Sticks & Stones (A Hollis Morgan Mystery)

by R. Franklin James

  “You have the copy with you?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Michael, my law firm is working with Transformation magazine to defend Cathy’s article against a lawsuit. Fields filed for libel.” Hollis reached into her tote for a pen and notepaper. “Most of her research and draft copies were taken by her killer. We’ve been trying to piece together her findings. I’d like to compare the article Cathy gave you with the one we got from Transformation, just in case they’re different versions.”

  He frowned. “The killer took all her research. Then the police must think Fields did it.”

  Hollis ran her hands through her hair. “Well, at first they thought she committed suicide because of the lawsuit. But in light of subsequent events, murder appears more plausible. Fields is very powerful. I think the police are looking at any and everyone else first.”

  “Before I left, she was really jazzed about something new she’d found out.”

  “Hmmm. Like I said, she came to see me that night be—before … really excited, but depressed too.” Hollis paced around the room. “We almost had our hands on the notes she left with her assistant, but then she was killed too.”

  That brought Michael to his feet. “Gail was killed, too?”

  “You knew her?”

  “Gail was a little strange, but she was okay. Cathy relied on her to keep all her materials straight and transcribe her drafts.” He shook his head. “When I met Cathy for lunch, Gail would usually call and interrupt with some question she was worried over.”

  “Gail was going to give me a thumb drive with Cathy’s research,” Hollis said, “but she was killed before she was able to pass it on.”

  Michael stood a moment with his own thoughts. Looking up, he said, “This Fields guy must be pretty bad.”

  “You know, he’s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The people he reaches out to think he walks on water, the business world holds him up as an angel, and yet I’m coming to believe he is cold-blooded enough to kill to protect his image.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes. “I need to think. I can’t stay. I need to take this all in.”

  Hollis nodded. “Can I get your copy of Cathy’s article? It might me help figure out her early research sources.”

  “Sure, I guess.” He reached into his backpack and stopped. “Do you have a business card?”

  Hollis nodded in understanding. “Yes, here.” Pushing aside a gnawing feeling, she handed it to him. “Can I get your contact information?”

  He handed over the article then scribbled on a slip of paper.

  He left with the promise to keep in touch.

  Hollis hadn’t had the heart to tell him about Cathy’s ninety-day guy policy. As Michael told his story, Hollis glanced around the room. There were no pictures of them together. Cathy didn’t like seeing a guy more than ninety days in a row. More time than that, and she felt she couldn’t get rid of them. She’d been burned badly once, so she had no qualms about sending a guy packing, changing her locks, and not looking back.

  Hollis sat on the sofa and read through this early version of the article. It wasn’t long but it was clearly written. The tone was a little mean-spirited, and it raised questions rather than pointed to hard facts. She laid the pages aside and stared off into space. It was more accusatory than the final version.

  Without proof, the article could be considered libelous all right.

  Back at the office, Hollis had only one message on her phone. It was from Kelly confirming that she had completed her job assignments and could meet with Hollis at the residence home on Wednesday. Hollis sighed. The court clerk had already given her a probate hearing date on Friday. The Koch estate would be processed without heirs.

  She gave a wave goodnight as she passed through the lobby.

  “Doing anything special this weekend?” Tiffany asked Hollis, while straightening papers on top of the reception desk.

  I wish.

  Hollis paused, shifting her purse and jacket. “No, just housework. See you Monday.”

  She heard her phone ringing as she stuck her key in the condo door lock. She rushed over but the answering machine caught the call.

  It was Faber.

  “… wondering if you might be interested in dinner and maybe a movie tomorrow night. I know it’s short—”

  She snatched up the phone. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he said. “I know it’s short notice, but I wanted to invite you to dinner and a movie tomorrow.”

  “As it happens, I’m free, thank you.” Hollis was glad he couldn’t see her punching the air with her fist.

  “Good. How about I pick you up at five? Would you rather see the movie first or have dinner?”

