by Karen Rose
Why would a college student possess correspondence from a firm hired by the over-seventy set? A firm whose junior partner’s photo was on the SUSPECT side of the team’s bulletin board.
She reached out to take the legal-sized page from the stack, then yanked her hand back. These were Bishop’s papers. Part of an investigation. That’s going on in my damn house.
Carefully she slid the page out of the folder. It was a letter to Corinne Longstreet dated two years before, awarding her a financial scholarship on the basis of her essay and in gratitude for her service in the US Army.
Faith stared at the signature as her heart pounded heavily in her ears. She sank into Bishop’s chair, her knees gone weak. No, no, no. It wasn’t possible. But there it was, in black and white.
‘That’s how this is all connected,’ she whispered.
She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring her weak knees as she walked to the conference room and knocked on the door. She didn’t wait for an invitation to enter. ‘Excuse me. I need to show you something. It’s important.’
Deacon was standing at the bulletin board where he’d pinned the letter Jordan had just given them, but he immediately pulled out a chair at the table. ‘Sit down. You’re white as a ghost.’
Faith took the seat he offered and put the paper she’d found on the table. ‘I saw this on your desk, Detective Bishop. I recognized the logo on the letterhead and . . . I took it from the folder with Corinne’s papers. You can yell at me later if you want,’ she added when Bishop opened her mouth, probably to do exactly that. ‘This is a letter to Corinne from Herbert Henson Senior informing Corinne that she’s the recipient of a scholarship. The scholarship was provided by the Joy O’Bannion Foundation. The letter is signed by Barbara O’Bannion.’ Faith exhaled quietly. ‘My grandmother.’
Cincinnati, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 10.30 A.M.
Faith thought that Deacon and Bishop would be shocked. Instead, they seemed almost grim.
‘Ah. The famous Joy O’Bannion Foundation strikes again,’ Bishop murmured.
‘The house reverts to the Foundation if Faith dies without a will or heirs,’ Deacon said.
‘And,’ Bishop added, ‘Jeremy said that Jordan had been skimming from Foundation money twenty-three years ago.’
Faith’s mouth fell open. ‘I never knew that.’
Bishop shrugged. ‘Jeremy said that was why Jordan outed him to their father – to distract his father from listening to Jeremy’s accusations, shortly before your grandfather died.’
‘And Jeremy was disowned,’ Faith added. ‘Jeremy’s accusation against Jordan was probably lost in the turmoil.’ But Jordan’s accusation against Jeremy stuck.
‘The team has mentioned the Foundation, but I’d appreciate a description,’ Isenberg said.
‘Well, my grandparents had eight children, but only four survived infancy – Joy, my mother, and then Jeremy and Jordan. Joy became ill as a child and her care depleted the family savings.’
‘Jeremy says they were poor,’ Deacon said.
‘That may be a relative term,’ Faith said. ‘According to my father, the family could have still lived very comfortably in a normal house, but Tobias – my grandfather –was determined to keep the estate intact. Dad could never respect him for that. When Joy died, they’d spent a lot on doctors and there wasn’t enough left to keep up the house and pay the taxes. So . . . Tobias did something that I’m not sure Gran ever forgave him for. I know my mother never did. Gran’s family had a sizable property north of the city, up by Liberty Township. She was the last of the Corcorans and it all belonged to her – thousands of acres.’
‘That’s all Westchester now,’ Isenberg said. ‘McHouses as far as the eye can see.’
‘Only because Tobias sold her land without asking her. Gran told me about it once. I’d never seen her cry, not even when my mother died, but when she told me about her husband selling her family land, she broke down. She was grief-stricken over Joy’s death at the time and her doctor had her on sedatives. Tobias got her to sign over power of attorney and he sold the land. He never told any of them what he’d done. I don’t think Gran or my mother knew how much they’d spent on Joy’s treatments, and Jordan and Jeremy were too young to understand. They were only five when she died.’
