She went inside the very old building. It looked like something out of The Andy Griffith Show. A table in the front had a pile of denim jeans and flannel shirts. Another table had local honey. One wall was filled with fishing rods and tackle, a pile of coolers was against the far wall next to a large freezer filled with bags of ice.
A skinny man with leathery skin and wearing a straw cowboy hat was hunched over the counter. “Can I help ya, miss?”
“Hello. I am looking for Cobblestone Hill. Mr. Clive Dunbar’s place? Can you direct me?”
“Sure can. I have a delivery I have to make there in a bit. I can show you.”
“Oh, I don’t want to put you out of your way.”
“No trouble, miss. I’ll be heading over as soon as I pack up my truck.”
“Thank you. I have my son in the car, so I’ll wait outside.”
“Sure thing, miss.” He tipped his hat and handed her two apples. “Be right out.”
“What do I owe you?”
“Nothin’. I grow ’em myself.” He disappeared into the back of the store and returned with a carton filled with eggs, milk, bread, and produce.
Colette was feeling better with each minute. The man didn’t act surprised or suspicious, and he knew exactly where she needed to go. She got back in the car and watched the man close the door of the store and pin a sign on it:
DON’T YOU GO AWAY. BE RIGHT BACK.
So this is what country living is like? she thought to herself. She wondered if he even locked the door.
He placed the goods in the back of his pickup and waved her to follow. She pulled up alongside and lowered both her window and the one in the back so Max could thank the nice man for the apple. “Thank you, sir!” He waved the apple.
The man tipped his hat again and hopped into the cab of the truck.
They tore through the gravel and back onto the highway. Cobblestone Hill was less than ten minutes away. She followed the pickup down the long driveway and parked her car next to the truck. A man, maybe mid to late thirties, came out of the house. He was lanky and wore black-rimmed glasses. His hair was cut short. He could almost pass for a geek.
“Hey, Elmer!” The man waved.
“Logan,” Elmer acknowledged in return.
“Here, let me get that.” Logan took the big box from the man and looked over at Colette. “Hello?”
Colette got out of the car. “Hello. I’m Colette Petrov. I used to work for Mr. Randolph Millstone. I’m looking for Clive Dunbar. He was Mr. Millstone’s lawyer.”
“Yes, of course. Is he expecting you?” Logan asked.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
Logan smiled. “I’m sure it’s fine. There isn’t a whole lot to do up here except scare the fish. Dad is on the porch pretending to tie flies.” He had a nice, easy manner about him. Much like his father from what Colette remembered.
Elmer jumped back into his truck without saying another word. He tipped his hat to Colette.
“Thank you very much!” She waved at him and turned toward Logan. “I have my son with me.” She nodded toward the back seat of the car.
Logan bent over to look inside. “Hey, dude!”
Max looked at his mother for approval before he said anything. She nodded.
“Hey. I’m Max.”
“I’m Logan. Nice to meet you.”
Colette opened the rear passenger door, unbuckled Max, and helped him out. He took her hand.
“Right this way.” Logan walked to the side of the massive house. Calling it a cabin was just short of absurd. It looked more like a lodge with vertical, gray wood siding and colossal stonework. No wonder they called it Cobblestone Hill. The entry area had a large walk-in pantry on one side and a big laundry room on the other. Another door led to the patio in the rear of the house. A private outdoor bathroom facility, including a shower and dressing room, was in an alcove. Two sliding doors opened into the kitchen area.
Logan placed the box on the island counter. “Hey, Dad! We have company.”
“What? What company?” Clive Dunbar meandered into the large kitchen and stopped short. “Colette?” He said it as if he were seeing a ghost.
“Yes, sir. It’s me.” Colette smiled weakly. “This is my son, Max.”
“This is a pleasant surprise, I must say,” Clive said. “I’ve been trying to locate you, but the Millstones said you had left no forwarding information. I was actually thinking of hiring a private detective agency.” He chuckled. “Seriously.”
