The Return of the Fallen Angels Book Club (A Hollis Morgan Mystery 3)

by R. Franklin James

  He gave her a hard look and turned to lie on his back. “You know about the elephant in this room, don’t you?”

  Hollis frowned. “What elephant? We’re talking.”

  “No, we’re not talking, we’re having a conversation.” He sat up. “I can’t keep going on like this. I keep thinking—no, hoping—things will change, but they don’t.”

  She crossed her arms. “Do we always have to keep talking about us? Can’t we just enjoy the time we’re together? Frankly, that’s my biggest fear.”

  “What is?”

  “It shouldn’t be this hard, John,” she said. “Maybe our relationship isn’t ready to build a life on.”

  He shook his head. “It isn’t hard. You just won’t trust it.”

  “I trust you. It’s me I don’t trust. I’ve got a lot of baggage.” She looked down at her hands.

  He reached over and gripped her shoulders. “Everybody has baggage. Hell, I have baggage. Nobody is immune; it’s called living your life.”

  Hollis got up and sat in the curve of his arm. She didn’t want him to see her face, and her fear. He meant so much to her; she had done what she said she would never do again—let her guard down. She loved him with all that was in her, but what if they didn’t make it? If she lost him now, would she lose herself again? Would her life spiral out of control again? She wrestled with the fear and the longing and lay very still next to him.

  Getting a meeting with Frances proved harder than Hollis anticipated. It was clear Frances hadn’t wanted to meet. All she wanted was for Hollis to file the trust, and her only concern was how much longer that would be. Once in contact, Hollis assured her the Thursday hearing date hadn’t changed and there were to be no further delays. With that, Frances grudgingly agreed to meet her the next morning at the Starbucks downtown.

  That meeting scheduled, Hollis called Stephanie in an attempt to get a couple more answers.

  “Does the report say anything about Brian or maybe Frances knowing about the affair?”

  Stephanie responded, “Hold on. I knew you were going to come back at me with questions.” Papers rustled. “No, it doesn’t say one way or the other. For that reason, I bet they promised Ms. Leoni to keep things secret and not unnecessarily sully Jeffrey Wallace’s reputation in exchange for her information.”

  “Makes sense,” Hollis said. “Unless they needed her to testify, she could stay in the shadows. No need to cause unnecessary pain or embarrassment.”

  “That’s what it looks like. Besides, it’s no one’s business. They eliminated her as a suspect in both murders.”

  “One last thing—does the report point out how the killers knew that Todd and I would be in that deli?”

  Stephanie was silent as she scanned the documents. “No, I don’t see a cross reference, but remember, I have Jeffrey Wallace’s file, not Todd’s. It wouldn’t likely contain any information unless they found a link.” She paused. “And before you ask, no, I can’t get access to Todd’s file. I don’t think they’re even finished with the report.”

  Hollis bowed her head in acceptance. It would have been helpful to know how Todd was targeted before she had her meeting with Frances, but she’d have to wing it.

  Frances was dressed for business in a charcoal-gray pinstriped pantsuit, an indigo-blue silk blouse, and black pumps with matching purse. Already looking at her watch, she was waiting impatiently when Hollis arrived at the downtown restaurant. She was on the phone and had spread out her paperwork across the top of the small table.

  Phone in hand, she silently acknowledged Hollis and waved her to the only other chair while she finished her call. Hollis motioned she was going to get something to drink, but while she was in line, she glanced back at Frances, who had put away all the papers and was now texting.

  “I can’t stay long, Hollis,” Frances said. “I’ve got a real busy day.”

  “Got a horse running at Golden Gate Fields?” Hollis quipped and then immediately regretted it. She needed Frances’ help.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing, I’m sorry. I know you’re accommodating me at the last minute, and I know you’re really—”

  Frances held up her hand. “Right, I’m busy so what do you want?”

  “When is Todd’s funeral?”

  “There isn’t going to be a funeral. Neither Brian nor I want the emotional upheaval. We will grieve in private.”

  I bet you will.

  “Do the police think the guys I identified were the killers?”

  “Er … yes. I want to thank you for your part in this whole awful … awful ….”

  “Mess?”

  Frances glared at her. “I was going to say ‘situation.’ Todd … Todd had a way about him. He wasn’t what he appeared to be.”

  “And what was that?”

  Frances picked at a groomed fingernail. “He was sent to prison for a reason; once an ex-con always an ex-con.”

  Hollis felt her face flush. Frances looked at her in alarm.

  “Oh, Hollis, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you. I told you how much Jeffrey thought of you, all of the Fallen Angels.” Frances patted Hollis’ hand. “I’m a silly woman; just ignore me.”

  I don’t believe you for a minute. The swipe was deliberate.

  “Todd was an unfortunate opportunist. He rubbed a lot of people the wrong way.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I think everything works itself out in the end.” Hollis gave an airy wave of her hand. “Frances, I’m puzzled by a couple of things. I don’t think it’ll affect the filing of the trust, but I would feel a lot more confident if I had answers.”

  Frances leaned back in her seat. “What is it now? It’s always something with you, Hollis. I spoke with a friend who was an executor for a trust, and he said it doesn’t usually take nearly as long as ours is taking.”

