Kentucky Woman

by Mike J. Brogan

  But first he had to write a report on Leland Radford.

  Quinn phoned the financial investment manager for the Radford estate, a man named Heinrich De Groot.

  De Groot’s secretary answered, Quinn explained his call and was put through.

  “Mr. De Groot, my name’s Quinn Parker. Fletcher Falcone suggested I call you.” Quinn explained his law school assignment.

  “Sure, Quinn. How can I help?”

  “Just a couple of questions about the Radford estate.”

  “Of course …”

  “I’m told you handle many of the financial assets of the estate.”

  “Most of them. The purchase and sale of stocks, bonds and financial instruments, some tax work and such. I’ve handled them for some nineteen years now. Leland Radford was a wise investor. Had a knack. Did his research. But of course we advised him along the way.”

  “His assets seem well-diversified.”

  “Oh, yes. He has a strategically integrated portfolio of assets and properties. Lots of blue chip, high tech, U.S. equities, some non-U.S. equities. He bought IBM, Apple and Google very early on. Very profitable. Like his many other assets. You’ll find the full list at the courthouse.”

  “I’ll check that. So after probate what happens?”

  “The five other Radford business managers, and I, will work with the Executor, Mr. Falcone, in the final disposition and liquidation of all estate assets, according to Radford’s will.” De Groot explained that process in detail.

  “Mr. Falcone told me there are no heirs or relatives.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Seems uncommon …”

  “It is. Lots of one-child families these days. Had a client last year died with no heirs. Left her cat four million bucks.”

  “Lucky kitty!”

  “Lucky Kentucky! The state got the remaining twenty-three million dollars.”

  “Amazing!” Quinn said.

  He turned in at the gate to The Pines, the Radford estate, for his chat with the housekeeper. “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. De Groot. If I have more questions later, could I phone you?”

  “Any time, Quinn.”

  Heinrich De Groot stared at his office phone for several moments, then looked out his floor-to-ceiling window at the water fountain in the town square.

  De Groot was suspicious. Always had been. But it had served him well over the years.

  And he was suspicious of Quinn Parker.

  Is Parker really just a student? How much does he already know?

  And how much can he find out?

  SIXTEEN

  HARLAN

  As Carrie Ann drove down her street, Ellie saw the red pickup that had followed them since Mavis Biddle’s house had disappeared.

  “He’s gone for now!” Ellie said, feeling her neck muscles relax.

  “Probably just some asshole bubba flexing his V8 virility!”

  “But he’s also the guy who followed Quinn and me earlier.”

  They parked, hurried inside Carrie Ann’s house and locked the door. Ellie smiled at Mrs. Norris sitting in a chair reading a paperback.

  “What’cha reading, Mrs. Norris?”

  “Kat Martin’s sleazy new bodice-ripper.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “The Queen’s daughter loves the stable master’s teenage son.”

  “Does the Queen approve?”

  “Hell no! She wants the horny kid for herself.”

  Ellie and Carrie laughed.

  “So how were Mavis Biddle and Spike the parrot?”

  Ellie smiled. “Spike squawked as Mavis talked. But she told me that a tall woman delivered me as a baby to the Stuarts here in Harlan.”

  “That’s helpful.”

  “It is,” Ellie said, as her phone rang. She saw it was Quinn and answered. “Hi, Quinn. Any luck with the lawyer?”

  “A bit.” He told her about his talks with Falcone and Irene Whitten, the housekeeper at the Radford estate.

  “What about you – did you have any luck?”

  She told him what Mavis said.

  “That’s a start.”

  “It is, but Carrie Ann and I were followed back here.”

  “Who followed you?”

  “The same red pickup that followed us near the courthouse.”

  Pause. “Did it have a NASCAR sticker on the left front bumper?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where’s the truck now?” He sounded concerned.

  Ellie stood and looked out the window, then up and down the street. “There’s a red pickup way down the street, but I can’t tell if it’s the same one.”

