The Return of the Fallen Angels Book Club (A Hollis Morgan Mystery 3) (22 page)

“Uh-oh,” Richard said, gathering his jacket and cap. “We’re going in another circle. Look, I’ve got to get home. We’ve got company coming over.”

Miller glanced at his cellphone. “I need to get going, too.”

Gene considered Hollis with concern. “Is there any way you could get another appraiser to look at those first editions on Monday?”

They all paused for her response.

“I guess.” Hollis hesitated. “Brian has them. I can ask if I can show them to someone else. Say, Rena, while I’m checking with Brian, can you contact Nate and find out what, or if, there is word on the street about Todd?”

“Sure. What are you thinking?”

Hollis frowned. “I’m thinking Todd was silenced. I’m thinking they—whoever ‘they’ are—didn’t want him to tell me something. It may have been about the first editions, but he said it was about the trust. But, to close the question, I’ll follow up with an appraiser and eliminate the first editions from our consideration.”

“Good,” Richard said. “If you come up with anything, we can get together Tuesday night.”

Rena put on her jacket. “That’s cutting it awfully close to hearing time. Will that work?”

Hollis nodded. “We can always meet after the hearing if there is anything we can do to find Jeffrey’s killer. Just because the trust is filed doesn’t mean we have to give up.”

They all left except Gene, who held back.

“You okay? I didn’t want to scare you, but I’m glad you’re still filing the trust next week. I was worried you might be in danger if you didn’t file it on time. If you’re being followed—”

“I’m fine.” Hollis held up her hand in mild protest. “Gene, you know I don’t scare that easy. I’m going to hang in there. I get the feeling I’m making at least one somebody very nervous. It’s time I stopped looking for what makes sense and go for what makes crazy.”

B
rian sounded irritated when Hollis called to ask to see the first editions.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “They’ve already been valued by an approved expert. I have a certificate. Why do you need to see them again?”

Hollis hedged. “I’d like to have them in court with me on Thursday so that I can show the judge that at the time probate was filed, the asset was intact.”

He grudgingly acquiesced. “Well then, I guess I don’t have much choice. Come by whenever you want. I’m going to be home all day.”

It was a gloomy first day of summer
.
Hollis parked in the driveway and picked up what looked like three days of newspapers scattered on the path to the front door. She waited for Brian to answer, and when he did, she gasped at his appearance. Unless he had multiples of his favorite outfit, these were the same clothes he had on days earlier when she visited.

Something was wrong, but she didn’t have much time.

She could feel the adrenaline pumping into her chest, and she put her shaking hand in her pocket. Brian was too far into his own world and didn’t appear to notice.

“Do you mind if I use your phone?” Hollis asked with only a slight tremor in her voice. “My battery is dead, and I need to check my messages. I have a tentative appointment after I leave here.”

He pointed to a handset on the coffee table.

Hollis tapped in the numbers and gave Brian a tentative smile.

“I’ll go get the books,” Brian said, shuffling down the hallway.

Hollis quickly put the phone down, went into the dining room, and headed toward the cat poster, now jammed behind several boxes. Moving a container aside, she slipped her hand behind the plastic casing and felt for the gun resting on the bottom. Removing the Smith & Wesson, she returned to the living room and set the gun on the table in front of her.

Brian froze and set the books down. He appeared stricken, and his already pale face, bloodless.

“How did you know where to look? I’d hidden it here first, but ….” His voice was faint. “The police just gave me access to Dad’s office furnishings two days ago.”

Hollis didn’t think this was a good time to say she’d finally understood Brian’s guilty behavior. She knew he hated that poster. It was likely some symbol of a father–son dynamic she would never understand. Jeffrey had kept it on his wall for a reason. Mosley had noticed it too.

“You should have gotten rid of the gun,” she said. “It was an accident, wasn’t it? Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Brian looked at her, but he didn’t see her. From his gaze, it was clear his thoughts had gone back in time to the confrontation that had changed his life. He stared at the gun.

“In the end, you’re right, it was just an accident,” he murmured.

“But how could it be an accident, when you brought a gun to your father’s office?”

He looked at her. “Dad was more proud of his parolees than he was of his own children. He spent all hours of the day and night making sure his ‘caseload’ was doing okay.” Brian raised his fingers in air quotes. “He made sure you guys had extra help and attention, but me and Todd … we got the crumbs.”

Hollis frowned. He hadn’t answered her question. “Uh, Brian, what kind of problems did you need his attention for?”

