Desperate for Death (A Kelly O'Connell Mystery Book 6)

by Judy Alter

  “Hi, Benjamin,” I said when his assistant finally put the call through. “I would not want you to think I’m anxious for my money or anything like that.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I know I could do a lot for my family with that money,” he said with a laugh. But it was a forced laugh.

  “I’m not quite as removed from this case as you may think. I’m pretty sure I know who’s contesting the will, and I know she’s going to be in a mental hospital. Is she still judged capable of bringing suit?”

  I could hear caution in the silence. Finally, he said, “I don’t know how you know that, and I don’t particularly want to know. But the person you inquired about has appointed a surrogate to represent her.”

  “Can you tell me his or her name?”

  A long sigh came over the phone. “Charles Sanford.”

  The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to come together, though they still didn’t make sense. It was like finding a piece that you knew belonged to the white horse in the western jigsaw puzzle but you didn’t know where to put it. Was it the nose or the tail?

  I thought quickly. “Have you met him?”

  “No, we have an appointment this afternoon.”

  “Would you do me the favor of describing him after that?”

  “I suppose so. Kelly, you’re not going to appear in court, are you?” His voice sounded plaintive.

  “No, Benjamin, but if Charles Sanford is who I think he is, he won’t be in court either.”

  ****

  Benjamin Cruze called me at home late that afternoon, while I was fixing supper. “I met Charles Sanford this afternoon,” he said. “Seems like an upstanding, forthright guy.”

  “What does he look like?” My question was almost a demand.

  “Late forties, thinning hair, beginning to go gray. Do you know him?”

  No way was this the man who pulled a knife on me. Unless he had an awfully good makeup artist. “And on behalf of the person he’s representing, he’s contesting the will?”

  Benjamin hesitated. “Yes. On grounds that Mr. Martin wasn’t in his right mind when he made out the last will, eliminating a large portion of the…other person’s share…who had previously been the principal beneficiary.”

  Why are we pussyfooting around here? Why can’t we just say that Robert Martin disowned his daughter, Jo Ellen North, after she killed my ex-husband and tried to kill me? And after he learned his wife had killed his pregnant lover and Jo Ellen, as a child, had witnessed that and kept it secret all these years.

  “So now what happens?” I asked.

  “A probate court will hear the case. I imagine Mr. Sanford will appear.”

  “Let me know the date and time, please, Benjamin. I intend to appear after all. With my lawyer.” Terrell Johnson had no idea what I was about to get him into. I fleetingly thought I better invite him to dinner and give him the backstory.

  “Are you sure?” Benjamin asked. “I thought you weren’t all that interested in the money.”

  “I am now,” I said. “Jo Ellen North nearly killed me, and she killed my ex-husband. And I see no reason to back off now.”

  That left him speechless for a few moments, and then he managed, “I’ll get back to you.”

  With a brusque “Thanks,” I hung up the phone. And then I sat and pondered. Why did I want that money so badly? Mike and I made enough between us to keep our family comfortable. I didn’t think the new baby would add that much financial strain. Still, half of Robert Martin’s estate would probably buy a lot of diapers and baby clothes and all those cute things I hadn’t been able to buy the girls…and still leave a hefty chunk for college funds. But we would be just fine without it. So why was I willing to fight?

  I didn’t want to think of myself as a vengeful person, and yet maybe that was it. Jo Ellen North had done some awful things to me—did I want revenge? I didn’t like that idea and pushed it away. Did I think Robert Martin owed me something? Surely not. All I’d done was put his daughter in jail and push his wife over to the far edge of senility.

  It occurred to me that maybe the Lord wanted me to have that money to pay it forward. Maybe I should put some away for the children’s college and give the rest to the Edna Gladney Adoption Agency—after all, that was where Sheila had been born and it was an agency that could have helped Marie Winton when she found herself pregnant with Robert Martin’s child, not that she wanted help or knew she needed it. But I was afraid to attribute my determination to such altruistic emotions.