Faith took a deep breath and continued. ‘That land of Gran’s had been meant for my mother, as the surviving female child. My mother found out on her twenty-first birthday that her birthright had been sold. She and Dad were newly married. I was on the way. She was supposed to come into some property and had planned to build there. But she found out that there was no land. It had been sold, part of the money going to pay back taxes on the O’Bannion land, part of it invested to restore the family fortune and the rest used to established the Foundation in Joy’s memory, to help other kids.’
‘So he sold your mother’s birthright to help other children?’ Bishop asked. ‘Why?’
‘He liked being seen as a philanthropist. Maybe he did it out of a real need to remember Joy, I don’t know. My mother said Joy’s death destroyed them all in different ways. My mother was sometimes proud, but mostly resentful, of the Foundation. She knew the sick kids were important, but she wanted some of the money. Tobias didn’t spoil his surviving kids. Even though they were more than flush, they had to pay their own way the day they turned eighteen. Mother got a job in the office at Mount St Mary’s – that’s where she met my dad. He was a seminarian. He eventually chose not to take his vows and to marry her. A few years later, Jeremy married a rich woman who put him through med school.’
‘Della Yarborough,’ Deacon said. ‘Stone and Marcus were hers from a previous marriage.’
‘And then she and Jeremy had Audrey. Jordan got into law school, but after Tobias died, he dropped out and started painting – and taking care of Gran. Jordan was never a solid student and partied way too hard, but I have a hard time believing he filched from the Foundation.’
Deacon lifted a brow in challenge. ‘Because he wouldn’t do that?’
Faith smiled. ‘No. Because it’s very tightly managed by a group outside the family.’
‘By Herbert Henson?’ Deacon asked.
‘Obviously some aspects, like giving it away,’ Faith said, tapping the letter to Corinne. ‘But the Foundation has a board and its own accountant. Tobias ran the show, but when he died, the reins were passed to one of the board members, who’s also dead. The chairman of the board is a voted position. Gran never held a voting position, but she had full control over who got the money in that she signed the checks.’ She tapped the letter again. ‘And the correspondence to recipients. I have a non-voting position on the board as a family member and at some point will be expected to take up Gran’s duties of check-signing and correspondence too, I guess.’
‘Why you?’ Bishop asked. ‘Why not Jordan?’
‘Gran stipulated it in her will. I think she worried about Jordan. His drinking, especially.’
‘Do Jordan and Jeremy have positions on the board?’ Isenberg asked.
‘Jordan has a non-voting position, like mine. Jeremy was barred even from that.’
Bishop looked thoughtful. ‘What’s the net worth of the Foundation?’
‘Five million, sometimes a little more. Depends on performance of the stock portfolio. Anyway, when he died, Tobias caused a big stir by leaving all the family money that wasn’t already in the Foundation—’
‘To the Foundation,’ Deacon finished. ‘Jeremy told us that Jordan was pretty irked.’
‘So was my mother. She and Dad fought about it. I can remember lying in bed and hearing them through the wall between our bedrooms in Gran’s house. They were saying terrible things. It’s my last real memory of my parents together.’ She frowned and pushed it from her mind. ‘At any rate, nobody got nuthin’ out of Tobias. Not even my grandmother, really. Tobias had set up a trust for her, which paid her a generous monthly allowance until the day she died. At that time, any money left in the tr
ust went back into the Foundation. My grandmother told me that she tried to contest the will a few times, but Henson Senior wasn’t able to help her. She hated being given an allowance like she was a child, especially since the money came from the sale of her land.’
‘So you have no access to the actual money in the Foundation?’ Isenberg said. ‘Then that can’t be why someone’s trying to kill you.’
‘True,’ Faith said. ‘I have no access to the money, but I have access to something better – the list of recipients. I hope Corinne was the only victim with a connection, but in the event she’s not, the recipient list might identify some of the other victims.’
Isenberg nodded, respect in her eyes. ‘Smart. How soon can you get the list?’
‘As soon as someone can take me to Henson’s office.’
