“Ron, you’ve never taken an interest in the company before,” Coralee said. “Why would I assume you’d start now? Why don’t you just continue living off my sister’s money and head back to the golf course?”
“Y’all settle down.” Harry made calming motions with his hands, but Coralee and Ron were too busy shooting death laser glares at one another to notice. “It’s not appropriate to air your family squabbles—”
“You’re one to talk, Coralee,” said Ron. “Where’ve you been all these years? You didn’t make it to your father’s funeral. I might be golfing, but at least I don’t pretend reconciliations after the Wall Street Journal hints Belvia’s stepping down.”
I noted that little fact in my sketchbook, making sure to capture the look on Coralee’s face in a quick sketch. Now I knew why Coralee appeared just before Della’s death. Belvia must have known it too. So why did she fear a snake in the grass in her company and not her family? Or did she not see a difference between the two?
The board members followed the accusations with the decorum of a Wimbledon tournament.
“It’s true, I saw that article. It reminded me time is precious.” Coralee’s hard features softened. “So I came back to make amends.”
Ron rolled his eyes.
“I think we should adjourn,” said Harry. “You’ve both suffered tragic losses. Emotions are high. It’s better to discuss business with a clear mind.”
“It’s obvious what’s going on,” said Ron. “Coralee’s making a power grab. I’m here to make sure Parker’s not left out in the cold. It’s a family company and by rights, he needs to be involved.”
“Parker?” Coralee snorted. “What does he know about running the company?”
“We could say the same for you.” Ron narrowed his eyes. “I can coach him. And he regularly visited his grandmother, unlike the other side of the family. Belvia’s been talking to him about Meemaw’s Tea since he was knee high.”
I glanced at Parker. He stared at the floor, chewing a thumbnail. I wondered if he’d adopted that habit during the Meemaw lessons. Would Ron coach Parker or use him like a ventriloquist’s dummy?
“Here’s what’s clear.” Lisa Russell looked over her red bifocals and rapped a pen against a notebook. “Neither of you understand what you’ll do to and for the company. That’s what we’ve been trying to tell Belvia. It’s time to take Meemaw’s Tea public. You have the ability to make that happen, assuming you’ll both be majority shareholders.”
Pushing her readers on top of her blonde bob, she pulled a sheet of paper from her folder and waved it. “My committee’s putting together a list of possible CEO and COO candidates. It started as a family business, but it doesn’t have to remain one.”
“That’s not Meemaw’s Tea values,” said David Wells.
“Don’t get marketing confused with operations, David.” She turned to Ron and Coralee. “You can be involved in board meetings, but stay out of the day-to-day operations. I’m done with a puppet board. Meemaw’s Tea needs real leadership.”
“And your name’s on the top of the CEO list, isn’t it, Lisa? You aren’t searching outside the company like you claim,” said David Wells. “Why was your committee looking for a CEO when we all knew Della would assume that position?”
I sketched Lisa Russell and noted David Wells’ accusation.
“I’ve been advocating for a board director’s position separate from the CEO for a long time,” said Lisa. “It would have circumvented all this current hoopla.”
“Enough,” said Harry. “It’s indecent to speak of these things now. Belvia’s shares will land in the hands of who she wanted running her company. In her previous will, it was Della. There’s been mention of a new will, but the details are inconclusive. I won’t discuss it. It will be cleared up soon though.”
Coralee quickly hid the smile skating across her face. Ron shot Parker a look that told him CEOs don’t chew their nails in public.
The complication of a missing will made these two goobers look even more suspicious.
I must have sighed out loud because it caught Ron’s attention.
“What’s she doing here?” He pointed at me. “There shouldn’t be anyone in this room but board members and family.”
“She’s working for me,” said Coralee.
“I knew it.” Ron narrowed his eyes.
I delivered my best customer service smile to the crowd craning their necks at the interloper. “Actually, I’m working for Belvia.”
“What do you mean?” Harry’s lips firmed. “Belvia didn’t inform me of this. What are you doing for her?”
“That I can’t say. But you could call it last requests.”
“Just what we need, another person trying to grab the company purse.” Lisa Russell stood. “I’m checking into you, young lady. You haven’t impressed me a whit. Harry, when is this reading of the will?”
Harry cleared his throat. “The police have intervened. Understandable, with Della’s accident and Belvia’s sudden demise. We have to wait until they give us permission to analyze how Belvia wanted Della’s inheritance bequeathed.”
Nice feint by the lawyer. No mention of suspicious deaths or will theft.
“I want to be informed,” said Lisa. “If Belvia’s wishes are questionable, I’ll contest it.”
“You can’t do that,” said Coralee.
“Belvia would not want her company to suffer,” said Harry Hunt. “We all know that much.”
The group nodded their heads, but no one looked relieved. Coffee cups were shoved to the middle of the table. The assembly edged out and wasted no time in leaving.
Tossing my sketchpad on the couch, I stood. “Can I speak to you, Mr. Hunt?”
