Sticks & Stones (A Hollis Morgan Mystery) (4 page)

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.”

T
he 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 with 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.

A tall
, slightly balding man who must be the manager said, “We have your inventory. If there are any discrepancies, we will let you know.” He had an affected, almost-British accent that instantly put Hollis off. She bit her tongue and decided to choose her battles.

“Fine. I’ll just stay here until they’ve finished.”

Mr. Haughty patted his charcoal gray suit pant legs as if Hollis carried a cloud of dust with her. He was clearly ruffled that his presence alone wasn’t assurance enough for her. “It really isn’t necessary, but if you insist.”

“I do.” Hollis smiled.

Hollis shoved a file into a Fed
ex envelope and dumped it into the pickup box. Unless she picked up her pace, she was going to be late for her dinner with Mark and Rena. It had taken her longer than she expected to get a case file George wanted ready for mailing, and it took the rest of the afternoon to update the Koch file.

Arriving in a flurry, she was glad to see
the couple looking relaxed and happy. If they were annoyed, it was well concealed.

“I was sorry to hear about your friend
,” Rena said. She wore a navy blue sheath and a simple gold chain with a matching bangle bracelet. Her hazel eyes, contrasted against her light, honey-colored skin, stared solemnly at Hollis.

“Thank you, I am too.” Hollis took a sip of
the wine they had already poured for her. “How are things going with you, Rena? You look fantastic.”

Mark interjected.
“Since we got together last, she’s been promoted. She’s now a senior buyer for Barneys. She’ll be going to Paris next year for the spring shows.”

“Congratulations.” Hollis smiled. “Maybe you can go shopping with me sometime. My fashion sense is
 … is … well, let’s just say it isn’t.”

Rena laughed.
“I would be glad to go with you. You’ve got a great figure and gorgeous hair.”

“Thanks for the compliment
s. You can expect my call in a couple of months. There’s this thing with Cathy, and ….” She hesitated. “I just need to get through my exam results.” Hollis accepted the plate of food from the waitress and waited for the others to be served. “Before I forget, how is everything with Christopher?”

“Christopher is fine. He’s in kindergarten and totally brilliant.” Rena nodded. “Sometimes I think back and it’s so hard to believe that only a couple of years ago I came off parole—a single parent with no love interest.” She smiled at Mark. “Our book club days seem so far away.”

Mark squeezed Rena’s hand. “That was some book club.”

Hollis smiled.
Rena’s fraudulent check writing conviction qualified her for the Fallen Angels Book Club, and she and Hollis quickly became friends.

Over dinner they
shared leisurely conversation and caught up with each other’s lives.

“This fall we’re taking Chris to Disneyland
, and then we’re off to the Bahamas for five days.” Mark raised his glass in a mock toast.

Hollis toasted back. “It will be a while before I have enough time saved to take a vacation, but I’ll think of you fondly.
”

Rena dabbed her lips with her napkin.
“This was really fun, but I’ve got to go home to release the babysitter. I know you and Mark have to talk strategy.” She gave Mark a light kiss on the lips. “Good luck.”

Hollis took a sip of wine as she watched Rena walk away.
“You two seem very happy. You know, I really don’t feel like strategizing. Just tell me how you want to start.”

Mark arched his eyebrows. “You’re going to let me lead? Aren’t you feeling well? Great, I do have a couple of ideas.”

Hollis tried hard to follow what Mark was saying, but she was hung up on his first sentence and surprising revelation.

“What do you mean Cathy was fired from McClouds? She told me she left, but not that she was fired. What for? When?”

“Is that all you heard? Didn’t you hear what I said after that?”

Hollis winced
. “Sorry.”

“I was only
there a month before Cathy left. So that’s been what—almost a year?” Mark tried unsuccessfully to flag a waitress. He turned back to Hollis. “Evidently, they let her go because one of the partners had relied on her work to substantiate a big lawsuit complaint. It had errors and was considered amateurishly faulty.”

Hollis shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Cathy was an excellent researcher. She always went overboard to verify her sources.”

“Well, technically they didn’t fire her. She was forced out with a healthy severance check.”

“Why would they pay her to leave if
the quality of her work was in question?”

Mark held his hand up
to flag the waitress, who finally came over to their table with the bill. Hollis could feel her frustration building.

“Mark, why would they pay her?” Hollis persisted. “I got the feeling she wasn’t telling me the whole truth that night, but I didn’t know I wouldn’t have the chance to follow up with her. Why would Cathy go from budding attorney to the uncertain life of a freelance writer?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t know why they gave her the money. Cathy didn’t want to talk about it. You know there are no secrets in a law firm, but this was the exception.” He paused. “She’d changed since she left McClouds. She was happier in one way and more stressed in another. It was different when the suit had her on edge, but ….”

“But?”
Hollis prompted.

“But I got the sense that she might have taken a fall for one of the partners.” Mark looked past Hollis. “She was never happy at McClouds. I think we cramped her style. She didn’t seem upset about leaving.”

Hollis looked up at the night sky. “I don’t think we are ever going to know the whole story.”

