Legacy (Capitol Chronicles Book 5)

by Shirley Hailstock

  "An agreement that I believe has been overlooked in the period since his death."

  Erika took a deep breath and placed her palms on the table.

  "You're back about the checks," she stated.

  Alva picked up a butter knife and began adding a film of marmalade to her croissant. "Yes, darling, I'm here about the checks. Why are you holding them? They are mine."

  "Mother, I've been running this company solely for over a year. Carlton never mentioned owing you anything. What were you blackmailing him with?"

  "Not blackmail, Erika," Alva said sternly. "I never blackmailed Carlton."

  "Then why was he paying you, regularly and systematically? It certainly looks like blackmail to me."

  "Well, it wasn't."

  "Are you an employee of Graves Enterprises?"

  Alva didn't give an answer and Erika did not expect one.

  "Did you sell something to Carlton?"

  Again silence met her question.

  "Did you lend money to Carlton, and this was his method of repaying you?" Erika stood up. She went toward her mother. "He'd been paying you every month for how long, Mother? Two years, three, twenty-five? Hasn't Carlton been paying you since I left your house and came to this one?"

  "Erika, it's a trust fund."

  "Why, Mother?" Erika asked, the menace in her voice made more terrifying by the restrained quiet evident in it. Erika leaned on the polished surface of the dining table, her face only inches from her mother's. "Why did Carlton, who had nothing to do with you, establish a trust fund to take care of you?"

  It had been a long time since she felt like an adult in her mother's presence. Then Alva St. James Redford stood up, taking back all the ground Erika had won.

  "All you need to know, Erika, is that the fund was established. Carlton's will did not restrict, limit, or dissolve it. It's there, and it's mine." She took a step, bringing her to within a foot of Erika. "I'll expect my regular and systematic check to be in the mail this afternoon. And furthermore, I expect a check each and every month, and without the need for me to arrange my day in order to join you for breakfast."

  The two women stared at each other as anger remained the only force speaking in the room. After a second Alva turned to leave.

  "Mother!" Erika stopped her. "There's one more thing before you leave."

  Alva lifted her chin, facing her daughter with the same caustic look she’d level on a mortal enemy.

  "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and not outright accuse you," Erika began, but she had no doubt that her mother was guilty. "The last time you were here, you intimated that you'd go to the press with Michael's story."

  The smile that crossed Alva's face told Erika her mother knew she had the upper hand.

  "Are you responsible for the reporters we're having to deal with?"

  Erika couldn't read the expression on her mother's face. She had no idea what the smile meant. As the seconds ticked off and Alva offered no response, Erika realized she wasn't going to get one.

  "Make sure that check is in the mail," Alva said, and left.

  Erika knew she'd lose this fight. When her mother appeared suddenly at her door several nights ago, she'd known the woman had come to discuss her finances, but Michael had interrupted them. Erika purposely had not let the check be mailed. It sat in the drawer of her desk. She wanted to know the reason for the fund. It had been established while Erika was still a teenager. From what she could tell, it appeared Carlton had made some deal with her mother. Erika hated the thought that formed in her mind when she'd heard about the fund. Had her mother effectively sold her to Carlton?

  The though was too horrible to believe. But Erika understood her premonition that something was wrong. It wasn’t Michael on her mind or the thought of him in her room. It was Alva, the wicked witch of Erika’s past and present. Hopefully, with the resumption of her funding, Erika’s future would be Alva-free. Any amount was worth the price to keep her from ever seeing her mother again.

  ***

  Earlier and earlier, Frank thought, standing at the window watching the Christmas scene. It wasn't even Thanksgiving yet and the Christmas decorations were everywhere in the mall. Mounds of cotton, representing snow, adorned a scene of moving mice, dressed as people and sliding about on a track. Both adults and children smiled as they stood for a moment to watch the wonder.

  Frank thought of his children. They would love to see this. Maybe when he was done. When all the people responsible had paid, he and Abby would bring the children and they would see the mice and the red-cheeked Santa. Frank would take them for pictures with the bearded old elf who sat at the center of the mall and asked every child what he wanted for Christmas. Frank liked waiting to shop. He wouldn't buy anything today. He'd look, get ideas, make lists, and on Christmas Eve he'd buy his gifts. On Christmas morning they would get up and have a family event opening their presents, like when he was a child. His children's Christmas morning would be like his, complete with a warm fire and lots of presents.

  All he had to do was complete his work. He'd be finished long before Christmas Eve. Even today's setback hadn't bothered him. He'd missed the judge. The man must be out of town. Frank had camped out for three days waiting for him but he simply hadn't appeared. No mail was delivered, no garbage appeared for pickup, and no newspapers gathered in the driveway.

  But Frank wasn't concerned. He was a cautious man, a patient man. He had time. He could wait and plan until the time was exactly right. All of them would pay for what they'd done to him and his family.

  Then he'd shop for his children's presents.

  Chapter 10

  The two women at the hospital reception desk were different from the ones Michael had seen on his other trips to visit Malick. He passed them with a nod and a smile and made his way to Malick's room, which had been upgraded to a regular one.

