The Fallen Angels Book Club (17 page)

“Lily dear, what's the matter?” Marla brushed Lily's thin hair with the palm of her hand.

Lily's voice was muffled but still distinct. “Why, nothing. Hollis and I are working on my trust. I hope we're almost finished. Are we?”

I inclined my head. If I hadn't witnessed Lily's Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde transformation, I would probably have thought Marla was exaggerating.

Marla looked at me and I nodded.

After leaving Lily, all I wanted to do was go home and have a glass of wine. Make that two glasses.

T
he next morning I beat the receptionist into the office and turned on all the lights. I saved the previous day's newspaper to read the follow-up article about Abby's murder; at least the police now concluded it was a murder. The article below the fold recounted Abby's death with fair accuracy. There were quotes from Faber and an understandably sorrowful one from her husband. I held my breath, looking for references to the book club, but there were none.

Mark was late, as usual. I prepared notes from my contacts with two local Riddick heirs and started to write the client letter that would go with the release statements.

“Hey.”

I looked up at the sound of Avery's voice. “You're back early. How was Chicago?”

“Fast-paced, but worth it. We got the new client and a sixty-five thousand dollar retainer.” He sat down and stretched his long legs out in front of him.

I smiled. “That's great. The Management Committee will be pleased.”

He smiled, but the musing look that went with it silenced me.

“Anyway, how are things here? Are you and Mark making headway? I didn't get any emails on my Blackberry.”

“We work well together. We divided up the cousins. He's clearing the ones who live in Southern California. I expect him back today.” I looked down at my notes. “I secured two signatures and have one to go. We should have something good to report at our staff meeting.”

“That's good news.” He sat up. “God, I'm tired. I'll probably only be here a few hours to brief Ed. Then I'm going home. How's that other situation?”

The abrupt change in subject threw me. “What?”

“Your situation … how's it going?”

My face warmed. “It's been quiet for the past couple of days. The police talked to another club member who was threatened.”

“Are you a suspect in that, too?”

“Thanks for your faith in me.”

“I didn't mean it like that.” He looked uncharacteristically contrite. “How are you doing?”

“Sometimes I can put it out of my mind for a whole hour.” My throat tightened. I took a breath. “I'm getting by.”

He nodded. “If there's anything I can do, let me know.”

“Actually, there is.”

I explained the rehabilitation certificate requirement. “It would help … I mean, would you give me a letter of recommendation?”

“Of course.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I'm a little hurt you didn't come to me to handle your case.”

I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “You don't practice criminal law.”

“I would have learned for you.”

Visibly, his words surprised him as much as they did me.

“Thank you,” I said in a rush. “Go, get some rest. I'll have the information and forms for you tomorrow.”

He stood and resumed his business composure, his face a mask. “Good. Well, I'm going to talk to Ed. See you tomorrow.”

Mark appeared at the door. “Avery, what are you doing back so soon?”

“I just told Hollis I had a successful trip that ended early.” His voice turned cool.

“We've been busy, too.” Mark rubbed his hands together. “I think we'll have some good news for you.”

“So I've been hearing. Well, I'm about to drop.” Avery moved away. “I'll check in with you two tomorrow.”

I nodded.

Mark came in and sat. “He must be tired. He didn't even seem curious about what we're up to.”

“He's hooked bigger fish—new clients.” I pretended interest in a case file. “How was L.A.?”

“Not bad. I met with all three—Lisa, Cory and Neville. They're all middle-class, down-to-earth types. Evidently, Lisa and Cory are close, so I met with them together. Neville is in the service. I met with him on base. He wanted to have his wife there. Don't ask me why.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. That's why I said don't ask.”

My frustration thermometer was starting to register. “Very funny. So, what happened?”

He slapped a thick envelope on top of my desk. “Three signatures is what happened!”

I must have looked amazed. “You got them all to sign?”

“Yep, and their spouses. They all thought the mother lode had come in. Only Cory remembered Mrs. Riddick and that was because her father was Riddick's brother's favorite nephew.” He picked imaginary lint off his suit.

“You got their spouses to sign, too?”

“Right. I had this thought that if Avery was concerned someone might contest a will, it's usually the spouse who wants to interfere. We don't know the status of their marriages. Anyway, I noticed you put some blank forms in my briefcase, so I got their signatures, too.”

Smug satisfaction came over me. While I didn't know if Mark would be offended if I presumed to tell him how to practice law, I didn't care. In two of the cases I had researched, the spouses had taken little time to file for divorce after an estate settlement and lay claim to the proceeds. I put the spousal forms in Mark's briefcase but hadn't had the chance to explain the need.

“Good, Mark. I've got agreement from two of the three cousins to sign. Laura Riddick moved to Oregon. I plan on contacting Allen Riddick today. He's still local.”

He nodded. “He's the last one. I've got to unload my briefcase, so I'll catch up to you later. How about we get together this afternoon at around three thirty?”

“Sounds good, I'll see you then. I also need to ask a favor.”

“Wait, tell me now. You've never asked me for a favor before.”

“It's something personal.” I knew I had his attention. “Is it still a good time to talk?”

He sat down and closed my office door. “I'm listening.”

“Do you know my background?”

