Sticks & Stones (A Hollis Morgan Mystery) (13 page)

Even though she
wasn’t sure how things could have happened differently, without that thumb drive she felt she had let Mark, and more importantly, Cathy, down. She checked her voicemail for the third time and then picked up her tote to leave for lunch.

Her phone buzzed
, startling her.

“Yes, Tiffany?”

“There are two detectives here to see you, Hollis. Shall I put them in the conference room?” Her voice sounded shaky.

Hollis groaned.

What now?

“Yes, that’ll be fine, put them in the small conference room
. I’ll be right out.”

She could have told Cavanaugh on the phone that Gail still hadn’t given her the thumb drive
and spared him the trip to her office.

She couldn’t hide her expression of surprise when she entered the conference room.

Cavanaugh and Faber stood as she walked in. “Ms. Morgan, thank you for seeing us. I brought Detective Faber because it seems he has an interest in this new case as well.” Cavanaugh took a chair.

Faber nodded her way. She thought she caught a smile, but it was gone too
quickly. She sat across from the detectives.

“What new case?” she said.

Cavanaugh pulled out a small notebook. “Yesterday evening, along Skyline Ridge, a body was discovered by a park ranger. We have since identified the body as Gail Baylor.”

“Oh, no,” Hollis gasped, and put the back of her hand to her mouth. “How was she killed?”

“We’re still checking into that,” Cavanaugh replied. “But tell me, the other day you seemed convinced Ms. Baylor had information we would find useful in the murder of your friend. We want to know exactly what you hoped to find.”

She frowned and glanced over to Faber, but his face wasn’t revealing any clues.

“The first thing you need to know is that Gail came to see me yesterday afternoon.”

The detectives exchanged looks. Faber slipped out his notebook.

“Ms. Morgan, I warned you—”

Raising her hand
, she stopped Cavanaugh’s sentence.

“Wait
! Before you get all wound up, I didn’t know she was coming here. I never met with her. I missed seeing her. I’m not even positive what she wanted.” Hollis clasped her hands to keep them from shaking.

“What time was she here?” Faber spoke this time.

Hollis shrugged. “I had a one o’clock meeting out of the office. I was back by two o’clock.”

Faber asked. “I understand you had just met
with Ms. Baylor?”

“That’s right,” Hollis said. “Cathy never mentioned her. I stumbled on her
 … I think it was Cathy’s notes.” At the last moment she remembered her earlier statement to Cavanaugh.

“Why didn’t she come forward when she heard about Briscoe’s death?” Faber asked.

She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know. Gail worked for several of
Transformation’s
writers. Cathy Briscoe was just one of her assignments.”

Hollis hoped the frustration in her voice wasn’t
too apparent. It didn’t seem to matter, though. Cavanaugh didn’t even glance her way.

“I see,” Faber asked. “What do you think she wanted to see you about?”

She looked away. She wasn’t ready to give up her theory about what she found in Cathy’s file; it was still just a theory. But she also remembered Cavanaugh’s warning.

“There is a thumb drive that might have Cathy Briscoe’s research on it. Mark Haddan and I think it will prove Cathy’s contention that Dorian Fields is a crook
, and it should also give a probable motive for Cathy’s—and I guess now, Gail’s—murder.”

She had their attention now.

Cavanaugh began to pace as he talked. “We collected quite a bit of material from Ms. Baylor. We are still going through it all. However, there were a number of thumb drives. It seems she would keep backup documents on each subject file. We did not find one for Catherine Briscoe. Where’s Miss Briscoe’s thumb drive?”

Hollis leaned across the table. “I don’t know. I think Gail was bringing it to me yesterday. Our receptionist said she carried a small package, but she wouldn’t leave it.”

Cavanaugh’s face looked grim. “Did you encourage her to withhold information from the police?”

“Of course not.”

“Were you expecting her to come to your office?”

