On The Edge (6 page)

“Hey there,” she answered.

“Is it morning yet?” he teased.

“Barely.
Where are you?”

“The office.
I'd like you to call Roland Watkins about getting a copy of the will. If he doesn't want to play nice, I can get a subpoena. I don't imagine that'll be necessary.”

“Okay. Should I say we'll pick it up?”

“You bet. Ask him what time this morning we can stop by, and call me back. If he balks, tell him to expect a call from the police.”

“Oh, I love having muscle.”

He chuckled,
then
spoke quietly into the phone, “What's left of my muscle, after that workout last night, is all yours.”

“Mmm,” she purred. “I hope you bounce back quickly. I had hopes for a repeat performance tonight.”

“Me too.”
He glanced up as someone passed his desk. “I, uh—okay, call me back.”

Joss chuckled. “I will.”

He punched his
phone's
off
button, truly hoping Roland Watkins wouldn't cause trouble. The lawyer had to know any resistance would raise suspicion. Jake hadn't met him, but already didn't like the guy.

His phone rang, and he answered it quickly.
“Gilford.”

“Hey, Gilford,” Joss said. “Watkins said no problem. Give his secretary twenty minutes to make a copy.”

“Great. Here I was, worrying for no reason. I'll swing by to get you. How soon can you be ready?”

“Anytime.
I'm about finished raiding your refrigerator.”

“Find anything good?”

“Some yummy cinnamon-raisin bagels, but no tea.
I'm having caffeine withdrawal.”

“There's coffee.”

“Not that desperate.”

“There's no tea, that's a fact. Sorry.”

“It's okay. I'll get some when we get to the house.”

“You don't have to go, you know.”

“Aw, Jake, I know you're trying to protect me, but I've got a lot to do. I need to finish going through my father's things, and I might as well do that while you're at work.”

“Whatever you say.
I'll be there in fifteen minutes or so.”

“See you then.” She smacked a kiss into the phone.

He smiled and hung up. Jake checked in with his boss and the clerk who kept track of detectives. He drove to his place, where Joss was waiting on the front porch swing.

“Hey.” She climbed into his car and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “How's it going?”

“Not bad. I'm anxious to get a look at this will.”

“You know where his office is?”

“Yeah, I looked it up.” He drove to the lawyer's office, and Joss went inside. She returned a few minutes later with a large envelope stamped
legal document
. “Excellent.” Jake leafed through the papers. “Let's go to the house. I want to go over this thoroughly.”

“Sounds good to me.”

At the mansion, he settled on the sofa, will in hand. Joss fixed herself a glass of sweet tea and joined him. “You want anything?”

“No thanks,” he replied, already reading. Wills were full of legal mumbo jumbo. He needed to get to the good stuff—
the who
, and what, of it all.

She sat in the chair next to him, picking up pages when he set them down. “Here we go.” Jake waved a page in the air before reading from it, “All portions of the estate, including real estate, stocks, bonds and investments, are bequeathed to my sole heir, Jocelyn Renee Wheeler. In the event she precedes me in death, the estate goes to the charitable institution of
Save Our Wildlife
.” He glanced up.
“A charity?
If you don't get it, the money goes to charity?”

“Wow,” she murmured.
“A nice gesture.
Suppose a crazed gazelle somewhere is trying to off me?”

“It seems unlikely.” He grabbed his pen, making notes. “
Save Our Wildlife
. I've never heard of it. I'll need to check it out.”

“You think it's a bogus charity?”

“Don't know. It's a place to start, though. Let me go through the rest of this.”

She nodded, while he continued reading. There was nothing unusual in the last pages of the will. Roland Watkins was named executor, with one of his associates as the legal counsel. There was some legal jargon about why Watkins couldn't
do both—
conflict of interest, blah, blah, blah—and a breakdown of fees for each position.

They seemed in line with the little Jake knew about wills. He'd handled his own father's estate, and before that, helped sort out some legal stuff when his mother died. His parents were simple folk, so there hadn't been much to divvy up. Edward Cooper's estate easily ran to the millions.

“Hmm.”
He set the last sheet down and rubbed his eyes.
“Interesting.
I've got some research to do. I don't suppose you have a laptop?”

“Sorry.” She shook her head. “I've got a computer at home, but don't use it that much.”

“You're kidding. I'd go nuts without mine.”

Joss shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

He stood and grinned at her. Leaning down to kiss her neck, he said, “I'm going to take off for a while. I'd like to take the will with me, see what digging I can do.”

“It's all yours.”

Jake glanced around. “Actually, it's all yours.
Stuffed bobcat, elk antlers and all.”

“Um, yeah, about that.
Can you look up someone who might want to buy that stuff? If I can't sell it, I'll pitch it in the garbage, but I might as well try to make a buck.”

“Like you really need it,” he teased.

She laughed, shaking her head.

“I'll work on it. Will you be okay here for lunch? I can take you out to dinner.”

“There's some pizza left over. I can eat that for
dinner,
” she corrected. “You can take me out to supper.”

“Southerners.”
He rolled his eyes, grinning. “I'll see you later. Think about what you want for
supper
.”