  “Surprise me.”

  Hollis leaned against the wall, a broad smile spreading across her face. She punched the buttons on the phone.

  “Stephanie, John Faber just invited me out. What should I wear?”

  “Boy, your stars must be aligned. Second date in less than a month. What happened to the other guy, what was his name?”

  “Brad. He’s nice, but he’s friend material. I don’t think Brad and I have the same values for a long-term, or even a short-term relationship. I love reading; he got stuck on Old Yeller in grade school and never finished another book. He loves football—did I say ‘loves?’ More like is obsessed with it. After fifteen minutes we have nothing to talk about. Besides, he’s on a business trip.” She threw up her arms. “What should I wear?”

  “Jeans, your maroon top, and that fringed shawl I gave you for your birthday.”

  “That’s a great idea. Thanks.” She was already picturing herself looking stylish, but fun. “How are you doing? We need to have another lunch. You won’t believe who followed me to the mall the other day and half gave me a heart attack.”

  “Who, the other guy?”

  “No, I told you his name is Brad and he’s out of town. It was Vince.”

  “Who’s Vince?”

  “That kid you helped get into the shelter program. He’s still clean, not so jumpy. There’s a question about his mom, but he seems to be on his way back.”

  “I’d write him off. There’s too much going against him.”

  Hollis murmured, “Yeah, I guess.”

  “What?”

  “I guess I still believe in second chances.”

  Faber dabbed butter on a piece of roll. “What did you think of the movie?”

  “To be honest, it has been so long since I’ve had time to go to a movie, I was blown away by the 3-D technology.” Hollis laughed at herself.

  Faber gave a hearty laugh. “Yeah, I can understand.”

  She took a sip of wine. “Tell me about you. Were you raised in California?”

  “Born and raised in the Bay Area, went to St. Mary’s, and entered the academy when I was twenty-three.” He looked down, and then into her eyes. “I was married two years when my wife died having a still birth.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hollis said. “How long ago?”

  “Seven years.” John looked reflectively at his hands. “I’d just gotten a job on the force.” Then he seemed to notice Hollis’ discomfort. “Hey, I’ve healed. There’s just a little scar tissue there, but I’ve come to grips with it.” He took a sip. “And you?”

  “Well, you already know everything about me.”

  “I know what the State of California says, but I don’t know you.”

  “Typical dysfunctional childhood.” She picked at the remnants of her salad. “My dream is to pass the bar and become a probate attorney.”

  “Why that area of the law?”

  “It’s narrow, it’s interesting, and it’s rewarding,” she said. “It’s clear and straightforward.”

  “It’s mostly paperwork.”

  Hollis smiled, “Yeah, I know.”

  He nodded. “What about your family—any brothers, sisters?”

  “One each. What about you?”

  “Only child. I was ado
pted.”

  “I wanted to be adopted,” she said wistfully.

  He looked at her curiously.

  She shook her head. “Just kidding. That slipped out. Ignore me.”

  They chatted companionably through the rest of dinner. Hollis found herself not wanting dessert to arrive to mark the end of a great evening.

  John leaned back in his chair. “Hey, I’m going up the coast next Friday to pick up a table for a friend. Would you like to take a drive with me? We could make a day of it.”

  Hollis looked dejected. “I can’t. Cathy’s hearing starts next Friday.”

  “Maybe another time,” he said. “Right now I have Thursdays and Fridays off, but next month I’ll get my weekends back.” He paused. “How’s the case going? Did she have the goods on Fields?”

  “We think so. How’s Cavanaugh doing? I haven’t heard from him lately. Does he have any clues to Cathy’s killer?”

  “Nah, but he’s on it. No detective wants to have a double murder on his plate. He’s doing his job.”

  “Mark and I have been coming up with some curious material, but without Cathy here to tell us what it all means, we can’t tell if there is anything we should run with. It’s pretty maddening.”

