Sticks & Stones (A Hollis Morgan Mystery)

by R. Franklin James

  “We couldn’t find a purse. Did she mention any names?”

  “No, just Fields’.”

  “What about a boyfriend? Did she have one?”

  “No, I don’t think she had a significant one.”

  Cavanaugh paused and stared hard at her.

  Hollis stared back.

  He turned away and flipped through the file.

  “And this is all she left with you?”

  Hollis looked him straight in the eyes. “This is all she left with me.”

  “Any idea why she might commit suicide?”

  “Detective, Cathy was a professional as well as my friend. She wouldn’t have taken her own life. She was a fighter. It wasn’t in her to give up on something she believed in just because she met with an obstacle.”

  “Sometimes people change when they’re backed into a corner.”

  “Not Cathy. That’s why she came to me, to help her prove the truth.” Hollis picked up her things. “I think you need to look deeper. I just don’t see her committing suicide.”

  Cavanaugh looked hard at her for a long minute. Then he slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “Okay, then. If you think of anything else get in touch with me.” He handed her his business card.

  Hollis put the card in her pocket. “I let her down. I may be too late to save Cathy, but I can save her name.”

  “I have to advise you that it is against the law to interfere with an open investigation. Mr. Fields has been extremely helpful to us and if you find out something to the contrary and don’t let us know, it’s a crime.”

  Hollis wasn’t surprised to hear the official party line. For the first time she wondered who was listening to their conversation.

  “I’m very clear about that, I assure you I—”

  Cavanaugh’s cellphone went off. He looked down at the screen and stood.

  “Ms. Morgan, I’ve got to take this call. Just remember what I said.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Hollis agreed to meet Mark Haddan at their favorite Thai restaurant after work. She noticed that he had become more confident and self-assured in the past months. Wearing an expensive-looking slate gray suit, he also had a new haircut. The style of his dark brown hair flattered his dark blue eyes.

  The waiter took their order. Hollis listened as Mark recounted his last conversations with their mutual friend. A story about how Cathy saved him from a client who was giving him grief brought back her own memories of Cathy.

  Hollis curled up in the booth with her feet tucked under her.

  “How’s Rena?” She and Rena had been members of the Fallen Angels Book Club. The Fallen Angels weren’t an ordinary book club; members had to be white collar ex-felons. Unfortunately, book club members had begun to die in suspicious ways, one by one, which brought a halt to their meetings. Hollis’ desperate efforts had turned the police investigation around, and as a result she’d been able to clear her name. Afterwards, the remaining club members tried to stay together but eventually they stopped meeting. Hollis realized that she missed the group.

  The waitress came by with a small stainless steel pot and refreshed the white porcelain cups that held their tea.

  Mark took a sip. “Rena is good. We are good. She told me to tell you hello.”

  “Just remember, it was I who introduced you two. I want full credit.”

  “Doesn’t saving your life make us even?”

  Hollis smiled and nodded. “Oh yeah, you’re right. I forgot. We’re even.”

  They both mustered a weak laugh.

  “How did it go with the police earlier?” Mark asked. He reached into his briefcase and laid an almost empty manila folder on the table. It was time to get to work.

  Taking his cue, Hollis took out a legal pad and flipped to a page full of notes. “After a lot of procedural rambling by the detective in charge, I learned nothing except that Fields has been ‘extremely helpful to the police,’ whatever that means.”

  “What happened when Cathy came to see you? What was her of state of mind?”

  “She called me late and asked to come over.” Hollis sat up in the seat and leaned forward. “She was agitated, frustrated, and angry. The libel suit was making her crazy. Cathy was convinced someone had stolen her research and had made it look like a burglary. She wanted me to help her with re-gathering the research. She told me that you thought I could help. I told her ….” She swallowed. “I told her I would have to think about it.”

  Mark, who had been taking notes, looked up quickly at the choke in Hollis’ voice. “Hollis—”

  “Mark, she did not commit suicide. The police seem to think she did. I know her, you know her. She never would have taken her own life.”

  “I agree.” He reached over and covered her hand. “I know she didn’t.”

  “I just wish I could have told her I was going to help.”

  “Don’t worry, she knew you well enough to know you’d help her.” Mark continued, “Cathy wasn’t hasty or impulsive. She had facts to back up her story. Did she give you anything we could use?”

  “We? Are you ready to take up Cathy’s case?”

  Mark gave her a small smile. “I lost a friend, too. That’s why I’m here.”

  Hollis gave him a stack of pages. “I copied the file Cathy gave me before I gave it to Cavanaugh. It’s primarily clips from newspaper articles showing Fields getting all these awards from various organizations.” She pointed. “Then there are these notes with dates and some with question marks. There are still other notes with the word ‘verified’ underneath.”

  Mark glanced through the papers. “There’s no way we have time to prep for a trial. We need to put our efforts into the biggest payoff. We need to delay a settlement hearing.” Mark pulled out a piece of tablet paper that matched the pad Hollis had in front of her. “The first thing I’m going to do is ask for a continuance. But we have a problem even before that.”

