Sticks & Stones (A Hollis Morgan Mystery) (17 page)

The elevator lumbered noisily and eventually opened up to a hallway containing four doors, one of which was glass and touted Templeton Industries, Inc.

Hollis handed her card to the woman sitting at a long narrow table that substituted for the receptionist desk. “I called earlier. But I’m willing to wait for Mr. Mueller until he returns.” She took a seat on an uncomfortable green metal chair.

“I told you on the phone he wasn’t available.” Nancy
, who appeared to be in her seventies, wore her blond waist-length hair styled like Alice in Wonderland—held back with a black headband. However the skin on her face—unlike Alice’s—fell into small folds with a dot of red on each cheek.

Hollis ignored the glare.
“Yes, well, I was in the neighborhood.”

Nancy pushed a button on the phone, murmured in response and stood. “Please stay in your seat. I’ll inform the manager, Mr. Green, you’re here.”

Stay in my seat.

It wasn’t three minutes until Nancy shuffled back to her desk.

“Mr. Green will see you once he completes a phone call.”

Hollis beamed a fake smile.

It took another five minutes for Green to appear. He strode into the room with both hands in his pockets. Rumpled, balding, and middle-aged, he wore a dark brown belted sweater and an open-collared, peach-colored shirt.

“Miss Morgan, if you’d come this way.” He pointed toward an office.

“Mr. Green, my law firm is working with
Transformation
in defending an article written by Catherine Briscoe, We—”

“My assistant gave me your card.
” They were in his office, and she took the chair he offered. “I don’t see how I can help you.”

“I’d like to show you a photo of Cathy
. It might trigger your memory. I also wanted to talk to you about a receipt.”

“Yes, I understand that from my assistant. She told you that we don’t know a Catherine Briscoe. She also told you our accountant paid the invoice.”

“Mr. Green, please, our client died a couple of weeks ago. We discovered this receipt among her papers. We just need to know what the service provided was.”

He was silent. Then, “Who did you say you were again?”

Hollis paused. “My last name is Morgan, and I’m with Dodson Dodson & Doyle. As I mentioned earlier, my firm is working with the McClouds law firm and their attorney, Mark Haddan. We’re defending
Transformation
magazine
in a lawsuit filed by Dorian Fields.” She leaned in. “Could you tell me your connection to Dorian Fields?”

“Fields, the philanthropist? I don’t know Dorian Fields at all.”

She sank back and reached inside her purse, thrusting the photo across to him.

“This is a picture of Catherine Briscoe. Do you recognize her?”

He gave it a brief glance. “Pretty lady, but no, I don’t remember her.”

She was running out of threads. “Mr. Green, a few moments ago you reacted when I asked what service you provide. Now, I’m just a paralegal
. I’m only interested in an article that Cathy wrote for
Transformation
, so you can tell me about your business, and I will not reveal any confidences.”

“Look, I don’t know you and I don’t know Fields and I sure don’t know Briscoe, but I do know that the receipt you showed my assistant is for the association fees.”

Hollis frowned. “Association fees? What association?” She mentally checked possibilities but nothing clicked. This wasn’t making any sense.

“Your question says it all. Clearly, you’re not privy to the confidential transaction involved here. I need to get back to work. So I’m going to have to show you out.”

“I’m sorry if I said something to bother you.”

“You can tell him for me that he doesn’t have to send messengers by to see if I’m playing by the rules. I’m a big boy and I don’t appreciate it.”

He escorted Hollis to the door, a firm grip on her elbow.

Who’s
him
?

H
ollis sat on the edge of Cathy’s bed. She was grateful that Friday was a slow day in the office. She was able to leave and come here to finish packing her friend’s personal belongings. She didn’t mind; it helped her to say goodbye. Tomorrow she would call Mrs. Briscoe and tell her that her daughter’s things were ready for the movers.

She sniffed
. The air still held the faint scent of Cathy’s favorite Jo Malone fragrance, Red Roses.

“
Talk to me, Cathy,” she said in a whisper. “What were you up to? What do all these pieces mean? There’s Templeton Industries and Joe Morgan’s photos, the Muellers. What are the connections? What’s the link? What does one have to do with the other? Fields’ nonprofits were a little sloppy on the management side, but they appear to be doing good works. What did you see that I don’t?”

Engrossed in thought,
she was brought swiftly back to the present by the click of the lock on the front door. Her body stiffened, and moments later Hollis looked up into the startled eyes of a medium-height, brown-haired, good-looking guy with beard stubble. He carried a large backpack.

“Who are you?” he said, looking around the room.

Hollis jumped up from the bed and stepped backward to the nightstand, ready to defend herself with the lamp, if necessary. Adrenaline pumped through her body.

“Who are you?” Her hand felt for the lamp base.