“But why?” Colette asked.
“Come in. Come in. Logan, why don’t you take Max down to the lake and show him how to skim some rocks. Feed the ducks. Would you like that, Max?” He squatted to speak to the boy face-to-face.
Max looked up at his mother.
“That sounds like fun. Doesn’t it?” Colette encouraged him.
Max was nodding so fast she thought his head might bounce off. She mouthed the words, “Thank you,” to Logan. He gave her a sly thumbs-up.
“Come on, Max, before the fish run away.”
“Fish can run?” Max asked quizzically. “Don’t they swim?”
Logan laughed. “Let’s go find out.” Max skipped behind Logan as they made their way down the back lawn to the dock.
“Nice kid,” Dunbar said.
“He’s a good boy. Smart, too. But I have to say that. I’m his mother.” Colette laughed nervously.
“I think we have a lot to talk about, Colette. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Coffee? Tea?”
“A coffee would be very nice.” She hesitated a moment. “I have something in the car I need to show you. That’s why I’m here.”
“Sounds intriguing.” He smiled at her.
“That is a good way to put it. I’ll be right back.” Colette moved quickly to the car and retrieved her tote bag, where she kept the spiral booklet. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She steadied herself. She had made it this far. She was safe. She had always liked Clive Dunbar. He wasn’t arrogant or dismissive the way Arthur was. He had always been polite to Colette. He didn’t treat her as if she was just a servant. Dunbar was smart and loyal. She could understand why Randolph trusted him to protect his interests. She stood tall and walked back into the house through the side door. Clive was making a carafe of coffee in a French press.
“I hope you like your coffee on the strong side?” Clive smiled at her as he pushed the plunger down.
“I do. Thank you.”
Dunbar pulled out a small tray and placed the coffee urn, two cups, cream, and sugar on it. He walked back into the massive pantry and brought out a crumb cake. “I just love this stuff. I probably shouldn’t eat it, but my niece is a great baker, and she makes dozens of these at a time. I usually bring three or four up here with me. Don’t tell my wife. She’d kill me.” Dunbar was acting like a granduncle toward her. He was making a great effort to make Colette feel comfortable. He could only imagine what she had felt when Randolph died and Rowena tossed her to the curb. He did not believe for one minute that Colette would steal anything from the Millstones. Randolph had trusted her, and that was enough for Clive to trust her as well. Randolph did not suffer fools gladly. He was sharp as a tack. Clive thought about his friend and had a moment of melancholy.
“Come, let’s go out to the porch. We can talk and watch Max and Logan skip stones.”
Colette followed Dunbar to the porch area. It was expansive, reaching from one side of the house to the other. And it was large enough to hold several dozen people. She wondered how many people came to visit at the same time. There surely was enough room for many. Clive indicated for her to sit at one of the teak tables. He put the tray down and pulled out a chair for her. He took his place opposite from where she was sitting.
“So, tell me what brings you to this neck of the woods?” Clive poured the coffee and cut several slices of the coffee cake.
“Mr. Dunbar, I don’t know where to begin.”
“Let’s start with the day you found Ra
ndolph in the garage.”
Colette’s eyes welled up. “It was a terrible day, Mr. Dunbar.”
“First, please call me Clive. I feel as if I’ve known you long enough, if not in person, at least through Randolph.”
“OK. Clive.” Colette nodded. “Mr. Randolph was on his way to the garage to meet you for your appointment. I realized he had forgotten his cell phone, so I went after him. When I got into the garage, he had already fallen down. I ran over to see what I could do, and he handed me this.” Colette reached into her bag and produced the spiral notebook. She slid it across the table.
Clive looked down at it. “Do you know what it is?” “I have no idea. But there was an envelope inside. It fell out when Arthur came bounding into the garage. I could tell from the look on Mr. Randolph’s face that it was something he did not want Arthur to see. He looked terrified.” She paused and took a sip of her coffee and a bite of the cake. “This is delicious. I understand why you like it. And I won’t tell your wife.” She smiled.