They walked out together in the cool evening.
Mark walked her to her car, and she drove on auto-pilot out of the lot.

Too many questions, too few answers.

At home, Hollis showered and climbed into bed for some sleep. She needed to hit the floor running tomorrow, checking the leads from Cathy’s file. She was leaning over to turn off her bedside lamp when her eyes were drawn to the shiny box on her dresser.

She got up and gingerly removed the first letter
, dated 1937.

Dear Margaret,

Things are not good here. I know you don’t want to hear this
, but John fell and broke his leg. He can’t run the machines. They let him go at the factory. He told me not to worry, that once he’s fixed up he’s going to apply for one of them WPA jobs. He said they pay better anyway. Meantime things are pretty bad. But don’t you worry. The thought that keeps us all going is that you are doing fine. You are, aren’t you? Write us sometime.

Your Loving Mother

Hollis stared at the letter for a long moment. Looking around her bedroom she felt a chill. She was naturally nosy, but this letter was too personal and the simple words conveyed so much more than what was on the page.

Putting the letter on the bottom of the stack, she closed the box, wrapped everything back up and took it downstairs. She set it on the chair next to the door so she wouldn’t forget to take it to work in the morning.

Margaret Koch had died a millionaire. How had she made that journey from what appeared to be such humble roots?

T
he next morning Hollis arrived at work early. She wanted to do some checking on the Koch matter before searching online databases to follow up on Cathy’s material. She was meeting Mark in his office a little later. By then he might have heard from
Transformation
.

Closing the door to her office
, she entered a search query on her computer. Kelly Schaefer’s name brought no results from the law firm’s person-locator database, nor did the license plate number; evidently it had been a rental. DataCheck was considered very thorough, although to do its best it required an accurate name. The screen flashed “processing” and the bar slowly crept across the file search ruler. Nothing.

After another fifteen minutes of Googl
ing, she wasn’t any closer to finding any information on the young woman who had visited the Koch house.

She went to see George.

“The name of the visitor I discovered in the Koch house was Kelly Schaefer. There was nothing in DataCheck. Does it sound familiar?” She sat down in the high-backed chair in front of his desk.

George took a moment to think. “Not off the top, no. What does she look like?”

“Early to mid-twenties, tall, pretty, brunette, dresses stylish, looks conservative.”

“Nah, I’d remember her or at least her name from meetings with Mrs. Koch.”

“Well, I’ve got a lunch meeting regarding Cathy’s case. I’ll keep reading the Koch letters and try to track down Ms. Schaefer.”

“What let
— Oh, the letters you found in the house,” he said. “How long will it take you to finish reading them?”

“I’m just getting started.”

George tapped his head lightly with his pencil. “Finish reading as soon as you can. They’re so old that I really don’t think there will be anything in them to point to living relatives, but let’s err on the side of caution.”

“No problem.” She turned to leave and then stopped. “I can’t be sure, but I think Schaefer may have taken something from the house.”

“More reason to get this matter finished and filed,” George said absently and began to tap on his keyboard.

Their meeting was over.

Hollis waited impatiently for Mark to get off the phone. She was eager to get started on Cathy’s case.

He finally
gave her his full attention.

“I need to get back to the office.” She pointed to the clock on his desk. “I’ve got an assignment to get a jump on. Have you got any news? What’s next?”

Mark furrowed his brow. “Ordinarily I would have you pursue the premise that the information Cathy had on Fields was bogus. I’d want to know what Fields is going to hit us with. But unless you have a better idea, I’d like to know what she thought she had on him.”

She nodded. “I agree. I want to get my hands on her other research material. It had to be in her car or at home. She said she was pulling it back together
, and I know she didn’t leave it all with me. Were you able to get us in to see the regional editor at
Transformation
?”

“I’m happy to tell you that after many phone transfers, multiple dropped calls from my cellphone, and a couple of verifications of my credentials, yes, I finally made contact with the editor-in-chief, Carl Devi. I have never met such a group of suspicious employees. It must come from working for a tabloid. We have an appointment for this Thursday at one o’clock. But I can tell you, it took some convincing. They just want this whole matter to go away. We’re going to have to show how it’s to their benefit to go forward with a defense. They’re ready to settle with Fields.”

Hollis shrugged. “Then we have to convince them that it’s cheaper if they hire us and we give them a winner.”

Mark leaned back in his chair. “That’s going to take some doing, but with a little luck, I think it we can persuade Devi.”

Hollis pointed to her small stack of papers. “Two days isn’t a long time, but I’ll be ready with something. These are the pages from Cathy’s folder she said she had with her when she was burgled. Before you ask, the police have the originals; I dropped them off right before I came here. Here’s a copy for you. I glanced at them, but there didn’t appear to be anything that was too revealing. However, I need to take my time and examine them carefully.”

Thankfully, when she
had taken the papers to Cavanaugh, he was out on a call. She attached a note and left them with the officer of the day. If she never put another foot inside that building, it would be okay with her.

