The Return of the Fallen Angels Book Club (A Hollis Morgan Mystery 3) (9 page)

Hollis was in a pensive mood, sitting and sipping a glass of white wine in John’s kitchen at his insistence she limit her role to that of guest. He moved about efficiently, if not hurriedly. He refused to disclose the menu, but she had a pretty good idea. He only had one complete meal in his cooking repertoire.

For once she didn’t mind not being part of the process. She was tired. It had been a crazy week. If it took this much energy to carry just two cases, she was going to be drained in no time. This must be why some lawyers burned out so quickly.

For the second time she offered to help with dinner.

He rushed to rinse the salad greens. “No. I invited you to my place. I’m in control here.”

Hollis put her chin in her hand and took another sip of white wine. “Er … okay. But just answer me this one question: why are steaks sitting in the microwave?”

“They were still partially frozen when I put them in the broiler.” He paused, and his shoulders slumped. “I didn’t take them out in time to thaw. I didn’t expect them to brown so fast, and they were really raw in the middle. So, I thought right before we were ready to eat I’d—”

“Oh, I see.”

She poured herself another glass of wine and smothered a smile.

Twenty minutes later, dinner—although less than stellar—was edible. Once the steaks had finished cooking in the microwave, she’d showed John how to prepare microwaved baked potatoes. Either that or they weren’t going to eat that night.

John shook his head. “How can a restaurant customer order a baked potato if it takes over an hour to cook? They’d be there forever.”

“I think they bake their potatoes ahead of time and just keep them warm.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

Afterwards, as they sat on the couch, Hollis, curled up with her cup of green tea and his head in her lap, was tempted to tease him about dinner. But once she sensed his anxious mood, she held back.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“I talked to Mosley.” He sat up. “And before you start to complain, it was for a completely different case. But … he told me about your visit.”

Hollis pushed away. “It didn’t involve police business.”

“I know, I know,” he said hurriedly. “But it did sound dangerous.”

“It did not.” She stood. “I helped him out. Did he tell you that? I gave him more information than he offered me.”

“Yeah, but a missing person and a potential domestic dispute … either one can get out of hand real fast.” He held her hands. “Listen to me,” he said. “I can’t change who you are. I don’t want to. But—”

“But … but ….”

He motioned to the kitchen with his head. “The main reason I wanted to cook you dinner was to show you that I can be domesticated … eventually. I think, if we were under the same roof, I would know what you were up to, and I wouldn’t worry as much.”

Hollis kept her expression neutral. “You said you’d give me more time.”

“It’s been four days.”

She chuckled, then slowly her smile vanished.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m not ready yet. I care for you. I love you, but ….”

“But.”

H
ollis wanted to have more information to take to the Fallen Angels, but the weekend was over too quickly, and in deference to John, they’d spent some solid quiet time together. On Monday morning there were no messages from Shelby or Mosley. She was tempted to call him, but it was too soon. She’d picked up the phone several times, only to click it off in each instance. He wouldn’t appreciate being hounded.

She was going for a second cup of tea when the phone rang.

“Ms. Morgan, Detective Mosley. Sorry to bother you, but I knew you would want to know that we’ve arrested the killer in the Wallace murder.”

Hollis sat back down in her chair. “What? Who did it?”

“We arrested Brian Wallace yesterday evening. He was arraigned this morning.”

“Brian,” Hollis said in disbelief. “Why would he kill his father?”

“I don’t have the time to go into it with you now.”

“Can I see him? He’s my client too.”

“Yeah, you can go to his home. He made bail an hour ago.”

Hollis was silent, trying to grasp the recent events.

Mosley’s voice was brusque and papers rustled in the background. “I’m on my way to an attempted homicide,” he said. “You were good enough to share what you knew, so I’ll make time for you. I’m available tomorrow around this hour. You can come and see me then.”

Hollis held her head in her hands. While she was talking with Mosley she had gotten two more calls on her message machine. She knew there was trouble.

“Hollis, this is Brian, where are you? Give me a call as soon as you can.”

She hated it when someone asked a question in a message. What sense did it make? They wouldn’t be able to hear her answer. She wasn’t in any rush to call. She needed to think about what she would say.

She pushed for the next message.

“Mrs. Morgan, this is Top Notch Locksmith. Sorry to have to tell you this. I’ve left several messages. I turned your contact information over to the police. I went to the Patterson house this morning to change the locks with the lady process server you sent. We were both shot at from outside the house ….”

His voice droned on, but Hollis wasn’t listening as she tried to absorb what he’d said. She hit replay.