“Where’s Cathy?” he said. He dumped his gear inside the room but didn’t approach any closer. “What’s going on?”

Hollis took a breath. He knew Cathy. He seemed okay
, and he had entered with a key. Her heartbeat was slowing back down. She didn’t feel threatened, but she wasn’t comfortable either.

“I’m a friend of Cathy’s.” She motioned toward the door.
“Let’s go sit in the living room.”

He looked doubtful and held his ground until Hollis pointed him into the next room.

She took a seat in the single chair by the window. He sat on the sofa, on the other side of the room.

“My name is Hollis Morgan. Did Cathy ever mention me?”

He shook his head.

“What’s your name
, and how do you know Cathy?”

“Michael, Michael Carver. Cathy and I are
 … together.” He leaned forward and gripped his knees with his hands. “What’s going on?”

Hollis sensed he was the real deal and wished she were anywhere else but there.

“She never mentioned you to me, either, Michael. I’m afraid Cathy was killed about three weeks ago.” He looked as if she had punched him. “I’m sorry.”

He stood and ran his hand over his brow.

“I don’t understand. How was she killed?”

Hollis debated whether to give him the full version or to parcel it out in segments. She opted for the former. His reactions went from disbelief to anger to pain. She finished.

“The funeral was two weeks ago. I’m sorry.”

He was silent, his disbelief visible.

“She was always so independent. She was funny and cre
—” His words seemed addressed more to himself than to Hollis. He looked taken aback.

“I know.
We were good friends.” Hollis paused then said, “Cathy never told me about you. Where’ve you been?”

He looked at her with red-rimmed eyes. “Camping. I’ve been camping in Yosemite. I go every year for one month.” He
put his head in his hands. “I didn’t think she wanted me to go this time. We hadn’t known each other that long. She didn’t say anything, but … I knew …. If I hadn’t ….”

Hollis came over and sat near him. “Don’t even go there. I’ve known Cathy for years. She wasn’t one for hand
-holding or holding hands. At least not in a non-romantic way.”

He gave her a half
-smile and wiped at his eyes. “Why do you think she didn’t tell you about me?”

Her first thought was that Cathy didn’t consider him a real contender. But it could also be that she wanted to be sure. She had given the guy her key, after all.

“She was funny that way,” Hollis said. “I’ve been pretty busy these past months studying for the bar, so we hadn’t seen each other for a while. The night she died she came by my condo. That was the first time we’d seen each other in months.” Hollis reflected on the truth of her words. “She was preoccupied with her work and I was focused on the bar. We really hadn’t talked.”

“You a lawyer?”

“I’ll know in a few weeks.” Hollis smiled. “What do you do?”

“Risk management. I sell insurance.”

Hollis’ stomach fluttered. Insurance was a field she was intimately familiar with. She flashed forward to memories of her ex, who had no qualms about setting her up to take a prison term for his insurance fraud scheme.

Michael said, “What’s the matter? You look like
 … like you just remembered something.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m okay.” She went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She pointed to a glass. “You?”

“No, thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Do they have the guy who did it?”

“No. The police don’t even know if it is a guy.”

He looked pensive. “Is there a motive? Why was she killed?”

Hollis shrugged. “The police don’t know. But I think it was because she was writing an inflammatory article about a celebrity, a celebrity who couldn’t afford to have his reputation sullied.”

“You mean Dorian Fields?”

Hollis turned to him in surprise. “You know about the article?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He took a step back at Hollis’ reaction. “Cathy gave me an early draft to read. I took it along on my trip, but to be honest I didn’t get a chance to read it.”

“You have the copy with you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Michael, my law firm is working with
Transformation
magazine to defend Cathy’s article against a lawsuit. Fields filed for libel.” Hollis reached into her tote for a pen and notepaper. “Most of her research and draft copies were taken by her killer. We’ve been trying to piece together her findings. I’d like to compare the article Cathy gave you with the one we got from
Transformation,
just in case they’re different versions.”

He frowned. “The killer took all her research. Then the police must think Fields did it.”

Hollis ran her hands through her hair. “Well, at first they thought she committed suicide because of the lawsuit. But in light of subsequent events, murder appears more plausible. Fields is very powerful. I think the police are looking at any and everyone else first.”

“Before I left
, she was really jazzed about something new she’d found out.”

“Hmmm. Like I said
, she came to see me that night be—before … really excited, but depressed too.” Hollis paced around the room. “We almost had our hands on the notes she left with her assistant, but then she was killed too.”

That brought Michael to his feet. “Gail was killed
, too?”

“You knew her?”

“Gail was a little strange, but she was okay. Cathy relied on her to keep all her materials straight and transcribe her drafts.” He shook his head. “When I met Cathy for lunch, Gail would usually call and interrupt with some question she was worried over.”