“Harry, I want to talk to you first. Privately.” Coralee opened the office door. “Cherry, you stay right there. I’ll get to you in a moment.”
Harry glanced from me to Coralee, then walked into the office.
Dangit, foiled by Coralee. I blew out a sigh and eyed the untouched plate of donuts.
As I reached for one, Ron grabbed my elbow. “What are you doing for Coralee?”
I yanked my arm from his grip. “Taking meeting notes. And I’m not working for Coralee.”
“You’ve been spying on my son and now you’re involved in company business. I don’t like it.”
“And I don’t like your son stealing from elderly women’s handbags.” I glared at Ron, then turned my anger on Parker. “Don’t think I won’t press charges for knocking me down and stealing my truck.”
Parker jumped off the couch, pinning me between him and his father. “I told you to stay out of my business.”
“Not here,” Ron barked at Parker. “You watch yourself, young lady. You have no idea what’s at stake.”
“I know that if you lay your hands on me again, I’m taking it to the police. You and your son are creating a nice rap sheet.”
Ron leaned into my ear. “I’d advise you to think twice about that. I can’t always control my son, but I can buy him an excellent defense. I take it you and your brother know about such things. I’ve looked into you, Miss Tucker.”
My face heated. Before I could open my mouth, Ron shoved around me, knocking me into the table. Parker kicked my bag where it lay next to the couch. The contents scattered. Again.
“Hey,” I cried.
The office door opened. Harry peered out. “What’s going on?”
“Just speaking with Miss Tucker.” Ron smiled. “I’m trying to understand why she thinks she should involve herself in our affairs. You’ll have better luck than me, Harry. I’m sure there’s some legal arm twisting you can do. You’re good at that.”
He followed his son out the door, slamming it on his way out.
“Ron’s going to be a problem,�
�� said Coralee.
I wasn’t sure if Coralee spoke to me, the lawyer, or herself.
Harry flicked her a quick glance, then turned his attention to me. “Miss Tucker, we need to talk. Let’s find a quiet place.”
“I agree.” I bent to scoop the contents back into my bag, reaching beneath the couch to grab my phone. While I was there, I groped for more pills. Feeling none, I wondered if Coralee had cleared them out while I was in the bathroom. I looked up and found her standing over me again.
“Why do you keep poking around that couch? I need you this afternoon.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I kept the edge out of my voice.
“We’re going to the tea factory. I want you to take notes.” She picked up my sketchbook. “And real notes. What are these? Cartoons?” She flipped a page. “Are those devil horns on my head?”
I snatched the sketchbook back. “I’ll transcribe these into words for you. Later.”
Harry and I chose the Last Call, figuring it quiet this early in the morning. We figured wrong. Rosie worked the bar again. The stools had been filled with a khakis-and-polo crew, sipping Bloody Marys. A golf tournament blared on the overhead TV.
“Hey, Cherry,” called Rosie. “It’s five o’clock somewhere. Come over and join us. Reruns of Pebble Beach are on the tube and I’ve warmed up the blender.”
Never had I met such an early drinking crew since my college tailgating days with Luke. “We’ll take some coffee and a table, thanks.”
Harry and I tucked in next to the jukebox.
“Who are you representing, Mrs. Brakeman or her children?” I said. “Why were you at Ron Brakeman-Newson’s house last night?”
“I was Belvia’s personal attorney. I now deal with her estate,” said Harry. “But I can’t discuss any of it with you.”
“I witnessed the new will. Me and Jose, who works maintenance. Also, Miss Krenzer knew she was signing a new will because Krenzer sent us to do the job. Coralee watched us and her daughter Pris knew about it too.”
“Did you have a question or are you relating some sort of deposition?”
“My point, Mr. Hunt, is that five people knew Mrs. Brakeman signed a new will. Can’t you hold off the reading until it’s found?”
Harry folded his hands around his coffee mug and studied the swirl of cream slowly dissipating into the raw umber liquid. After an excruciating minute, he said, “What if it’s not found?”
“Is there a reason to think it might not be found?”
“Isn’t the fact that it’s missing reason enough?”
“But it’s not—”
“I hope, Miss Tucker, you’re not about to utter the word ‘fair.’” A smirk winked then disappeared. “Fairness has nothing to do with the law.”
“I was going to say conclusive. I know the Sheriff’s looking at her computer records.”
“He needs a warrant for that.”
“Are you saying you’re not letting him look at her computer files?”
“I’m saying he needs a warrant. There are confidential business records in her files.”
My frustration index rose with my indignation. “What do you think, that the sheriff’s department would leak the secret sweet tea recipe?”
He sipped his coffee.
I sat on my hands to keep from tearing my hair out. “Listen, Mr. Hunt, you’re protecting Miss Belvia and I admire that. I’m trying to do the same. It seems a lot of people say they have her interests in mind, but none of us are sharing information.”
“So share. What do you know?” He kept his features mild and his voice even, but the words worried me. They implied there was something to know that I shouldn’t. “What are you doing for Belvia?”