  As Michael traversed the striped walls of the hospital, he remembered Erika’s question. Had he been in her bedroom the night before? He didn’t answer having been saved by the Alva. He answered Alva’s question truthfully, although it wasn’t the full and complete truth. It wasn’t an answer he’d have given if he sat on a witness stand, but it conveyed a meaning, although a misleading one, that her memory of him was a dream. Michael didn’t remember her opening her eyes. She turned over in her sleep and he left directly after that. Could she have seen or sensed his presence? Maybe she was dreaming that he was there and his physical presence was coincidental.

  Malick was sitting up in bed watching television when Michael opened his door and went inside. He switched the set off when he recognized him. Malick looked years better than he had only three days earlier.

  "How was class?" he asked without a greeting.

  "I got through it," Michael said. He didn't want to tell Malick that he had been right, that he liked teaching. Erika had seen it the minute he walked into the room, but then he was coming directly from the class. Tonight he'd had time to compose himself. He knew he'd tell Malick what he really felt about the class, but he didn't want his friend gloating too soon.

  "I'm sure you did more than that."

  "I didn't follow your plan very long. We began discussing The State of Pennsylvania vs. Adams but then other precedents were cited and we were off on a tangent. I thought it was an important path for the students to take, so I didn't stop them."

  "Good," Malick said. "It's exactly what I would have done. What time did you finish?"

  "What?" Michael said, trying to buy himself some time.

  "Did you finish before the class ended, or was the entire class still there after the time they should have been gone?"

  Michael knew why Malick was such a good lawyer. He'd cornered him into this question and Michael could see where he was going with it.

  "Only fifteen minutes," he said.

  "Fifteen minutes beyond the time. I knew it! I knew you'd be good. Students are a hard lot and if you got them to forget the time, especially on your first night, they ha
d to be interested in what you were saying."

  "I suppose I'll be all right until you return," Michael conceded.

  "If the press doesn't discover you're there."

  Michael looked confused.

  "I've been watching the news. You and Erika made the headlines two days in a row. How's she taking it?"

  "She's weathering it." Michael remembered the haunting look on her face when he'd told her about the press conference. Yet once she got there she'd taken control and held it until the end.

  "What about you?"

  "I'm fine," Michael shrugged.

  "Are you really? You've had a lot of stress points in the past few weeks."

  "I'm all right, Malick. You don't need to spend your time worrying about me." Michael knew his friend thought of him constantly when he'd gone to Maryland. Coming back could be just as stressful as the events which had sent him there. "Except for Erika, I'm the same as I was before I went to Maryland."

  "You and Erika aren't getting on?"

  Michael hesitated. He didn't know how to explain it. "It's not that we don't get along. Quite the opposite. We get along very well."

  "Then what's the problem?"

  "I'm not sure there is a problem."

  "Is she all business? No woman under the business suit?"

  Michael remembered holding her close. He shook his head. That was certainly not the Erika he knew. If anything, she was all woman.

  "I know I was a little groggy, but she appeared to have a pleasing personality. Isn't that the case?"

  "She's fine, Malick. I can't think of any faults or complaints to brand her with."

  "Do you want to brand her with something else?"

  "What do you mean?"

  Malick started a smile that burst into a laugh.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Michael, you have all the symptoms of a fourteen-year-old, and you don't even know it."

  Oh, he knew it—and that was his problem. He was falling for Erika.

  "Michael, she's a beautiful and obviously intelligent woman. Why are you fighting the fact that you have feelings for her? I'd think you should question yourself if you didn't."

  Michael hadn't come here to talk about his feelings for Erika. Yet he talked to Malick about everything else. Why should Erika be any different?

  "It's Abby, isn't it?" Malick formed it as a question, but Michael understood the statement.

  "I suppose everything comes back to Abby. I wonder what will happen to every woman I meet. Will I be the reason some man hurts her?"

  "Michael, you can't keep blaming yourself for Abby's death. You didn't kill her."

  "I know, but I'm responsible for her death."

  "And just how did you manage that? Were you there? Did you provide her with the means?"

  "No, just the motive. I'm as much responsible for her death as I would be if I'd fed her those pills myself."

  "Stop that!"

  Michael's head snapped up at the anger in his friend's voice and the sudden crash of Malick's hand against the bed table. His plastic pitcher and cup danced, then settled.

  "You didn't kill Abby. If anyone is responsible for her death it's her husband. Now, you get any thoughts like that out of your head and keep them out."

  Malick's face was beet red, and Michael knew his blood pressure must be off the scale. If he didn't change the subject he'd be responsible for Malick returning to ICU. "Let's not talk about Abby any more."

  "Fine by me," Malick agreed, settling back against the pillows. "I really want to talk about Erika anyway. I like her. She seems like a very nice woman."

  "You figured that out from a few groggy minutes in her presence?"

  "She came back to see me."

  "When?" Surprise made Michael raise his eyebrows. She hadn't mentioned it, but he had done most of the talking. She'd listened to him, shared his happiness.

  "Last night while you were in class. We had a nice chat. She's a very interesting woman. Haven't you noticed?"

