“That’s what I mean…things could get worse.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Especially for me. Susan is mad at me again.”
“What did you do this time?”
“I insulted her. You know how she stands too close when she asks a question?”
“I hate when she does that.”
“Me too. Her eyelashes are very long, and hang down over her eyes. I can’t imagine why it doesn’t bother her. Anyway, a couple of days ago, I told her it made her look like she’s is in prison.”
Jim started to laugh and covered his mouth. “You didn’t.”
“I did. Today she came to work with her eyelashes curled. I should say something about how much better she looks, but truly, it would take a lot more than an eyelash curler to make her as lovely as she could be, if she tried.”
“I think she’s a little off in the head anyway.”
“Do you? In what way?”
“Susan worked for a collection agency, so she’s used to making up lies. Ursula needed to find a vendor zip code, and Susan started to make up this long, involved reason Ursula could use as an excuse to get it. Rubbish, I said. I called, asked for the zip code, wrote it down, hung up, and handed the paper to Ursula. It took about two seconds.”
She giggled. “You humiliated Susan in front of a co-worker? You’re worse than me.”
“Maggie, I can’t handle stupid sometimes.”
“She might try to get even with you later.”
“She’ll have to get in line behind Nicole.” He looked at the clock and stood up. “Time to go back. You coming?”
“In a minute.” With two minutes of break time left, Maggie stayed and took another sip of her soda. Being a foreigner in America was harder than she expected it to be. She wanted to blend in, and to do that, she spent a great deal of time learning the American vocabulary instead of the one she grew up with. Even after three years, she sometimes used a word that brought about strange looks.
She only had one American friend, other than the people she worked with. Her friend was a man she talked to in a private chat room every night – at least he said he was a man. Bronco8881 seemed nice enough and she liked him. He could carry on an intelligent conversation, often made her laugh, and talking to him was the highlight of her day.
She couldn’t wait to tell him what Jim said, but she had to be careful not to give Bronco8881 too much information. The internet made it easy for people to find someone if they tried hard enough, and the last thing she needed was for him to show up at her apartment.
As soon as her break time was up, Maggie begrudgingly went back to work. The basement was filled with equipment that softly hummed, but she had grown used to that. The top floor held meeting rooms and offices for the owner and his corporate lawyer daughter, neither of whom Maggie saw very often. Her cubical was on the middle floor, and when she looked in the one across the hall, the department manager’s desk was indeed cleaned off, and Colleen’s chair was empty.
*
With billions of dollars, thousands of employees, and the fate of several lucrative companies at stake, Mathew and Laura Connelly vs. The Estate of Nicholas W. Gladstone, was the best kept secret in Denver. The small courtroom offered enough seats for a six-member jury, but a jury, even one that was sworn to absolute secrecy, could not be trusted.
Instead, Marcus Stonewall Hawthorn, a direct descendant of the famous Colorado Hawthorns on one side, and Stonewall Jackson on the other, served as both judge and jury.
The judge wore the usual black robe and sat behind the usual podium with an American flag on one side and a Colorado State flag on the other. The walls were polished wood paneling and a short fence, complete with a center gate, separating the proceedings from two rows of spectator pews, all of which were empty. Facing the judge, Attorney Bradley Hyde sat at a table with his clients, Mathew and Laura Connelly, while the estate Attorney, Austin Steel, sat alone at the other table.
The argument between the two attorneys had already lasted well over two hours. Laura looked bored and Mathew looked irritated.
Once more, Austin Steel respectfully stood up. “Your Honor, the will specifically states that proof of Miss Connelly’s death must be conclusive. The Connellys have admitted they registered their daughter in a boarding school in the United Kingdom, under the name Georgia Marie James. I submit to you, that the photograph of the dead woman they claim is their daughter is anything but conclusive.”
Bradley Hyde slowly stood up too. “Your Honor, Miss James’ identification was found on the body after the accident. Who else could it have been?”
