The Fallen Angels Book Club (24 page)

I rubbed my forehead. “No.”

“Can you hold that thought? I'll just be a moment.” Faber motioned to Lincoln and they left the room. After only a few minutes, Detective Faber returned by himself.

This wasn't turning out as I pictured.

“I … I guess I can't prove anything. Miller has a solid motive for killing Rory, Abby, too.”

“Frankly, Ms. Morgan, we've already thought of that.” Detective Faber's chair creaked as he sat back. “While we don't have a lot of results, we have more than you do. I want you to know we appreciate your efforts, but we want you to stop playing detective and leave the investigation to the police.”

“But he threatened me and—”

“You were prowling through his personal background.”

I bit my lip. “Right. Okay, then. Did Rena Gabriel tell you about the slip of paper she found in her windshield wiper right before Abby died?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Did she tell you no one in our group had discussed the book,
The Long Pause
? Miller had just introduced it.”

“You had a copy, didn't you?”

“I always like a sneak peek, but I hadn't read it yet.”

“I see.”

He just sat there looking at me. Detective Lincoln came back into the room and passed Detective Faber a note.

“Well, I guess that's all I wanted you to know. I won't bother you anymore.”

Detective Faber stood and so did I. He walked me toward the door.

“Like I said, if you want to help us, Ms. Morgan, the best way is to let us do our job. You could be putting yourself and the investigation at risk. We'll continue to talk with Mr. Sloane, your Miller Thornton.” He held the door open. “Oh, by the way, we don't have to tell you this, but since you seem determined to meddle, Thornton has a verified alibi for the time period linked to Abby Caldwell's death. He's also been cleared of Rory's death.”

Miller had been cleared, but not me. Great.

“Yep, you caught him, all right. He's a librarian. His wife is self-employed in some mucky-muck finance company. They have three kids. You confronted him red-handed on his way to give a speech in L.A. He's been nominated as a finalist for librarian of the year.” Detective Lincoln didn't even try to hide his amusement.

“I didn't know.” The pit in my stomach seemed bottomless. “I'm sorry for wasting your time. He was the only one left.”

E
xhausted and harried from a weekend of reliving over and over my conversation with the police, I went into the office early Monday. Mark was waiting for me when I got in.

“Morning.” I put my purse under the desk and booted up my computer. “Excuse me if I'm a little grumpy,” I said. “I've had a rough few days. I don't think I've ever seen you here this early, except for that time when you victimized the copy room.”

“I know. I wanted to get a jump start so we could go over the Riddick matter before our next meeting with Avery.”

I took a second look at him, trying to put the events at police headquarters out of my mind. He was dressed very GQ in a dark suit and light blue shirt with the same shade tie.

“Do you have a court appearance today?”

Mark grinned. “No, I just want to impress Avery with my professional look.”

“Well, you definitely look professional. Don't worry; I think he's always hard on associates. They've never fired anyone. You passed your screening when you were hired.”

He shrugged. “I hope so.”

After getting coffee for Mark and tea for me, we took the files into the conference room. Our meeting with Avery wasn't for another hour, but clearly Mark needed this dress rehearsal to calm down.

He did a great job providing more than adequate answers to my mock questions. We were ready.

I leaned back in the chair. “So, tell me, how are things with Rena?”

He glanced up as if trying to place the question with what we were doing then smiled. “Good. Actually, really good. I like her.”

“Just think; I may be responsible for bringing a happy couple together. I hope it works out.”

“You hope what works out?” Avery entered the room and shut the door.

Mark and I both straightened in our seats.

“Good morning, Avery. Mark was just telling me about a young woman he's dating.”

“Really? Well, I hope things work out, too.” He put on his reading glasses. “You two ready? Let's get started.”

If Mark was nervous, he didn't show it. He restated the directions we were given and how we approached the research. For the next thirty minutes, he discussed the applicable case law and appeals. By the time he presented our findings, I was impressed. He finished with a flourish by laying out all the signed documents in front of Avery.

Avery remained attentive throughout the presentation. Then he nodded and flipped through the documents. “Looks like you've done a lot of hard work. What about Glen Riddick?”

I frowned. “Who?”

Mark looked puzzled. “Who's Glen Riddick?”

Avery shook his head. “Glen Riddick is Imelda's husband's grandchild as a result of a relationship prior to his marriage to Imelda.”

I sat up. “Avery, you never mentioned a grandchild. In fact, you said all the relations were on her side. How were we to know?”

Mark held up a file. “I have your notes here. There's nothing about a grandchild.”

Avery shook his head. “I said from the very beginning we were trying to substantiate Imelda's right to have the estate determined based on her early, but still valid, will. I would think one of the first things you would have done was look at Charles Riddick's background to verify any possible claims from his side of the family.”

“Why would we?” I said. “You told us she only had nieces and nephews.” I was getting irritated. “Why didn't you bring this up at our last team meeting?”

Avery just looked at me. “It's called complete work.” He turned to Mark. “I don't hold you responsible, Hollis, but, Mark, I'm surprised at you. Well, maybe not surprised, but I was hoping for more.”

Mark snorted. “Was I being tested? This is load of crap. All this time you said nothing.”

Mark's eyes were unreadable but, judging from the tension rising off his shoulders and the red flush creeping above his shirt collar, he wasn't happy.

Avery seemed unfazed. “Not
tested
in the sense you mean. I did want to see if you would take my word for it or take the initiative and question every premise. You failed. Isn't that what you told me last time—that you wanted to show initiative? That's the difference between a good attorney and a merely adequate one. Follow through.” He stacked the file folders. “So, where do we go from here? I've decided that, in the essence of time, I'll contact Glen Riddick and obtain his signature.”

