A Wrongful Death (18 page)

"That's a thought," Barbara said. "Maybe it will come to that, but not yet. Meanwhile, we have to see Dad's client today without having company tag along. Can do?"

"No sweat."

Later, Barbara sat in the rear seat of the SUV, where the dark windows hid her from view, not an important detail for now, since it was more than likely that someone had seen her getting in. She waited with Bailey when Frank went up to his office to give Patsy instructions about the package he was expecting. She would guard it with her life, he said when he returned, and he meant exactly that.

Taking his time, Bailey drove through town, across the bridge and on to the big mall, where the parking lot was already filled. "Now we wander about a little," he said. "Be ready to go when I give the word." He drove up and down the lanes the way others were doing searching for a parking space. "Just about ready," he said. Barbara was already holding the sliding door pull, ready.

"Now," Bailey said and came to a stop. Coming toward them was Frank's black Buick with Alan at the wheel. The transfer was made quickly; Barbara slid into Alan's place at the wheel, Frank got in the backseat, and Alan stepped into the back of the SUV. Both vehicles crawled forward in opposite directions.

Once she left the parking lot it was only a five-minute drive to Elizabeth's apartment where they checked in with security, and were waved to the elevators. The attendant was a different one, but equally bored, Barbara thought, and wondered how efficient either of them would be in the case of an unwanted caller.

After the introductions, and they were all seated in the rather uncomfortable chairs, Barbara said, "I was able to retrieve those research papers and they're on their way to Dad's safe. After we know they're secure, we'll consider the next step.

"Thank God!" Elizabeth said. "It would have been too ironic if they had been thrown out as trash at this point." Then she asked, "How did you jump to the conclusion about who I am? I began to worry about it after you left. Will others do the same?"

"I don't think so," Barbara said. "There were several things. Your mother didn't ask a single question about the attack at the cabin but she should have been full of questions. And her easy acceptance that Jason was safe and being cared for. The police have his passport, and even if you were allowed to leave, as Leonora, what about him? It could only mean that he was already out of the country and wouldn't need a passport, or else that she knew exactly where he was and there were definite plans concerning him. And that meant there had been extensive communication between the two of you, but when? It seemed to me that it had to have taken place after the attack at the cabin and before you came to Eugene, before the murder, before your phone call the night it happened, especially since she came prepared to claim Leonora as her daughter. And finally, although I knew your hysteria was real, the tears real enough, you were coherent about two things— your mother was coming, and Terry must not be allowed near the body. I had to wonder at that. But, of course, he would have known it wasn't you. None of it added up. I gambled." She paused, then added, "As I told you, I can't represent you, but Dad can. He taught me everything I know about the law. You'll be in good hands."

Elizabeth moistened her lips and nodded.

"Your story will hold until you reveal the truth," Frank said. "Your mother's positive identification of the body insured that. No one else is likely to question it. Now, if you're up to it, I have a few questions of my own. Background on you and Leonora."

His questions were to the point, and her answers equally decisive for a long time. Then, after many specific questions, she summarized, "Leonora's father was abusive, first to her mother, and then to her. I couldn't even imagine what it must have been like for her at her own home with her father beating her mother, and turning on her. My father was employed at the UN, and there were times when he had to be away for a week or two weeks at a time, but when he returned, he was such a presence. He always listened to me as if it were significant, important. No matter how little it really mattered he acted as if it meant something to him. It was like that with Mother, too. It's hard to explain, and maybe that's common, but I never saw it with other girls and their parents. Terry was like that for over a year. We both were. Attentive, paying attention, real attention. He told me his mother and father had never heard a thing he said, that he would try to tell Sarah something, and she'd remember a phone call she had to make or something and leave in the middle of what he was saying. He said they were always too busy for him. There were nannies, summer camps, boarding school, university, then out. Like growing up alone." She shuddered. "He walked out on me, and that was that."

"Let's move on to the day you left New York," Frank said when she stopped. "What exactly did your ex-husband tell you about shares in the company?"

