Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 03 - Haunted (17 page)

I noticed the man was writing something in a black, legal-looking, notebook. I figured him for a detective with the St. Joseph Homicide Division. If so, I was going to leave the flowers and go, after first asking him if there were any new developments in the case, which he was unlikely to answer. But it would be worth a shot.

“Hello, there. I see Melba is resting. I’m Lexie Starr. And you are?” I spoke loudly to be heard over Melba’s snoring, which had intensified. I’m sure she was medically sedated.

“Sheldon Wright, ma’am.”

“Are you a detective, sir?”

“No.”

“Are you a relative?” I asked.

“No.”

“Part of the medical staff here?”

“No.”

“A reporter, perhaps?”

“No.”

“Let me make this easier for both you and me. How do you know Melba, Mr. Wright?” I asked him. I could tell he was being intentionally evasive just to annoy me.

“I represent Ms. Sneed,” he replied without looking at me. “I’m a partner with the law firm of Hocraffer, Zumbrunn, Kobialka, and Wright, out of St. Joseph, and she is one of our clients.”

“Hocraffer, Zumbrunn, Kobialka, and Wright? That’s quite a mouthful, isn’t it? Is Melba filing another lawsuit?” I asked. This was obviously the lawyer I’d heard about before, the one who assisted Melba in filing foolish and ill-advised lawsuits. I didn’t trust him at all.

“No, no lawsuit. Not yet at least,” he said, as if she were considering one. “We heard about the death of her son and knew she’d need to make some changes in her last will and testament, and also her power-of-attorney. I felt I should come without delay to update her documents.”

“Are you saying she didn’t contact you herself to request your services?” I asked with an air of disbelief, as if I found his actions totally unacceptable.

“No, she didn’t have to. At Hocraffer, Zumbrunn, Kobialka, and Wright, we pride ourselves on being able to anticipate our client’s every need. We are at their side before they, themselves, even realize they need our services.” He beamed as if he’d just been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. What a lot of hot air this man was, I thought.

“What took you so long to get to her side?” I asked, sarcastically. I felt his presence was an intrusion at this point, as if mine wasn’t, and I wanted him to leave so I could get down to the business of waking Melba up and plying her with questions. Why couldn’t the law firm have waited until after the funeral to make alterations in her legal documents? I mean, really, what were the chances of her dying, or needing someone to decide whether to pull the plug or not, in the next few days? Her ailments were primarily mental, not physical.

He was finally looking directly at me, so I glared at him without even trying to disguise the contempt written on my face. “Is Hocraffer, Zumbrunn, Kobialka, and Wright always this thorough and efficient, Mr. Wright? Is your law firm in the habit of encroaching on the survivors of murder victims before their loved ones are even in the ground? What exactly do you personally have to gain by getting Ms. Sneed’s legal documents into order with no regard for her mental and emotional state? In simpler terms that I’m sure you’ll understand, what is the frigging hurry?”

“There’s no time like the present, Ms. Starr,” he said with a great deal of annoyance in his voice. “And I resent your implication. One never knows what’s going to happen. Who could have predicted the death of such a healthy young man as Walter Sneed? What’s to say something equally dreadful couldn’t strike Ms. Sneed and require someone with power-of-attorney status to make a life-or-death decision on her behalf? What if something unforeseen happened, and the person with power-of-attorney had predeceased her? What then? Who would make decisions for her? She could find her life and well being in peril, don’t you agree?”

“Uh-huh,” I said. I was tired of being lectured to by a man who looked like a member of the Italian mafia. He was talking to me as though I was a misbehaving child, and I thought he was being condescending. “I understand all that, but still, the woman’s son is barely cold, and she’s obviously in no condition to deal with important, possibly life-altering, decisions like that right now. Can you not see that for yourself?”

“And just how are you connected with Ms. Sneed?” he asked, clearly disgusted with me now.

“Her son, unfortunately, was killed in my partner’s establishment.”

“And?”

“I came to check on her and see if she was doing better, and to bring her this African violet,” I said. I held it up for him to admire.

“Yeah, like a stupid flower is going to solve any of her problems right now. They’ll take the flower pot away, anyway,” he told me smugly. “Anything she can throw or hurt herself with is prohibited and removed from her room. They wouldn’t want her pitching that pot through the windowpane, or at their heads.”

As if on cue, a nurse walked into the room, checked to see if Melba was still resting comfortably, picked up the potted African violet, said, “this will have to go,” and left. Mr. Wright just looked at me and smiled arrogantly.

“I told you so. Like she needed a stupid flower—”

“Oh, shut up—”

“Do you know Melba personally?” he asked.

“Well, no, but—”

“So, you believe she’s up to dealing with a complete stranger, but not her lawyer, who’s here on official business, acting in her capacity and looking out for her best interests?” he asked.

I was feeling very defensive at this point, and our voices were rising to such a level that Melba had ceased snoring and was now stirring in her bed. “I have every bit as much right to be here as you do, Mr. Wright! I was very, very close to Walter, and I know he would have wanted me to look out for his mother’s welfare.”

That was a stretch, I’ll admit. I’d barely known the kid’s name until he was killed within earshot of me, but I felt I knew him as well as the attorney probably did.

“I’m also looking in to his mother’s welfare, and am here in my desire to protect her,” he said, a little calmer now so as not to alarm his client. He turned to the woman in question, who was sitting up in bed now, with a bewildered expression on her face.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Sneed. I’m so sorry to learn of the death of your son. How are you feeling?” Mr. Wright asked with obvious insincerity. The sickeningly sweet voice he used to speak to her was almost nauseating to me. “We’ll need to make some alterations in your legal documents.”

