When George found Hollis in the firm’s library, she was surrounded by stacks of folders, newspaper clippings, and law books. She was tapping away at her laptop, plowing through the records and information the Fallen Angels had collected one last time.
“Still nothing?” he asked.
She scowled. “Frances is going to win this one, but I know she’s hiding assets.”
“Can’t you get a continuance?” George glanced at a page from the top of the stack.
Hollis shook her head. “No, Brian already had one filed. After Frances protested, the court made it clear that they were not inclined to hold back distributing the estate for a second time, based on a hunch.”
George stood. “Then, Counselor, you’re now facing a lawyer’s first reality check. You win some and you lose some—you just hope you win more than you lose.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “But George, I’m this close to figuring it out.” She put her thumb and forefinger a half inch apart.
“Well, let me get out of the way of your thinking process.” George moved toward the door. “You may still want to ask for a continuance, based on suspected hidden assets. Maybe what you’re looking for isn’t in a law book.”
She nodded absently and flipped open to another file. George gave her a sympathetic look and left.
When Tiffany came in thirty minutes later, Hollis was still deep into her notes.
“Hollis, the appraiser is here to look at the Wallace’s first editions. Shall I put him in the small conference room?”
She looked up. “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll be right there.”
A note on the edge of a sticky caught her eye. She’d written it at the Fallen Angels meeting when Rena reported back on Frances’ mob connections. Now, she marked it in yellow to remind her to look at it again when she got back from meeting with the appraiser. She picked up the Turneo first editions.
“Thank you so much for coming to my office,” Hollis offered her hand to shake. “You saved me a lot of time.”
She pushed the five books across the table for him to examine.
“Not a problem. My next appointment is in this building,” he said. “The Franchise Tax Board offices are on the seventh floor. My quarterly tax payment is due. You know, sometimes I think I should just move my business to Nevada—no state taxes.”
Hollis smiled and nodded in agreement, but then she frowned. “What did you say?”
“Some businesses have to pay quarterly tax payments—every three months. You know, so the Franchise Tax Board can get their money before the end of year.”
She said softly, “Yes, I do know.”
Hollis’ mind raced over past conversations with Brian and Frances while the appraiser, wearing a special eye loupe, went through every page in the books. Finally he raised his head.
“I’m going to write my number down,” he said. “I don’t want to be influenced by anything you might say.”
He scribbled a number on a piece of paper and put it off to the side.
“In my expert opinion, these books are in good condition for works almost ninety years old. Turneo was very popular in the twenties before alcoholism did him in at the age of thirty-seven. These books are the sum total of his work. He also wrote a few short—”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” Hollis said, wanting to get back to her office, “but I have a time constraint I’m working under, and it would be helpful if you could .…” She didn’t want to be the one to finish the sentence.
He looked at her with understanding. “You want me to cut to the chase?”
She smiled and nodded.
“Well, while Turneo was popular in literary circles, he wasn’t a Herman Melville or a Mark Twain. So, even though he wrote similar period pieces, his books aren’t as valued.” He pulled off his monocle. “To a collector they could be worth more than the market value. I can think of one Turneo collector off the top of my head who might be interested. What did the other appraisal come in at?”
“Ten to fifteen thousand, on the high end.”
The appraiser nodded and reached across the table for his piece of paper. He slid it across to Hollis. It read, ‘five to fifteen thousand.’
It wasn’t about the first editions.
“The earlier estimates are valid.” He packed away his monocle. “I think you have your answer, Ms. Morgan.”
Hollis sat in her office, deep in thought. She was waiting for Frances to arrive and collect her copy of the trust filing papers. While the final pieces of the story were falling into place, the picture formed was missing its core. The first editions were legitimately valued. Todd had not been cheated and Frances was far shy of the dollars needed for a casino.
Tiffany buzzed on the intercom.