“Yes, sir.”
She saluted him, eyes twinkling.

He paused to admire her for a moment, winked, then left.

* * * *

Jake pushed the chair back from his desk and stood up to stretch his legs. Several hours had passed while he
surfed
the Internet. When the office was quiet, he barely noticed the passage of time. Now his legs were cramped, his back stiff.

He went to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. It was bitter, but he needed the pick-me-up. He hadn't stopped to eat once he hit on the information he was looking for.

There were several buyers in the
Kansas City
metro area for Joss's animal menagerie. If she wanted to, she could bargain for the best price. He'd take her the information he printed out. She could make some calls and decide.

 
There was plenty of information, online, regarding
Kansas
law pertaining to wills. It wasn't illegal for the lawyer to be executor of an estate, but it wasn't considered the best move. A separate lawyer and executor were usually prudent, and in everyone's best interest. Of course, each person would take a percentage of the estate, usually three to seven percent, before the funds were distributed.

Save Our Wildlife
was a bit harder to pin down. They were based in
Florida
, if the post office box address on their meager website was accurate. The site listed three names as officers. Ross Whitcomb and William Rust had extensive profiles on the Internet. Jake's search engine pulled up several articles on each of them. Mostly business news, the men kept busy and appeared legitimate, involved in several
Florida
outfits. He never saw them mentioned in conjunction with
Wildlife
, but that didn't necessarily raise a red flag.

The third man, Eugene Tuttle, was more of a mystery. Searching for him on the web was futile. Even
Google
turned up nothing. Jake made notes on the items he wanted to follow up on, and Tuttle was definitely one of them.

The main thing that bothered him about the charity's website was the lack of information explaining what they actually did. There were pictures of animals, suggestions of ways to help animals, even a
click here
button for someone chomping at the bit to make a donation. But nowhere did it say what
Save Our Wildlife
would do with a person's hard-earned money.

Jake tossed his paper cup and stretched. Tomorrow, he'd make some calls and delve deeper into the charity.
So-called charity
.
He wasn't sure he was convinced. One and one didn't add up to two in this case. He had to find the person behind the organization.
Unless there really is a crazed gazelle trying to off Joss.

He smiled to himself, checked out for the day, and drove to her place. His stomach rumbled, and he wondered where she might like to eat. There were several good restaurants close by. He wasn't picky, just hungry. He knocked loudly before entering the foyer of the big house. “Hello?”

“Where in the fuck have you been?” Joss screeched.

Jake ducked as a hardback book whizzed past his head.

Chapter Six

“What are you doing?” He covered his head with his arms as a second book found its mark, hitting his wrist.

“I've had it!” she stormed, stomping around the room.

“Joss, what is it?” Jake tried to follow, reaching for her, but she evaded him.

“You said you'd be back. I've been waiting here for you.” Her voice was steely.

He stepped in front of her, shocked at what he saw. Her hair stood out, frizzy and wild. Glazed, glassy eyes stared back at him. He'd seen her like this one other time, agitated, but not as angry. “Sweetheart,” he said carefully. “I said I'd be back for dinner—supper—whatever you call it.
The evening meal.”

“That was a week ago!” She took a swing at him, arm flailing wildly.

He dodged her fist. “Joss... Jocelyn... What are you talking about? I left you here this morning.”

“It was a week ago, you fucking bastard, and I'm not going to stand for your shit!” She swung at him with both arms, and he grabbed her. She continued to struggle, but he easily overpowered her, wrapping her in his arms.

“Hey, settle down.” He spoke soothingly in her ear, “Joss, baby, stop.”

She turned her head and made a motion to bite him.

“Stop that!” he commanded, pulling his face back. When he squeezed her arms, she drooped.

He leaned in carefully, speaking with forced calm reserve. “Don't bite me.”

“I'm so tired of being used,” she muttered. “Men make promises and never follow through.”

“I've only been gone a few hours. I left you here this morning. We got the will, came here, read it…” He saw confusion on her face as she seemed to try and focus. “Remember? When I left, I said I'd be back to take you out to eat. That was this morning.”

Joss closed her eyes, took several deep breaths.
“This morning?”

“Yes.” He exhaled a small sigh of relief, loosened his grasp on her. “Have you eaten anything?”

“I had some crackers.”

“That's it? No pizza?”

She shook her head,
then
rubbed her hands over her face.

“Did you take anything?
Something to help you relax, maybe?”

She shot him a dirty look. “I don't do drugs, Jake.”

“I wasn't talking about illegal drugs. Maybe you have a prescription for something, like Valium, to help you relax?”

“Nothing.
I haven't taken anything, I swear. God, I'm just so tired.”

“Sit.” He led her to the sofa and eased her onto it.

“I'm sorry.” She seemed truly remorseful. “I don't know what came over me. It seemed like you'd been gone for days. I was so disoriented and terrified.”

He sat beside her, pulling her into his arms. “Better now?”

“Yes.” She nodded, snuggling into his chest. “I'm sorry, Jake.”

“It's okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “You had me scared, there, for a minute.”