  “You’re inside now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stay inside! Lock the door and call the police. That guy’s stalking you for some reason. I’ll be there soon.”

  Seven minutes later, Ellie saw Quinn’s TrailBlazer pull up at Carrie Ann’s house. Ellie hurried out and leaned in the window.

  “The red pickup drove off a few minutes ago.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “Yes. The officer said, they’d keep an eye out for it, but he said “ … red Ford pickups with NASCAR stickers in these parts … are as thick as flies on … excrement!”

  “He said excrement?”

  “Actually he said ’shit!’, but I didn’t want you to think I’m some crude country chick!”

  “Too late,” he said, laughing. His phone rang and he answered. He listened to the caller, then hung up.

  “That was Irene Whitten, the housekeeper I just talked with at The Pines. I sensed she was holding something back. And she was. Now, she wants to tell me, but in person.”

  “You have to drive back up to Manchester?”

  “No. She just drove down here to Harlan. She’s down the street at place called the Huddle House.”

  “It’s on Main Street. You can’t miss it. While you’re there, I’ll phone friends of my parents. See what they know.”

  “You’ll stay inside? Doors locked?”

  “Sure.”

  She headed back inside and noticed Quinn watching her until she was safely inside the house. Then he drove off. Ellie checked to make sure no red pickups followed him.

  None did. She relaxed.

  Three blocks away, Huntoon Harris sat in his red pickup, focusing his military binoculars on the house Ellie Stuart just entered. He watched the big guy in the TrailBlazer drive off, leaving Miss Ellie unguarded.

  He flipped open his cell phone and made a call.

  No answer. The boss wouldn’t let him leave voice mails, so he hung up. Huntoon wondered what he should do now. The boss was always telling him “be more assertive.” Huntoon wasn’t sure what assertive meant, but he thought maybe it meant he should just go ahead and do stuff.

  In other words, I should just go handle Ellie Stuart now!

  SEVENTEEN

  Quinn parked near the big red fifty-foot high Huddle House sign on Harlan’s Main Street. He stepped inside the crowded restaurant and saw Irene Whitten sipping coffee in the corner. She looked nervous and seemed to study everyone who walked in. He nodded to her, bought a large coffee and sat at her table.

  “Quinn, I apologize for not telling you everything at The Pines.”

  “It’s okay, Irene. Did you think someone was listening to us?”

  She nodded. “It’s very possible. You see, Leland’s sister, Zelda, usta pay our employees to listen in on each other. Especially on me. Her and me – we didn’t git along. I don’t like to speak bad on the dead – but on Zelda I’m right happy to. She was one mean woman. I still feel like she might have someone listenin’ to my conversations. Zelda didn’t like me cuz Mr. Radford and I were real good friends for so many years. And she didn’t like me because of something else …”

  Irene checked a man walking in.

  “Because of what?” Quinn wondered if Irene was overly suspicious.

  “Because she was scared I’d tell Leland something.”

/>   “What’s that?”

  She sipped more coffee. “The secret.”

  He waited.

  “You see, Zelda forced me to keep the secret from Leland for many years. Threatened me real bad. But thirty minutes after Zelda died, I rushed into Leland’s hospital room and flat out tol’ him! I did!”

  Quinn noticed Irene’s trembling hands and decided to let her proceed at her own pace.

  “You said you’re a law student, Quinn.”

  “Yes.”

  “So if I tell you the secret … is it like what y’all call ah … privileged information?”

  Quinn thought a moment. “Well, no, Irene, because I’m not an attorney yet. So you and I don’t have a client-attorney relationship. But you can trust me to not reveal what you ask me not to reveal, unless it’s a felony. In that case you should tell a lawyer. And I could recommend one if you – ”

  “- ain’t no felony. Just a secret.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She sipped more coffee, Irene looked Quinn in the eye. “Please don’t never tell anyone what I’m fixin’ to tell you unless you’ve gotta do it legal-like.”

  He nodded, his curiosity heating up.