"Apparently his parents owned a percentage of the company. I'm not sure how much. His father assigned part of their share to us, a guaranteed lifelong income, or we could sell it back to the company at any time. Also, he said a sale to another corporation was being negotiated and our share value would rise drastically as a result. We were searching for the document Joe had drawn up and signed because if Sarah found it first she would burn it."

"Why would she do that? What did she have against you?" Frank asked gently.

"She called me a half-breed Spanish dancer who had seduced her innocent son and lured him into a marriage in order to have a child by him. She claimed Leonora and I were lovers and my plan from the beginning had been to get rid of Terry and resume my relationship with Leonora." She spoke in a flat, near monotone, but there was a furious gleam in her eyes and her cheeks were aflame. "Those were the two worst things she could say apparently, I was a half-breed and a lesbian."

"And exactly what were you planning when you found the Knowlton material?"

"I had heard just a little about that whole affair, not much. But I could tell at a glance that the research was not original work done by Joe Kurtz. I had talked to him a few times, and I didn't believe he was capable of such intellectual effort. I just wanted to make certain. I wasn't thinking of righting an old wrong. I think I wanted to get even for the way Sarah had treated me and my son. She refused to acknowledge him, to see him. Later, I knew I had to tell Knowlton, or at least Grandfather Diedricks. But I didn't have any real plans when I took them."

"But you knew from the beginning that it was dangerous," Frank said.

"At first it was the scandal that I thought Sarah especially would hate. For this gay half-breed seductress to point an accusing finger at her racially pure family would be more than she could bear. What I was most afraid of at first was that they might find us and seize Jason, and use him as leverage. I would have done whatever they demanded if they took him and secreted him away somewhere. When I realized how very much money could be involved, I knew how dangerous it really was."

"Do you think Sarah is behind it?" Frank asked then.

She shook her head. "Whoever attacked me at the cabin was willing to leave a small child in the wilderness to die. He's her grandson! I can't believe she would do that or condone it."

"Why do you suppose she's making such a public display about finding Jason now?" Barbara asked.

"She has to," Elizabeth said. "It's part of her image, the grieving widow and bereft grandmother. She has to play her part.

During that long morning she said she had little memory of Sarah's brother, Lawrence Diedricks, whom she had met only once, and recalled him as being very slick, very smooth. As vice president in charge of marketing he was used to dealing with Washington officials, committees, corporate executives. "You have to understand," she added, "Terry despised his family, the whole lot of them, except for his grandfather, and I never had a chance to get to know any of them. We were like two children on an extended recess with plenty of money and the world for our playground and no time left over for a boring family. Perhaps his Uncle Lawrence and his wife, Moira, are both fine and interesting people, but I never got to know one way or the other."

She gazed past Frank and said thoughtfully, "I think because they are all so extremely proper, Terry felt compelled to do more and more outrageous things. Like appearing in gym shorts at a formal dinner once, little things like that as a youngster. And marrying someone like me as an adult." She shrugged.

The hurt was still there, Barbara realized. She had been stung hard by that family, and deeply wounded by Terry and the hurt persisted after so many years.

Before they stood up to leave, Frank gave Elizabeth a few instructions. No more questions from the police unless he was present, no comment to any media person, no contact with Sarah, Terry or anyone else from the family. "We may send our own detective, Bailey Novell, but never without calling first to alert you. Don't admit any strangers, no matter what reason they might give for coming around."

He pulled on his topcoat and Barbara her jacket, and then Frank said, "Christmas Eve can be a lonely time if you're separated from your loved ones. Come to dinner. I'll ask Bailey to pick you up and bring you home again later."

Elizabeth blinked hard and nodded, "Thank you. I'd like that. I spent an hour in a toy store yesterday.. .and didn't buy a thing."

"What do you think?" Barbara asked when they were back in the car, heading for his office.