That was the piece of information I couldn’t share. He could tip off the killer unintentionally or deliberately. With all this money at stake, there were other interests to be served. Interests that would pay off later. If anyone could see an endgame, it’d be a lawyer.
Probably why Miss Belvia didn’t trust him.
“Mrs. Brakeman was fixing to commission a series of portraits for Meemaw’s Tea,” I lied. “For her retirement. A gallery of the company presidents. Herself and Della. We were discussing Della’s replacement. Because I study the personality of the sitter before painting, she wanted my opinion on various candidates.”
He cocked his head.
“I can be judgmental. And not in a good way. I’m not proud of it. But Mrs. Brakeman saw it more of an asset than a flaw.”
Harry nodded.
Who knew admitting my failings would be my best cover? “She’d ask me to size everyone up and report back. I plan to finish the assignment, even with her death. Maybe because of her death.”
“And what will you do with this report once you’re done?”
“Give it to her successor, I suppose.”
“Even if your opinion of her replacement is negative? What if her shares go to someone you find disreputable? Perhaps you’d do better giving it to me. Or dropping it all together.”
“I’d rather wait and see what happens.”
“The investigation is still ongoing. You’re familiar with one of the deputies, I believe? The one who was at the house last night.”
“Deputy Luke Harper.”
“And you have strong ties with the sheriff.”
Was there anyone in this town who didn’t know my business? “You could say that.”
“We can trade information. I’d like to know what’s going on in the investigation. I can provide you information about anyone you like.”
This time, I took the deep-thoughts moment with my coffee cup. I couldn’t attempt mental chess with a lawyer. Harry Hunt played closer to the vest than Todd at Am-Pro Poker night. Why did Harry want information on the investigation? For the same reason Belvia did, to keep it out of the press? Or to prevent the police from catching the perp? What if he was the perp?
That thought chilled my coffee.
“I’d like information on yourself. Do you represent her personally and professionally? Do you have a stake in Meemaw’s Tea too?”
“Is that pertinent? Do you think I want to become CEO?”
“I—” I’d been caught in my own web.
Harry stood and collected his briefcase. “Thank you, Miss Tucker. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Wait. Didn’t you want to exchange information?”
His smile did not match the cold set to his eyes. “You told me everything I needed to know.”
Twenty-Three
I grabbed our empty coffee cups and walked them to the bar, reviewing my conversation with Harry Hunt. He knew I wasn’t vetting candidates for Meemaw’s Tea. But did he know I was vetting suspects?
This was why my family didn’t like lawyers. Sneaky sumbitches.
Rosie placed the cups beneath the bar, then rested her arm on top. “You look down in the dumps, honey. Sure you don’t want something to put a pep in your step?”
“That’s real sweet, but it’s early.” I used to take my worries to my favorite bartender, but now Red had fallen to the dark side like almost everyone in this town. Including Todd. I heaved a sigh and slid onto a stool. “Rosie, I’ve got troubles with a capital T.”
She grabbed a fresh cup of coffee and slid it before me. “Man trouble? Job trouble? Or is it varicose veins? They can hit early.”
I flicked a worried glance at my orchid and magenta harlequin tights. “More like trouble knowing who to trust.”
“Sounds like man trouble to me.”
“I trust the man. I don’t trust his family.” I shook my head. “But actually, that’s not what I was talking about.”
“But that was first on your mind.” Rosie patted my hand. “Sorry, honey. Think real hard about how much y
ou love this guy though. You marry him and you marry the family. I speak from experience.”
I buried my head in my hands. “Not what I wanted to hear.”
“Of course not. You’re in love and you want the fairy tale. Don’t you know Prince Charming came with a mother-in-law? Now, what’s the story on the other people you can’t trust?”
I couldn’t speak of Belvia’s possible murder with Rosie, but she could help me with Hazel. Dropping my hands, I stole a glance around the room, then lowered my voice. “I heard Parker Brakeman-Newson hangs out here. Belvia’s grandson.”
Rosie’s drawn-on eyebrows shot to her hairline. “That’s not who you’re dating, is it?”
“Lord, no.” I curled my lip. “I need some intel on Parker.”
“Intel?” Rosie flashed a quick look around the bar. “I’ll see what I can do. Check back tomorrow.”
The house phone rang in the midst of my thank you. Rosie held up a finger and trotted to the back wall to answer. I fished a few dollars from my bag, laid them on the bar, and hopped from my seat. Before I reached the door, Rosie hollered my name.
She had a hand over the receiver and pointed at the phone. “It’s the front desk. Miss Krenzer says there’s a phone call for you. If you want, the hall phone’ll be quieter.” She pointed at the Bloody Mary crowd golf-clapping a tee off.
Thanking her, I left to use the hall phone. In a small recess near the bathrooms, Halo House residents could rest on a comfortable chair next to a sturdy yet delicate-looking table to call their friends. In case you felt like catching a drink at the Last Call and wanted to see who could join you. Or to ask a pal to bring extra Pepcid for Taco Tuesday in the deli.
Another wonderful Halo House amenity.
A Composition in Murder (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 6) Page 17