“It was found several feet away, Your Honor,” Austin countered.
“Yet, no other identification was found anywhere near the site of the accident,” Bradley Hyde argued. “The body was cremated; therefore there are no fingerprints and there is no DNA. How else are my clients to prove their daughter is dead?”
“Your clients wouldn’t know their own daughter if…”
Judge Hawthorn banged his gavel twice. “Mr. Steel, I have already heard what you think of the parents. Please refrain from mentioning it again.”
Austin lowered his gaze. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Counselors, both sides agreed not to call any witnesses and to have me judge this case based on the facts presented. Am I mistaken about that?”
“No, Your Honor,” said Bradley Hyde.
“No, Your Honor,” Austin sadly agreed. Just then, a bailiff walked in through the side door, whispered in the Judge’s ear, and when the judge nodded, walked down the steps and handed a note to the estate attorney.
Highline hotel, 24th floor, Suite A
Jackie Harland.
Austin Steel couldn’t help but take a relieved breath. “Your Honor, some new evidence has just been handed to me. I will need time to verify it.”
“What new evidence?” the opposing attorney asked louder than he should have.
“I believe I can prove Miss James is quite alive. I ask…no, I beg the court for a continuance. Miss James’ grandfather wanted her to have it all, and we owe it to her to at least… ”
“How much time?” Judge Hawthorn asked.
“A month, Your Honor.”
“A month!” Bradley shouted. “Your Honor, my clients have waited six months already.”
“Two weeks and not a day more,” said the Judge. “I want this trial over and done with before I am old enough to retire.” He banged his gavel once, stood up, and left the room.
Frustrated, Mathew slammed his fist on the table.
“Ah, poor baby, another two weeks,” Laura mocked. She stood up and smoothed the wrinkles out of her red skirt.
“Whose side are you on, Laura?”
She cunningly smiled. “My side, Darling.”
CHAPTER 2
Snooping and getting away with it was something Teresa learned as a child, and mastered in her teenage years. In a house as big as the Connelly’s, what she was looking for could be anywhere. The library was the most probable place, and she spent hours looking for a hidden safe behind the hundreds of books on the shelves. There wasn’t one in that room, but she did find a photo album that was covered in white satin. She slipped it into her bedroom and put it under the bed to inspect later.
Convinced there was nothing else to find in the library, she headed to the office. Meticulously, she searched the top drawers of the desk for a safety deposit box key. She found no keys at all, and put everything back exactly as she found it. In the bottom drawer, lay a three-on-a-page business checkbook, and when she opened it, there were only a few checks missing. Whoever had written the checks didn’t bother to mark the stubs with a description, but then, the wealthy probably didn’t need to keep track of their spending. If she cared, she would have looked for the cancelled checks, but she didn’t care.
Teresa set the checkbook on top of the desk, and then stared in disbelief at the only other item in the drawer. On the bottom, lay an object she hadn’t expected to
find – not even in her wildest dreams. She examined it, smiled, put it and the checkbook back, and closed the drawer.
The next best place to find a safe was in Mathew Connelly’s bedroom. His was the master bedroom and it appeared that Laura left the marriage bed and not Mathew. Teresa found it a bit odd, considering what Laura said, but it too was not worth caring about.
Teresa glanced at the nightstand, checked the time on Mathew’s digital clock, decided the hour was still early, and looked around. On his dresser was a masculine jewelry box that contained only one pair of gold cufflinks. She shrugged, closed the lid, and began to examine the pictures on the walls.
Her search was unsuccessful until she came to the painting of a nude woman. When she tried to look behind it, she discovered small hinges that allowed the painting to swing open like a door. There it was, finally. The wall safe looked as old as the rest of the furnishings. It had a combination lock, and she was about to try her luck when she heard a car pull up outside. She put the picture back in place, went to the window and moved the curtain just enough to look down. The Connelly’s sleek black limousine was parked in the circle drive. The driver had the back door open and Laura was just getting out.
