“Well, Mr. Newton left behind some forensic evidence we think ties him to the murder. We have an alert out for him. He’s not going to get away.”
I stood to leave. I was suffering from information overload.
Detective Faber stood as well. “I know this hasn’t been an easy time for you, Ms. Morgan. I appreciate all your efforts to keep us informed and allow us to do our job.”
He held out his hand. I shook it firmly, having only a few qualms about getting ready to do just the opposite. Then I headed home.
I went to the center to report to Lily that her house was going on the market and that her furnishings at the auction house had already attracted a fair amount of interest from potential buyers.
“I’m counting on you, Hollis, to tell me what’s a good price. I trust you to tell me the truth.”
I blinked rapidly at her words.
I took a deep breath. “Lily, I won’t betray your trust. I know how much you need your money.”
Lily smiled and patted her hand. “I never doubt your word.”
Tiny came over to where we were sitting. “Hollis, I’m so glad you’re feeling better. We’ve missed you … and the doughnuts.”
I frowned. “Sorry. I forgot to pick some up.”
She looked forlorn. “Cookies?”
“I’m teasing you, Tiny. There are donuts in the kitchen.”
She gave me a wave as she headed toward the door. “I knew you wouldn’t forget.”
Lily leaned over to me. “Can you see Mr. Herbert before you leave? If you’re not able, he said he’ll understand. He needs help with his DMV application before his driver’s license expires.”
“Mr. Herbert still drives? He must be almost ninety years old.”
“He’s ninety-two. He keeps his license in case one of us needs to go somewhere and we can’t get the senior van service to take us.”
I guessed that the friend of Opal’s nephew saved his vehicle for special occasions. I rubbed my forehead. “Still—”
“The doctor approves him every year. If he thought he was a danger, he wouldn’t sign off.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll help him. Where is he?”
“He’s in the library. His daughter dropped off these boxes a few months ago so her husband wouldn’t get them.” She picked a pair of glasses to put on her eyes. “They’re getting a divorce. Now it’s been settled, Mr. Herbert says she’s coming to pick them up. She put some important paper in there and needs to go through everything.”
I wanted to tell Tiny this was really more information than I needed to know, but then her words struck a chord.
I thought I knew where the ledger was.
After my last conversation with Detective Faber, it occurred to me that Bill could have left the ledger with Rory’s mother. Maybe she was one he “trusted.” Newton must have known about Rory’s ledger and killed him to get it. I remembered Bill wanted to talk but I wouldn’t let him. He knew I’d figure it out.
“Mrs. Rollins, I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Hollis Morgan. I was a friend of your son, Ror … Michael. We were in the same book club.”
“Yeah, I remember you from before. That book club. I just can’t imagine Michael as a bookworm. It still makes me want to laugh. How can I help you?”
“I’m actually calling about his friend, Bill Lynley. I was wondering if he asked you to hold any boxes. I know a senior center that would really appreciate having used books for its library.”
“He sure did, honey. No problem. He brought these boxes here after Michael was killed and asked me to hold them for him. I guess he won’t be coming to pick them up. Too bad. He was a nice young man. I was just getting ready to put his junk in the garbage, but it would be good if you could take it off my hands. Do the seniors need clothes? I’ve got some. They’re old but still can be worn.”
Clearly, Bill hadn’t brought his boxes to her until after Rory was killed and the police had searched through his belongings. They didn’t check Rory’s home again after Bill was murdered.
My heart raced. “Mrs. Rollins, let me help you. I can come by tomorrow and take the clothes, too. Is it okay if I bring a friend to help me carry out the boxes?”
“I don’t like having a bunch of strangers in my house, but I guess it’s okay. Besides, the police got everything they wanted. You’ll have to come before I leave for the chiropractor.”
We agreed on a time in the morning.
Just as I hoped, Mark gave up his Saturday to come with me. My equilibrium was still off and I kept bumping into the boxes scattered over the floor in Mrs. Rollins’s extra bedroom. My doctor said there would be residual evidence of poison in my system for weeks to come, but that eventually my balance would return to normal.
Other than two small boxes of clothes, Bill left fairly heavy cartons. One was full of books. The other contained bank statements, cancelled checks and tax forms. Mark walked in front of me. “I can make a temporary desk, and we can put the boxes on top where you can go through them easily.”
“All right. There aren’t that many. I’ll know it when I see it.”
He lifted a box, sat it a few inches from my reach and started taking books out one by one. I thought Rory might have inserted a ledger among the contents of the box, but after sifting through all the paperwork and assortment of books, I didn’t find the ledger among them.
“What do we do now?” Mark started putting pages and books back.
“Wait.” I picked up a book and fanned its pages. Nothing fell out. I picked up another.
Mark followed my lead.
“It’s got to be here,” I said.
“Maybe Newton got it,” Mark said. “Or maybe Bill hid it before he died.”
“Maybe, but I’ve got to be sure we’re not overlooking it.”
He started in on the last box.
I brushed my forehead with my arm. “Wait, look at this.” I picked up a blue spiral notebook shoved between two thick hardbacks. The first two pages were blank, but the middle pages had been neatly ripped out, leaving a few blank pages at each end.