Frances, seated in the conference room, appeared to be dressed for battle. She carried a black patent-leather tote and wore a black pantsuit with a red-striped blouse and matching red shoes. Her hair was pulled back into a low chignon.
“Hello, I’m in a hurry. Do you have my copy and something for me to sign?” Frances sat across the table facing the window, sunlight partially shining on her face.
Hollis pulled the papers out of her folder but let them rest on top.
“I know you did it, Frances. I don’t know how you did it, but it’s been about you the whole time,” she said, shaking her head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Frances’ voice took on a hard edge. “Still getting those hang-ups? I know it would keep me on edge. Truth is, I have other things to do today. Let me sign and give me my copy. Then I’ll be on my way. I’ll see you in court tomorrow.”
Hollis’ jaw tightened and she snapped, “What happened, Frances? You were living an average life with Jeffrey. It might not have been exciting, but it was comfortable. He obviously let you continue your gambling addiction. Although I can imagine that for someone with Jeffrey’s moral compass, it might have gnawed at him. What happened?”
Frances smirked. “Just give me my papers.”
Hollis took a deep breath. “I know you’re hiding assets. I know you must have jumped for joy when Brian confessed and killed himself.”
Frances glared. “You have no idea.” She gave a hollow laugh then looked quickly around the room. “Is this office bugged?”
Hollis wanted to kick herself. Bugging the room would have been a great idea.
“Once you sign this paper and I file it in court, you'll be adding on several other felony fraud charges to your already growing list of prison years,” Hollis said. “You had Todd killed, didn’t you? Did he discover your secret?” Hollis tapped the trust papers but didn’t move to hand them over.
Frances half stood and grabbed across the table for the sheets. “Give me the form.”
Her abrupt movement caused her purse to fall from her shoulder, emptying it in a rush across the table. Hollis leaned over, eyed the contents, and smiled. She pushed envelopes, coins, and a makeup bag toward Frances, who was frantically scooping items back into her tote.
Hollis pointedly handed over one of the runaway envelopes.
Frances reached for it, her face paling as she slipped the envelope back into her purse. She looked Hollis straight in the eye as she slung the bag over her shoulder. “Thanks, I’ve got it from here. There’s nothing that can’t be explained. Is this where I see the error of my ways and confess?”
“That’s up to you, Frances.” She slid over the papers.
Frances’ voice was cold. “It’s not going to happen, Ms. Morgan.” Frances signed quickly, took her copy and returned the signed page. “You’re going to lose.”
Hollis smiled.
No, I don’t think so.
Hollis rushed to her desk and quickly drafted a new court order. She convinced one of the firm’s clerks to run it to the courthouse before the end of the day deadline.
Next she put in a call to Gene. He responded with his usual assurance.
�
�I’m lovin’ this.” She could feel his glee through the wire. “I may not get back to you until late, but I’ll be at the Fallen Angels meeting tonight.”
The rest of the day she spent getting ready for her morning court appearance.
She was a few minutes late for the Fallen Angels meeting and was surprised to see everyone there.
“We’re all here, Hollis.” Miller greeted her. “Even Richard.”
“Very funny, crane man.” Richard, looking nonchalant, glanced at his watch. “I won’t be able to stay long, though.”
Hollis smiled, wondering who got the short straw and had to twist Richard’s arm.
Rena reminded her to dress for a photo op. “You want to appear confident and credible.”
“It’s only a hearing, not a trial,” Hollis said.
“We’ll take what we can get.” Gene smiled.
For the next few minutes she quickly took them through the dress rehearsal for her first court appearance as an attorney.
Chapter 34
The courtroom was almost empty. There were a few small huddles of people, apparently waiting their turns. The Fallen Angels sat in the back of the courtroom, chatting among themselves. George had opted to sit in the viewer’s section behind the railing and the attorney’s table. Hollis appreciated that he didn’t take the seat next to her. It might be interpreted as a sign of lack of confidence.
Frances Wallace sat across the aisle wearing dark glasses. Her lips formed a thin line of distaste.