‘If the Hensons are involved, they aren’t going to just hand over a victim list,’ Bishop said. ‘And if we go in half-cocked, we could scare him into running.’
Faith shook her head. ‘Any move to bar me from the list would attract the attention of the board. If you go in with a warrant, it’ll just get everyone all heated up. Let me ask.’
Deacon sat back. ‘All right, we ask. But we’ll also start the DA’s office drafting a warrant, just in case they give you the runaround. I’ll take you to Henson’s as soon as we’re finished here. Scarlett, you’re working with the sketch artist today – getting Roza’s face from Arianna and the Maguire mystery lady’s face from the woman in the office next door to theirs. Adam?’
‘The victim in the grocery store parking lot survived the night, but she’s in a coma. No one’s reported her missing yet. I’ve got copies of her photo and a list of every veterinary office in the tri-state area for the uniforms to canvass. I’m also looking at dog parks, kennels and feed stores. ID’ing her will give us her vehicle make and home address, in case he’s hiding there.’
‘Good,’ Deacon said. ‘Vince, you’re with Sophie today?’
‘Not till noon. I have a ton of stuff to do in the lab. I’ll run some tests on your letter, too. See if the inks and paper match with the uncle’s story.’
Deacon ignored Faith’s surprise. ‘And also this.’ He gave Tanaka the cell phone that Jordan had given Faith. ‘Make sure this is clean.’
Faith frowned. ‘And maybe give me back my iPhone that you took on Monday night?’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Tanaka promised.
Faith looked up at the bulletin board. ‘You’ve got Peter Combs’s picture up there, but do you still consider him a suspect?’
‘Yes,’ Deacon said. ‘Certainly not the mastermind, since the crimes go back too far. But he could be a hired thug. Scarlett, where is Detective Vega’s investigation? She have any luck with Combs’s girlfriend?’
‘Not yet. The girlfriend’s lawyer wants to deal her down on the possession charges, and now the DA is involved and everyone is posturing. She knows we’re growing desperate.’
‘I’ll give her LT another call and reiterate our level of desperation,’ Isenberg said icily.
‘We also still need his souvenirs,’ Adam said. ‘He’s got them there. You know he does. Faith’s recipient list may help us ID victims, but finding their belongings might too. Their families deserve to know what happened to them.’
‘I remember a few hiding places,’ Faith said. ‘If you want me to go to the house and try.’
‘I don’t,’ Deacon said. ‘Not unless we don’t have another choice. You are a target everywhere you go, and unfortunately, everyone around you is too.’ Her wince made him feel lower than dirt. He sighed. ‘Vince, aren’t you planning to X-ray the walls?’
‘Yes, though the X-ray equipment works differently – and more slowly – than Sophie’s ground-penetrating radar. It could take us all day to do one wall. If Faith can remember anything specific, we might cut that time considerably.’
‘You could just knock down the damn walls,’ Deacon said curtly.
‘We could – tomorrow,’ Vince said. ‘But not until Sophie finishes scanning the floor.’
Deacon scowled. ‘Fine, but Vince, if Faith goes out to that house, any of your people on site must wear vests and helmets. And I want to be there.’
‘Everyone should have been wearing vests and helmets already,’ Isenberg said. ‘I’ll begin the family notifications of the dead we’ve identified. The brass agrees with me that we can’t keep the names back any longer. The families deserve to know.’
Deacon hadn’t realized how much he’d dreaded telling the families until Isenberg took the burden. ‘Thank you, Lynda. So we all have our orders. Faith, let’s visit Henson.’
Miami, Florida, Wednesday 5 November, 11.15 A.M.
‘Vega! Get in here.’
Detective Catalina Vega winced. The shout had come from her LT’s office. She gathered the files she’d been reading and took them with her into Davies’s office. ‘I’m here.’
Davies pointed to a chair in front of his desk. ‘I just hung up with Lieutenant Isenberg in Cincinnati, who tore me a new one. Can you guess why?’
Cat wanted to scream. ‘Because I haven’t interviewed Peter Combs’s girlfriend yet.’