  Hollis nodded. “I know—standing. The lawsuit was against Cathy, not us. And, she never formally brought us in to work on her case. The court won’t recognize us as having a claim. Transformation management will look to have the case dismissed or settled, although Fields’ attorneys may want the visibility of a trial to punish the magazine.”

  Mark gave a quick shake of his head at the waitress when she approached the table. Hollis did the same and she turned back to Mark.

  “What if we talked to Transformation?” She held up her hand to stop Mark’s anticipated objections. “We need standing; they have standing. They were counting on Cathy’s proof to substantiate her claims. They might give us the resources we need to fight Fields.”

  “If I represented them, I might advise them against that,” Mark replied.

  “Believe me; I know they could just let Cathy’s reputation swing in the wind, but if we could show them there’s a chance to defeat Fields, they might just give us the opportunity to save their butts.”

  Mark wrote on his pad. “Okay, let’s say I’m able to get them to hire us for representation. That’s if I can sell the idea to my firm first. Same with you; you’re going to need the time from Triple D to do the research.”

  “Just get the six-month continuance, and I’ll get the assignment from Triple D.”

  “Well, I do have a possible foot in the door. There’s a partner in our office who knows Carl Devi, the regional editor for Transformation, and its chief administrative officer. There’s a good chance we can get a meeting with Transformation management.”

  Hollis smiled broadly. “Mark, that’s great.” She took out her calendar. “Let me know as soon as you get a day and time. I’ll make myself available.”

  “I thought you’d say yes. I’m shooting for this Thursday.” He handed her the folder of papers. “Let’s be ready. I’ll nail down an appointment and you get started on what’s available through public information.”

  “That sounds like a plan.”

  Mark said, “I took a quick look. There’s not much. But go throug
h everything and sort it out by strength of lead.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Hollis reached in her tote and pulled out two slim folders. She’d compiled notes of her own.

  Mark pointed to the initials on one of the folders. “You got that from Cathy, too?”

  “The notes I’ve already made are in this folder.” She pushed it over to him. “And these are Cathy’s, from the file she left behind.” Hollis slid it across the table.

  Mark put his pen down and flipped through the papers. “Hollis, tell me these are copies. You gave the originals to the police, right?”

  When she shrugged, he groaned.

  “Oh hell, no! Let’s not start out on the wrong foot.” He pointed a finger. “I’m an attorney and you plan to be one. We can both be disbarred.”

  “Okay, okay I’ll make copies and give the originals to Cavanaugh. I had a momentary blackout. It’s just with copies you couldn’t read clearly what she wrote in the margins. I tried scanning everything, but her scribbles didn’t show through.” She saw the look of rebuke on his face. “Fine, I’ll rewrite her scribbles and take the originals to the police first thing tomorrow.”

  Mark picked up the file and glanced at the top pages. He frowned. “Fields had her served at home. Here’s a letter to Cathy from Personnel. When her bosses at Transformation got served, they back-stepped from her so fast they even cancelled her subscription.”

  “But surely the Transformation attorneys vetted her copy. They must be vulnerable to lawsuits on a daily basis.” Hollis said.

  “Usually, yes, but Cathy was a freelance writer and she could sell her story to anyone she wanted. We need to get a copy of her contract, although there must be a legal disclaimer in every Transformation issue. We need to go through it in detail, particularly the limited liability language.”

  Hollis tilted her head toward Mark. “Take a look inside the folder cover.”

  Mark reached over and flipped the cover. His frown deepened. “It’s facial pencil sketches, dozens of faces.” He looked up at Hollis, “Did she mention who they are?”

  Hollis shook her head. “I didn’t give her a chance to tell me. I didn’t notice this until I looked at it before I went to work. And yes, I’ll give the original to the police.”

  “There’s no text, no names—nothing.” Mark handed it back to Hollis. “You think there’s an index somewhere?”

  Hollis stared down at the file and notebook. “She wanted to pique my curiosity so I would help her. Cathy used to draw caricatures of people when we were in meetings. She was actually quite talented. When I worked on her cases she had drawings of clients along the margins of her notes.”

  “So what are you saying? You think these are sketches of people who could prove her case?”

  Hollis nodded. “Yes. Or, maybe they’re sketches of the bad guys. Had she lived, she knew this would tempt me. This type of thing makes me crazy with curiosity. Still, she must have thought it could help me help her.”

  “Or like you said, she just wanted to get you curious. She thought she would be around long enough to explain it to you.”

  Hollis took a page out of the folder and held it over the light from the small lamp between them. “Nothing.”

  Mark shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Did you think you would find handwriting impressions? You’ve been watching too much television.”

  “I haven’t had time to watch television, mystery or otherwise. I was a law student.”

  Mark riffled through the pages. “I know Cathy. She would fight to keep her reputation from being tarnished by a crook like Fields.” He began placing files back in his briefcase. “I’m going to follow through with Transformation. And I’m going to the police and tell them the same thing you did—she’d never have committed suicide.” Mark paid the check and they both rose from the table.