Mark looked it over and handed it back. “Do you think the blackmail records were in here?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, I do. I know this sounds corny, but hold the page that was next to the torn pages up to the light. Can you see anything?”
Mark pulled a lamp sitting in the corner over to the makeshift table and plugged it in. He lifted the page. “There are writing impressions, but not enough to see anything.”
I rummaged around in my purse. “I’ve got a pencil. Let’s try rubbing it lightly over the page.”
I was as surprised as Mark when after a little effort, a few words—it looked like two entries—appeared.
“We should take this to the police,” Mark said. “They have equipment that can read this stuff.” Mark examined the page more closely.
“Can you do it today? I want them to have it as soon as possible, but I’m really getting tired. I’m ready to go home.”
Mark lowered his voice. “Hollis, don’t worry. Avery will be convicted. This page will add to the stack of evidence against him.”
“I have to do what I can to make sure he gets a full sentence. Then I can let it go. Avery tried to kill me. He killed my friend. He betrayed dozens of clients.” I sighed, “I need to read between Bill’s lines. I just need to figure it out.”
We took the boxes of books and clothing and put them in Mark’s SUV. Walking out to the parking lot, I bumped into the doorjamb and pretended not to notice Mark’s concern.
The beaming sun playing against the pale blue sky belied my frustration.
He started the engine. “You know, Hollis, I think we work pretty well together.”
I almost smiled. “We’ll see.” For a moment I couldn’t describe what I thought. There was pain, this time from my heart. I knew I’d be missing a certain pair of green eyes I wouldn’t be seeing again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I steadied myse
lf and gave a slight wave to Mark as he pulled away from the curb. The night was quiet and the sound of kids playing next door didn’t take away from the stillness.
Turning the key in the lock, I sensed movement to my right. A tall man stepped out from the bushy cypress shrub and grabbed my elbow. I screamed into his gloved right hand as he gripped my mouth. Shoving me into the house, he used his left hand to lock the door behind us before he growled in my ear.
“Mrs. Lynley, I don’t think you know me, but I knew your late husband.” He shook my head with his hand firmly squeezing my mouth. “If you stop screaming, I’ll remove my hand. If you play games, I want you to know I will hurt you.”
I nodded in understanding. He released me and smiled. I recognized his smile. He was the man in the car parked in front of my neighbor’s when Bill had come by my condo. He had followed Bill.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. My heart pounded and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. The man in front was about a foot taller than me. His bald head was fringed in dark brown hair, and he had a frazzled-looking mustache over large lips.
He kept a grip on my wrist as he closed the shutters.
I stood shaking beside him. “What do you want? Did Bill owe you money? I don’t have much, but you can take what I have.”
He looked at me with large, flat, brown shark eyes. “Your husband wasn’t a very nice man. He took something from me that I need back.” He smirked. “I think you know it wasn’t money.”
I licked my lips. “Bill never told me what he was doing. He was my ex-husband and …”
He moved around the room and started throwing books off the shelves. I tried to calm myself and clear my brain. I edged toward the kitchen doorway.
“He took a ledger that puts me in a very bad light.” He finally turned to look at me.
I stopped moving.
“Well, I can tell you Bill didn’t give me a ledger. I don’t know who you are and I don’t want any trouble. Please, please leave.”
“I wish I could, but I’ve looked everywhere for those pages and Lynley didn’t have them on him. So, I’m thinking he left them with the lady in this picture.” He tugged at a slightly crumpled photo in his pocket. He held it out for me to see.
I stared at him.
“Look at it. It’s you and him. He was holding onto it when he died.”
Bill held onto our honeymoon picture.
Glancing down at the doomed couple, a tear escaped my eye. My intruder must be Keith Newton, Bill’s killer. I had to get a grip on my thoughts.
“Yes, it’s me, but like I said, we divorced years ago. I never saw Bill after that.”
“You’re lying, but that’s okay.” He stood in front of me and shoved me into the dining room. “Sit. This may take a while.”
I sat. I did a quick calculation of his bulk versus mine, and it was no contest. All I could think was now would be a good time to beg. Otherwise, I’d have to make a run for it.
“Leave now. I don’t have any papers. Bill was never here …” I stopped. A gong went off in my head. Remembering Bill’s visit, I hoped my realization wasn’t obvious.
I had a pretty good idea where the papers were.
“I don’t think you get what’s going to happen.” He loomed over me and his sour breath assailed my nostrils. “You’ve seen my face and you probably realize I killed your husband. I have to have the ledger. I’m going to have to kill you, but I’m willing to make it quick if you help me out with this little matter.”
I couldn’t speak if I wanted to. Fear combined with anger held me silent. I balled my hands into fists. I had to buy time.
He stood back and pulled a lengthy cord out of his pocket.
“What are you going to do?” I knew I didn’t want to know the answer.
He only looked at me. “Lie down on your stomach.”
That isn’t going to happen.
“How do I know you won’t kill me anyway?”
“We’re not having a conversation. I said get on your stomach.”