  I picked up the phone and called Terrell Johnson.

  When he was on the line—I loved that he answered his own phone—I asked if he was busy for supper the next night. Instead of saying yea or nay, he asked, “What’s up, Kelly? Not that I don’t enjoy dinner at your house, but there’s usually something you haven’t told me.”

  “I need your professional services, and I’ll pay your going rate. I want to explain it to you, with Mike present.”

  “As always you have me curious…but, let’s see. Ms. Lorna is out of the picture, unfortunately. What else can it be?”

  “Just be at the house at six,” I said. “No big surprise this time, but I’ll need your expertise in probate court.”

  “I’m no probate expert,” he stammered.

  “You’ll be a lot better than the twerp I have to shut down,” I said. “But there’s a long back story, and you might as well have a couple of drinks while we talk about it.”

  “Now, I’m curious. As always. I’ll be there,” and he hung up.

  I texted Mike to make sure my plan was okay with him and thought about what to cook. Couldn’t believe I was worrying about tomorrow night’s dinner. I decided on make-your-own pizza tonight and chicken tetrazzini tomorrow night. Made a list and headed to the grocery store right after lunch. Keisha assured me, with no little irony, that she was perfectly capable of running the office.

  Turns out she wasn’t. In fact, she lost it after she came back from lunch and found a note slipped under the door, my name crudely lettered on the envelope. Inside, one of those untraceable notes read, “Your older daughter sure is pretty. Too bad she has to sit alone and wait for you to pick her up after school.” Keisha called me immediately, nearly screaming in my ear as I stood in the pasta aisle.

  “You got to come see this right now. Leave them blasted groceries. I’ll go get them tomorrow.”

  Alarmed, I asked what was wrong. Were the girls okay?

  “Far as I know, but you come quick.”

  I did that, leaving my basket of groceries and explaining that an emergency called me. A manager assured me he’d restock the groceries, frozen items first. I didn’t give a fig about the groceries as I drove too fast to get back to the office and arrived breathless with fear. Keisha was not given to panic.

  She made me sit down and then handed me the note, along with latex gloves (we’d learned through bitter experience to keep them on hand). “I’ve called Mike. He’s on his way.”

  Before I could even read the note, I knew it was like one of my worst dreams come true if she’d called Mike. Keisha acted on that sixth sense, and this time it told her Maggie was in real danger. My eyes didn’t linger long over the words. “Call the school. Have them make sure Maggie’s in class and have her wait in the office after school.”

  “Already done,” she said, but I noticed she was wringing her hands.

  Mike burst in and nearly grabbed the note out of my shaking hands. “I’ll go get her.”

  I shook my head. “Mike, I love you, but she’ll be embarrassed if a policeman comes to get her from school. Who knows what her classmates might think?”

  “That doesn’t matter right now.”

  I spoke slowly. “I don’t think this is a warning for today. It’s another harassment to let us know he knows all about our lives. I’ll go get her, and Keisha, could you get Em?”

  She nodded, and Mike asked, “You have your gun?”

  “Yes, but I can’t take it into
the school.”

  He rubbed his head. “I could.”

  “No, we’re not going to panic over this, and we’re not going to scare the girls. I’ll go get her, and I’ll be very careful. I’ll call when we’re all safely home.”

  He looked doubtful but confiscated the note and stood to leave when I said one more thing.

  “We’ve got to figure out who Charles Sanford and Greg Davis are. I was sure they’re one and the same, but now I know they’re not. If there are two people, that might be the answer. Sanford is going to represent Jo Ellen North when her father’s will goes to probate. Shouldn’t he be hiding from me? Isn’t there an arrest warrant out for him? But then again, it’s not the same Charles Sanford.”

  Mike shook his head as though to clear it. “Too many players. If Sanford is the one who attacked you, we’ll nail him the minute he walks into that courtroom. But you’ll have to identify him. What if it’s not the same man?”

  “How many Charles Sanfords can there be?” I asked.

  “The question is how many men can use that name?”

