by Mary Stanton
Bree sighed, took a yellow pad out of her tote, and began to doodle.
“Knew all about the lawsuit with Professor Chambers, too.” EB pressed her lips together and shook her head disapprovingly.
“Fairfax is trying to infer a motive, then,” Lewis said. “One of my least favorite places to try a case, the media. I’m thinking about filing for some kind of gag order, at least locally.”
“Might be a good idea to do that right now.” Royal hadn’t settled into a chair. He stood at the window, looking out at the street. “Be an even better idea to clear them away from the street outside, but we’ve got a snowball’s chance of that.”
“They’re out there already?” Cissy said. She gnawed at her lower lip. “Oh, my Lord.”
“They were gathering just as I came up,” EB said. “One of them yelled ‘Hey!’ at me, but I just kept on coming in.”
McCallen stood at Royal’s shoulder and watched the activity in the street. “Good for you, Mrs. Billingsley. I don’t need to tell any of you in this room how dangerous it could be to give them a statement. Any kind of statement.” He turned to Bree. “What’s the status of this Chambers versus White case?”
“Chambers can sue the estate, of course. I’m hoping he’ll think better of it.”
“The whole legal thing would go away if the museum just agreed to give the magazine cover back to him and his wife, wouldn’t it?” EB asked.
“Maybe,” Bree said. “But Alicia Kennedy is alive and well, and she’s a codefendant . . . It’s possible the estate could be held responsible for damages, especially if Alicia Kennedy is broke. And there are Prosper’s heirs, whoever they might be.”
“That would be me,” Cissy said.
All three lawyers in the room looked at her.
“We had wills drawn up,” Cissy said. “We’re each other’s heirs.”
Royal frowned and patted his pockets for his pipe. “When did you do this, Cissy? And who did it for you? The wills didn’t go through my office.”
“Mine, either,” Bree said.
Cissy hunched her shoulders. “Prosper didn’t want to involve anyone in the family in our affairs. He said y’all had a prejudice against him. He was right, too. You kept hammerin’ away at me about a prenuptial agreement, Royal. And you didn’t like him from the get-go, Bree. Prosper said it was time to start keeping our business to ourselves.”
“So, who drew up the wills for you?” Royal asked gently.
“This new law firm in town. We signed the wills just before we came up to see you, Bree, the day that process-server dragged us all into this. It was that poor man who got killed the day before yesterday. It was in the papers. Mr. Beazley?”
“What?” Bree said.
“And his partner, Mr. Caldecott? They’ve got an office in your building Bree. In the basement.” She hugged herself, as if she were cold. “I have to say I didn’t like the looks of the paralegal who witnessed the will for us. Mr. Dumphey? Kind of a creepy character, if you ask me. So was Beazley. The offices weren’t very nice, either. I never did meet that partner Barlow.”
Royal put his hand on Bree’s shoulder. “What’s the matter, Bree?”
“Nothing, Daddy.”
“She’s probably cold,” Cissy said. “I know I am. I hope my furnace isn’t getting fidgety.”
McCallen looked at Bree. “You know this firm?”
She scribbled furiously on her yellow pad. Was there a way to get Caldecott disbarred for conflict of interest? Beazley wrote the wills. Caldecott represented Chambers in a lawsuit against White. No conflict of interest regarding Cissy. Maybe a nice big one as far as Caldecott was concerned, if he took over Beazley’s clients. “Met up with them a few times,” Bree said cautiously. “They keep a low profile. Can’t say a great deal about their reputation.”
“I’ll ask Santo to get them checked out. Do you have a copy of the will, Celia?”
Cissy looked around, as if expecting to see the will on the coffee table or the desk. “I don’t believe I do, no. It’s with Prosper’s things, I expect.”
“I’ll get it,” Bree said. “Aunt, I’ll need a power of attorney from you, if that’s okay. You’re an executor?”
“Yes. And Beazley.”
“Beazley’s an executor?” Lewis said. “You’re kidding!”
“He’s dead,” Bree said flatly. I hope.
“It’s a conflict of interest,” EB pronounced. “Right? Firm can’t handle the estate and sue the estate.” She tsked. Her expression was pleased.
