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

“Enough, I get it. You don’t have to patronize me.”

“I wasn’t trying to patronize you. We’re just talking. But it seems like I can’t say anything right tonight.” He shoved a forkful of food in his mouth.

Hollis said nothing and for the next few moments they ate in silence. The waiter came over.

“How’s everything?”

“The food is delicious.” Hollis smiled up at him and he left with a pleased smile on his face. She reached across to cover John’s hand with hers. “I’m sorry. I’ve been in a lousy mood. Will you forgive me?”

He raised one eyebrow and then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I’ve gotten used to having you around.”

Hollis took the lead in turning the conversation to non-controversial topics and the results of his interviews. She knew she was successful when she recounted a funny anecdote that earned her a loud laugh.

“I am so proud of you.” She picked up her glass in a toast and smiled. “It wasn’t easy getting inside the politics of Homeland Security. I’m sure they don’t often recruit local cops for management positions.”

“It’s no different than what you’ve accomplished.”

“Fine, then let’s drink to the both of us.”

They clinked glasses.

He took a deep sip and paused. “Okay, okay, let’s come to an agreement. I’ll find out about Wallace’s death and pass on what I can. But you and your club members can’t play sleuth. Stay out of the detective business. Deal?”

With a little effort, Hollis lifted her lips into a smile. It was better than starting another argument. “Deal.”

They tapped glasses again.

John moved for the check. “Let’s go back to your condo.”

“I’d like that.” Hollis started to gather up her things and then stopped. “John, what were you going to ask me?”

He pursed his lips tight.

“I already got my answer.”

She tried to keep her face expressionless, but slowly exhaled a breath of relief. She was pretty sure she knew his question, but it was one she couldn’t answer.

The next morning, Hollis sat in Starbucks, drinking tea and peering out the window as well-tailored men and women hurried past every few seconds. She couldn’t stop the silly grin spreading across her face when her thoughts drifted to John and their night together. He was applying gentle pressure and her list of relationship concerns was breaking down.

It was amazing how many semi-bald men resembling Richard Kleh worked in the Talbot Building. But she was only looking for one particular man, and in less than a minute Richard emerged from the BART escalators. She would recognize his purposeful gait anywhere.

She grabbed her purse, dashed out the door, and dodged a car as she ran across the street.

“Richard,” she called out about a half block behind him.

He kept walking.

“Richard,” she called out again. She stepped up her pace to a slow run and caught up to him just as he entered the automatic doors to his building. She had to tap his jacket sleeve to get his attention. He frowned and looked down at her, as if trying to register where he had seen her before. After a few seconds, recognition entered his eyes.

“Hollis?” He held the door open for her. “Wow, this is a surprise. Why are you here?”

She smiled. “Hi, Richard, or are you using an alias?”

He still looked the same, perhaps a bit heavier; his tall frame hid his weight well. His cheeks turned red.

“You can call me Richard. I’ve gotten used to it.” He looked over her head and around the lobby. “After the press had a field day with our prison records during the trial, there was no further need for the dual identity.”

There was a momentary awkward silence.

Hollis asked, “Is there someplace we can talk for a few minutes? I won’t take up much of your time.”

He pointed to a small coffee cart surrounded by a scattering of café tables toward the back of the lobby.

“I’ve got a few minutes before my first meeting. What’s up?”

He gave his order to the young barista. Hollis asked for water.

“Let’s sit first.” Hollis took possession of a table and sat across from her. “Richard, I’ve got bad news. Jeffrey Wallace is dead.”

He put the cup of coffee down without drinking. His brow creased.

“When? How?”

“He was murdered. I don’t have any details yet. Gene contacted me. He still works for the paper.” Hollis leaned in. “Richard I tracked you down to let you know about Jeffrey, and that the Fallen Angels are thinking of going to the funeral service together to pay our respects.”

Richard gave her a skeptical look. “Unless you’ve changed since I last saw you, you’ve never cared about things like paying respects.”

“Unless
you’ve
changed since I last saw you, you’re still a cynic.” She shrugged. “Like I said, we owe Jeffrey. Maybe we can all attend the funeral and talk about getting together in the future to rekindle the book club.” She took a sip of tea and paused, knowing her next statement had to be carefully crafted. “We might even be able to help the police. Each of us has a different perspective. We could search—”

“Whoa, wait a minute. Why
us
? Let the police do their job. We are not investigators.” Richard looked down at his watch. “Look, it was good seeing you again, but I’ve got to get to my office. Here’s my card. Let me know about the funeral. I’ll go. Regarding the other, if you can pull us all together—just to talk, only to talk—okay, I’m in. I at least owe Jeffrey that.”

