd hate to get grease on the Purple Pillow."
Gracie made a mock-heartbroken face, but curled up in her beanbag chair alone.
"See, I told you Kelly's had some good ideas on this," Cheryl said. "He makes it sound like a scene from some goofy comedy movie. I can just see some big, tough Italian guy knocking on Robbie's door late at night and she's shaking in her slippers because she knows he's there to collect the money she owes." She giggled.