  “As I told you before, Leland was devoted to his wife, Dinah Sue, for twenty-nine years. A wonderful woman. When she died, Leland liked to died his own self. Very sad, depressed. Didn’t eat, didn’t go out, didn’t do diddley squat ‘cept work, and drink whiskey and sleep. For years. He was sinkin’ bad I’ll tell ‘ya, and we figured he’d never snap out of it. Then real slow like, he started takin’ notice of one of our new housekeepers. A nice young woman named Jacqueline Moreau.”

  “Jacqueline’s family came from a small town in France. Batilly-en-Puisaye, I think. They moved to Martinique where Jacqueline was born. Then when she was around twenty-five, Jacqueline came to Kentucky.”

  Irene smiled. “Jackie was sweet as sugar pie. I loved her. She was funny and made Leland laugh after mournin’ his wife all those years. He asked her to give him French lessons and she did. He come alive when Jackie was around. Before long, he liked her a whole bunch! He did! Well, one thing led to another, you see, and pretty soon Leland and Jacqueline were flat out in love. And that’s a fact!”

  Quinn nodded but wondered where this was going.

  “’Cept it didn’t last long.”

  “Why not?”

  “Zelda! His half-sister. She all time harpin’ and whompin’ on poor Leland about how he was so much older than Jackie, and how he should be damn ‘shamed of hisself for carrying on with her and all.”

  “How did Leland feel?”

  “He loved Jackie, but like I say, Zelda kept browbeatin’ and slammin’ him all the time, and after a while he began to think well, maybe Jackie was jes’, you know, infatuated with him. He started to feel that she deserved someone more her own age.”

  “How did Jacqueline feel?”

  “Didn’t give a hoot about their age difference. Leland was young looking and strong for his age. And she loved him true. But, like I say, Zelda, she jes kept cussin’ out Leland, sayin’ they’re ain’t no fool like an old fool, that Jackie was after his money, even though Jackie said she sign one of them pre-wedding papers. But Zelda just kept on harpin’ … saying Jacqueline was wrong for him, and he was ruining Jackie’s life.”

  “So what happened?” Quinn asked.

  Irene Whitten shook her head. “Eventually Zelda wore Leland down. He figured Jackie did deserve a younger man she could start a family with and all.”

  “How did Jacqueline take that?”

  “Real bad. It hurt her. But, after a few days, she figured it’d be easier for everybody if she up and left The Pines. So Leland gave her a three-year-salary severance, plus a real good job as a French translator in his magazine publishing company up in Covington.”

  “So she left The Pines?”

  “Sure did. Heartbroken and crying like all git out!”

  “And Leland felt terrible bad, too. Went back to workin’ too hard, and then started drinkin’ too much after a while”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah, but Jackie didn’t leave alone … .”

  “Someone went with her?”

  “Yep.”

  “Who?”

  “Their baby.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Quinn’s jaw dropped open. “She left The Pines pregnant?”

  Irene nodded. “Jackie didn’t know it at the time, and neither did Leland, but she was one month pregnant with his child when she up and left The Pines.”

  Quinn’s mind raced with the legal implications. “How did she know it was Leland’s child?”

  “Jackie said it couldn’t be nobody else’s!”

  “So then what happened?”

  “Well, when Zelda found out Jackie was carrying his child – Zelda throwed a fit! She said Jacqueline could never tell Radford! Threatened her real bad!”

  “With what?”

  “Deportation. See, Jacqueline had entered the United States sorta illegal. Zelda threatened to sic Immigration on her and send her back to Martinique.”

  “So did Jacqueline agree to never tell Radford?”

  “Yes. She was scared to go back to Martinique! See, a man back there swore to kill her for testifying against him. And his brother damned near killed her once or twice! Her folks snuck her into America.”

  Quinn nodded.

  “And the other thing is she wanted her baby borned in America.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Zelda happened. She took over everything. Handled Jackie’s pregnancy and birth.”

  “And Jacqueline had the baby?”

  “Oh, yes.” Irene smiled bright as a Hawaiian sunrise. “A healthy baby boy.”

