Sins Of The Father

by James, Harper

  ‘Great. Now I have to go and talk to another nice, rich white family and say to them, hey there, I’m here to rake up what you thought you’d finally put behind you.’

  ‘You want to win any popularity contests,’ Crow said with a lot of heartfelt feeling, ‘get a different job.’

  Chapter 36

  EVAN’S MOUTH FLAPPED OPEN and shut a couple times.

  Guillory watched him as he tried to form some whole words. She took the opportunity to order them both another beer. It was lunchtime and they were sitting up at the bar in the Jerusalem Tavern, Evan’s favorite watering hole. Except today he had a sour taste in his mouth.

  ‘Hanna’s dead?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I only spoke to him yesterday.’

  ‘He’s still dead. The housekeeper found him at the bottom of the stairs. His neck was broken.’

  Their beers arrived. Evan sucked half of his down in one gulp.

  ‘What time?’

  ‘She found him just before nine this morning. He’d been dead about twelve hours.’

  ‘Accident?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘There’s no obvious signs of a struggle. No break-in.’

  Evan looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. It was easy to see—if you didn’t know her—how somebody might make the sort of mistake Vasiliev’s man had made in the diner. You’d never call her cute, but you wouldn’t guess the surprises under the surface waiting for the unwary either.

  ‘Then it’s either an accident, or somebody who’s got a key.’

  ‘His daughter—’

  ‘McIntyre—’

  ‘Or McIntyre’s friends.’

  ‘Your friends, you mean,’ Evan said and grinned at her. ‘I don’t think it’s them.’

  He told her about the attack outside the restaurant. Her eyebrows went up an inch as he described Narvaez’ street-fighting moves.

  ‘Not bad for an old guy.’

  ‘It’s doubtful they went around to Hanna’s after that. I can’t see the daughter pushing her own father down the stairs either.’

  Evan got McIntyre’s phone out and showed her the spying app, told her how he’d listened in on Hanna. An unwelcome thought crossed his mind as he talked. He saw from her eyes she was thinking the same thing.

  ‘If you’d been listening in later, you might have heard what happened.’

  They were both silent a long time as they imagined what it would be like to have to listen to somebody being attacked without being able to help them.

  ‘It makes sense now,’ Guillory said. ‘We didn’t find Hanna’s cell phone. The housekeeper said he never went anywhere without it.’

  ‘Whoever killed him took it.’

  ‘Uh-huh. It doesn’t look good if you get caught spying on somebody and then they die under suspicious circumstances. Kind of puts you in the frame.’

  Evan held up McIntyre’s phone.

  ‘We’ve got this.’

  Guillory gave him a look.

  ‘You stole that, you mean. I don’t think that phone’s going to be much good to anyone as evidence.’

  He was sure she was right. Didn’t mean he had to like it.

  ‘Looks like you can rule out an accident. If he fell down the stairs on his own, and he was like the housekeeper says, the phone would be in his pocket or on the floor.’

  Guillory took a long, slow swallow of her beer, not really listening to him.

  ‘There was something else. The house had been searched. Not trashed, searched. You’d never know. The housekeeper noticed, said Hanna was very fussy about things. Some stuff wasn’t where it should’ve been.’

  She turned suddenly and looked at him, hard enough to make him squirm.

  ‘Is that something you can help me with, him being your client after all.’

  He hesitated, not sure where he stood now. Did a promise to keep information confidential extend beyond the grave?

  Guillory leaned in, peered up into his face.

  ‘This could be a murder investigation now, Evan.’

  That’s what came out her mouth. What went in his ears was:

  It’s time for the kiddies to hand the toys to the grown-ups.

  Even if she didn’t know it, her words answered his question. The whole point of keeping his search for an heir secret was to prevent what had just happened from happening—somebody killing Hanna to stop him making a new will. His vow of silence was worthless now. And if there was an heir—and the next few days would finally answer that question—it would be too late.