“She was standing next to me while I changed the locks. I finished, but then as we were leaving, I was just tellin’ her it was good nobody was home. Then bang, bang. We weren’t hit. Anyway, the cops still sent for an ambulance. They took a report and that’s all I know. I’ll send you the bill.”

Numb, she went to the beginning and replayed the messages. She knew she should call the police, but she needed to fully absorb what was going on.

Finally, she punched her phone keypad.

“Detective Mosley, this is Hollis Morgan. Was that attempted homicide you were working on this morning in San Lucian hills?”

“I’m glad you called. I was getting ready to send a car out to your office,” he said. It sounded like he was on his cellphone. “Right after you left, an officer brought me your name as a contact person for one of the victims. When can you come in?”

“I’m wiped out. Can I come in later today?”

“Make it tomorrow. No one was hurt. The two victims are making their statements now. I’ve got one school play and a soccer game to attend.” She heard papers shuffling. “Say hello to Faber for me.”

Before leaving the office, Hollis listed the calls she had to make. First, Mark. He was still at his desk and she rushed to explain what had happened at the Patterson house.

“Mark, I am so sorry. I had no idea it could put someone in danger,” she said. “I feel terrible.”

“Did the locks get changed?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

“You have to know Clarice. She just wants to get the job done. She’s been shot at before. In fact, I think she’s actually been shot before.”

Hollis was surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s why we keep her on retainer. She’s the best.” He paused. “Rena tells me that things are also moving pretty fast with Jeffrey Wallace’s murder.”

“Yes and no. The police have arrested his son. But I don’t think he did it.”

“Be careful, Hollis. You’ve been down this road before. Just let the police do their job.”

“If one more person tells me that, I think I’ll scream.”

“Scream, I don’t care,” he said. “I just want you to listen to me.”

She grunted.

They said their goodbyes and she picked up the phone again. Brian wasn’t home and Shelby didn’t answer. She slammed the phone down.

Detective Mosley was running late.

Hollis had fortunately brought a book and tried not to become impatient. Brian wasn’t home, so she left him a message. Then she tried to reach Shelby. Still no answer. She went back to her book, but she couldn’t concentrate.

“Ms. Morgan, I apologize for keeping you waiting.” Mosley rushed forward with an outstretched hand. “We were following up on that attempted homicide this morning. Come on back to my office.”

“It seems you’re destined to deal with me, Detective.” She sat down. “First, Jeffrey Wallace, and now my client, Shelby Patterson. It was her house where the shooting took place.”

“Yeah, so I found out.” He offered her a bottle of water. “Tell me what you know about the process server, Clarice Adams. What was she doing for you?”

“I don’t know her at all. She was a referral from a friend. I needed someone to go with a locksmith to change locks on the door of the home of a client who was under a trespassing action and possibly, domestic violence.”

“Top Notch Locksmiths?”

“That’s right. I got their name from the Internet. It was the firm’s first time using them. My client’s name is Shelby Patterson. She inherited a house full of disinherited relatives who refuse to leave.”

“Did you get the sense they were violent?”

Hollis thought back to her visitors. “I got the sense they could be. They’re definitely intimidating. Is Miss Adams still upset?”

“No, not at all. She’s back at home.” Mosley smiled. “Our division is very familiar with Clarice Adams. She’s been around a long time and very good at what she does. She has a license to carry a concealed weapon, which she’d already drawn when the locksmith got the door open. But they were shot at by someone outside the house—maybe even someone returning to the house.”

Hollis frowned. “Let me tell you what I know about the Pattersons.”

She proceeded to give Mosley the details of the past week and a half. He wrote down the names of the family members. He also wanted their descriptions.

She resisted pointing out that she had already given the same information to an officer when she filed the missing persons report. She glanced over at his wall clock, but Mosley didn’t appear to be in a hurry.

He caught her glance.

“Do you need to be somewhere?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, no, I’m fine. It was important that we meet. Now, what can you tell me about the Jeffrey Wallace murder and Brian’s arrest?”

He reached down to a small refrigerator under his credenza and made another offer of bottled water.

She declined.

“Okay, here’s what I can tell you.” He reached for another pad of paper covered in notes. “Co-workers heard Brian and his father arguing the afternoon of the killing. Apparently Brian came to his father’s office to get him to sign some papers. Brian admits being there. His version is that his father originally agreed to sign but later changed his mind. Brian was heard threatening to make him regret it, and then he left.” Mosley paused.

“Unless Brian confessed, you know the evidence is weak,” Hollis said then stopped.

She shrugged a ‘sorry’ when Mosley’s scowled at being interrupted.