All this Hollis took in. She was glad she’d finally convinced John not to come. He’d have to leave his seminar early to catch a flight, and he’d only make her more nervous. She promised to regale him with anecdotes over dinner that evening.
She’d had to beg him. “Please, John, just this once, let me get through this without any more spectators than I can handle. The Fallen Angels are going to be there, and that’s bad enough.”
“All the more reason someone who loves you unconditionally should be there, too.” He held her by the shoulders and gazed lovingly into her eyes.
But in the end he gave in.
“I know you’d give me the same space,” he said.
She pulled out the folder Gene had dropped off at the office early that morning and laid it on top of the others stacked in front of her.
The bailiff made the announcement for all to rise.
Judge Messina entered, wearing his black robe and an expensive looking sky-blue tie and matching shirt. He looked out over the courtroom and asked for the docket.
“Let’s get started, I’ve got a long day,” he said picking up a folder. He called out, “The estate of Jeffrey Wallace. Is the executor or administrator here?”
“I am, your honor. Hollis Morgan.” She stepped forward in front of the table. “Unfortunately, the original executer took his life last week; however, I was authorized as co-executor before his death. I’m an … an attorney.”
For a long moment the judge peered over his glasses at her, but said nothing. He picked up the file given him by the court clerk.
“I see Mr. Ravel is in the court,” the judge said. “What are you doing here, George?”
George smiled and stood. “Just viewing, Your Honor. Ms. Morgan is one of our best lawyers. I’m interested in the outcome of the hearing.”
Hollis breathed a sigh of relief that George didn’t mention it was her first court appearance.
The judge peered at them both. “The outcome of a straightforward trust and will … what could be interesting about that? Well, we’d better get started. Ms. Morgan?”
Hollis cleared her throat and licked her lips. “Your honor, as it happens there is nothing straightforward about this trust. Mr. Wallace was murdered six weeks ago, and it was only five days ago that it was discovered that his son and executor, Brian Wallace, committed the killing.”
Surprised, the judge took off his glasses as if to hear her better.
He looked down at the paperwork and asked, “Is that when you were declared the executor?”
Hollis shook her head. “No, Your Honor. A few weeks prior to his death, Brian Wallace asked me to sign on as co-executor and as such, to verify his concerns about his stepmother, Frances Wallace.”
Behind her, Hollis heard the gasp from Frances. She could almost feel the plunge of the imaginary dagger in her back.
“Brian Wallace suspected that Frances Wallace, who’d filed for divorce shortly after the trust was drawn and funded, was up to something, but he didn’t know what. He retained our firm to find out.”
Judge Messina queried, “The trust has modest holdings. Did he think she was hiding assets?”
Hollis nodded. “Yes, but after spending much time searching, my associates and I could find nothing amiss except for a lot of little things that weren't quite right.”
The judge looked past Hollis at Frances and then back. “Ms. Morgan, I must admit this is not the usual story I get in this court. But unfortunately I must urge you to wrap things up. I have here your petition asking for a continuance. Is that because you are looking for hidden assets?”
Frances stood. “A continuance? Please, Your Honor, there are no hidden assets. Ms. Morgan has irrationally pursued some vague notion that my late husband has—”
The judge hit the gavel. “Mrs. Wallace, this is my courtroom, and only I can speak unless I ask for someone else to speak. Since I did not ask you, sit down.” He turned back to Hollis. “Ms. Morgan, I asked you the question.”
“Yes, Your Honor, that was my intent. However, I don’t think I’ll need the continuance because since my filing yesterday I discovered the missing asset.” Hollis came forward with a single piece of paper and handed it to the judge.
The courtroom was silent.
The judge quickly scanned the sheet.
“Ms. Morgan, would you like to ask Mrs. Wallace to take the stand?” He motioned toward Frances, “Or, would you prefer that continuance?”
Hollis took a quick glance at George, who gave her a slight nod of his head and then he got up and left the room.