  Guillory was making little circles in the air with her finger: hurry it up.

  ‘They were looking for his will.’

  She leaned back, an aha look on her face.

  ‘And you’ve been looking for an heir.’

  ‘Almost found one too,’ he said and brought her up to date.

  ‘Too little, too late, eh?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Looks like it. At least I don’t have to worry about Vasiliev any more ...what?’

  ‘Don’t count your chickens—’

  ‘What’s the point? Hanna’s dead.’

  She held up her hands.

  ‘It’s your skin.’

  Evan still had McIntyre’s phone in his hand. Guillory noticed him looking at it and laughed.

  ‘Go on then. Call it. See what the bottom of a lake sounds like.’

  He put it back in his pocket. He’d call it another time. She slapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘Christ, Evan, you look like your dog just died. Call it if it’ll make you feel better.’

  He shook his head, made circles on the bar with the bottom of his beer bottle.

  ‘It’s not that. I was just thinking ... they went after Hanna because I got away from them.’

  She took hold of his hand and laid it palm upwards on the bar, put the edge of her own palm on his wrist and sawed back and forth.

  ‘Let’s see if we can get this sawed through before you get a full-blown guilt trip going. Besides, you just said it wasn’t them.’

  He pulled his hand out from under hers.

  ‘If they’d caught me, McIntyre wouldn’t have needed to go around to Hanna’s.’

  ‘And if my auntie had balls, she’d be my uncle.’

  He ordered a couple more beers so he didn’t have to acknowledge the point. She put her arm around his shoulders, shook him. They stared at each other in the mirror.

  ‘Okay, okay. I’ve snapped out of it,’ he said before it got awkward.

  ‘Where’s it leave you now? Without a client.’

  He stuck out his bottom lip, caught sight of what it looked like in the mirror and pulled it back in.

  ‘Did he pay you yet?’

  ‘Uh-uh.’

  ‘Retainer?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Looks like the beers are on me.’

  He had the sense to not make a comment, to accept graciously. Besides, it didn’t happen very often. Her face suddenly fell. Now that was too good an opportunity to pass on. He laid his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Hey, not so sad, Kate. At least it’s not dinner.’

  She didn’t even try to smack his head. Things were serious.

  ‘I know exactly where it leaves you now.’

  The way her eyes narrowed made him think he’d be getting the beers after all, fee or no fee. She knew him too well.

  ‘Time on your hands, nothing to do—you’ll be back out at Hendricks’ place first thing tomorrow morning.’

  He had more sense than to try to deny it.

  Chapter 37

  KATE GUILLORY WAS WRONG. They both were.

  First thing the next morning Evan got a knock on the door from Mrs Kitson. The name was vaguely familiar although he’d never seen her before. In her early fifties she looked like she’d had a hard life.

  ‘I was Mr Hanna’s housekeeper.’

  The woman who found him dead at the foot of the stairs, who told Guillory the hous
e had been searched. He took her through into the kitchen and made them both some coffee. She dug in her bag and pulled out an envelope about the size of a legal pad. A sticker marked Fragile was stuck to the front of it. It didn’t look as if she’d taken much notice of it, just stuffed it in the bottom of her bag. He hoped it wasn’t important.

  ‘Mr Hanna asked me to give you this.’

  She leaned in closer. Evan leaned in too, tempted to look around to see who else had come into his kitchen necessitating the secrecy, the dropped voice.

  ‘He told me not to tell anyone.’

  She handed him the envelope. For a second it was as if it was wired into the wall socket. An electric thrill went through him.

  The game was back on.

  He knew it even before he opened the package. It felt like a document with a raised bump in the middle.

  ‘He asked you to give this to me in the event of his death?’

  She shook her head vehemently.

  ‘Nothing so melodramatic. Just to make sure you got it as soon as possible.’ She produced a kleenex from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. ‘I’d have brought it sooner ...’

  He put a hand on her arm.

  ‘I know. It must have been terrible for you.’