  Hollis squared her shoulders. “I’m looking forward to working with you on this. I’m pretty sure George will lend me out. Then, once we convince this Carl Devi that we can save his tabloid some money, we can get together and divide up the work.”

  “Rena and I want to take you out to dinner.” Mark held the door open for her. “She’ll kill me if I don’t bring her in on this.”

  “Well, that’s one thing I got right,” Hollis said with only a touch of humor. “Tell her to try not to look like a New York model. My ego is too fragile.”

  “Are you sure you can work the Briscoe matter and keep up your work?” George was leaning in her office doorway. “This isn’t pro bono, is it? I can spare you for a few weeks but you’ll still need to work on a few cases, and you’ll have limited overtime.”

  Hollis stood and closed the folder sitting on her desk. “Mark Haddan is negotiating the terms of our work agreement with Transformation. And I will absolutely stay on top of your caseload.”

  “Which reminds me, were you able to arrange for the auction house to take in the Koch inventory after the movers?”

  “Yes. By the way, when I was taking inventory, there was this young woman who was wandering around the Koch house. She said she and her mother used to visit. Any risk she could be a relative?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Still, I’m going to track down her license plate. After trying to reach her I realized she lied to me about her real phone number.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Interesting. Why would she lie about that?”

  “Do you think she could she be setting us up for a claim? She said she wanted a last look before the house was sold.”

  “Margaret Koch was an only child. She had no children and no legal heirs.”

  “Are you sure? Then, why the lie?” Hollis sank back into her desk chair.

  “Hollis, there are no relatives. She was probably protecting her privacy. Because of the size of the estate, I hired a private detective, Brad Pierson, to make sure there were no possible claims. After two months, he found nothing. I didn’t think you needed to see the full client file, but the report is included. You may want to read it.”

  “Then who …. Can I see the file now?”

  “Sure.”

  She followed him to his office.

  He reached behind to his credenza and pulled a thick folder from the top of a stack. “Read it. If you discover that this young woman may be an heir, let me know immediately. No need to play detective.” George straightened. “Shouldn’t you be going? What time are you meeting the movers?”

  “At nine. It should take about three to four hours to load everything. Then I’ll go to the auction house to meet them as they unload.”

  He hesitated. “You look tired. When is the funeral?”

  She flinched. “I don’t know … I’ll … I’ll have to call Cathy’s mother.” She sat up in the chair. “Don’t worry. I’ll have the research you wanted done by Friday. I won’t disappoint you.”

  George made a sympathetic face. “It never crossed my mind.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The movers were right on time. Hollis followed them from room to room, making sure they shrink-wrapped the dressers and put heavy cushions around the glass cabinets. She walked into the den and counted all the boxes to make sure she would be able to match the count on the other end. Moving into the library, she noticed the titles on the bound volumes. She was no expert, but it wouldn’t surprise her if there were a few first editions going into the many boxes of packed books.

  “Excuse me, miss but this package fell from the top of the armoire in the upstairs bedroom.” A muscle bound worker handed her a cardboard box wrapped in shiny silver paper, tied with string.

  It had heft, but wasn’t heavy.

  “Which bedroom? I thought I checked all the rooms.”

  “Well, this was way in the back of that walnut armoire in the room with the dark green drapes. It fell down when we were pullin’ it away from the wall. It’s not rattlin’, so I hope nothin’ broke.”

  Hollis gently shook the box. “No, I think it’s okay. I’ll keep it wit
h me.”

  She didn’t have time to open it now. She put it with her purse in the trunk of her car. Another two hours later, the movers finally pulled away from the curb. They were going to meet her at the auction house after stopping for lunch. Hollis went from room to room making sure everything was gone. Tomorrow the cleaners would start, and the rest would be up to someone else.

  Hollis chose a small eatery across from the auction house. They had comfortable booths, and she sat in one that faced the street. Suddenly she looked up from the menu, her eyes moist. She had just remembered that she and Cathy once ate here after attending the theater down the street. Her appetite gone, she took a sip of ice tea.

  She reached for the box.

  The paper around the box was a discolored chevron pattern lined with pale pink roses. It must have sat on top of the armoire for years. The box itself was sealed with two-inch-wide tape that ran across all four sides. She used the table knife to slice through. The tape was old and held tight, but she finally succeeded in removing it.

  Letters.

  The box contained letter upon letter. Envelopes with thin spidery handwriting that flowed from once navy blue ink, now faded; others were typed and equally discolored. The stationery was varied and seemed fragile, the creases a brownish yellow. There was the faintest of smells, but Hollis couldn’t put her finger on the fragrance and the memory that almost came to mind.

  She counted twelve letters in all.

  She picked up the first one and noticed the date: 1938. She noted that the letter on the bottom had the latest date: 1957.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw the moving van pull up to the building. She carefully placed the letters back in the order she’d found them, re-taped the box, and put the money down for her bill.

  This would take more looking into. She had a quick thought about how Cathy would have loved to go through them with her. Returning the box to her car, she darted across the street. In a matter of minutes, the movers had opened the wide rear entrance doors and were unloading the goods.