  I went to get Maggie. Had to find a parking place, away from the pickup line, so I was a bit late in getting her. She slumped on the bench in the principal’s office. At the secretary’s request, I signed her out and put an arm around her as we walked out of the office. She shied away.

  “Now what’s going on,” she asked, impatience giving her voice a harsh edge.

  “There’s sort of been a threat,” I said.

  “Against me?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, Mom. What have you done? I can’t wait in the office every day for you. Everyone will laugh at me.”

  “What if Keisha picks you up?”

  “They’d think my nanny was coming for me.”

  It was the first ever time I’d heard anything like a racial comment, even distinction, from her, and I was suddenly furious. We were all worried about her safety, and she was worried about what other kids would think. I took a deep breath and said, “Let’s go for a frozen yogurt.”

  She didn’t say yes or no, so I called Keisha, told her what we were doing, and headed for the yogurt parlor we favored. Once there, I told Maggie carefully, word for word, about the note. Then I said, “All of us are desperately trying to bring this to a conclusion, Maggie. I didn’t bring it on us…unless you want to go back to the afternoon Jo Ellen North tried to kill me and you girls saved me.”

  “But, Mom, it never stops. You always get into some new trouble. You’ve promised it won’t happen, but here we are again.”

  I played with my napkin. “I know, and I know promising one more time isn’t much good. But I think when this baby comes, I’ll be a stay-at-home mom and maybe things really will change. In the meantime, we’ve got to see this one through. And there just might be a bonus in it.”

  “A bonus?”

  I smiled just a bit. “Think of something you really want that’s not usually in the budget.”

  “My own iPad!”

  “May just happen. Hang in with me.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  We began a new routine. Keisha still picked Em up, but Maggie waited inside in the office until I came to get her…then she complained bitterly all the way home. Other kids would think she was a runaway, a truant; they were talking about her behind her back. I tried to listen patiently without arguing with her. She never knew that I broke all rules and carried my gun into the school. What if Greg Davis jumped us as we came out? Then again, maybe he’d had enough of my gun.

  Keisha had gone to the one-day gun-safety course and passed with a score almost as good as mine, which gave me a twinge of unwelcome jealousy. When I accused her of cheating—tongue-in-cheek—she said, “José been giving me hints.” When I suggested she didn’t need to carry it to pick up Em, she said righteously, “Now that I have a permit to carry, I’m carrying it all the time. May even get myself one of those fancy purses with a hidden sleeve that makes it easy to get the gun out. There’ve been times I would have been glad to have it in the office.”

  I couldn’t resist. “You going to carry it at your wedding?”

  “Naw. There’ll be lots of armed police officers around.”

  I didn’t tell her I doubted they’d be armed.

  “That reminds me,” she said, “the wedding’s in two weeks and two days. We best get serious about planning.”

  A little late I thought, but it was true—January was moving right along. “Okay, what do we need to do?”

  She whipped out a sheet of legal paper. “I got a list.” Not at all to my surprise, she had everything covered. Wedding cake—Claire. Minister—her uncle. Music—some boys she went to high school with had a jazz band but assured her they could play the wedding march. They weren’t so sure about the traditional recessional, the piece I loved so much. Food—Mona’s Bun Appetit cart, Peter to provide sides. Drinks—Peter. Flowers—well, she hadn’t thought about that, wanted a bouquet of red roses, with small pink roses for her attendants—that would be Maddie and Em. She didn’t much believe in corsages but she thought one would please her mom and then she best get one for José’s mom.

  “Claire will take care of flowers,” I said, making a mental note to request a bouquet for the cake table. We decided against flowers for individual tables.

  “What have I forgotten?”

  Other than the fact that my daughter was in danger, someone else’s daughter was missing, and I was receiving threats, she hadn’t left much out. I asked if she knew what her mom and José’s mom would wear, and she said, “My mom always wears purple on state occasions. I don’t know about his mom.”