  John picked up his cup of coffee. “You haven’t had any other burglaries or intrusions, have you?”

  “No, and remember: whoever it was knew it was my place.”

  “Yeah, that’s the part that worries me.”

  “But evidently Cavanaugh still doesn’t think it’s Fields.”

  “You’ve got to admit, Fields wouldn’t be that stupid. Besides, he’s taking his side to court. There’s no one else.”

  “What about the boyfriend?”

  John eyes narrowed. “What boyfriend?”

  “A Michael Carver,” she said. “I was in Cathy’s apartment day before yesterday when he entered with a key.”

  “You tell Cavanaugh?”

  Hollis looked contrite. “No, I honestly didn’t think to, until now. I guess I really should. Carver said he was out of town; maybe he went to see the police on his own.”

  He looked at her skeptically. “Remember to call Cavanaugh tomorrow. You don’t want to be seen as concealing information.”

  She rose. “I’m not concealing information. Anyway, Cavanaugh doesn’t really think it was Fields. Why should I do his job for him? My job is to clear her name. She at least deserves that.”

  John lowered his voice. “Did you learn anything from this boyfriend?”

  Hollis took the hint and lowered her voice, too. “He didn’t know she was dead. He’d gone camping with some friends a few weeks ago. He’s been seeing Cathy for a couple of months before that. Which I should say is about her maximum term for a boyfriend. He did have a copy of her article, not the one we are defending but an earlier draft. That’s all I know.”

  “Well, from what I can tell,” he said, reaching for her hand, “I would definitely want you for my friend.”

  Hollis looked into his smiling face and felt warmth in her cheeks. “Thank you.”

  “What say we go listen to some music at Cleo’s?”

  “You might be a night owl, but I’m not.” She smiled. “I’m beat. I’ll have to take a rain check if you’re giving them out.”

  “For you, there’s an unlimited supply,” he murmured.

  They were both silent for a moment. Then he leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.

  And Hollis kissed him back.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Hollis sat in the lobby of the senior facility waiting for Kelly to emerge from her grandfather’s room. She was frustrated at having to wait the additional week, but with the work needed for Cathy’s research, the time had passed quickly. Fortunately Kelly was true to her word.

  Since it was Social Wednesday, it took a little longer for visitors to check in and get past the front desk. They agreed that Kelly had a better chance of convincing Eric Ferris to speak to Hollis if she went to him first by herself.

  She held her breath when she saw Kelly walking quickly toward her.

  “After some arm twisting, he agreed to see you, but he’s not happy about it. He says he’s only doing it for me.” Kelly stood by the hallway entrance waiting for Hollis to gather her things.

  “I won’t be long with him.” Hollis walked behind her.

  They turned onto a long corridor. About halfway to the end, Kelly stopped and pointed to the room. Hollis entered first.

  “Mr. Ferris, I’m sorry about the … my last visit.”

  Eric Ferris was dressed in slacks, shirt, and a sweater. He sat propped up on several pillows in a large lounger. Off to the side was a standing tray containing a small blue plastic pitcher of water and plastic cups. Hollis took a chair near the stand. Kelly sat opposite her, next to her grandfather, holding his hand.

  Ferris growled, “My granddaughter insisted that I meet with you. I’m listening.”

  “This is the letter I wanted to give you from Margaret Koch. We found it among her belongings. She died in June.”

  Hollis held out the yellowed envelope, but Eric didn’t reach for it. After a moment, when it was clear he had no intention of taking it, she put it back in her purse.

  A small smile came to his lips. “Well, the bitch is finally dead.”

  Hollis wasn’t surprised by the words so much as his vehemence. “The letter is addressed to you, but it was returned to sender. We only opened it to see if could affect her estate.” She paused. “I … we wanted to make sure you—”

  “She have any kids?”

  “No, in her letter she—”

  “I’m not reading any damn letter from her.” He struggled to sit taller in the lounger, making it clear to Kelly, who now stood, that he didn’t want assistance. He pulled the tray to him and shakily poured himself some water.