I quickly looked around. I stood slowly, stiffened my back and thrust my body against my grandmother’s étagère. I hit it as hard as I could with my shoulder and felt it give under my weight. It only wobbled.
“What the—”
I didn’t let him finish. Just as he made a grab to pull me to him, I shoved one more time. The étagère came crashing down on top of Newton. He fell with a thud, even as the breaking glass, splitting wood and frog figurines covered him.
My eyes immediately went to the thin envelope secured by a single piece of tape to the back of the cabinet.
Newton started to move.
Not looking up, I snatched the envelope.
I was out of there.
I was amazed I didn’t have a trail of Highway Patrol cars behind me. Pulling into the police parking lot, I drew a deep breath. I was still deep breathing when Faber came into the conference room. I told him what happened.
“Rest here.” He pointed to a couple of chairs and called out on his way out the door. “I’ve got to catch a murderer.”
I must have nodded off because when I opened my eyes he was sitting across from me, reading.
He pulled out several tan sheets of paper from a file folder. “You found the ledger.”
I looked across his desk to the neatly written columns of names and numbers. We studied them together.
“How many people were in your club?”
“Not that many, I assure you. Evidently, Rory wasn’t as rehabilitated as the system would have hoped. Looks like he was branching out.”
“The names are in code.” He turned the pages toward me so I could read them. “Do you recognize any of these phone numbers?”
I looked at the dollar amounts entered, ranging from five hundred to eight thousand. It was clear EA1 and DR1 were different people. EA1 was making monthly payments of seven hundred dollars while DR1 was paying twenty-five hundred a month. Rory must have had a sliding payment plan based on ability to pay. What a guy.
“Yes, FA2 is Abby. That was her cellphone number.” My throat was constricted and my eyes filled with tears.
“Do you see an entry that could be Avery?”
“I don’t think the initials shown relate to real names. There’s no ‘A’ or ‘M’ listed.” I looked down the list. “Wait, here he is.” I pointed to his Triple D cellphone number prefix.
“Avery Mitchell was JP1,” Faber said.
I looked across the columns. “He’s been paying twenty-five thousand a month. Wow, no wonder he was always chasing new clients. JP must stand for ‘jackpot.’ ”
Faber reached over and touched me lightly on my shoulder. “Are you okay? You look funny. You want to sit down?”
“No, I’m going home. It’s time for me to move on.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“All rise in the State of California Superior Court, County of Santa Clara,” the court clerk announced with authority. “Judge Mathis presiding.”
Clay Boone nudged me and smiled. He motioned for me to relax. In a few minutes my life would be decided, and my lack of control over the situation made me extremely nervous.
“Good morning.” The judge was an elderly man. He wore a maroon bow tie and a crisp white shirt under his black robe. His wispy white hair curled around his ears. “Let’s get started.” He pulled a stack of papers from a brown legal file.
The court clerk stood and spoke from a small table to the right of the judicial bench. “Your Honor, the first matter this morning is a petition to the court for an order of Certification of Rehabilitation for Hollis Morgan, aka Rebecca Hollis Morgan Lynley.”
“All right. Let’s hear from … Mr. Boone.”
I tried to remember the pep talk Clay had given me before court: “I’ve got to tell you ordinarily I wouldn’t care as I do about the outcome of a petition. You made me care. You won me over with your intensity and determination.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “You made me believe in you. So wil
l the judge.”
I certainly hope so.
Clay moved to the center of the room and gave me a brief reassuring smile. “Judge Mathis, eight years ago my client, Hollis Morgan, was a first year law student with honors. She was married and lived an uneventful life. She hadn’t been in trouble with the law. She’d never even gotten a speeding ticket, but that was soon to change. Her then-husband was a dishonest, disloyal con man. He was real good at the con. He deceived my client into signing documents that would eventually lead to her incarceration for insurance fraud. And—”
“She couldn’t have been too good of a law student if she didn’t know he was asking her to commit a crime.” The judge looked over his glasses at me. It took all I had in me to look him in the eye instead of holding my head down.
Clay had warned me to prepare for comments like this from Mathis. He had a reputation for interjecting his personal views. Even so, I swallowed hard.
“In fact, your honor, she knew what she was doing, but not why. Her ex-husband was defrauding his customers, just as he lied to Ms. Morgan.”
“Okay, let’s move on. I have a busy calendar this morning.”
“My client served her time and was released eighteen months early for good behavior. Since that time, she has completed her parole per her sentencing. In fact, one of the letters of support I have here for Ms. Morgan is from her former parole officer, Jeffrey Wallace. Additionally, Ms. Morgan, for the past several years, has volunteered her time to assist seniors with their personal paperwork and legal issues.” Clay walked back to stand next to the desk where I sat. “Another letter of support is from the director and one of the seniors at the center, indicating Ms. Morgan is not only knowledgeable, but kind and generous.”
“What does she do now?”
Clay walked back to the judge’s bench. “Ms. Morgan is a paralegal for Dodson, Dodson and Doyle here in Alameda County. She’s worked there ever since achieving her paralegal certificate after her release. She has gotten superior performance evaluations and we have a support letter from the firm’s managing partner, Edward Simmons.”
The Fallen Angels Book Club Page 23