Lewis scratched his cheek. “Maybe. A lot depends on the nature of partnership agreement between the two of them. But we can sure make a noise about it.” He turned to Bree. “So we can assume that you can effect a reasonable resolution of the Chamberses’ claim? This Caldecott will have to do one of two things: Turn the executor duties over to someone else or refer the claim for damages.”
“Right,” Bree said. “At the very least, I can bring a motion on Cissy’s behalf to renounce the coexecutorship and leave Cissy as the sole executrix. As far as the lawsuit is concerned, Caldecott needs to drop it and hand the case back to Marbury, Stubblefield.”
Cissy sobbed. “This is horrible. I’m going to lose Prosper’s lawsuit, and his name will be dragged through the mud. Nobody’s going to believe either one of us is as innocent as lambs. Not while I’m accused of . . .” Tears started down her cheeks.
“Nonsense,” Bree said briskly. “The civil and criminal are totally separate. You haven’t been convicted of a thing, Cissy. And you won’t be. You just let me handle this.” She felt her father’s gaze on her again. “It’s no problem, Daddy. Easier for me to handle the smaller stuff. You’re going to be all tied up with the defense.”
“The defense. Yes.” Lewis clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace up and down the room. Cissy’s eyes followed him wistfully. “I’m thinking our best bet here is to present an alternate theory of the case.”
“You think the circumstantial evidence is that strong?” Royal asked.
“We may find that the security tapes are exculpatory in and of themselves, but I doubt it. It was quite a melee at the scene, wasn’t it, Bree? Lots of people around? Pushing and shoving?”
“Yes, it was.”
“My guess is that it was hard to see what was going on, which we can use to our advantage.” His gaze drifted past Cissy as if he didn’t see her. “Cordy Blackburn didn’t bring the tapes up at the arraignment, and she would have if the evidence was clear and unambiguous. We’ll get to view the tapes, but it’ll be some time before we actually can take them apart.”
Bree made a note to herself. There were a number of advantages to having angels on her side at the Angelus office; if a piece of evidence was going to end up in the public domain, they had access to it right away. She could view those tapes herself this afternoon. And Petru always had the latest dissection software. If the tapes had evidence of who had really stabbed Prosper White, they’d find it.
“As far as the eyewitness testimony”—McCallen flicked his fingers—“pshaw.”
Bree smiled, despite her worry. “Pshaw?”
“Easy to discredit, these days. We’ll run Miss Alicia Kennedy up and down the flagpole. Santo’s got the background investigation on her rolling already.”
“I’m gettin’ real curious to meet this Mr. Santo,” EB said.
Cissy, huddled miserably in the corner of the big leather recliner, lifted her head. “Me, too, EB. Sounds like Superman.”
“As for White himself”—McCallen paused and glanced at Royal—“you can send that on over to us?”
“On its way,” Royal said.
“Send what?” Cissy demanded. “You went ahead and did what you promised not to do, didn’t you, Brother-in-Law? Investigated him.” She drew a deep breath. Her face was bright red. “I hate you,” she said furiously. “I hate you.”
“Aunt!” Bree protested.
Royal was compassionate, but it was clear he wasn’t sorry. “Had to,
my dear. I apologize for the necessity.”
“Better to know, Ms. Carmichael,” EB said comfortably. “Even if he hadn’t been sent on to meet his Maker, you’d want to know what sort of man he truly was . . . If it was me . . .” She corrected herself. “Were me, I’d be right grateful that my brother-in-law was looking after me that way Mr. Winston-Beaufort is. You would have found out whatever it is sooner or later. Nobody sayin’ don’t marry him. What they’re sayin’ is: This is the guy. Marry him if you want. Better to know what you got, don’t you think?”
Cissy sniffed, blew her nose, and slumped against the leather cushions. Bree didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone more dispirited. “Maybe,” she said softly. “I suppose you’re right, EB. I would have married him whatever they said about him.”
“Our pastor always says, ‘Perfect love casts out fear, but perfect understanding gives you a head start on the buggers.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Cissy said. It was the first spark of genuine animation Bree had seen in her since the tragedy. “You have some smart pastor, EB.”