  “Maybe I should go,” Hollis said.

  “No, you’re going to hear this. I don’t want you hounding me again.” He stared out the window. “She thought she could buy me, the slut.” He slammed the top of the chair arms with his fists. “We might as well have killed Charles. ’Cept he did it to himself.”

  Hollis looked over at Kelly, who seemed mesmerized.

  Hollis frowned. “I … I don’t understand. George Ferris killed himself?”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He turned to Kelly.

  “Granddad, why?”

  Eric’s withered face turned away, but not before Hollis saw his eyes fill with tears. “I thought she did it. I could’ve sworn I saw her push him. All those years in jail ….”

  Hollis stood next to him. “But how did you—”

  “I found his note when I got out of prison.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “He couldn’t handle being a cripple and being betrayed by his brother with the love of his life.”

  Hollis was silent.

  “So you see, young woman, take yourself and that letter, mind your own business, and leave me alone. There is nothing she could say that I would want to hear.” His reddened eyes seemed to look through her.

  Hollis picked up the letter and rose. “I’m so sorry. I … I thought if you read her letter to you and … you would know how Margaret felt … from her point of view …. I didn’t mean to upset you.

  “Upset me?” He leaned closer and Hollis took a step backward. “She died last June, I … I died fifty years ago.”

  Hollis nodded and stood to leave the room with tears forming in her own eyes. She looked back and saw Kelly holding her grandfather in her arms.

  Kelly looked up at her. She mouthed that she would see her tomorrow. Hollis closed the door as Ferris’ body seemed to collapse on itself and he broke into shaking sobs.

  Still rattled after the visit with Eric Ferris, Hollis drove on autopilot to Mark’s office. As they prepped for the Transformation meeting, he must have sensed not to engage her in conversation, other than giving her a quick overview of how they would proceed. Now they waited for Carl Devi an
d his legal team to appear. It was the last strategy meeting before the initial hearing. She tried to concentrate on the task at hand, putting the morning with Eric Ferris out of her mind.

  Mark reshuffled papers and lined up his pens beside his legal pad.

  “You ready?”

  Hollis shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine. We’ve got evidence that Fields’ centers were poorly run and that fact alone raises concern over the use of donations and contributions. There is no dispute; Cathy’s allegations were grounded in fact.”

  Mark rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, but we don’t have indisputable proof of mishandled funding.”

  Hollis didn’t try to hide her concern.

  “We need to face facts too,” Mark said. “You should try sitting down with Transformation’s legal team to defend Cathy’s words.” He took off his glasses. “I think Transformation wants to settle.”

  Before Hollis could respond, Devi and his three attorneys entered. Introductions cycled around.

  “Well, good morning, Hollis, we haven’t seen you for a while, but I understand you’ve been working diligently behind the scenes.”

  “Very diligently. We’ll be ready for the hearing.”

  “Then you must have learned something new that Mark hasn’t shared with us,” Devi said. “What is it?”

  Mark interjected, “Let’s go over our case. I think you’ll see we have a good position.”

  Devi reached into the briefing folder Mark had passed him. “Good, but not strong?”

  Mark didn’t answer. Instead he began his oral argument.

  Hollis looked around the room and noticed that Mark had the attention of everyone except Carl Devi. Devi was staring at her. When their eyes met, he looked away.

  Twenty minutes later, Mark stopped speaking and asked for questions.

  At the very least the attorneys looked skeptical.

  The youngest one, an Asian woman, spoke first. “Mr. Haddan, I grant that you have framed a very difficult case in the most defensive manner possible. You’ve done a lot of work.”

  “But?”

  The attorney sitting next to Devi adjusted his green plaid tie and said, “But, where are the facts that support Briscoe’s statements? She accuses him of laundering donations for his own use. Show me a fact, not a clue, not a contention, but a cold fact that says Dorian Fields defrauded contributors.”