“That you didn't get into law school so you became a paralegal? By the way, I think you're an excellent paralegal.”

“Thanks, but I'm still not going to do your client letters. I did get into law school. I went to Hastings.” I knew I sounded defensive, so I changed the tone in my voice. “And … well, there's more.”

He looked at me expectantly, and I told my story.

The marriage, the insurance fraud, the prison term—unpracticed at sharing my life history, I filled him in surprisingly quickly. He patiently listened, and when I finished, the look of understanding on his face was exactly what I hoped to see. A load lifted from my shoulders.

Mark smiled. “You're a top-notch employee and you're not letting your past define who you are now. If the firm knows your background, then go for your dream.”

“Yeah, well, there's a little more to it than that.”

“I thought so. What's the favor?”

For the next few minutes I explained about The Fallen Angels Book Club. “We've had two murders from our reading list, and now another of our members has received a threat. It's a nightmare that won't stop.”

Mark waited.

“I'd like you to speak with Rena Gabriel. She's the member who got the threat. You're the only one I could think of. The only one I trust.”

“Okay. You can count on me. What about my client letters?”

I stopped by the senior home to see Marla before going to get the final Riddick signature. It was foggy and cold, as only a spring day in the Bay Area could be. After placing donuts in the kitchen, Marla was in the day room with a stack of catalogs in front of her. She looked tired, even as she tried to straighten in her seat. She was paler than usual and her eyes had circles under them.

“Hello there. Planning on making a purchase?”

“You're here late.” She smiled warmly. “No, I'm not buying anything. One of the residents was looking for a memory card reader for his great-grandson's camera. His eyesight's not too good and I said I'd help him. Besides, I don't think he knows what a card reader is.”

“I'm with him. I don't know what one is, either.” I pulled up a folding chair and sat down next to her. “How do you know about all this stuff?”

“You're too young to not keep up to date with technology.” She looked at me and shook her head. “I read newspapers and catalogs. You can learn a lot from catalogs. In just a few short words, they describe a product and its uses. Listen, ‘a USB 2.0 memory card reader is a camera accessory that helps to store photos until you can transfer them to your computer.' ” She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “If I still don't understand, I make a call.”

“A call? Who do you call?”

“Customer service, of course—the eight hundred number is free. I've got time on my hands and they get paid to answer questions. When I talk to a real helpful one, I even write a letter to their supervisor.” She took off her glasses and let them swing down on the cord draped loosely around her neck.

“Okay.” I made a mental note to come and keep Marla company more often. “Marla, you don't look well. Are you all right?”

She sighed. “I'm just worried about Lily.”

“She mentioned the name Portia. Who's Portia?”

Marla closed her eyes and shook her head. “Portia was her daughter; she was six when she died. Lily's getting worse, I tell you. Something has to be done.”

“I could go to the police, but if I do, they'll have to take things to their lawful conclusion. It could mean the end of the center.”

“If you don't, it could mean the end of Lily.” Marla wet her lips. “You're right. Maybe you could just let management know you know what they're up to and they'd stop.”

I touched her hand. “I'd still have to identify you. I'm not here when the medications are given. How else would I know these things? Murray already suspects you're the whistle blower. Besides, I'm not absolutely convinced she's in on it.”

I was pulling Marla's sweater around her. Joseph stood in the doorway looking at us. He didn't back down from my stare. I didn't say anything to Marla. It would only make her as paranoid as I was.

“Do you know Joseph's shift hours?”

“Saturday through Wednesday, seven to three. What are you thinking?”

I didn't answer because I didn't really know what I was thinking. It seemed I'd have to catch Joseph in the act in order to prove to the authorities that Marla—and now I—wasn't crazy.

“Can you show me where the medications are kept?”

“It's down the hall next to the director's office, but you don't need to go there. Staff pops in there all the time.” Marla looked around again. “Joseph has a large office. I think that's where he tampers with the medications. Off of his office there's a small closet.”

I doubted he'd keep any incriminating evidence out in the open, or even in his office space. On the other hand, he wouldn't be able to go far with bottles of pills.

“Marla, how do you know about the layout of Joseph's office? Never mind. Don't tell me. You need to stay clear of Joseph for the next few days. You don't want him suspecting you.”
Especially if he has access to your medication.

“All right. What are you going to do? I don't want you to get into trouble.”

Me, neither.

“It's best you don't know. I promise I'll do what I can.”

“Enough of Lily, I'm thinking you came here for another reason. What's wrong?”

Except for two senior ladies watching an
Oprah
rerun, we were alone in the sunroom. I leaned in closer. “Marla, I'm trying to get a pardon from the court to have my conviction cleared. It's called a Certificate of Rehabilitation.”

Her eyes grew large, but she said nothing.

“Anyway, I need references from four different people. I've got most of them covered but I need one from a third-party who knows me but is not a relation or an employer. Would you feel comfortable giving me a letter of recommendation?”

“Why, of course.” She rubbed her hands together. “You can count on me. You know, this is like an episode of
Law and Order
. How many words do you need?”

“There isn't a specific word count.”

Her eagerness to take on her assignment warmed me. I pulled out the manila envelope and form she'd need. “Here's the instruction sheet, the form and a self-addressed stamped envelope so you can mail it to my attorney.”