Murder of the Eccentric Billionaire: A Jolene Park-Attorney At Law, Cozy Mystery

by Liz Turner

  murder of the eccentric billionaire

  A Jolene Park – Attorney At Law,

  Cozy Mystery

  LIZ TURNER

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 Confidentiality

  Chapter 2 The Investigation Begins

  Chapter 3 A Bottle of Poison

  Chapter 4 Pure Form

  Chapter 5 Resentment

  Chapter 6 Insanity Plea

  Chapter 7 Perjury

  Chapter 8 Accusations

  Chapter 9 Spontaneous Murder

  About the Author

  Preview of: Left For Dead in Alaska

  Other Books by Liz Turner

  Prologue

  Ever since she was a little girl, Lucy Fielder had been an avoider. At the first sign of trouble or discomfort, she found that the least painful way to react was to just not think about it, and in some cases, if the problem was large enough, to physically flee. Simple, effective.

  It was the coming back that always proved to be more complicated.

  Now, as Lucy stared at the man slumped deep into his mahogany desk chair, she felt as though she was in another realm, looking at the problem before her—admittedly a very big one—through several sets of glass. The man called out something to her, his face twisted in anguish. With paralyzed fascination, Lucy watched his chest struggle to rise and fall with his ragged breathing. Having something to say again, he lifted an arm.

  The arm—that caught her attention. It seemed to be almost dark red in color.

  What’s wrong with his arm? she wondered. But then she realized there wasn’t anything wrong with the arm in particular — his whole body was darkening into red.

  Lucy’s blood turned cold. She took a step toward him, but stopped short when he spoke again.

  She put her hands to her ears. “No!” she found herself shouting. “Stop saying that!”

  But he didn’t. He said it again and again, screaming it from that desk chair of his. Lucy’s heart beat faster, and the coldness she felt was replaced with a flash of heat in her ears, knowing that he wouldn’t stop and the problem wouldn’t go away.

  What happened next was instinct, and she would come to regret it more than anything.

  She called out a jumbled apology for whatever it was she had done. And then her legs carried her away to her car. She would flee at sixty miles per hour, leaving all that mess behind.

  Looking at her reflection in the rearview mirror, she willed herself to breathe.

  It was all going to be okay.

  ***

  The sun was beginning to disappear under the ocean, and with the dusk came a breezy coastal dip in temperatures. Lucy Fielder turned around in her seat to find the light sweater she had left out of her suitcase specifically for this juncture in the drive. The pastel pink cashmere was right where she’d left it when they started the journey that morning, folded neatly on the backseat bench. She slipped it over her narrow shoulders and sank back against the leather seats, enjoying the wind rippling over her face through the open window.

  “How much longer?” she asked.

  “About an hour, I’d say,” Jacob Deblasio answered. He glanced over at the young woman in his passenger seat and grinned reflexively, grabbing her left hand with his right and squeezing it.

  Blushing, her eyes fluttered opened. “I love you,” she said.

  Jacob lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed gingerly, causing Lucy’s stomach to flip with excitement. When she pulled her hand back, she fingered the new ring that would be a permanent fixture there from now on—a silver band with a perfectly clear square-cut diamond in the center. She sighed.

  “Is everything okay?” Jacob asked, sensing something other than bliss in her sigh. “You’re not rethinking this, are you?” Although he tried to say the last question as a joke, he didn’t quite succeed. He was never much for joking, anyway. He and Lucy were both serious, sentimental people.

  “It’s just a lot of change, that’s all. Moving out…”

  “You’re worried about your uncle,” Jacob said.

  Since Lucy’s mother had died when she was six, she’d lived with her father’s brother, her Uncle Foster. He was wealthy, had provided Lucy with everything she could have ever wanted, and usually adored her. But since Lucy had started dating Jacob, her uncle seemed to lose his temper more often. Jacob wasn’t sure if it was old age, dementia, or something else.

  Lucy sighed again, this time with more frustration. “He just… he’s worried about me. He cares.”