“What happened to the envelope?” Clive asked easily.
“Well, when Mr. Millstone came barging in, I hid the notebook behind my back. When he followed the paramedics to the ambulance, I picked up the envelope, but before I could put it back in the notebook, he barked at me to leave.” She took another pause. “I knew I couldn’t keep the notebook secret if I tried to put the letter back in, so I shoved it into an old table. I thought I would be able to go back to retrieve it, but they sacked me before I could.” She took a few deep breaths. “I feel terrible that I couldn’t get it back.”
“OK. We’ll take this one step at a time.” Clive patted her hand. “So as far as you know, the envelope is still in that table?”
“I suppose.”
“What else can you tell me?” Clive gently nudged her.
“A very strange thing happened the other day when I was at work. A man claiming to be a Jacob Taylor got in touch with me. He sent me a letter with your law firm’s name on it, with a business card.”
“Jacob Taylor?” Clive asked curiously.
“Yes. A letter was delivered to my sister’s house asking that I call him to set up an appointment. The thing is, I left his letter in my car, and it was going to take too long to get it. I still had your office number on my cell phone, so I called it directly, and Abigail told me there was no Jacob Taylor at your firm.”
“That much I know is true,” Clive assured her.
“So who is he?” Colette asked.
“I don’t know. Did you meet with him?”
“Yes, after I knew he wasn’t who he said he was, I was curious. Plus he called me at work and said he was nearby and asked if we could talk. I agreed, and he met me in the hotel employees’ cafeteria.” Colette took a break. “I had a friend sit at another table. She took a photo.” Colette pulled out her phone and pulled up the photo Dottie had forwarded to her. She handed the phone to Clive.
“Huh. That’s a man named Jerry Thompson. He’s a private detective who often works for Arthur Millstone.”
Colette’s hands started to shake again. “But why was he looking for me? And lying to me?”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to know if I had, in fact, witnessed Mr. Randolph’s signature and if I had read the document. I told him that I did witness it but did not read it.”
“What did he have to say about that?”
“Not much, really. I don’t know if he was satisfied, but I wasn’t about to give him any more information.”
“Smart,” Clive encouraged her.
“Then I thought about this notebook. I surely wasn’t going to tell him about it, and that’s when I thought I should bring it to you. Mr. Randolph trusted you very much.”
“And he trusted you as well,” Clive said kindly. “So, let’s take a look at that book.” Clive spun it around and began to peruse the pages. Columns of dates and amounts and initials. The dates ranged over the course of a year. The amounts varied from $3,000 to $7,000 at a time. The initials were always the same: A.M. Clive stared down at what appeared to be a journal of cash disbursements to Arthur Millstone. There was no other person with those initials.
Now the question was where had this information come from? The family household expenses, or one of the many bank accounts Millstone Enterprises had? Clive noted that the checks were not for huge amounts according to the expenses the family household incurred. But there had to have been over $100,000 recorded from where the journal began and ended. Clive closed the binder. “I cannot thank you enough for bringing this to me.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.” Colette was finally feeling calm. Safe.
“When I spoke to Arthur recently, he claimed that they couldn’t find the missing mysterious will.”
“If that’s what the document in the envelope was, how did they know about it?” Colette was certain she had hidden it well.
“I told Arthur that I had a meeting scheduled with his father the day he had his heart attack and it had something to do with his will.” Clive poured another coffee for both of them. “Randolph told me he had changed it, but he never had the opportunity to share the changes with me. But he did say you witnessed his signature. That’s why I was trying to get hold of you.”
“No wonder people are looking for me.” Colette slumped in her chair.
“I don’t want you to worry about anything. For the time being, you and Max will stay here. Until we can sort this out.”
“Oh, but I wouldn’t think of imposing.”