She shook her head. “No, the only thing I can think of is that she must have gotten my address from our first meeting
, when I told her I worked for Triple D. We had only talked about her mailing the drive, not dropping it off.”

Cavanaugh stopped pacing. He sat down and started to tap the top of the table with his pen. “I take it you’ve checked the mail?”

“Yes.”

Cavanaugh placed his palms on the table and leaned toward her. “I know you and Haddan took up your friend’s court case, but if you come across any information relative to either victim—and I mean
anything—
I want you to contact me immediately. This is now a double murder case.”

“Don’t worry, Detective
. You’ll be the first to know.”

Gail’s murderer had the thumb drive
, and the three of them knew it.

F
rom her desk drawer, Hollis pulled Margaret’s returned letter to Eric Ferris. She needed to finish the Koch matter so she could concentrate on Cathy’s murder. There were just a few loose ends she wanted to clear up before her meeting with Kelly at the end of the week.

Ferris’ address was in Vacaville.
Using a reverse phone number search online, it took a few calls to back trace the address to a phone number. A young woman who had been renting there for less than a year answered. While she knew Ferris was her landlord, she and her husband communicated with him through a property management company.

“Can you give me the name of the property management company?” Hollis asked after introducing herself.

She heard the hesitation as the young woman tried to decide if this was a serious call. “My husband handles all the family business. I really can’t help you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you. The law firm I work for, Dodson, Dodson and Doyle in Oakland, represents
the estate of a client who had a connection to the former occupant of your home. We’re just trying to locate him.”

Hollis sensed the woman’s comfort level increase now that she had information she could verify.

“If you leave your name and your firm’s office number, I’ll have my husband get back in touch with you.”

Hollis gave her the information.

“And your husband’s name is ….?”

“Alvin. Alvin Gregory.”

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Gregory. I look forward to hearing from your husband.”

She could hear a sigh.

“Oh, forget all that. Alvin’s got a big project at work and he’d only tell me to call you back anyway. I’ll leave the number of the property management firm for you this evening on your voicemail. I’ve got to find it first. You’ll have it when you get in tomorrow morning.”

Static came on the line. Mrs. Gregory must have been walking around with the phone. “I can tell you this
, though. The house was a mess when we moved here. We’ve been fixing it up ’cause we’d like to buy it someday. If it’s part of an estate, I can tell you we increased the value a ton. Alvin had an appraisal done before we moved in and—”

“Mrs. Gregory, your house is not considered part of the estate. We think the prior owner may have an interest in our client’s estate
, and we’re just trying to locate him.”

“Oh, oh, okay. Well, we were told they put him in a home in Fairfield. He didn’t have any family here. He must have lived by himself. Like I said
, this place was a mess. You could tell he didn’t have a woman in the house, or at least not for some time.”

The next morning Hollis double-checked the lock on her front door, tapped the address of the retirement home into her car’s GPS, and headed for the freeway. With luck she would pull into Fairfield before noon. She left a message for George telling him of her field trip, but only when she was positive he wouldn’t answer in person.

In fact, the ride was uneventful and really quite pretty. She felt her shoulders
relax as the trees got more plentiful and the commercial centers more spread out. It wasn’t long before she pulled into the parking lot of the Eastbrook Hills Residence Park. She noted that it was not on a hill and not in a park. The unimpressive three-story building rose solidly from a flat parcel at the rear of what looked like a mid-size shopping center. Two palm trees stood tall on either side of the front walkway. They were the only palms in the area and stood defiantly among the native oaks and fir trees.

Only
three other cars were in the parking lot. She walked purposely up to the front entry. The lobby was clean, with a slight medicinal smell. Classical music played in the background. Sun beamed through large multi-paned windows. There was no one in the lobby area.

She lightly tapped the gold Asian-style bell on the reception counter with a name plate that read, Miriam Coulter. A low murmur of conversation from an inner office suddenly stopped
, and an older woman emerged. Her obviously dyed black hair settled like a helmet on her small head.