  Jacob frowned. “Right. I think he’s worried about what he’s going to do without you there at his beck-and-call all the time.”

  Lucy remained silent, knowing Jacob was right. She had complained about her uncle enough lately for him to have gotten the idea of what was going on.

  She cared for Uncle Foster a great deal, and she could tell he was in pain.

  Anxiety, she thought, feeling her own wave of nervousness flooding through her at the thought of walking through that door with that ring on her finger. She had a feeling that Uncle Foster was coming to terms with the fact that Lucy would soon be moving on with her life, and out of his house.

  After all, I’m twenty-five years old! she thought indignantly. But then her mood softened. For an old man like her uncle, she knew the prospect of living alone was probably terrifying. So she couldn’t really blame him for his behavior.

  “I hope…” she said after a while, “I hope he’ll be happy for us.” She nodded, as though trying to convince herself of something she didn’t truly believe.

  “I somehow doubt that,” Jacob said matter-of-factly.

  “Well, I at least hope he’ll take it in stride,” Lucy said and then bit her lip.

  ***

  Foster Fielder stood over his seven-year-old bonsai tree, fretting over the state of the soil.

  “What is this film here?” he muttered disapprovingly. He picked up a bit of the dry soil and rubbed it between his fingers. “Rebekah!” he called.

  His cousin Rebekah and her husband had been staying with him these past few months as they looked for a place to rent in the area. At first, Foster had balked at the suggestion by his niece, Lucy, that he take them in; he fundamentally believed change was a bad thing. But eventually, Lucy had worn him down with her talk of familial obligations and moral responsibilities.

  “It’s not like they would have been out in the cold!” he had argued. “Los Angeles is warm year-round!”

  That joke still made him chuckle. But in the end, he’d come to enjoy having a full house because it gave him something to fret about when his plants didn’t need his attention.

  He heard the plodding down the carpeted stairs and soon, a petite woman with dark brown hair entered the study. “What’s wrong, Foster?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

  “Nothing! Nothing! I just need you to get some plant food for this little bonsai beauty here. Something’s not right with her soil. Poor dear.” He tsked and went back to examining the potted tree.

  “Did I say I was going to the store tonight?” Rebekah asked.

  “What’s that?”

  “Foster, I’m not your errand girl. Next time I go to the store, I’ll try to remember to pick up some plant for your dwarf tree. But I’m not going tonight. I’ve got the open house at nine.”

  Foster frowned and sighed loudly, adding a catch in his throat for good measure.

  “What?” Rebekah said begrudgingly.

  Foster waved his hand. “Bah. Nothing, nothing. Just that
I spend my time caring for this house, for these plants that we all enjoy, free of charge …And just ask for one little thing in return. A tiny, tiny favor. But I understand. I think I understand perfectly.”

  His cousin groaned. “I’ll get you the darn plant food if that’s how you’re going to be, Foster. Geez, you’re a real piece of work, you know that?” She left the study, and Foster heard her put on her shoes, grab her keys, slam the front door, and start the car in the driveway.

  He stood up, chuckling softly.

  Just then, he heard another car in the driveway. He moved to the foyer and peeked out.

  It was Lucy!

  Yet, he soured when he realized her boyfriend—if that’s what you called the socially awkward young man she’d been bringing around this year—had come with her. And he’d been driving, no less. Foster would have to remind Lucy that no one else ought to be driving the car he’d gotten for her unless they were somehow insured on it.

  Lucy dallied in the driveway, staying seated, feigning interest in the latest breaking news headline that had streaked across her phone. Jacob called out for her to help him carry her several bags inside.

  She sighed. It’s now or never, she thought.

  Before she could fully prepare herself though, she spotted a bald head poking over the side of the fence near the driveway. “Colonel!” she yelled cheerfully, instantly forgetting her nerves.