“Shall we go on to our other suspects?” McCallen said sternly. “Who’ve we got? Allard Chamber had a grudge, but he was going to get his day in court. I don’t see a strong motive there. Alicia Kennedy—jealous love.” He clapped his hands together. “Got any ideas for me, Bree?”
“Charles Martin,” Bree said. “Known as Bullet. What do we know about him?”
“Bullet?” Cissy tucked her blouse neatly into her waistband. There was a little color in her cheeks. “That Alicia went on and on about how rich he was and how much he depended on Prosper for his collection.”
“You’ve met before?”
“Oh, yes. Prosper and I went out to Houston a couple of weeks ago. And he was here for a little donor party I gave two weeks ago. I was a little surprised when Alicia told me he was coming to the Frazier to see about making a bid on the Magazine Americana exhibit. He wanted it as a permanent exhibit for his Bowie Museum. But his real interest is the same as Prosper’s. Roman antiquities. The Christian ones.”
“Really,” Bree said.
Royal looked at her, his gaze sharp and concerned. “This means something to you?”
“It might. I’m wondering how much of this case can be traced back to a Roman artifact from the first days of the Holy Roman Empire.”
Royal drew his brows together. “What’s this?”
Bree explained, then concluded, “Chambers accused White of substituting a fake relic for a real one. As a result, Chambers lost his tenured position at his university because his department thought he was engaged in fraudulent research. He claims he lost his pension, too, although I’m sure that’s a bit of hyperbole.” Bree stared at McCallen, thinking hard. “I’m not as sure as you are that Chambers didn’t have a compelling motive to kill White. I think he’s a very strong suspect. The question is, why now? If Chambers was angry enough to plan this murder—and it was planned, the theft of the knife from the kitchen here is proof of that—why at this particular time? I can see why the murderer chose the press conference as a venue; there were a lot of people there to begin with, and Chambers made certain that the crowd was even larger by trucking in the homeless people from the City of Light shelter. I like Chambers as a suspect. I like him a lot. I agree with you about presenting an alternate theory of the case. It’s always a good tactic. But we’re going to have to investigate the three likeliest suspects right away. Alicia, Chambers, and Bullet Martin. If I could see that file you have on Prosper White, Daddy, it’d help a lot.”
“Excellent suggestions, Bree,” McCallen said smoothly. “I’ll take them under advisement, of course. You’re going to have your hands full settling this lawsuit on Cissy’s behalf. Not to mention getting her out from under this Caldecott’s executorship.”
“The more I think about it, the more I realize that a little triage would be good here, Lewis. I’ll get my staff started on the background investigations right away.”
McCallen frowned. “Juries don’t like complicated cases, Bree.”
“Juries like the truth, Lewis.”
McCallen gave her a broad smile. “Wrong. A mistake, I may add, that many untried defense lawyers make with their first cases. I think we all agree that experience is what’s needed here, Royal.”
EB slapped her hand down on the desk. It was a large hand and it made a large noise. “Our firm,” she said with great authority, “has solved four of the biggest murders to hit this town in twenty years. Who you callin’ inexperienced?”
“My goodness, EB,” Cissy said. “She’s right, of course, Lewis. I told you my niece is the best lawyer in Savannah.”
McCallen’s face was red, but his expression was bland. “Indeed, Cissy.”
“Maybe this case doesn’t have to go before a jury.” Bree stood up. She had a lot to do. “I’ve got to go. Lewis? EB and I are here to help. You’re welcome to use the Bay Street office. Atlanta can send the documents to EB, and she’ll print them out for you. She’s an excellent assistant.”
EB cocked her head in a considering way. “We’ll get along just fine, me and Mr. McCallen.”
McCallen gave her a sour smile. “I do believe we will, Mrs. Billingsley.”
Sixteen
“I think we’ve got everything the cops have got, at least so far,” Ron said. “Do you want to go over this stuff now? Or do you want to go see Goldstein first?”
“I am on the Internet, searching for background data on the Cross,” Petru said. “I am not having much success, but I will persevere. Would you like to see what I have so far?”
“I don’t know,” Bree said. “I need to think.”