“Thanks for the water.” She put the card in her purse. “You’ll be hearing from me.”

Back in her office, Hollis spent the rest of the day researching the Shelby Patterson matter. From what she found in public records and from her grandmother’s trust, Shelby had a no-brainer case. It shouldn’t take long to get the court, if she was forced to go that route, to take action against her father.

She hurried to prepare a status report for George. Shelby might be her first paying client, but her priority was to clear her thoughts and focus on finding Jeffrey’s killer.

T
he next morning, Hollis dressed carefully, caught her reflection in the office window, and smiled. She wanted to remember the day she met her first client. Not that she was superstitious, but she had worked so hard for this day. True, she was years behind in her original life plan, but recently she’d adopted the attitude of better late than never.

“Hollis.”

She turned and realized that Tiffany had left her post at the reception desk to stand in her doorway. She must have said Hollis’ name a couple of times before she was heard.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was day-dreaming,” Hollis said sheepishly.

Tiffany gave her a wink. “Ms. Patterson is here. I put her in the blue conference room.”

Hollis nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

“Miss Patterson, can I call you Shelby?” Hollis entered the room with her hand outstretched. “Did you have a good flight?” Hollis knew her first job was to make her client feel relaxed and comfortable. Shelby Patterson answered her with a shy nod and smile. A small woman, slight in stature and matching Hollis’ own five foot three, she barely looked her eighteen years. Her wavy black hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that fell to the top of her blouse collar. She shared her cousin Rena’s
café au lait
skin color and striking good looks. In contrast to Rena’s large hazel eyes, Shelby’s were deep-set and light brown.

“Would you like some water?”

Shelby shook her head.

Hollis smiled encouragingly. “Why don’t you tell me how I can help you?”

After a long moment of hesitation, Shelby cleared her throat and spoke in a crisp business voice. “Rena told me she gave you the lurid details, but I would wrap it all up with this. My stepfather’s mother died and left me her house so that I could pay for my college tuition. My stepfather, Darol Patterson, didn’t get along with his mother because he used to be an addict and who knows why else; anyway, he always felt she didn’t care for him. When he found out she left me her house he was, and is, pissed off. He wants to ignore her last wishes and stop me from selling her house.” She licked her lips. “Could I have that water now?”

“Of course.” Hollis went to the small refrigerator tucked into the credenza and disguised to look like just another piece of furniture. She took out two bottles and handed one to Shelby.

“Thank you.” She took a long sip and cleared her throat. “Dad moved into the house about six months ago and refuses to leave. He’s also brought his kids from his first marriage to move in, Sonny and Joy.”

Hollis raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

Shelby continued, “He doesn’t have the money to hire a lawyer. I don’t either; his family will be paying your fees. But I start college soon and I need to sell the house.” Her eyes started to tear up and she murmured, “And now there are these phone calls and other things.”

Hollis leaned forward so that she could hear. “His family will pay your fees to fight him. That must be … awkward.”

Shelby kept her eyes downcast. “Yeah, well, they respect my step-grandmother’s wishes, and they don’t like my stepdad much.”

Hollis made a note.

“Tell me about the phone calls and other things.”

“Before you think it’s my dad, it’s not. He would never hurt me. I think he just doesn’t want to let go of Grandmother’s house. It’s the only thing he has left of her. That, and he probably doesn’t have another place to stay.”

“Shelby, explain to me about the rest of it … the phone calls. What’s happening?”

Shelby frowned, looked at Hollis and took a gulp of water. “The calls are hang-ups, over and over again. They stop for a couple of days, and then they start over. There are other strange things as well. Last week I went to the driveway and found my car door open. The battery was worn down because of the interior lights. Then, day before yesterday, all four tires were flat; the air had been let out.”

Hollis frowned. “Did you tell the police?”

“I live in LA. They said they can’t chase down pranksters.”

“But you don’t think it’s a prankster?”

Shelby started to tear up again. She whispered, “I honestly don’t know, but this all started after my grandmother’s trust was read. I think it’s Sonny and Joy … more likely Joy.”

“But don’t they live here with your stepdad in the East Bay?”

“Yeah, but they used to live in LA. They probably have friends who would do it for them.” Her voice gained strength and she took another gulp of water. “Anyway, neither of them is wired right.”