  Michael couldn't have helped noticing. "What did you talk about?" He wondered if they'd discussed him. His feelings were mixed on the answer. Did he want Malick to tell Erika about him? Did she even feel enough for him to ask? She had to. She couldn't have kissed him the way she had, and feel nothing and she wouldn’t have run into his arms two nights ago.

  "We talked about the shape of the economy, what's happening to the youth of America, would the Phillies win the National Championships . . ."

  Michael frowned. Malick obviously didn't plan to help him out.

  "Malick?"

  His friend stopped talking and looked innocently at him. "I think she likes you, too."

  "Did she say that?" Suddenly Michael wanted to know the answer to that question.

  "She didn't have to. I could read it in her eyes."

  "Then you're better at reading than I am." He'd looked into Erika's eyes many times. Most often he'd gotten lost in the liquid brown pools.

  "So you have looked into her eyes?"

  Michael could have kicked himself. He'd set himself up for that, and Malick had an open court for his return.

  "Where is this leading, Malick?"

  "To a grandson, I hope, or the next best thing."

  Michael's jaw dropped open. "What are you talking about? Erika and I are only friends."

  "That sounds like something her ex-fiancé would have said."

  "You know about him?"

  Malick nodded.

  "What do you know?"

  "Don't change the subject. We're talking about Erika and you."

  "There is no Erika and me. We're doing a job, and when it's over, we're over." Michael gave his friend a piercing look. "And I didn't miss that comment you made practically assuming we were engaged."

  Malick laughed. "You could do worse."

  "Malick, I'm not in the market for a relationship."

  "Then what was all that talk about getting along and working together? You two wouldn't be the first couple who met on the job."

  "When this year is up I plan to return to Maryland and never leave that mountain again."

  Malick smiled. Not the reaction Michael expected.

  "She's getting to you," he paused. "Well, Michael, I'm not a betting man." Malick stretched his arms over his head and rested them behind his neck. The plastic tubing slapped against the bed’s metal railing. "Leastways not outside the courthouse. But I'm willing to put money on you and Erika St. James."

  "That kind of bet could bankrupt you."

  ***

  Michael couldn't help staring at Erika. Even now, as they sat in a meeting of area vice presidents, all he could concentrate on was how great she looked and how well she controlled the operation. Malick had planted the seed in his mind and each time he looked at her he thought of them, a couple, a family unit. He'd shake himself mentally to bring his concentration in focus, but it never did any good. The only time she wasn't at the top of his thoughts was when he stood in front of the eager faces of his law students.

  Erika seemed to grow more beautiful with each passing day. Michael could hardly keep his mind on work with her in the same room. He smelled her perfume and he wanted nothing to do with business. She'd explain competitive action programs while he concentrated on keeping his hands from shaking.

  Erika appeared not to notice. She continued to point to her charts and explain every aspect of the presentation. Even outside these meetings she would ask his opinion and keep him informed of every detail. He couldn't fault her. She wasn't trying to push him out of the company.

  "Anymore questions?" Erika asked. When none were forthcoming, she smiled. "Thank you," she said.

  The meeting broke up. Some people left to return to their offices, others broke into small groups discussing some aspect of the operation. Little by little they left the room. Only he and Erika were left. She gathered her notes, preparing to leave.

  "Erika," Michael said. He’d stood up and moved around closer to her. The conference room looked out
on the city with huge floor to ceiling windows. The outside was clear and Michael could see almost to the airport that sat ten miles south of central city.

  She looked up at him. "Yes," she said, continuing to replace papers.

  Pulling out the chair next to where she stood, he sat down. The seat was still warm from the previous occupant. Erika stopped her work and resumed her own seat.

  “What’s up?” she asked, her voice as chipper as a high school cheerleader’s.

  ***

  The first time Erika had seen Michael in his bearded, unkempt state, she’d noticed his eyes as his best feature. That hadn’t changed now that he was shaven and dressed in an expensive business suit. He was looking at her with those eyes that made her soul melt. She'd tried hard to keep her mind on the meeting when her eyes strayed to his. Instead of looking at him, she focused on whomever was speaking. Sometimes Michaels’ head would be down as he scribbled on his pad, apparently not listening, but she knew he missed nothing.

  "Are you free for dinner tonight?" he asked.

  A date? Was he going to ask her for a date? It was the last thing she expected from him. They had dinner together most nights when he wasn't teaching. Even when he went to visit Malick she waited for him. It was the one indulgence she allowed herself.

  "Yes," she finally answered. Her heart hammered in her chest. Why? She'd been asked out before, and she'd wanted to go before, but never had she wanted to spend time with a man as much as she wanted to spend it with Michael.

  "Would you have dinner with me?"

  It was business. He wanted to discuss something he didn't understand about the meeting. Then why couldn't they talk about it now. . .or in the dining room at home?

  "Erika, you had dinner with me in the cabin. Is there any reason you won't go to a restaurant?"

  "The reporters," she said, remembering, although there had been fewer of them lately. A large arsenal, discovered in the basement of a local business, and the bust of a high ranking official in the police department had pushed Michael and her off the front page.