The three of them were in Bree’s office. Petru sat in the recliner, his cane at his side. Ron leaned back against the wall, arms folded.
Bree sat at her desk and looked at the neat stacks of paper in front of her. If she turned her head, she could see the painting of The Rise of the Cormorant over the fireplace through her open office door. She’d glanced at it on her way in. There were more drowning souls in the fiery ocean than there had been the day before. There was no pale-faced woman shrouded by the rigging.
“Bree?”
Bree turned back to her desk. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to lose focus. I can’t afford to.” She looked up at him. “There’s so much at stake. Except that it’s all personal. I suppose that in the great scheme of things, with all that happens in this world every day, it’s not so much. Is it?”
Petru may have been smiling beneath his beard. It was always hard to tell. “John says: ‘No man is an island, entire of itself. Each man’s joy is joy to me. Each man’s grief is my own.’ Wise words, I have always thought. The great scheme as you call it, dear Bree, is made up of many matters such as these.”
“That doesn’t help,” Ron said crossly. “What’s on the action list?”
Bree flipped a page on her yellow pad. “I need to interview the Chamberses. I have to get that bloody Cross back, and I haven’t a clue as to who’s got it. I’ve got to get to Bullet Martin before he goes back to Texas. And Cissy has to get that damn ankle bracelet off. The woman’s humiliated in addition to being squashed flat with grief over that jerk White. I’m feeling . . . messy. Maybe it’s my hair.” Bree hadn’t taken time to braid her hair that morning. She’d wakened late after her terrible nightmares. She’d bundled it up in a knot at the top of her head, and it was falling down. “Maybe it’s that condescending son of a gun Lewis McCallen. You know what’s bothering me the most?”
Petru nodded. “The presence of Mr. Caldecott as your aunt’s executor.”
“Right.” She tossed the yellow pad aside. “I’m feeling pushed. I like order, Ron. You know that. At the moment, I’m not sure where to start.”
“Order and method,” Ron said. “Optimize the use of the little gray cells.”
Bree looked blank.
“Never mind. When you retire from all this, you’ll find time to read.” A DVD sat on top of t
he first stack of material. Ron tapped it with his finger. “This is a copy of the footage from the surveillance cameras. There’s also the footage from Channel 5. I’d start here. We need to know just how strong the case against your aunt will be.”
She brooded for a long moment. “You don’t think she really did it, do you, Ron?”
“No. But you never know with mortal juries. They can be swayed. Cordy’s a terrific prosecutor. Word on the street is that she wants to handle this one herself.”
“I am going now, to prepare a file on the relic.” Petru heaved himself to his feet with a grunt. “I will prepare a summary. Ron will also. This will help you decide where to plunge in first.” He stumped out of the room.
“I ought to be tired,” she said. “I had another of those dreams last night.”
“I’m sorry.” Ron voice was warm with sympathy.
“I don’t feel tired, though. That’s odd, don’t you think?”
“I rarely feel tired,” Ron said simply. “That will happen to you, too. It’s very nice, not being heir to everything that ails the flesh.”
“You need reading glasses, though.”
“Yes. This temporal body’s aging. At a slower rate than a mortal’s would, but aging it is.” He tapped the stack of files he’d placed on her desk. “Time, now. Time’s not something I can halt or change. We don’t have a great deal of it, at the moment. Do you want to look at the evidence that supports your aunt’s arrest?”
Bree slipped the DVD into her laptop and booted it up. After a moment, the facade of the Frazier appeared onscreen.
“The surveillance cameras are motion-activated,” Ron said. “There’s four cameras. Two in the front, one in the parking lot, and one on the west side of the building, where the delivery entrance is. What you’re seeing now is the beginning of the demonstration Chambers staged at the front. I’ll take the time this afternoon to go over the tapes from the other sides of the building. We need to know who slipped away when the going got tough.”
Allard Chambers drove a battered Ford Fiesta into view. The yellow school bus from the City of Light Thrift Store and Grocery was right behind him. Allard got out of the driver’s side of his car, then went to the passenger side and opened the door. Jillian got out. She jerked away from Allard’s supporting hand, put her hands on her hips, and surveyed the front of the museum.