“Gail
was going to give me a thumb drive with Cathy’s research,” Hollis said, “but she was killed before she was able to pass it on.”

Michael s
tood a moment with his own thoughts. Looking up, he said, “This Fields guy must be pretty bad.”

“You know, he’s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The people he reaches out to think he walks on water, the business world holds him up as an angel
, and yet I’m coming to believe he is cold-blooded enough to kill to protect his image.”

He rubbed the back of his neck
and closed his eyes. “I need to think. I can’t stay. I need to take this all in.”

Hollis nodded. “Can I get your copy of Cathy’s article? It might me help figure out her early research sources.”

“Sure, I guess.” He reached into his backpack and stopped. “Do you have a business card?”

Hollis nodded in understanding. “Yes, here.”
Pushing aside a gnawing feeling, she handed it to him. “Can I get your contact information?”

He handed over the article then scribbled on a slip of paper.

He left with the promise to keep in touch.

Hollis hadn’t had the heart to tell him about Cathy’s ninety-day guy policy. As Michael told his story, Hollis glanced around the room
. There were no pictures of them together. Cathy didn’t like seeing a guy more than ninety days in a row. More time than that, and she felt she couldn’t get rid of them. She’d been burned badly once, so she had no qualms about sending a guy packing, changing her locks, and not looking back.

Hollis sat on the sofa and read through
this early version of the article. It wasn’t long but it was clearly written. The tone was a little mean-spirited, and it raised questions rather than pointed to hard facts. She laid the pages aside and stared off into space. It was more accusatory than the final version.

Without proof, the article could be considered libelous all right.

Back at the office, Hollis had only one message on her phone. It was from Kelly confirming that she had completed her job assignments and could meet with Hollis at the
residence home on Wednesday. Hollis sighed. The court clerk had already given her a probate hearing date on Friday. The Koch estate would be processed without heirs.

She gave a wave goodnight as she passed through the lobby.

“Doing anything special this weekend?” Tiffany asked Hollis, while straightening papers on top of the reception desk.

I wish
.

Hollis paused, shifting her purse and jacket. “No, just housework
. See you Monday.”

She heard her phone ringing as she stuck her key in the condo door lock.
She rushed over but the answering machine caught the call.

It was Faber.

“… wondering if you might be interested in dinner and maybe a movie tomorrow night. I know it’s short—”

She snatched up the phone. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said. “I know it’s short notice, but I wanted to invite you to dinner and a movie tomorrow.”

“As it happens, I’m free, thank you.” Hollis was glad he couldn’t see her punching the air with her fist.

“Good. How about I pick you up at five? Would you rather see the movie first or have dinner?”

“Surprise me.”

Hollis leaned against the wall, a broad smile spreading across her face. She punched the buttons on the phone.

“Stephanie, John Faber just invited me out
. What should I wear?”

“Boy, your stars must be aligned
. Second date in less than a month. What happened to the other guy, what was his name?”

“Brad
. He’s nice, but he’s friend material. I don’t think Brad and I have the same values for a long-term, or even a short-term relationship. I love reading; he got stuck on
Old Yeller
in grade school and never finished another book. He loves football—did I say ‘loves?’ More like is obsessed with it. After fifteen minutes we have nothing to talk about. Besides, he’s on a business trip.” She threw up her arms. “What should I wear?”

“Jeans, your maroon top, and that fringed shawl I gave you for your birthday.”

“That’s a great idea. Thanks.” She was already picturing herself looking stylish, but fun. “How are you doing? We need to have another lunch. You won’t believe who followed me to the mall the other day and half gave me a heart attack.”

“Who, the other guy?”

“No, I told you his name is Brad and he’s out of town. It was Vince.”

“Who’s Vince?”

“That kid you helped get into the shelter program. He’s still clean, not so jumpy. There’s a question about his mom, but he seems to be on his way back.”

“I’d write him off. There’s too much going against him.”

Hollis murmured, “Yeah, I guess.”

“What?”

“I guess I still believe in second chances.”

Faber dabbed butter on a piece of roll. “What did you think of the movie?”

“To be honest, it has been so long since I’ve had time to go to a movie, I was blown away by the 3-D technology.” Hollis laughed at herself.

Faber gave a hearty laugh. “Yeah, I can understand.”

She took a sip of wine. “Tell me about you. Were you raised in California?”

“Born and raised in the Bay Area, went to St. Mary’s, and entered the academy when I was twenty-three.” He looked down, and then into her eyes. “I was married two years when my wife died having a still birth.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry
,” Hollis said. “How long ago?”

“Seven years.” John looked reflectively at his hands. “I’d just gotten a job on the force.” Then he seemed to notice Hollis’ discomfort. “Hey, I’ve healed. There’s just a little scar tissue there, but I’ve come to grips with it.” He took a sip. “And you?”