  She started to tell him just how terrible it had been, after working for poor Mr Hanna—he thought the choice of word particularly inappropriate—for all these years. He nodded sympathetically. Maybe she didn’t have anybody else to pour out her heart to. He felt the envelope as he listened to some of the housekeeping highlights of the past thirty years, intrigued by the bump in the middle. It was as if he was six years old again, surreptitiously fingering all the parcels under the tree on Christmas eve—he knew what he wanted it to be.

  She’d finished her coffee. Talking was thirsty work. He got the feeling she lived alone and probably hadn’t gotten a phone call in a long time. He poured her some more coffee, took advantage of the disruption to open the envelope. He went to tip the contents out.

  ‘Be careful. Don’t drop them’

  He stopped and put his hand in the envelope instead, came out with two clear glass tubes. There was a swab in each of them, the sort of thing used to collect saliva samples.

  Hanna’s DNA.

  ‘When were these swabs taken?’

  It wasn’t that he was concerned the DNA was degraded, it would be good for years. He wanted to know when, in order to identify at what stage Hanna decided things had moved onto a new level. And why.

  She thought about it for a moment.

  ‘The day before yesterday. It was just before I went home. About seven o’clock.’

  Frank Hanna had taken a swab of his own DNA shortly after talking with Evan on the phone—shortly before he was killed that same day. What Evan told him about McIntyre bugging his phone prompted him. It couldn’t be anything else.

  He put his hand back in the envelope and brought out a hand-written note.

  Evan,

  The things you told me today disturbed me greatly. And disappointed me. To learn of my daughter’s complicity is a bitter pill to swallow. It is not the sort of thing you want to hear as you prepare for the end of your life. But it has had one positive effect—it has strengthened my resolve. Whatever happens now, I want you to continue with your search. I wish now I had asked you for details. It is clear to me that you have made good progress and I hope something positive comes of your meeting with Narvaez. The faith Kate Guillory puts in you is not displaced. Call it the deranged thoughts of an old man if you will, but I feel in my bones that you will succeed in finding a valid heir—hence the enclosed DNA samples. If you do, there is a chance to put right the wrongs I did, make good ‘The Sins of the Father’. I feel the weight of them on my soul.

  Be safe but do not give up. You will find your own reward.

  Frank Hanna

  Evan read it through a second time, aware of Mrs Kitson’s eyes on him, aware of a faint pricking at the back of his own. There were so many thoughts crashing through his mind, he couldn’t think straight. What the hell was that about you will find your own reward? He knew for sure now what he would find in the envelope.

  He cleared his throat and pulled the second document out. This one was typed. At the top it read:

  The Last Will and Testament of Frank Hanna.

  It was dated two days ago. Hanna had a busy afternoon the day he died.

  Evan read through it. Reading between the archaic legalese three things stood out. His surprise increased as he came to each one. The first thing didn’t surprise him at all—Hanna revoked all previous wills and left all of his business interests, listed in meticulous detail, to a valid legal heir, should Evan find one. It was the whole point of the investigation after all.

  The second point came as a mild surprise—Hanna specified Evan as the Executor to his will. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say the old man had been paranoid. He didn’t even trust his own lawyers, well qualified and expensive as Evan was sure they were.

  But it was the third thing that caused the document to slip from Evan’s fingers and drop to the floor. Where it was joined shortly afterwards by his chin. Mrs Kitson picked the will up since Evan’s limbs were refusing to respond for the moment.

  She put it on the kitchen counter, a knowing smile on her face. She knew what caused such a profound effect in Evan—it was her signature witnessing the document after all.

  At least he hadn’t had long to wait before he found out what you will find your own reward meant. He picked the will up again and stared at the eye-watering amount Hanna specified he would receive as a bonus should he successfully locate an heir. Locate and ensure they inherited, okay, a little more complicated. It was still more zeros at the end of a number than Evan had ever seen next to his name.