  “Loosey-Goosey, is that you? Why, I can’t see anybody! Where are you?” the old man said. This was a running joke between them—that he was too old to bend down, and she too short to be seen when he was standing up straight looking ahead. He laughed his big barrel laugh and made his way down to the driveway to see her.

  Lucy gave him a big hug. “You have to go to Ocean Front sometime. It’s so close to home, and stunning views all around. If I could stay on that beach for the rest of my life, I’d be happy.”

  “So, had a good time then, I take it?” Colonel Weiss said, and then looked at Jacob inquisitively.

  “Yes, sir, we did. Beautiful place,” Jacob answered, shaking his outstretched hand. “Good to see you.”

  The colonel had been with Lucy’s uncle since before she had lived there. He officially served as a handyman for her uncle’s extensive grounds, but unofficially, he was a part of the family. He lived in a little guesthouse near the main house.

  “Look!” Lucy exclaimed, proudly displaying her left hand, tilting it back and forth so the ring caught the light from the house and glinted.

  “I don’t believe it!” the colonel said. “Little Lucy and Little Jacob here, tying the knot? My, my, my. I’m getting old. Yes, indeed.” He smiled down at Lucy. “My sincerest congratulations.”

  Lucy beamed. “Thank you.” She pulled her hand back to admire the ring herself. Then she realized there was no more time for stalling; they had to go inside and face her uncle. She visibly sagged.

  The colonel squinted toward the house. “Foster? Well, I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you. You know as well as I do that he doesn’t like things changing around here. But I’ll talk some sense into him. Don’t worry.”

  Lucy nodded solemnly. The colonel had such a calming way about him. She met Jacob’s gaze and took his hand, and he squeezed hers in return.

  “Uncle Foster!” Lucy called out when they stepped inside the house. Her voice rang and echoed throughout the large hallways.

  “Lucy,” Foster boomed. He stepped out through the door to her right, wearing a bright red sweater over his Hawaiian print shirt and linen trousers. With a pang, Lucy wondered if bad style was a sign of dementia.

  “Hi Uncle Foster,” she said.

  “Good evening,” Jacob said, stepping forward. He held his hand out for a handshake, but the old man didn’t seem notice.

  Lucy, on the contrary, was conscientiously keeping her left hand down by her side.

  “How was your little trip?” Foster asked, looking only at Lucy.

  “It was great. A lot of fun. Swimming, tanning… a vacation.”

  “That’s good. The sun,” he pointed up to the ceiling. “That’s our best medicine. Some people say it’s laughter, but those people are wrong.” He chuckled.

  Lucy grinned half-heartedly. She wrung her hands and glanced at the colonel who was standing by the door. He gave her a firm nod.

  “Uncle Foster, we have some news,” Lucy said as she grabbed Jacob’s hand. Jacob smiled.

  “Eh?” Foster said.

  “We’re engaged!” Lucy declared, trying to sound excited, but mostly sounding nervous.

  Foster froze, saying nothing. He then suddenly turned on his heels and went back into his study, shutting the door behind him gently.

  Lucy’s heart beat slowly, trying to make sense of his response.

  Was that it? Was she now cut out of his life for good?

  Gosh, is my only choice to either live with him forever, or have no relationship with him at all? she thought bitterly.

  She shot Jacob a helpless look, but his face was just as petrified as hers. She knew that deep down, he was worried that she would ultimately choose the only parent she had really known over him.

  “Lucy,” came her uncle’s voice from the study, “can you come in here?”

  “Of course,” she said, bewildered. She shrugged at Jacob before making her way over to the study. Inside, Foster was sitting at his desk, his back facing her. “Yes, Uncle Foster?”

  He turned around, holding a yellowing paper. “Lucy, this is something that you need to know if you’re serious about getting married.”

  Lucy’s stomach flipped. She swallowed. “What is it?”

  But he didn’t answer. He simply held out the paper.

  Lucy took it and quickly began to read. “I…. I don’t get it,” she said after a moment. “What is this?”

  “Jeremiah Fielder. Your father. My brother.”

  She fingered the paper. “Yes…?”