  “Their trust probably didn’t have murders occurring every few weeks.”

  Frances was silent.

  “Frances, I’ve been getting a lot of hang-up calls lately, well, ever since I became co-executor. Have you had any problems?”

  She frowned and bit her lip. “You don’t think I’d do anything so childish, do you?”

  “I take that as a no.” Hollis went on, “I have just two more questions. Did Jeffrey say anything to you about adding Todd to the trust? And, do you know what Brian and Jeffrey argued about that day?” Hollis held up a hand to forestall her protests. “I know that last question is none of my business, but the Fallen Angels all cared about Jeffrey, and we’re just looking for closure.”

  Frances smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not offended or put off. The answers to your questions are no and no.”

  “Welcome back, Ms. Morgan, I’m thinking we should get you a field desk. You’re here every week now, sometimes twice a week.” Mosley held open the door for her to pass through. Leading the way to his office, he said, “So, tell me what was so urgent you had to see me today?”

  “Detective, I’ve been thinking. How did those two guys know that Todd and I were going to be meeting there?”

  “You should know that we let one of the men go. We checked him out thoroughly, but couldn’t prove he was there in the alley. But from your lineup ID—number seven, a Jerry Ness—we found Todd Wallace’s trace DNA evidence on clothing he’d tried to hide in a dumpster.” Mosley gestured for her to sit but remained standing himself. “Now, he could have known you two were meeting at the deli because Todd Wallace was a regular. He went there almost every day.”

  “That’s partially true. He went there to pick up his coffee from the cart in the morning. He told me so. But we were having a late lunch. Did Ness hang around for hours waiting to see if he was going to stop by?”

  Mosley looked at her with a blank face. “Is that it? Is that your question?”

  Hollis nodded. “Yes. So you’re implying it’s likely he’d been following Todd?”

  Finally taking his seat, he rocked back and forth in his chair for a few seconds before
responding. “That’s the conclusion we came to.”

  “Who did Ness work for?”

  “He says he was unemployed and looking for work. His high-paid lawyer says he’s innocent and just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “How could he afford to … oh, never mind.”

  “Yep, we figure he’s got backing.”

  “Do you know who?”

  “Evidently he’s more afraid of what they’ll do to him if he talks than he is of us.”

  “So right now you’re unable to cross-check if he killed Jeffrey, too.”

  Mosley gave a slight wince. “Brian Wallace is still a prime suspect in my book, but the DA’s office disagrees. They think Ness is a more likely candidate.”

  “How are you going to nail him?” Hollis asked.

  Mosley gave her a sardonic look. “Just like they say, we’re going to follow the money.”

  For once Hollis had a full day at the office. George had given her several new cases that needed to be researched including a recommendation for a legal approach. Whoever thought probate law was straightforward? It had more twists, turns, and upsets than she could ever imagine.

  By four o’clock, she’d made major inroads into the stack of files in her inbox, and she was ready to brief George.

  He sat and listened as she reviewed each matter. He asked a few questions and gave her specific advice on how to handle particular clients.

  She’d saved the Wallace Trust case for last. It took several minutes to bring him up to speed with the happenings of the last few days.

  George tilted back in his chair. “I know you’re going to get prickly about what I’m about to say, but do you think you’re in over your head? Could you use a little help? I can shift a few client meetings and we can focus on the trust together. The two of us will take a lot less time.”

  “You’re right; I’m going to be prickly,” Hollis said. “I can handle the Wallace Trust. I wasn’t asking for your, or anybody’s help. I’ve done the hardest parts. I only brought it up so that you would be aware of the doubts I still have about the assets.”

  He looked at her summary notes. “Don’t worry. If the family members discover there were undisclosed assets or fraudulent distribution, we can file for a new hearing. Let it go.”

  Hollis bit her tongue. She had no intention of letting it go. Frances would go through the trust like a hot knife through butter. There would be no assets to retrieve later.

  Still, George was right. She had to move on. The hearing was next week. She was out of time.

  Chapter 31

  Sitting on the balcony drinking her morning tea, Hollis pondered for the umpteenth time what might have happened three months ago. Whatever it was, Frances was getting giddier by the day. She’d called Hollis twice the day before to make sure the trust hearing had not been cancelled.

  She looked down at the phone viewer screen and saw the familiar number. It had been a mistake to give Frances her cell contact.

  “Yes, Frances.” Hollis only partially tried to hide the exasperation in her voice.

  “I know you think I’m a pest, but I made plane reservations for Vegas the same afternoon as the hearing, and I told the buyers for my house they could move in early.” Frances sounded breathless over the phone. “So, is it still on Thursday?”

  “Yes, of course. Nothing has changed.”

  “Okay, that’s good. And it’s final, right? It can’t change again? Will it take more days for it to be really final? Is there like a waiting period?”

  “No, Frances. It’s final on that day. Check with your insurance agent. You’ll likely get your half of the insurance policy within a few days of the hearing.” Hollis added, “Oh, and make sure they have your new Vegas address.”