S
miling broadly at Hollis, she said, “May I help you?”

“Yes, thank you. My name is Hollis Morgan. I would like to visit with Eric Ferris. Is he available?”

Her plastered smile didn’t break a crack. “So, is he expecting you?”

“No, I was in the area.” Hollis gave her a wide
-eyed look. “I hoped I could just drop in.” She deliberately hadn’t made an appointment. She wanted to catch him off guard.

“Are you a relative?”

“No, I’m a friend of an old friend.”

Sort of
.

“I see.” She rolled her secretary’s chair over to a Rolodex on a side table
and flipped the cards until she came to the one she wanted. Beaming Hollis another of her Stepford smiles, she asked, “Do you have a business card?”

Hollis reached over the counter and handed her a card.

Without looking down at it, the woman said, “I’ll have to see if Mr. Ferris is available to meet with you. Please have a seat.”

She pointed Hollis to a row of stiff
-backed oak chairs lining a short dividing wall.

Hollis glanced at the stack of
Senior Living
and
Retired Life
magazines on a small round table, but before she could read about cruises for seniors, Miriam was back.

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Ferris wasn’t expecting you and is unable to meet with you right now.” She did seem sincerely sorry. “However, he asks that if you are amenable, he can meet with you after lunch, say one-thirty?”

Hollis was pleasantly surprised he was willing to meet with a stranger, but then she couldn’t imagine he would have many visitors.

She stood and put her purse under her arm. “No problem.
I’ll run a couple of errands and return then.”

Fairfield appeared to be a quiet suburban community with its growth emphasis on retail. Hollis chose to have lunch in a simple looking café about five minutes from the
retirement home.

She checked her voicemails and then left her own message.

“Mark, I’m ready to go ahead with the Martini deposition tomorrow. I’ll be there early and meet you in your offices. I’m not at work today so you won’t be able to reach me.” Hollis hit the send button. Hopefully Mark would get her message before he went into the meeting with
Transformation.

He returned her call within seconds.

“Where are you?”

Hollis thought about lying but she was trying to practice telling the truth. “I’m in Fairfield. I’m tracing down Margaret Koch’s ex-husband.”

“Why?”

“I’m just making sure there are no heirs
.” She paused. “No, forget that, the truth is I just want to see what kind of ex she had. I want to put faces to the people in the letters.”

She could hear Mark riffling through papers.

“Not to knock your detective instincts, but I could really use your attention on Cathy’s case. I want to be ready to depose Ms. Martini, and I could use your help with some additional questions.”

His tone irked her
—not because of what he said, but because he was right.

She added, “I’ll have a supplemental set of questions to you by five
 …. No, make that by four o’clock this afternoon.”

Returning to Eastbrook Hills, Hollis found Miriam sitting primly at her desk, waiting for her to return.

She smiled. “Hello again, Miss Morgan
. Mr. Ferris will meet with you in the library. I can show you the way.”

Hollis
murmured her thanks and followed the woman down the carpeted hallway. Eastbrook also had a senior day center that looked much nicer than the one in San Lucian where she volunteered free legal assistance. Impressionist reproductions lined the walls leading to the doorway of the library, which appeared to be well stocked with books. A circular walnut table occupied the center of the room, while overstuffed chairs were situated in small alcoves that offered privacy.

Eric Ferris sat in one of the alcoves farthest from the door. A thin
, tall man with strands of light brown hair crossing his scalp, he was stooped over a book, but Hollis got the feeling he was following her with his peripheral vision.

Miriam lightly touched his shoulder. “Mr. Ferris, this is Miss Morgan. I’ll leave you two,” she said, then to Hollis, “Miss Morgan
, if you could let me know when you leave, I’ll be at my desk.”

He looked up
, his expression blank, and placed his book down on a side table.

“So,
to what do I owe this pleasure?” His voice was deep and so melodic it was disconcerting. Had she not been standing in front of him, she would have sworn it was the voice of a much younger man.