  “Well, it’s all there, isn’t it? What’s there to be confused about?”

  Lucy didn’t answer. She had a sinking feeling that her uncle was somehow enjoying this.

  Foster sighed. Speaking more softly, he said, “He had a psychotic break and drove his truck into a group of high school girls trying to cross the road back when you were a baby. In court, he…he claimed it was intentional. The stress of being a parent was too much for him.” Foster gestured to the paper in Lucy’s hands. “That’s the record of his internment at an institution for the criminally insane.”

  “My father’s dead,” Lucy said, her mind whirling. This can’t be true. And even if it is why tell me now? she thought, stunned.

  Foster nodded, his expression unreadable. “He committed suicide years ago. Your mother felt it best not to tell you about him while you were young. And then when she passed, I just never thought it necessary for you to know. Of course, that’s all changed now.” A note of hostility had entered his voice. “Does Mr. Deblasio want children? Does he know what sort of genes you’ll be passing along?” he asked, his voice rising.

  “Uncle—”

  “If you don’t tell him the truth,” he said, his voice booming now, “I will.”

  Lucy didn’t know what to believe. Her face grew hot, her stomach clenched, and she feared she might throw up. She was so angry, it hurt. When she opened her mouth to retort, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. With an unintelligible wail, she ran out the door of the study.

  Jacob stared after her startled. “Lucy, what’s—?”

  But she silenced him, pushing hard against him and fleeing to her car. Once inside the car, she sped away as fast as she could.

  ***

  Jacob Deblasio carefully measured out the chemicals he needed, his focus unwavering. He was a junior researcher at a small chemical laboratory and his job was what he loved most in the world next to Lucy.

  Abruptly, he stood from the table and walked over to the sink where he removed his gloves and goggles and washed his hands.

  Pi
nching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. Lucy hadn’t come home last night. He tried to convince himself that she had just stayed over at a friend’s, probably trying to forget whatever had happened between her and her uncle after announcing their engagement. But deep down, Jacob couldn’t shake his disturbance over the fact that Lucy hadn’t confided in him, but instead, pushed him away, just like everyone else, and then fled off on her own. Such behavior wasn’t exactly a good sign for their marriage, to say the least.

  Furthermore, Jacob wondered what in the world her uncle said to her to make her so upset, especially since she had already known he wouldn’t be particularly pleased about the engagement.

  He went into the staff kitchen and poured himself a cup of herbal tea, absentmindedly dipping the tea bag in and out of the cup. He then took out his phone, seeing that he had no new messages even though he had already called her…

  Sixteen times, he counted.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he hit dial again. The phone rang and rang until her voice mail message could be heard through the speakers. It was nine-thirty in the morning.

  Maybe she’s asleep? he thought, without really believing it. Crinkling his brow, he pressed dial again. And then the calm and logical part of him had finally bent. All of a sudden, he worried something terrible had happened to Lucy.

  The phone rang and rang. Confused Jacob, poked his head out of the kitchen, still holding his cellphone to his ear. He realized he could hear Lucy’s ringtone echoing through the hallways of the university labs. Startled, he jogged to his lab.

  “Lucy!” he exclaimed, feeling a mixture of relief, joy, and anger.

  She stood with her arms crossed, looking lost. “Hi,” she offered.

  Jacob enveloped her in a hug, but she put her hand against his chest and pushed him away.

  “Wait,” she said. “There’s something I need to say.”

  “Okay,” Jacob said slowly. “Are you okay? Where did you go last night?”

  Lucy blinked. “Just wait, okay?”

  Jacob nodded, his stomach in knots.

  Lucy took a deep breath and looked at the floor. When she spoke, her voice was pitched higher than usual. “I’ve just been thinking that maybe now’s not the right time to get married. I mean, you love your job. You need to be focused on that. And I’m a mess. What am I doing? I think it’s a good time for you to step back and focus on yourself for a while. Make sure it’s really what you want. I don’t want to be a burden.”