“Yes, Your Honor, I call Frances Wallace to the stand.”
Frances’ heels clicked as she walked to the stand and took a seat. Even though her expression was deadpan, the muscles in her jaw flexed and tightened.
“We will swear you in, Mrs. Wallace,” the judge said.
Frances stood and repeated the oath.
“Your turn, Ms. Morgan.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Hollis replied confidently. “Mrs. Wallace, what is the recorded date of your trust that is under consideration in this court today?”
Frances’ impatience was evident. “January twenty-sixth.”
Hollis stood in front of her. “Did you purchase a California lottery ticket after that date?”
Frances turned pale, and the blood-red lipstick she was wearing shone like neon.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“What is the date on the lottery ticket you purchased?” Hollis asked, staring at her.
Frances’ eyes narrowed with hatred.
“You must answer, Mrs. Wallace,” the judge said.
Frances licked her lips. “I purchased it on March sixteenth.”
Hollis nodded. She’d had a hunch about when Frances had bought the ticket. “But that isn’t quite true, is it? The purchaser was Jeffrey Wallace, who once a week bought a lottery ticket from the same location and turned it over to you. Isn’t that true?”
“He purchased it for me,” Frances retorted through clenched teeth.
Hollis ignored her. “Isn’t it true that the ticket purchased on March sixteenth hit, Mrs. Wallace? It hit for twenty-eight million dollars, isn’t that right? And didn’t you file for divorce two days later?”
“Ms. Morgan, you may only ask one question at a time, giving the witness time to answer,” the judge said.
Hollis nodded, reminding herself to breathe. “Ms. Wallace, didn’t you file for divorce in Nevada two days after the lottery ticket y
ou held hit the jackpot?”
Frances said nothing, but her eyes were darting back and forth as if reading the writing on the wall. Finally, she looked down at her hands.
“Yes, I filed for divorce.” Her voice quavered.
Hollis went back to the table and picked up a sheet of paper. “California lottery rules specify that you have six months to claim your prize. Three months had already passed since the trust was created. You had to hold off claiming it until after your divorce was final and it became your separate property. So you only had three months to make sure it wasn’t a joint asset. No one would be the wiser, including your husband. When he was killed, you must have thought you were on a lucky streak.” Hollis paused, quickly glancing up at the judge, who was pointedly looking at her. She realized she hadn’t asked a question. “Isn’t that so?”
Frances rubbed her forehead. “I didn’t kill Jeffrey.”
Hollis walked back to the table. “No, you didn’t kill Jeffrey Wallace. Brian Wallace did. But you did withhold the fact of the lottery winnings to everyone affected. Isn’t that true, Mrs. Wallace?”
Frances’ nose was turning an unattractive red.
“You must answer, Mrs. Wallace,” said the judge.
“I only sent in the form. I hadn’t collected the winnings. It wasn’t verified, so I didn’t know for sure.” Frances gripped the edge of the witness box.
“This brings us to the murder of Todd Wallace.” Hollis turned and caught the glance of a grim-looking George, who had returned to his seat. “You already had plans for the money. You saw a new casino in Nevada as an investor opportunity with your name on it. But your new partners don’t play around. They wanted absolute assurances that the trust would be recorded and you could come up with your share, or else. Is that correct?”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to. Maybe being an ex-con has twisted your view of honest people.” Frances smirked.
“Or else ….” Ignoring the taunt, Hollis turned to face the judge and continued speaking. “Or else your stepson, Todd Wallace, would pay a high price. He’d found out about the lottery ticket and wanted a cut for his silence. But later he acquired a conscience. The day he died, he was going to tell me about the ticket. However, you and your friends couldn’t afford to let that happen.” Hollis looked up at the frowning judge and remembered his admonition. “So he had to be stopped. Isn’t that right?”
The Return of the Fallen Angels Book Club (A Hollis Morgan Mystery 3) Page 24