He ignored her question again. “When I was a kid, I used to think that if I went to prison and got out, I could possibly have his attention all the time.”

She moved closer. “So, what happened that night?”

“We were going to go out to dinner after he got off work, but he said something had come up and he’d have to reschedule.” Brian’s eyes glistened. “I wanted to tell him I was getting married. You know, a father and son talk, but he was too busy. He told me to hang in there.”

Like the poster.

Hollis swallowed. “Do you really have a fiancée? Maybe he didn’t believe—”

“Yeah … well, no … not now. It was over. But he didn’t know that.” He ran his hand over his head. “She didn’t think I was much, either. That’s why I wanted my own business. She’d have changed her mind. If I could have talked with him ….”

“I’m sure if he had known you were going to tell—”

“So, I came by his office anyway.” Brian paused. “I brought the gun. I don’t know why …. I think I just wanted to scare him. To get him to see what he’d driven me to.”

Hollis swallowed. “Did you fight?”

Brian nodded. “He told me I was acting like a child. I needed to grow up. He said all I wanted him to do was provide a shortcut. ‘A reason not to work for something,’ he said. He said it was a good thing I wasn’t getting married. She was smarter than he’d given her credit for. He couldn’t imagine why I thought I was ready to get married when I was so … so immature.”

She winced.

Brian sat back in his chair. “That’s when I shot him. He made me so angry. He looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. His hands clutched his stomach and the blood just started to pour out …. Then he fell to the floor.” Brian’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “I held him and told him I was sorry. But he was gone, just like that.”

Hollis said nothing.

“I was scared and ran away. I took the gun with me. I’d bought it at a gun show. I didn’t have a permit, so it couldn’t be traced to me. I came straight home, hid it in my neighbor’s yard, and then showered after I threw away the clothes I wore. I knew about gunshot residue, so I made sure it was gone. I guess I missed my shoes.” Brian turned away.

“You left your dad there for the cleaning crew to find?” She couldn’t stop the words from leaving her lips. “You were wrong. He didn’t die right away. May be you could have saved him.”

Brian finally turned to look at her and seemed to realize who she was. His smile was forlorn.

“Yeah. Aren’t I a piece of work?” He paced back and forth. “I wanted the Fallen Angels to find something wrong with the trust. Dad was so proud of all of you. I thought you could figure it out. But you guys could never find anything. Frances didn’t love Dad. My attorney told me she’d already started to divorce him. Then when I … when I …. I guess she figured she didn’t have to. I know she’s hiding something. I’d rather give every dollar to the Public Library Foundation than let her have a dime.”

“Look, Brian, let me help you with this. You don’t have to worry about the trust. Even if the trust gets recorded on Thursday, it doesn’t mean that we can’t keep looking for more assets. You need to deal with the … the other thing. Let me ….”

Tears formed in his eyes. “You know, I think it’s best if you leave … now.”

She shivered. “Brian, you need help—someone to talk to. I’ll come with you to turn yourself in. You don’t have to drive there by yourself.”

He gave a sad chuckle. “I have no intention of turning myself in.”

He wasn’t lying.

Hollis looked into his eyes. She wasn’t afraid of Brian; he’d already shown his weakness.

“Let me call your lawyer. He’s probably dealt with … things like this. He can advise you what to do next. There are all kinds of circumstances for … for manslaughter, maybe ….”

“Thanks for trying to help, but please leave me alone.”

Hollis started to protest, when he stood up, picked up the gun, and gestured her toward the front door.

She walked slowly to give herself time to think, but Brian reached the door first and held it open. She stepped out onto the porch and turned to face him, but he slammed the door behind her. She got out her phone and punched 911.

A shot rang out.

B
rian’s suicide was only a blip in the paper the next day. Hollis had already texted the Fallen Angels to let them know. Richard and Miller responded with relief that Jeffrey’s murder had been resolved. Gene was concerned that she was okay, and Rena invited her to her house for a drink. They all still wanted to get together on Wednesday before the hearing—for closure.

At home, Hollis turned on the public radio jazz station as loud as she dared and lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the numbness to subside.

“Goodbye, Jeffrey.” The words came softly to her lips.

She was glad John was attending training in Chicago. She couldn’t explain the frustration and sadness that clung to her over the realities of Jeffrey’s and Brian’s deaths. Hollis didn’t want him to think it had anything to do with their moving in together, so she told him in an unemotional tone what had happened. From his soothing tone, she could tell he knew what she was going through.