  “Okay, okay, that’s good.” Frances paused. “Now, you told me that I don’t have to split the insurance policy with the Public Library Foundation, right?”

  Hollis sighed. “Frances, we’ve gone over this—”

  “I know, I know, but this is the rest of my life we’re talking about.”

  “No. The insurance policy identifies the beneficiaries. It’s only the trust that specifies Jeffrey’s community property share will go to the Public Library Foundation. And they only get whatever is left of the estate after you and Brian are dead.” Hollis took a breath. “Jeffrey’s insurance policy specified that you and Brian will split his policy fifty-fifty. It would have been shared with Todd had he lived.”

  “Such as it is,” Frances said. “I told Jeffrey we needed more.”

  Hollis didn’t bother to respond.

  “Your legal fees are paid from the trust, true? I won’t owe you anything, right?”

  “That’s right, Frances.”

  “Look, instead of putting the final papers in the mail. Can I come to your office Tuesday and pick up a copy? It would save you some time.”

  Really.

  “That’s two days before the hearing. The papers won’t be stamped by the clerk recorder until after the papers are filed.”

  “No matter. I’ll get the court copy in the mail. I just need to have what you filed.”

  Need to have it for what?

  Frances consulted her calendar, and Hollis agreed she could come by the following Tuesday. At that their call ended; Frances had to rush off. She commented she was getting her nails done and having a Botox injection.

  “I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of progress,” Hollis said under her breath.

  “What?”

  Hollis regrouped. “I said, we’re finally making progress.”

  Hollis tossed the salad one more time, and checked on the leg of lamb for the twentieth time. John, nursing a glass of Pinot Grigio, was waiting for her on the patio.

  It was as if they both recognized that they had come to a crossroads.

  All day she could feel his eyes following her. When she glanced at him, he would be peering at her with an expression she’d seen him use after he’d reached a decision. Even though he was only leaving for a few days, she knew she would miss him more than she thought possible. Still, there was a thickness in the air, and other than the common courtesies they had exchanged along with the light banter about his training, it had been underscored by silence.

  He came and stood behind her, sliding his arms around her waist.

  She smiled and half-turned. “It’s not much longer to dinner.”

  “Good, it smells fantastic. Come outside and sit with me.”

  “I … I ….”

  Ignoring her hesitation, he led her by the hand and picked up a glass of wine he had already poured for her. They sat at the patio table.

  “Yesterday, while I was packing to go to training, I tried to imagine all the reasons we should be together and all the reasons we shouldn’t.” He looked her in the eyes. “But when I got about midway through, I stopped, because it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, at the end of the list, at the end of all the pros and cons … no matter how it added up, or not … I just want to spend my life with you.”

  Hollis gasped. Her eyes started to tear.

  “John, I … I—”

  “And then I thought about what you said you wanted.” He picked up her hand. “I am not Bill Lynley. I am not your ex-husband. I’m not going to take away your self-respect or leave you behind to clean up my mess. I’m not going to muddle your mind, so you can’t judge right from wrong. I’m not going to put your life in danger and expect you to protect me.”

  She was unashamedly crying now. The years of pent-up disappointment and emotional fence-building required to keep her pain at bay had left her tired and spent. Her heart was exposed for the first time since her court sentence ten years ago, when Bill had walked away, leaving her to her fate and ending their marriage. Over the years she had sealed up her heart and was comfortable leaving it that way, until John.

  John.

  He held her and let her sob into his chest. Finally, she quieted. He handed her a cloth napkin for the
tears.

  Hollis’ voice trembled. “I love you.”

  He nodded. “I know. I love you.”

  She leaned against him, beaming. “How much notice do you have to give to your landlord?”

  He looked into her eyes and smiled. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

  He held her face lightly and kissed her deeply.

  Slow to arrive at her office the next morning, Hollis tried to suppress the smile that kept creeping onto her face. She had woken up at three a.m. and looked over at John’s sleeping figure, with his arm crossed over onto her pillow. From now on, he would be there for her. She would have someone by her side. She still couldn’t believe her luck. Her smile wouldn’t go away.

  Later, her phone rang. She’d been distracting herself with work, finishing up a draft client letter. She hesitated a moment, bracing herself for Frances’ voice, then saw who it was and picked up.

  “Hollis, this is Vince,” he said, swallowing. “I wanted you to know that I passed my test. I’m a high school graduate.”

  Her throat tightened. “Oh, Vince I am so proud of you.” She gulped back a little sob of happiness. “You did it. You stuck with it, and you did it.”

  He cleared his throat. “No, you did it. You wouldn’t let me get away with giving up.”

  “Well, you answered the questions. Now, when is the ceremony, and when do we celebrate?”

  “I’m not going to the ceremony,” he said. “You know, because of my mom and everything. She’ll want to come, but she wouldn’t do well—you know what I mean.”

  Hollis rubbed her eyes. “Yes, I know what you mean. Well, we can still do a dinner. Where would you like to eat?”

  “You’ll take me to dinner?” he said. “Say, you know that all-you-can-eat place in San Leandro?”

  Hollis nodded. “Sure, but you can pick a nicer place, Vince. You can go to the all-you-can-eat place anytime.”