"She'll do," he said, high praise from him when it concerned a client. "She's intelligent. I just wish she had not flown apart when she found the body. Is she likely to do that again?"

"I doubt it. She was emotionally and physically exhausted. 'Last straw' syndrome. Weeks of fear, worry about Jason, his near death at the cabin, as well as her own. A probable concussion. She was overdue." After a moment, she said, "All that time she did everything exactly right. Finally, the only mistake she made was when she called my office." It was a disquieting thought.

Frank's secretary, Patsy, was overjoyed whenever Frank appeared at the office, and she made it clear that she welcomed him as a successful, published writer well on his way to completing a second book, with her aid and assistance. She was happy to see Barbara that early afternoon, also, but her welcome was muted, as if by a deep suspicion that, as usual, a string of trouble was certain to be trailing along at her heels.

"It came," she said. "The package you expected."

"Let's have a look," Frank said and he and Barbara followed Patsy into her office. She closed the door, then unlocked her desk drawer, withdrew a thick manila security envelope and handed it to Frank.

He opened it, and with Barbara crowding in close, he began to scan some of the sheets of paper.

"Greek to me," she said after a moment.

"And me," he agreed. "They'll take a little time I expect." He handed the stack to Patsy. "I'll need a copy of everything, then put both sets in envelopes. You can shred that one," he added, pointing to the envelope it had come in. "I'm going to order in some sandwiches, and we'll do a little work, but when you're done you can leave. Just tell whoever's on the front desk that I'm expecting Lieutenant Hoggarth and to let me know as soon as he gets here." He glanced at his watch. "About an hour from now."

"Tell me what you want. I'll place the order," Patsy said. Her expression had become grim and the look she cast Barbara's way was accusatory.

Frank knew she was unlikely to leave as long as Hoggarth was in the office. After they placed their own orders, he said, "And two pastrami on rye. Milt fancies them, and something for yourself." He also knew there was no point in arguing with Patsy. She had been with him too long and would wait him out in silence, and then do exactly what she had planned.

In his office he sat behind his desk and pretended an interest in the morning mail while Barbara paced. Although it was no more than ten minutes before Patsy tapped and brought in the research papers and copies, it was a long ten minutes.

"Sandwiches will be here in about half an hour," Patsy said on her way out. "The delivery boy isn't back from his last order."

Frank put the original papers and disk in his safe, and he and Barbara sat side by side on the sofa across the room and began to try to make sense of what they were seeing. Some of the notes and sketches were fairly comprehensible, and the final drawings, all very fine and detailed, often were also, but the middle steps were a mystery. There were pages of computer code as well as the drawings and notes.

Some of the notes had the name Jefferson Knowlton, some had initials, JK, and some had Hank Diedricks scrawled on them.

"Look, Dad," Barbara said turning a new page face up. "He was practicing the initials." An entire page had JK's that came closer and closer to looking like the JK on the whole name of Jefferson Knowlton.

"Why the devil did he keep such incriminating evidence?" Frank muttered. "That was insane."

"I expect he believed they were safe from prying eyes and he needed to practice and keep comparing copies to the originals. How much more proof would be needed?"

"Let's think," he said, and leaned back with his eyes closed.

Barbara returned the papers to the envelope and put it on his desk along with the other mail.

"As a Diedricks Corporation attorney my line would be something like this," Frank said. "We don't know where those papers came from. Knowlton's had ten or more years in which to follow the progress the company's made, plenty of time to duplicate whatever work they've already patented and produced. And he's a dreamer with all that stuff about computers and nanotechnology. The man was proven to be a fraud years ago, and this is a crude attempt to revive his old, properly dismissed charge of company theft of his work. For those fraudulent research papers to appear now, so closely following the death of Joseph Kurtz, suggests that Mr. Knowlton was simply waiting for the most propitious moment to renew his claim, knowing Dr. Kurtz no longer can protect his work. We respectfully suggest a psychiatric review of Jefferson Knowlton is in order at this time."