“Who are you?” She asked. She pointed a long, gnarly index finger at him, and then at me, and asked, “And who’s your wife here?”

“I’m your attorney, Ms. Sneed. I’m Sheldon Wright, of Hocraffer, Zumbrunn, Kobialka, and Wright,” he said. Then he pointed my way with his thumb, and spoke in a disparaging manner. “And, trust me, this woman is not my wife.”

“You’re an attorney? Am I being sued?” Melba asked. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, of course not. As you know, your son has recently passed. I’m here to update your power-of-attorney, and of course, your will. It’s routine for my law firm to keep these documents current, just in case the unexpected happens,” he explained. “We always put our clients first, because we need to protect your interests, of course.”

“The only thing I’m interested in is finding out why I’m here and when I’m getting out.” She spat out, literally. Bits and pieces of God knows what flew out all over the bed. Melba ran the back of her hand across her frothy mouth. I now was in danger of puking up my lunch.

I’d sat silently up to this point during Mr. Wright’s conversation with Melba. I reached out now and patted the hand she hadn’t swiped across her mouth as briefly as I could. “I imagine they’ll be releasing you soon, my dear. I’m sure they’ll let you out to attend Walter’s wake this evening. You know, you really don’t have to deal with all this legal stuff today if you don’t want to. Next week is soon enough, after things have settled down, and by then you’ll be in a better condition to deal with them.”

“Okay,” she responded. It was clear she was confused, and I was sure she didn’t have a clue what she was agreeing to. Still, I couldn’t resist tossing Mr. Wright an “I told you so” look. Two could play at his game, I thought.

“And who are you again?” Melba asked me. I realized then that nothing beneficial or informative was going to come out of this visit with Melba. I doubt she could have come up with her own name, much less mine, or Mr. Wright’s.

“I’m Lexie Starr, Melba. Your son was working for my partner and me when he mysteriously died. The police have determined that an unknown assailant killed Walter, so I’m trying to help the detectives discover who that person is. I also feel I should make sure you’re being treating adequately. I feel a bit responsible—”

“Aha!” Melba exclaimed. “So you’re the one who’s responsible for all this?”

“Oh, no, Melba—”

With Melba’s last remark, spittle had sprayed all over my shirt. I couldn’t wait to get home, remove my clothes, and boil them.

“So, Ms. Starr,
are
you responsible for all this?” Mr. Wright asked. Now he had the same “I told you so” look on his face I’d worn moments earlier. “Why exactly do you feel so responsible? Is it guilt? Negligence? Or what? Are you here to try to talk Ms. Sneed out of her money? What exactly do you have to gain personally from being here, trying to pretend you honestly give a damn about what happens to Melba?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I nearly shouted. “I honestly do give a damn, you jerk! Walter was working for me when he was killed. I was at the house when it happened, but I had no idea what was going on in the parlor while I was in another part of the house. That’s what I meant by feeling responsible. I had nothing to do with his death, I have nothing to gain from it, and I certainly don’t want a dime from Ms. Sneed. Like I said before, I was very close to Walter. I would give anything, and do anything, to bring his killer to justice.”

“Of course you would,” he said snidely.

“At the very least I feel I owe it to Walter to look after his mother,” I told the attorney. “Which is more than I can say for the folks at Hocraffer, Zumbrunn, Kobialka, and Wright. I think I should have the authorities check you for an alibi and a monetary motive. You seem terribly concerned about Melba’s will, and what will happen to her money if something happens to her. I might also see what I can do to have you disbarred.”

“Humph! Fat chance, lady!” He said as he laughed in disdain. He knew he hadn’t technically done anything unjust, remotely illegal, completely immoral, or anything else he could be disbarred for doing. He had pissed me off, and that’s about the size of it. Pissing people off was merely part of the job description of a lawyer. There weren’t a zillion lawyer jokes for no reason.

“Watch me, you pompous ass,” I hissed.

With that final declaration I stormed out of the room. I knew I didn’t have a chance in hell of getting the man disbarred. Cats would eat with chopsticks before I could pull off a trick like that. But at least my threat gave the creep something to chew on for a while.

Chapter 15

I was still fuming when I stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor. Instead of going straight out the door to the parking lot, I turned and followed the signs down a long hallway to the ladies’ room. I wanted to splash some cool water on my face to help me calm down, and I had to use the restroom. All the coffee I had consumed in the morning was catching up with me, which was not to say I didn’t already want another cup.

So after using the restroom, I’ detoured to the front lobby and picked up a cup of coffee at the little snack station located near the reception desk. There you could buy lattes, frappachinos, cappuccinos, macchiatos, caffe mochas, caffe breves, and a dozen other things I’d never heard of before. I told the gal at the counter I just wanted something hot and strong. She gave me a hammerhead, which she said had a shot of espresso in a regular cup of a Columbian blend. Whatever. It tasted like strong coffee to me, so I was satisfied.

I got the hammerhead with a lid, because there’s nothing I hate worse than spilling coffee down my shirt. I’ve had to change clothes three times in one hour before because of coffee spillage. I use more Spray ‘n Wash than anybody else I know.

As it turns out, the lid didn’t stop me from wearing the entire cup of coffee on my shirt and jeans. Once I’d exited the building, I was paying more attention to drinking my coffee than I was to the cars pulling in and out of the parking lot. I looked up just in time to see a dark-colored sports utility vehicle heading straight for me. Instead of applying the brakes, it seemed to speed up as it got closer to me. The SUV was bearing down on me, and I stood frozen in time for what seemed like a full minute.