“That was fast,” Teresa muttered, as she hurried out of the room and headed downstairs.
The second Laura walked in the door; she went to the liquor cabinet, uncorked the decanter and poured herself a straight shot of vodka. She drank that one and poured another.
“Mr. Connelly didn’t come back with you?” Teresa asked.
“He’s still in the car on the phone with our lawyer. He’ll be here in a minute.”
“How did court go?”
Surprised by such a personal question, Laura ignored her maid, downed the second shot, set the glass on the bar and headed for the elevator. “I want to change clothes. Are you coming?”
“Yes, Mum.” Teresa rushed into the elevator, rode to the second floor with her employer, walked down the hall behind her and closed the door as soon as both of them were in the bedroom. “What would you like to wear?”
“I don’t know; something flowy and relaxing. Mathew is furious and I might as well be comfortable. He blames me, but then, he always does.”
She desperately wanted to ask what Laura was being blamed for, but Teresa thought better of it and went to the closet to find something ‘flowy.’ She chose a long, multicolored silk over chiffon lounging dress, and laid it out on the bed. “Cook is making Beef Wellington for dinner.”
Laura began to undress, handed her jacket, her blouse, and then her skirt to Teresa. “I doubt I’ll be hungry, and don’t tell me I should eat something.”
“I won’t. If you want to be falling-down drunk, that’s up to you.”
Laura softly giggled and let Teresa help her put the gown on. “When have I ever been falling-down drunk?”
“Never, so far, but I haven’t been here long. I passed out in a loo once.”
“You? I thought you were a teetotaler?”
“That was in my wild and frightful youth.” Teresa took the red suit and blouse into the closet, and tossed them in the laundry basket.
“That long ago, was it? How old are you now?”
“Twenty-two and never been kissed. Well, not really kissed that is.”
“I’ve been really kissed. Mathew was a good kisser in the beginning. Now he saves his kisses for…” Laura sat down at her dressing table and just seemed to drift off.
“What time would you like dinner? I’ll tell the cook.”
“You best ask Mathew when he comes home…if he comes in…if he stays home when he does…which I doubt.”
When the door abruptly opened, Teresa involuntarily jumped.
Mathew’s eyes were on fire with anger as he marched to Laura’s dressing table, slapped a paper down and held a pen out to his wife. “Sign this!”
“What is it?”
“We are suing your father’s estate.”
Laura sarcastically sneered. “What are we suing it for this time? Did Austin forget to pay the boarding fees for your precious greyhounds again? Or was it the country club dues? He is quite fond of forgetting those.”
“What difference does it make? Just sign the papers.”
“Poor darling, how it must grate on your very soul when Austin does these things. He does it on purpose you know.”
“Oh, I know, and the first thing I intend to do is throw him out of the Gladstone Building.”
“Darling, you know that won’t be possible. Daddy loved Austin like a son. I am certain he made iron-clad provisions for him, just like he made for me.” She opened her compact and took out her powder puff.
Teresa was being completely ignored, so she inched closer to the door, trying not to draw their attention.
“Don’t forget,” said Mathew, “the old man loved you, and he cut you out of the will completely.”
“Yes, but he had no reason to do that to Austin. I can live quite nicely on my trust fund…once you are gone, that is.”
“If we don’t get the inheritance, I’ll never be gone, Laura.”
She finally turned to face him. “Still shocked that he didn’t leave everything to me?”
“I am not stupid, Laura, I knew Nick wouldn’t leave the money to you.”
“Really? I didn’t. I thought I would get at least some of it.”
Mathew abruptly turned his hot glare on Teresa. Her eyes widened, she nodded and walked out the door. She closed it behind her, looked both ways down the hall to make sure neither the cook nor the chauffer were there, and stayed outside the door to listen.
“Sign the papers, Laura. You know I can’t do this without your consent.”