“Mr. Ferris—”

“Eric.”

“Okay, Eric, my name is Hollis Morgan and I work for a law firm that is handling the estate of Margaret Koch.” She licked her lips. “I wanted to—”

“Who did you say?” His voice no longer held any warmth.

“Margaret—”

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the chair. His hand trembled as he rubbed his chin. Hollis said nothing. After a moment he turned his pale blue eyes to her.

“What do you want?” His tone had an edge of danger and anger. Neither of which Hollis wanted to pursue.

Suddenly, she felt foolish and intrusive. She should not have come. This was just plain nosiness. George would reprimand her if he knew what she was doing.

“I just wanted to give you this letter—”

“Get out. Leave me alone.” He waved her away.

Hollis held out the letter. “But here I—”

He rolled his chair around, bumping into her leg and knocking the letter to the floor. The wheels of the chair made marks across the envelope.

He called out, “Nurse! I want to go to my room, now.”

Hollis patted a large client file of briefs, orders
, and motions. It was the final filings for Margaret Koch. Before the day was over she would give the bundle to George for his review and signature. After yesterday’s failure with Eric Ferris she was more than ready to close the matter. Hollis gathered up her pen and pad. She would enter the paperwork with the Probate Court tomorrow. The hearing would be in thirty days.

She glanced at the clock. She had thought it was important to have the visit to Eric Ferris accomplished before she met with his granddaughter, but now she wasn’t so sure it made a difference.

Hollis told Tiffany that she would be in her office, and when she arrived, to take Kelly Schaefer directly to the conference room.

About fifteen minutes later, her phone buzzed. Her guest was waiting. She scooped the box of letters under one arm.

Looking forlorn, Kelly stared out the window. As Hollis reached out to shake her hand, she had a good look at the young woman. The
Town & Country
style Hollis noticed at their first meeting was still present. Kelly wore her sandy brown hair long and off her face. The pair of glasses made her look older; Hollis wondered if they were necessary or merely a prop like the ones so many young people wore these days.

“Ms. Schaefer, we meet again.” Hollis directed her to a seat at the table.

“You found me, and you found out my phone number. What else do you know about me?” Kelly said.

“I know you’re related to Eric Ferris. My guess is that you’re his granddaughter.”

“So you know about him, too.” Kelly took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m his granddaughter.”

Hollis wasn’t really surprised. The picture in the puzzle was starting to fill
in.

“Will you tell me a little about yourself?”

Kelly’s brow wrinkled, but she acquiesced. “There’s not that much. I grew up in Chicago. My mother was a Ferris. She died when I was eight from renal failure. I was raised by my dad until he died when I was sixteen. Then it was just me and Grandfather.”

“Do you still see him?”

Kelly nodded.

“Why were you looking for Margaret Koch’s letters?”

“I didn’t know what I was looking for,” Kelly said. “Something to prove my Grandfather was innocent and shouldn’t have gone to prison for a crime that Margaret Koch committed.”

Hollis
sat a little straighter. “Wait a minute. There was no evidence that Margaret killed Charles Ferris.”

“Oh, yes she did. My
grandfather would never talk about it, but my dad told me what happened.” Kelly’s voice quavered. “My Grandfather saw her kill Charles and then he sacrificed himself and went to prison for her crime.”

Hollis said nothing. The tension in the room was palpable. Hollis finally spoke when she saw Kelly’s shoulders drop in resignation.

“You said you had a letter. Can I see it?” Hollis asked. “Here are copies of mine.”

Kelly pulled her purse closer to her.
“I found this letter among my mother’s possessions when I was packing Dad’s things. It has a lot of sentimental value.” She motioned with her head. “Now my grandfather is in a care facility, and I know he doesn’t want to die with a crime attached to his name. It’s what got me started looking in Margaret Koch’s house for proof that she killed Charles Ferris.” She stared at Hollis’ box of letters. “I’ve never let anyone else see it.”