On Sunday, she visited Rena, who was home alone with Christopher while Mark was visiting his family out of state.

“Here’s to you and John. I am so happy for you both.” Rena poured a glass of her favorite Malbec.

They raised their glasses and sipped.

Rena shook her head. “I don’t know which is sadder—that Jeffrey was killed by his own son, or that his son killed himself because he felt so much guilt and despair.”

Hollis mused, “First Jeffrey, then Todd, and now Brian. The only one left standing is Frances.”

“Well, one thing’s for certain: Frances didn’t kill Jeffrey.” Rena took a sip of wine. “And remember, she was at work when Todd was murdered.”

“Yes, I know—how convenient. All along Brian believed she was hiding assets and he always hoped we’d find them … in time.” She paused. “Frances can’t contain herself until the hearing on Thursday. I had to reassure her again this morning during her allocated five seconds of grief that her stepson’s death would not slow things down.”

Rena nodded with understanding. “But there’s really nothing to keep the trust from filing on time, even I’m sick of her asking about it. Why does she think there’d be a problem?”

“Because I think she knows there’s something out there that can stop it,” Hollis said. “There’s something she knows that she doesn’t want me to find out. That’s why she keeps checking in with me.”

Hollis stared into her glass of wine. She knew she was in a race with Frances, but the stakes were elusive. A clock was ticking and Frances was heading for the goal line. Had she already said something that should have tipped Hollis off?

When George found Hollis in the firm’s library, she was surrounded by stacks of folders, newspaper clippings, and law books. She was tapping away at her laptop, plowing through the records and information the Fallen Angels had collected one last time.

“Still nothing?” he asked.

She scowled. “Frances is going to win this one, but I know she’s hiding assets.”

“Can’t you get a continuance?” George glanced at a page from the top of the stack.

Hollis shook her head. “No, Brian already had one filed. After Frances protested, the court made it clear that they were not inclined to hold back distributing the estate for a second time, based on a hunch.”

George stood. “Then, Counselor, you’re now facing a lawyer’s first reality check. You win some and you lose some—you just hope you win more than you lose.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “But George, I’m
this
close to figuring it out.” She put her thumb and forefinger a half inch apart.

“Well, let me get out of the way of your thinking process.” George moved toward the door. “You may still want to ask for a continuance, based on suspected hidden assets. Maybe what you’re looking for isn’t in a law book.”

She nodded absently and flipped open to another file. George gave her a sympathetic look and left.

When Tiffany came in thirty minutes later, Hollis was still deep into her notes.

“Hollis, the appraiser is here to look at the Wallace’s first editions. Shall I put him in the small conference room?”

She looked up. “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll be right there.”

A note on the edge of a sticky caught her eye. She’d written it at the Fallen Angels meeting when Rena reported back on Frances’ mob connections. Now, she marked it in yellow to remind her to look at it again when she got back from meeting with the appraiser. She picked up the Turneo first editions.

“Thank you so much for coming to my office,” Hollis offered her hand to shake. “You saved me a lot of time.”

She pushed the five books across the table for him to examine.

“Not a problem. My next appointment is in this building,” he said. “The Franchise Tax Board offices are on the seventh floor. My quarterly tax payment is due. You know, sometimes I think I should just move my business to Nevada—no state taxes.”

Hollis smiled and nodded in agreement, but then she frowned. “What did you say?”

“Some businesses have to pay quarterly tax payments—every three months. You know, so the Franchise Tax Board can get their money before the end of year.”

She said softly, “Yes, I do know.”

Hollis’ mind raced over past conversations with Brian and Frances while the appraiser, wearing a special eye loupe, went through every page in the books. Finally he raised his head.

“I’m going to write my number down,” he said. “I don’t want to be influenced by anything you might say.”

He scribbled a number on a piece of paper and put it off to the side.

“In my expert opinion, these books are in good condition for works almost ninety years old. Turneo was very popular in the twenties before alcoholism did him in at the age of thirty-seven. These books are the sum total of his work. He also wrote a few short—”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” Hollis said, wanting to get back to her office, “but I have a time constraint I’m working under, and it would be helpful if you could .…” She didn’t want to be the one to finish the sentence.

He looked at her with understanding. “You want me to cut to the chase?”

She smiled and nodded.