‘Right on one. Care to tell me why not?’
‘Because the girlfriend’s attorney figures that if I want to talk to her, she’s got to have something I want. He’s told her not to cooperate until the DA drops her possession charge. She was found with almost a half-kilo of coke in her car, so of course the DA said no. I can’t get anything out of her until the DA gives me something to work with.’
‘Isenberg thinks that if Combs is involved in this – and she’s not certain that he is – it’s as a stooge or hired muscle. She wants to know if she can eliminate him entirely.’ Davies leaned back in his chair. ‘So tell me what you know.’
‘I know that the car was tampered with by a guy driving a white van early Sunday morning. Same style van that tried to run Faith off the road three weeks before that.’
‘And shot at her?’
‘Yes. And now I know something more from looking through these prison visitation logs.’ She held up the folder she’d been reading. ‘Combs was visited in prison by Charlie Frye, Faith’s husband at the time, shortly after Combs claimed that Faith was having an affair with him. I don’t think Charlie believed him, but the accusation was handy for him in the divorce.’
‘When did Combs shack up with the girlfriend he has right now?’
‘He met her in prison – she was his pen pal.’
Davies rolled his eyes. ‘For the love of . . . Who’s the DA who’s gumming up your works?’
‘John Scheiderman.’
‘Call him right now, tell him you’re arresting the girlfriend for conspiracy to murder Faith. Don’t ask the girlfriend for any favors. People like her and her lawyer smell blood in the water and circle. Put her on the defensive.’ He pushed the phone across his desk. ‘Call. Get the DA to officially charge her with attempted murder. She’ll talk.’
Cincinnati, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 11.30 A.M.
‘Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,’ Faith said as she and Deacon were admitted into Herbert Henson Senior’s office by his secretary.
Henson studied them from behind his desk, gesturing for them to sit. ‘The unmarked car outside my house was unnecessary, Agent Novak. If you’d wanted to talk to me, you should have come up and rung the damn bell. You frightened my wife.’
‘I’m sorry, sir. That was certainly not my intent. My intent was to find your grandson. I expected that he’d call me back yesterday, but he hasn’t. He is back from his client, is he not?’
Henson looked uncomfortable. ‘No, he has not returned.’
That doesn’t look too good for Herbert Henson the Third, Faith thought.
‘We have evidence that he was not personally overseeing the semi-annual maintenance of the O’Bannion house,’ Deacon said. ‘A witness says that he dropped off the key at Maguire and Sons and went to play golf. I don’t t
hink that behavior is considered “unimpeachable”.’
Henson’s lips thinned. ‘I’ll call him again, Agent Novak. Is there anything else?’
‘Yes,’ Faith said. ‘I’d like a list of all the recipients of Foundation scholarship funds, from the very beginning.’
‘Why?’
‘You’ve heard about the local college student who was found near the house? She’d been held there. Her friend is still missing. The missing woman’s name is Corinne Longstreet and she was a recipient of a scholarship from the Joy Foundation.’
Henson’s face blanched. ‘Surely you can’t be suggesting that Ms Longstreet was abducted because of her connection to the Foundation? Or that I am a suspect? Is that why you had an unmarked car in front of my house?’
‘Agent Novak has a car outside your house because he is erring on the side of caution. If Ms Longstreet were your daughter, you’d want him to do the same for her, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes, I suppose I would.’ Henson swallowed hard. ‘Of course I would.’
‘I thought so. May we have the list?’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll print it up for you.’
Faith squeezed Deacon’s knee as they waited for Henson to find the file in his computer.
‘You’re right,’ Henson said heavily, as if he’d hoped she was wrong. ‘Miss Longstreet is a Foundation recipient.’ A printer whirred to life.
‘Who else has access to this list?’ Deacon asked as pages printed.
‘Only my secretary. The board approves applications without seeing the applicants’ names. They read only their essays to minimize any bias.’
‘I know Gran signed the checks to the applicants, but who mailed the checks?’ Faith asked. ‘They’d have to have their names too.’