Hollis listened, resting her chin on her fist.

“How can I represent you?”

“Can you take care of selling my grandmother’s house?”

“What about your family that’s living there?”

“Evict them,” Shelby said.

Hollis looked at her in surprise, but kept her thoughts to herself.

“I told Rena I would help you,” Hollis said, scribbling a note. “Let me do a little research about the proper action before I take any steps to secure the house for sale. I don’t want to waste anybody’s money. Typically our firm doesn’t handle landlord/tenant disputes, or maybe in this case, trespassing. There may be other firms that could serve you better.”

Shelby got up and walked to the window. Her voice returned to its earlier meekness yet held an undercurrent of persistence. “I know how this must look—like I don’t care about my stepfather—but I really do. But I feel trapped and … used, and … and anyway, Rena said you handle wills and trusts. If you could just help me get Dad out of the house … because he says he’ll take me to court. He’ll probably try to be his own lawyer to save money and maybe get some sympathy.”

Hollis felt Shelby was moving onto safer ground. “Well, I can definitely help you with that. If he files a protest, I can prepare your response. From what I’ve read in the trust, you should have no problem retaining control.”

Shelby turned to face Hollis. “Good. I’m in the Bay Area through the weekend; then I’m going back to LA.” Her tone reverted to its former curtness and she picked up her purse. “If I hear from Dad, I’ll let you know, and you’ll let me know about the eviction. Do you need me to sign something?”

Hollis felt herself blush. She had forgotten to give Shelby the attorney retention letter. “Yes, yes. My fees are reasonable, but I’ll also try to give your family a break on billing. I’m a new attorney with the firm, so I’m not sure … but I’ll see what I can do.” She pulled the form out of her folder and handed it over. “I’ll call you tomorrow on your cell.”

“All right.” An expression of resolve settled on Shelby’s face. “Whatever you can do will be appreciated.” She quickly signed the paper and passed it back.

Moments later at the elevators they waved goodbye.

Hollis returned to her office, her thoughts racing over the details of her meeting with Shelby. The young lady had been riding a roller coaster of emotions: veering back and forth from anger over the squabbles with her family and excitement over the surprise inheritance and her plans for college.

Ugh, teenagers.

Hollis’ family life in her teenage years mostly involved staying out of the line of sight. She’d also learned that feelings and emotions were not shared and best kept buried. The Morgans were grateful for their undemanding children, who seemed to understand that expressions of love and caring were not available to them.

The many faces of Shelby made Hollis wonder what kind of client she would be for her first case. She was tempted to call Rena, but immediately knew that with the signing of that retention form, she was constrained by attorney-client privilege. She would reserve her second guessing for later.

George finished his call and turned his attention to Hollis.

“Well, how did it go?” He smiled, steepling his fingers. “I remember when I signed my first client.”

Hollis smiled back. “Yeah, it’s a great feeling. I didn’t realize how nervous I was until I almost forgot to get her signature, but here you go.” She pushed the paper toward him.

He glanced down, signed as her supervisor and returned it to her. “Okay, so what magic are you supposed to work?”

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Because anyone who wants an attorney with no experience is either looking for a fee deal or it’s a case that’s a hard sell.”

Hollis laughed. “It’s probably both. But I know one of her relatives … and I have to start somewhere.”

George chuckled along with her and then sat quietly as he listened to her lay out the details of the case.

“It’s clear she loves her stepfather, so she’s afraid to confront him. The trust is not in dispute. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on. The house is hers.” Hollis checked her notes. “Should I try to get an injunction against the siblings to stop harassing her?”

“You wouldn’t be able to get one without some kind of proof.” He frowned. “If she has a land line, she can check with the phone company, or if it’s a cellphone, her service provider. They might be able to report missed calls. Also, this isn’t a landlord/tenant issue. There never was a lease or other residency agreement. This is a trespassing matter, and that makes it a lot easier to deal with.”

Hollis scribbled a note. “Okay, I’ll talk to her about that. Next, I’ll see about getting the house listed. I’m hoping when her stepfather sees the sign go up in the yard and realizes she has an attorney, he’ll back off.”

“Maybe.” George peered at her over his glasses. “Keep me informed. Oh, and tell your friend he has a job in the mailroom.”

A smile leapt to Hollis’ face. “Oh, thank you, George.”

George held up his hand. “He’ll be on probation to start with. He has to prove himself.”

Hollis nodded and quickly backed out of his office so he couldn’t change his mind.