“Look around, dear girl. There is plenty of room for all of us. Besides, it will be nice to have some fresh faces here. I know Logan is probably sick of looking at mine.” Clive was genuine in his invitation.
“But I just started a new job recently, and I can’t take off any more time. I’m lucky I was able to have someone cover for me for two days.” Colette was trying not to fret.
“Who is your current employer?” Clive got up to get a pad and pen.
“The Curtiss Hotel. I’m the housekeeping manager.”
Clive sat down at the table and started taking notes. “For one, we can handle the Curtiss. I’ll have someone from my office call them and explain you were called away on legal business. Most employers don’t dare ask or protest if a law firm is involved.”
Colette sighed, relieved and happy to have Clive act on her behalf. “Well, it is the weekend tomorrow, so Max doesn’t have school. He’s in kindergarten.”
“Then it’s settled. This should only take a couple of days to sort out, but I must warn you, you will be at the mercy of my cooking, or worse, Logan’s!”
Colette finally relaxed and laughed. “Not to worry, Mr. Dunbar. I’ll be the chef while we’re here.”
“And you must call me Clive, please.” He knocked on the table.
“OK. Clive. I called Mr. Millstone, Mr. Randolph. He wanted me to call him Randolph, but out of respect, I couldn’t. So it became Mr. Randolph. Sometimes people got confused, but he was the only person I really had to please.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Max was laughing and jumping up and down. Colette couldn’t hear what he and Logan were talking about, but it warmed her heart that Max was having fun. Max had a sensitive soul and was always in tune with his mother. He had been through a lot of upheaval, and it was nice to see him act like a kid. Colette did her absolute best to shield him from any angst and worry, but she knew he had to be bewildered and disoriented. She smiled again. She was proud of her son.
As if he read her mind, Clive said, “You have a fine young man there.”
Colette was taken by Logan’s kindness and patience. “It appears that you also have a fine young man.” She reached over the table and squeezed Dunbar’s hand. “I cannot thank you enough. Ever since Mr. Randolph died, things have been tumultuous, to say the least.”
“I can only imagine. It must have been very disturbing to have Jerry Thompson, or whatever he called himself, show up and interrogate
you.” Clive shook his head, wondering what Arthur was up to. Judging from what he could glean from the notebook, it could be any number of desperate things.
Clive looked at the clock. “It’s getting close to lunchtime. Shall we call the boys in?”
Colette chuckled at Clive referring to his son as a boy. Maybe that’s something all parents do no matter what age. When Logan and Max returned to the large porch, Clive announced that Colette and Max would be joining them for two or three days. Max shrieked in delight! “Goody! Now Logan can show me how to moon fish.”
Colette looked at Logan and furrowed her brow. “Moon fishing?”
“We hang a lantern off the dock and see if any fish will come and take the bait. We’re not usually very successful, but it’s something to do.” Logan smiled at her. “Let me get your things.” Colette handed him the keys to her car. “Please move it if it’s in the way.”
“I don’t think we’ll be getting any more visitors.” Logan smiled again and headed out the door.
Max went over to Colette and rested his head on her shoulder. “Mom? I’m liking this adventure.”
“Me too.” She kissed him on the top of his head. She got up from her chair. “All right, Mr. Clive Dunbar. Show me the way around the kitchen, and I’ll see what I can come up with for lunch!”
There was some cold roasted chicken in the refrigerator, along with mustard, mayonnaise, celery, and sweet pickles. “Chicken salad OK with everyone?”
She got a round of approval. “While you’re doing that,” said Clive, “I’m going to make a phone call from the landline in the den. Cell service is rather sketchy up here.” He excused himself while Colette, Logan, and Max worked together in the kitchen. Logan dragged a stool over to the counter where Colette was chopping celery and the chicken. Once she had put everything together in a large bowl, she handed Max a spatula. “Remember how I taught you to mix?”
Max pursed his lips and nodded. “Who is going to hold the bowl?”
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