“I’m just double checking.” Mark picked up his cup of coffee. “Are you sure you want to do this thing with
Transformation
? The research establishing the burden of proof is going to be up to you. I’ll help you when I can, and obviously I’ll be ready for court, but I’m getting a big industrial case and it will keep me plenty busy.”

“Am I sure? Absolutely, Cathy was my friend. When I was finishing law school she put in many hours to help me with finals.” Hollis shook her head. “Then,
when she asks for my help, I hesitate and she’s gone forever. I lost a good friend. Yes, I’m sure.”

After Hollis returned from Mark’s office, she was motivated to draft a quick summary of Cathy’s notes. It appeared as if Cathy’s approach was to focus on findings that pointed to discrepancies in the financial records of Fields’ charities—questionable bookkeeping procedures and even more questionable financial results. It didn’t take a leap of faith to conclude that she had stumbled on enough smoke to lead her to fire—in this case, evidence for her suspicions. Fields wouldn’t be the first high-profile personality who would stop at nothing to keep his good name from being tarnished. An argument based mostly on Cathy’s suspicions might not hold up in court, but it might be enough to sell their services to Devi.

Then
, keeping in mind her promise to George, she put aside the
Transformation
file and turned back to the Koch letters.

The next three letters were dated
1938, about two weeks apart. She read them slowly:

Dear Margaret,

We haven’t heard from you for a long while now. Betsy Thompson told us she bumped into you
at the Newberry’s store in August. She said you looked real nice. That made us all feel good. This fall was a hard one on us. The crops didn’t come in like we needed. John has all but given up on the farm. We owe everybody and I just stopped going to church. I know people are looking at us. Anna Morris and Estelle Peavey gave us a neighbor’s basket. I wanted to give it back, but the truth is we need the food.

And we need you to come back home.

Paul Hitchcock said that if you did come back you could work at his store full-time. I think he still likes you. I know what you think of Rowan, but it’s a good town. Everybody looks out for everybody else. It would only be for a short while. You can go back to Chicago when things settle down. You can write at home just as well as in the big city.

Let us know when we can expect you. John will meet your train.

Love,

Mother

Hollis looked out the window at the calm waters of San Francisco Bay.
Sailboats dotted the eastern side of Yerba Buena Island. She now had a lead where to start looking into Margaret’s past: Rowan, Illinois. She also recognized the little tingle of curiosity in her chest; she was hooked. Who was this Margaret Koch?

She picked up the next letter.

Margaret,

I got your note. It was too short to be a letter. It is clear that you have forgotten your responsibilities. I know the big city must look good to you. But we need you here.

Now come home.

Mother

Hollis grimaced, and opened another:

Margaret,

I cannot tell you the shame I felt when I read your letter. It is clear that you have no love for your family at all. When I gave birth to you after eight hours of hard labor, I didn’t think twice about what an additional burden you would be. You were my child. Then when Baby Girl was born dead I knew you would be my last child.

Your dad has always worked hard to give you and Roy the best he could. He always favored you over Roy, but now this. This will kill him for sure. I don’t understand when you say you have a new life as if somehow you’re not connected to your old life. Are you just going to throw us away? Everybody in Rowan thinks you are coming back home to help us. What will I tell them? What will I tell your father?

Margaret Rose, I didn’t want to bring this up. I know we swore that we would never talk about that night again, but I don’t know how else to get you to come home. You must come home. If you do not honor your obligations, well then I don’t think I’ll be able to honor my word to you.

Your loving Mother

Had the threat worked? She turned to the remaining letters. The next one was dated almost a year later.

Margaret Rose,

I remember when you were born—late. We’ve had our rough patches but we always c
ame through them. Every day I see your brother and sister struggle to work the land, to keep food on our table.

We got your check. I hope you will understand if I don’t say thank you.

I pray to God to give me the words that will bring you home. But after all these months I can’t seem to find them. I want you to know that I’m going to stop trying.

This might be one rough patch we can’t get through. But I’ll always remember when you were born—late.

Mother

Hollis could hear the secretaries leaving their offices for home, but she wanted to run Margaret Koch through DataCheck. It didn’t take long. When the last page printed, the file was surprisingly thin.

Margaret Koch’s background check
filled only two single-spaced pages. Hollis had to think back to the shortest background record she had ever read, and Margaret had that one beat by one page.

Born
in 1918 as Margaret Shalisky in Rowan, Illinois, to Nora and Edmund Shalisky, Margaret was the third of three children. She graduated from Lincoln High School when she was sixteen. Her mother worked as a laundress and her father was employed part-time in a mill before he turned to farming.

Margaret moved to Chicago but came back to Rowan to marry and then
, after less than a year, returned to Chicago. There was a short paragraph noting a third marriage. Hollis rifled through the pages, making sure she hadn’t missed the gap of eight years or the second husband. There was nothing.

Judging f
rom the dates on the remaining letters, they should fill the time gap. Placing the letters back in the box, she slipped the ribbon back in place and locked the box in her bottom desk drawer.

George was in court tomorrow, so she’d brief him when he returned. Hollis straightened her desk and turned out the light. As she closed the door, her thoughts sought out the silver box in her bottom drawer.