I felt more than a growing annoyance with Avery and increasing sympathy for Mark. “Avery, I should have caught this, too. I've done dozens of estate claims. I should have checked both sides.”

“As much as you'd like to be, Hollis, you're not an attorney. He is.” He pointedly put the cap back on his pen. “Mark, I got your memo regarding the value of the Riddick estate and your ideas for exploring other accounts. I'm not going to say this again. Drop this. If you'd done your job and reviewed all potential estate claims, instead of speculating on some hypothetical supposition, you wouldn't be sitting here with another assignment falling short. Triple D may have to rethink your contribution to the firm.”

Mark started to interrupt.

“No. Enough said.” Avery placed our work on top of legal file folders. “The administrative work that was done was done well. Unfortunately, not all work was completed. I'll take it from here. Both of you wrap up your Riddick files and submit your hours. We'll get together tomorrow and see where we are with our other cases.”

Mark passed me in the lobby and headed for his office. The slam of his door could be heard around the corner. I quickly went through my Riddick files and completed the summary billable hours sheet. I ignored the hushed murmurs of staff, who had clearly picked up on the loud voices. After an hour or so, I went by Mark's office. He was gone. Needing to focus on routine work, I made up files and records for two new clients. After a while, one of the administrative clerks came to my office and asked in a whispered voice, “What's going on?”

“If anyone asks, tell them you don't know.”

W
hen I left for the day, Avery was behind closed doors in a management committee meeting. I was more than ready to go home and have a soothing cup of tea.

There was one message on the answering machine. It was Clay.

“Hollis, good work on your personal statement. We're all ready for the hearing.” My lawyer paused. “Uh … have the murders been resolved? Give me a call when you get this message.”

Without any real news, I was glad I hadn't been there to take his call. I'd wait a while before contacting him.

I needed something mindless to do. I reorganized my kitchen cabinets. I approached my task as if it was the only one left to do on earth. With Spanish guitar music in the background, I tried not to think about my plight. I finished too soon.

I didn't have Mark's home or cell numbers. Rena had given me hers, but it probably wasn't a good time to test my hunch she and Mark would be together. I fixed myself another cup of white tea and sat outside on my patio. The sun had set, and the sky was a steely gray-blue. My neighbor had planted a fragrant clematis vine that had wrapped itself over the fence that separated our units. I inhaled the subtle fragrance, trying to fight off the self-pity. I had bet the rest of my life on getting a pardon. The thought of it slipping away gave birth to an ache I could only locate in my heart.

The police assumed the killer had to be someone from the club. I agreed with them. Except, what if the killer had nothing to do with the club? On the other hand, who else besides club members would know which books we'd selected? There was the off chance spouses or friends could follow our reading habits, but I put that thought aside. I had to start somewhere. I didn't have any answers except the circular one—suppose the killer was from the club. I went back into the kitchen, emptied my mug and poured myself a glass of wine. In my bedroom, I tried to read a novel that wasn't from the club, but I couldn't concentrate. Something told me there was something I was missing, something that didn't make sense. Maybe I was too close to see the pieces that didn't fit.

Maybe it was time to let the killer find me.

The next morning there was a note on my office door telling me to see Avery at nine. Since I'd turned in my Riddick files, I was curious about the reason for the meeting. With an hour to go, I took advantage of the spare time and read over my court statement; it put me in a calmer mood. A few minutes before nine, I went to see Mark but he was checked out.

Avery waved me into his office. “Come on in. Shut the door. I don't want us to be disturbed.”

I sat down with pad and pen in hand. “Ready.”

Avery folded his hands on his desk. “The firm has let Mark go.” He paused. “With our billable hours down, we can't afford to carry any dead weight.”

I frowned. “That's not fair. He's a good attorney. I know his ideas about the Riddick matter bugged you, but at least he took initiative and thought on his own.”

“He forgot to employ the most basic of legal premises—validating the information you're given. Make no assumptions. Erroneous thinking is lazy thinking. It can be costly thinking.”

“It was you, his supervisor, who gave him those assumptions.”

Avery shook his head. “I wanted to see how he'd perform. He didn't. I'm not going to argue the point with you. Besides, he hasn't brought in any new clients.”

“Have any of the other new associates? Our team's billable hours are doing fine, especially with the new clients you signed up this month.” I knew I was pushing my luck, but I was puzzled by Avery's attitude. “I'd like to see the comparative hours report.”

Avery stiffened. “This is a personnel matter. The committee has made its decision. Since when did you become a Mark fan, anyway? It's not like you to defend an associate.”

I had to think about that a moment. “Mark's okay. He helped a friend of mine. I just hate to see anybody get a bum deal.”

“I appreciate that.” Avery flashed one of his winning smiles. “I always knew you weren't as tough as you pretend to be.”

I didn't smile back. I looked at his expensive haircut and how well his Brooks Brothers suit fit his broad shoulders. He'd be Item Number One on any single girl's wish list. Not mine.

I shook my head. “Oh, but I am.”

The rest of the day went downhill from there. I asked the receptionist to let me know if Mark came into the office, but he didn't. I hated to resort to illegal invasion of privacy, but these were extenuating circumstances. The personnel office emptied during lunch and it was easy to lift the emergency contact list kept in a folder on top of a file shelf labeled: “Confidential Emergency Numbers.” Our manager must be a believer in hiding in plain sight.