“Of course you can’t, Darling.” Laura ignored him and started to powder her nose. “I wish you hadn’t sent Teresa away, I need her to help me dress for dinner.”
Mathew tightly set his jaw. “Most adults can dress themselves, Laura.”
“I know, but it is so much more fun when I have help.” Intentionally, she put too much powder on her face.
“Laura, don’t do that.” He pulled a tissue out of the box, folded it, lifted her chin with his hand, and began to wipe the powder off. He paused for a moment to look at her closed eyes and her tempting parted lips, and then he wiped the last of it off. He released her and tossed the tissue in the wastebasket. “Are you going to sign the papers or not?”
“What would you do if I said no? Threaten to divorce me? We both know that will never happen. You’d be penniless, Mathew, just like you were when I married you.” She got up and started to walk to the closet, but Mathew grabbed her around the waist, held her tight, and looked her in the eye.
“How did your father find out, Laura? You must have told someone.”
“I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t have a name, remember? Who did you tell? Perhaps a little too much pillow talk, huh, Mathew? Did you promise some poor innocent girl you’d marry her once you got all that glorious money?” She pulled back hard until he finally released her. “Not getting your hands on my father’s money serves you right. By the way, how did you come up with her name?”
“Whose name?”
“You know who I’m talking about. I might sign if you tell me.”
He looked away for a moment and then looked back. “If you must know, it was the name of a girl I loved in high school.”
“Really” You actually loved someone? Do you pine for her still?”
“No…she died.”
When it got silent in Laura’s bedroom, Teresa decided to leave before one of them came storming out. She hurried down the hall and the stairs, and then went to the kitchen. She was suddenly hungry.
*
“Tell me again why we are taking this case?” Carl asked. Carl Kingsley didn’t consider himself much of a detective. Mostly, he kept the equipment running and piloted the Learjet that transported them from place to place. Normally, he was the last to arrive at each hotel, after making sure the jet was servi
ced and safely parked at the airport.
Jackie Harlan, owner of the Harlan Detective Agency, was a striking woman and she was all business. She was dressed in a maroon skirt, matching jacket, and a white blouse. She wore nylons and high heels, had auburn hair, and possessed blue eyes that some said could see right through a man.
“Because the fee Austin Steel has agreed to pay is exorbitant.” She checked her hair in the mirror and then put her compact back in her purse.
“Oh,” said Carl.
The suite they were using as an office for this assignment, offered a view of several tall buildings with the Rocky Mountains in the distance. Standing at the living room window and looking straight down, Carl could see a plaza with a one-way street on both sides, and a large fountain in the center.
Slouching on the sofa, Michael Sorenson was a laidback sort of guy, with thick brown hair and gold rim glasses. He was also shorter than most men, which galled him no end. In fact, he was an inch shorter than Jackie, even after she took her high heels off. “Exorbitant pay is good, very good.”
“And Nick Gladstone was a friend of mine,” she continued. “He helped me find a missing child when I was first starting out. I owe him.”
The executive suite on the 24th floor of the Denver hotel provided the Private Detective team with a living room, two bedrooms, a large dining room, and a kitchen. None of them liked to cook, so kitchens were only used to make coffee, but the dining room table already held six laptops, a printer, and two opened briefcases.
Carl came away from the window and sat down on the other end of the sofa. “I remember that case. We found the little girl abandoned in an old Chevy pickup truck north of Denver. That was right after Jackie helped me dump my worthless drug company on my worthless ex-wife.”
“Was she still alive?”
Carl answered, “Unfortunately, ex-wives are never polite enough to die.”
Michael chuckled. “I meant the little girl.”
“Oh. Little Alicia was found alive and hopping mad. She was…” A knock on the door interrupted him and Carl got up to answer it. “Food, at last.” He disappeared into the foyer, opened the door wide, and then closed it behind a waiter pushing a cart. “In there,” he said, pointing to the living room. “How long before our guest arrives?” he asked Jackie. “I’m hungry.”
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