  With a closet full of beige clothes, I decided that would be my color, brightened with a scarf. I didn’t have time to order a dress, which I might have done if I’d seen one I fancied. And I had no inclination to go mall shopping. No worry about Mike—he’d wear a suit but I knew he’d have his gun tucked in his belt or in a shoulder holster.

  Keisha was silent a long time, staring out the window and apparently collecting her thoughts. “Uh, Kelly, there is one other thing. I sort of hoped you’d bring it up….”

  I wracked my brain. What could she be talking about? Finally I looked at her and said, “Help me out.”

  “That shower you were going to give me. I know we messed things up by hurrying the wedding and all, but ….

  “Of course! But in two weeks, when do we have time for a shower?”

  “Well, I was hoping you’d change it to a rehearsal….”

  “Oh, the night before the wedding?”

  “Not exactly. We’re taking a week off you know for the honeymoon, so José’s got to pick up some extra shifts, and he’s working that night. And, of course, he can’t see me the day of the wedding…that’s bad luck.” Now her words were all coming in a rush, and I knew she had everything planned in her mind. “Could we do a rehearsal brunch on Saturday?”

  My mind catalogued breakfast casseroles—I’d seen some recipes—and mimosas and Bloody Mary drinks, coffee cake….yes, it was doable, but just barely if I started planning now. Maggie and Em would help me with festive decorations. “Of course we can do that. Just draw up a guest list.”

  “Just the regulars, plus the minister and my momma and José’s parents.”

  “Where are you staying the night before so José doesn’t see you? Your mom’s house?”

  “Lord no, Kelly. Momma’s gonna be so nervous she’d drive me right through the ceiling. I’m staying in your guest house.”

  Something else to clean and decorate. Suddenly I was tired. The next day was Friday, when I could stay home and make plans and lists and call Claire for help. My mind couldn’t quite grasp guns at a wedding, a brunch wedding rehearsal, and Keisha in a wedding dress that I still worried about. This was going to be an amazing event, and I was taking to my bed for a week right afterward.

  ****

  Two days later, Benjamin Cruze called. The probate hearing was set for the Tuesday before
Keisha’s wedding. To me, the two events were uncomfortably close, but there was nothing I could do about it. Life was getting more complicated by the moment.

  I called Terrell and asked him to put it on his calendar. He suggested we meet beforehand to discuss the case again though we’d been over it the first night he’d come to dinner. Did he just want another meal?

  “I have nothing to do with this,” Mike said stubbornly. “I didn’t know Robert Martin. His bequest is to you, and as long as Terrell is with you, protecting your interests, I’d rather not be there.”

  “What if Charles Sanford is the man who came after me with a knife?”

  “From the lawyer’s description, I don’t believe he is. I’ll have an officer outside the probate court, but believe me, Kelly, the courthouse is crawling with security. All you have to do is holler.”

  “And what if he’s not the same man? How do I know who the real Charles Sanford is?”

  “He’ll have to present ID to get into the court, so I presume it would be valid…or at least appear to be. Terrell can always request a private moment with the judge.”

  Terrell had heard all this at our earlier dinner when we explained, as well as we could, the situation, with two men (we thought) named Charles Sanford. However, he wasn’t used to the idea of danger in the courtroom and looked increasingly uncomfortable. “I don’t have a license to carry,” he said.

  “No problem,” Mike said. “Kelly does.”

  At that Terrell threw his hands up in the air. “And this Charles Sanford, whoever he is, is representing this Ms. North in court?” he asked incredulously. “Isn’t there a warrant out for his arrest?”

  “There is,” Mike said. “We thought until this court thing came up that he’d gone back to his original identity as Greg Davis and changed his appearance. We haven’t been able to find him, although he’s obviously been watching us—or someone he’s connected to has. Now I don’t know what to think but, like you, I doubt he’ll show up in court. I think it’s someone else named Charles Sanford—or using that name. What we can’t any of us figure out is the relationship between Greg Davis, Charles Sanford, and Jo Ellen North.”