“Well, while Turneo was popular in literary circles, he wasn’t a Herman Melville or a Mark Twain. So,
even though he wrote similar period pieces, his books aren’t as valued.” He pulled off his monocle. “To a collector they could be worth more than the market value. I can think of one Turneo collector off the top of my head who might be interested. What did the other appraisal come in at?”

“Ten to fifteen thousand, on the high end.”

The appraiser nodded and reached across the table for his piece of paper. He slid it across to Hollis. It read, ‘five to fifteen thousand.’

It wasn’t about the first editions.

“The earlier estimates are valid.” He packed away his monocle. “I think you have your answer, Ms. Morgan.”

Hollis sat in her office, deep in thought. She was waiting for Frances to arrive and collect her copy of the trust filing papers. While the final pieces of the story were falling into place, the picture formed was missing its core. The first editions were legitimately valued. Todd had not been cheated and Frances was far shy of the dollars needed for a casino.

Tiffany buzzed on the intercom.

Frances, seated in the conference room, appeared to be dressed for battle. She carried a black patent-leather tote and wore a black pantsuit with a red-striped blouse and matching red shoes. Her hair was pulled back into a low chignon.

“Hello, I’m in a hurry. Do you have my copy and something for me to sign?” Frances sat across the table facing the window, sunlight partially shining on her face.

Hollis pulled the papers out of her folder but let them rest on top.

“I know you did it, Frances. I don’t know how you did it, but it’s been about you the whole time,” she said, shaking her head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Frances’ voice took on a hard edge. “Still getting those hang-ups? I know it would keep me on edge. Truth is, I have other things to do today. Let me sign and give me my copy. Then I’ll be on my way. I’ll see you in court tomorrow.”

Hollis’ jaw tightened and she snapped, “What happened, Frances? You were living an average life with Jeffrey. It might not have been exciting, but it was comfortable. He obviously let you continue your gambling addiction. Although I can imagine that for someone with Jeffrey’s moral compass, it might have gnawed at him. What happened?”

Frances smirked. “Just give me my papers.”

Hollis took a deep breath. “I know you’re hiding assets. I know you must have jumped for joy when Brian confessed and killed himself.”

Frances glared. “You have no idea.” She gave a hollow laugh then looked quickly around the room. “Is this office bugged?”

Hollis wanted to kick herself. Bugging the room would have been a great idea.

“Once you sign this paper and I file it in court, you'll be adding on several other felony fraud charges to your already growing list of prison years,” Hollis said. “You had Todd killed, didn’t you? Did he discover your secret?” Hollis tapped the trust papers but didn’t move to hand them over.

Frances half stood and grabbed across the table for the sheets. “Give me the form.”

Her abrupt movement caused her purse to fall from her shoulder, emptying it in a rush across the table. Hollis leaned over, eyed the contents, and smiled. She pushed envelopes, coins, and a makeup bag toward Frances, who was frantically scooping items back into her tote.

Hollis pointedly handed over one of the runaway envelopes.

Frances reached for it, her face paling as she slipped the envelope back into her purse. She looked Hollis straight in the eye as she slung the bag over her shoulder. “Thanks, I’ve got it from here. There’s nothing that can’t be explained. Is this where I see the error of my ways and confess?”

“That’s up to you, Frances.” She slid over the papers.

Frances’ voice was cold. “It’s not going to happen, Ms. Morgan.” Frances signed quickly, took her copy and returned the signed page. “You’re going to lose.”

Hollis smiled.

No, I don’t think so.

Hollis rushed to her desk and quickly drafted a new court order. She convinced one of the firm’s clerks to run it to the courthouse before the end of the day deadline.

Next she put in a call to Gene. He responded with his usual assurance.

“I’m lovin’ this.” She could feel his glee through the wire. “I may not get back to you until late, but I’ll be at the Fallen Angels meeting tonight.”

The rest of the day she spent getting ready for her morning court appearance.

She was a few minutes late for the Fallen Angels meeting and was surprised to see everyone there.

“We’re all here, Hollis.” Miller greeted her. “Even Richard.”

“Very funny, crane man.” Richard, looking nonchalant, glanced at his watch. “I won’t be able to stay long, though.”

Hollis smiled, wondering who got the short straw and had to twist Richard’s arm.

Rena reminded her to dress for a photo op. “You want to appear confident and credible.”

“It’s only a hearing, not a trial,” Hollis said.

“We’ll take what we can get.” Gene smiled.

For the next few minutes she quickly took them through the dress rehearsal for her first court appearance as an attorney.