He continued, “He returned that evening. Someone recognized his car in the parking lot. Three hours later Wallace was found dead by the cleaning crew. Even though Brian Wallace likely ditched his clothing, we found evidence of gunshot residue on his shoes.”

“There are several logical reasons why that could be present that don’t indicate his guilt. What does Brian say?”

Mosley smirked. “Yeah, well, he lawyered up when we arrested him and refuses to speak.”

Smart man.

“What did he want Jeffrey to sign?”

Mosley looked at his watch. “We’re pretty sure it concerned some money Brian Wallace thought he was due.” He started to pack up papers.

Hollis rubbed her chin. Now things were starting to fall into place about why Jeffrey would let someone in.
But Brian
?

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your work, Detective. I really appreciate your meeting with me this morning.” Hollis went to the door.

“Ms. Morgan, you’re new at this.” He leaned over his desk. “I’ve been at this job for many years, and my gut tells me we got our man.”

Hollis raced through the rest of the afternoon, arrived at the library early, and waited, toe tapping, for the Fallen Angels to join her. She was anxious to get the latest updates.

Everyone arrived on time except Rena.

“We can tell something’s up from looking at your expression,” Gene said. “You don’t have to wait for Rena. Let’s get started.”

Miller nodded. “Yeah, you’ve got me sitting on the edge of my seat.”

Hollis was about to speak when Rena rushed in.

“I know. I’m not even going to bother apologizing. Except … I’m sorry.”

Rena tossed a folder on the table and quickly took off her jacket.

Richard looked at his watch. “Okay, Hollis, talk.”

She took a deep breath. “I’ve got a lot to tell, and nothing to tell.” They were all staring at her expectantly. “The biggest news is that the police arrested Brian for Jeffrey Wallace’s murder.”

Shock was evident on everyone’s face.

Richard recovered first. “You’re kidding me. That kid?”

“I don’t believe it,” Miller said. “What’s his motive?”

Hollis shrugged. “The detective in charge thinks it was the result of an argument between father and son over money.”

“That’s nuts. If Brian killed Jeffrey, why would he hire us to go after Frances over a routine trust?” Gene scratched his head thoughtfully. “He’d have a lot of other stuff on his mind.”

“Maybe he killed Jeffrey for his inheritance,” Rena offered. “Any inheritance, no matter how small, is still an inheritance. He may have only discovered later that his stepmother had it all coming to her first.”

Hollis started to pace. “No. He was the executor. He’d seen the trust. He knew Frances was first in line. He wasn’t questioning the validity of the trust, only Frances’ recent behavior.”

She stopped and looked at each of them in turn.

“That’s all I got. Does anyone have anything substantive to report?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s why I was late.” Rena handed out copies of a sheet of paper. “A friend of mine put the word out with a few of his friends about Mrs. Frances Wallace. I found out the lady has an account with one of the biggest bookies in Nevada. But not under the name Frances Wallace. She uses Frances Cole, her maiden name.”

They all quickly read her handout.

“Who’s your friend, Al Capone?” Richard nudged her with his elbow.

“Big Al is dead, Richard,” Rena shot back. “It was in all the papers.”

Gene ignored them both. “Hollis, what did you find out about Frances’ background?”

Hollis knew her smile wasn’t a pleasant one. “Frances’ previous two ex-husbands are dead.”

“What is she, a black widow?” Richard sucked on his tooth.

A universal “wow” registered on the other faces, along with a few double takes.

“You need to tell the police. She must have—”

“I did. And, as I told you, they still arrested Brian. She must have an alibi.” Hollis folded her arms across her chest.

“Could she have hired someone?” Miller asked. “Maybe Jeffrey found out about her sideline. No, wait, he signed the tax returns.”

“Quick, check the signature, Richard.” Gene moved behind him to look over his shoulder.

Richard, glancing down at the page, shook his head. “If it’s a forgery, it’s an excellent one.”

Gene plucked at his eyebrows. “Her name doesn’t show up in any of the past news wires. Miller, did you find out anything from the hotel in Hawaii?”

“I talked with the on-duty desk clerk. After some prodding, he finally remembered them. Jeffrey got a bad sunburn and had to be taken to the hotel clinic.” Miller pulled out a slip of origami paper and started to fold. “He said the couple appeared okay. Each day they went out walking to the grocery store or the beach, and they took one or two of the hotel tours.”

Hollis held her head in her hands. “It looks like we need more background details about their finances before we can figure out where to go next.”

“Can we meet next week? I’m busy the first part of the week,” Richard said. “And this is moving kind of fast.”