  Mrs Kitson was still smiling at him.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say something?’

  Evan tried a few words. They didn’t come out so well.

  ‘Mr Hanna was a very generous man,’ she said.

  Evan nodded.

  ‘Yes. He’s left you very well provided for as well.’

  They stared at each other like two people who’ve just won the lottery. It was if it wasn’t real. They’d wake up soon. But one thing was very real for Evan. The pressure to find an heir had just increased exponentially—from a professional and a personal point of view.

  He had to get the will and DNA samples somewhere safe—fast.

  ***

  ‘HOW MUCH?’ KATE GUILLORY said, her mouth slack.

  Evan told her again, looked away through the car window so she didn’t see him grinning stupidly. She put her hand on his knee and squeezed.

  ‘I am so glad I let you apologize the other day.’

  ‘Come on, let’s get going.’

  He wouldn’t be able to relax until they got to the bank, stashed the will and DNA samples in his safe-deposit box.

  ‘And don’t get too excited. I’ve got to find an heir first.’

  ‘Thank God you stole McIntyre’s phone,’ she said. He let the stole slide. ‘Just think if he’d called Hanna’s phone just as he was saying to his housekeeper, sign the new will right here, Mrs Kitson. Now take it with the DNA to Mr Buckley. I wouldn’t fancy either of your chances.’

  Evan looked out the window again, scanned the street.

  ‘I’m not so happy about them as it is.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Nobody knows about it.’

  It didn’t make him feel any easier.

  ‘They don’t know, but they suspect. It’s what McIntyre was looking for.’

  She shrugged and pulled out into the traffic.

  ‘It’s okay for you,’ he said.

  ‘You know I can’t babysit you the whole time?’

  He knew she’d never let him live it down the moment he called her, told her he’d feel happier with a bit of backup. Just until everything was safely locked away.

  ‘You didn’t—’

  ‘Tell Ryder?’


  She smiled to herself, didn’t say anything more. He repeated the number in the will, the one with all the zeros next to his name.

  ‘Of course I didn’t.’

  That was more like it.

  He was looking forward to seeing how much mileage he’d be able to get out of it.

  ‘Don’t think you’re going to dangle that in front of me every time you want me to run your errands.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘At least it stops you running out to Hendricks’ place.’

  She was right about that. It was exactly what he’d been planning on doing. With all the excitement of the progress he was making on Hanna’s case—not to mention excitement of a different sort with McIntyre and Vasiliev—he’d almost forgotten about Floyd Gray and Hendricks. Things had gone quiet on that front for a few days. It wasn’t because they’d given up, that was for damn sure.

  No, something big was coming. Something that took more time to put in place than a few mysterious emails and texts. He needed to give Charlotte a call, make sure everything was okay there, nothing suspicious going on.

  He ought to call her now. He’d do it as soon as he’d been to see Leighton Yates. He smiled to himself. The first step down that road was going to be easy.

  ‘There is one thing you can do for me, Kate.’

  ‘One thing?’

  ‘To begin with. Besides, I thought you were pissed because I wasn’t keeping you in the loop. I can’t win.’

  There was a resigned sigh from the driver’s side.

  ‘That makes two of us. Give me the name.’

  Five minutes later she pulled up outside the bank. He unclipped his seatbelt, noticed she didn’t touch hers. She noticed he’d noticed.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Evan, you can make it across the sidewalk on your own, can’t you?’

  ‘That’s not what I was thinking.’

  ‘Of course you weren’t. Besides, I’ve got work to do. Leighton Yates, remember?’

  He got out and did his best to not run. Behind him he heard the car window go down. He tried to close his ears.

  ‘Quick Evan, there’s a bad guy coming.’

  He pretended he hadn’t heard, went inside. It didn’t take long. He was back outside in under five minutes. He couldn’t deny he felt better now he wasn’t carrying a document that determined the future destination of hundreds of millions of dollars around in his pocket—despite how paranoid Guillory thought he was being.