  “So did Jacqueline ever show the boy to Mr. Radford?”

  “Oh Lordy no! Zelda never let Jackie or her baby anywheres near The Pines. Wouldn’t even let Jacqueline phone Leland or me! She changed all the phones, blocked the new numbers. Told Leland that Jacqueline went back to Martinique, got married later. Wasn’t no email or cellphones in those days.”

  “So where are Jacqueline and her son now?”

  Irene slumped in her chair, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Quinn noticed they were wet.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Three months after she gave birth, Jacqueline died in a car accident out there on 421.”

  Quinn felt his stomach twist.

  “But praise the Lord, her son was not with her!”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Zelda adopted him out!”

  “To whom?”

  “I could never find out. Only Zelda knew. There was a rumor it mighta been a couple up in Dayton or Detroit. I asked her several times, but she flat out refused to tell me.”

  Quinn shook his head in amazement. “Zelda seems like a real warm person, huh?”

  “Only time Zelda warmed up was when she died.”

  Quinn smiled. “Why didn’t you tell Leland about his son?”

  “Zelda threatened me bad too.”

  “To fire you?”

  “Worser!”

  She sipped her coffee, bit her lower lip, as though deciding how much to tell him. “See, when I was twenty-two, a man named Dontrell down in West Virginia where I’m from, he tried to rape and stab me dead in our garage. He left this on me!”

  She ran her finger along a thick gray eight-inch scar on her forearm.

  “Dontrell had done kilt one of his rape victims and got away with it. Man’s crazier than a shithouse rat! He run at me, unzippin’ his pants and swingin’ his Johnson. Well, I swung a crowbar hard into it and Dontrell buckled over and commenced to groaning like he was birthin’ a baby! I run off, told the police. Then at trial, I testified against him and sent him to prison for life. Dontrell swore that he’d break out and kill me. Seven years later, he did break out. But he didn’t know I was over here in Kentucky. Then he flat-out disappeared. I been scar
ed he’d find me ever since. Still am.”

  Her eyelids fluttered like a spinning window shade.

  Quinn placed his hand on her to calm her.

  “Anyways, Zelda somehow found out about Dontrell. Then she hired a private detective who found Dontrell hiding out down in Mexico. Showed me a picture of him wearing a sombrero. Zelda said if I told Leland about his son, she’d sic Dontrell on me. She would too!”

  Quinn was stunned. “There’s an important legal term for someone like Zelda?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Bitch!”

  Irene laughed and slapped her thigh. “That’s a true fact!”

  “So Radford never knew he had another son?”

  “No sir! Not until I told him the day before he died. Lord, Leland was so happy when I told him! He cried. I cried. Even the nurse cried. Leland told me he had loved Jacqueline all these years and asked me to try to find his boy so he could meet him. He wanted his son to inherit everything.”

  Quinn swallowed. “He said that to you?”

  “He sure did. Twice.”

  “Do you remember exactly what he said, Irene?” Quinn’s heart began to pound.

  “Uh-huh. He said, ‘Above all, find my son. I want him to inherit my estate, everything, ‘cept what I leave you and the rest of my staff and the charities.’ And the nurse lady heard him say it, too.”

  Quinn scribbled the words in his notebook. He realized the probate case had just been blown wide open.

  “What’d Jacqueline name the boy?”

  “Been tryin’ to remember his name, but cain’t. I only heard his name once’t through the grapevine. Then a week later, Jackie was dead.”

  “Any idea where the boy is now?”

  Irene shook her head. “Only Zelda knew and the secret died with her. I’ve been trying to find him, with no luck. That’s how’s come I’m talking to you.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell Mr. Radford’s attorney, Fletcher Falcone, about the boy?”

  “Zelda said if I told Falcone, he’d hafta tell Radford, and then Zelda would know I told Falcone. And then she’d tell Dontrell where I was at.”

  Fear flashed in her eyes.

  “Irene, you’re safe now. I’ll help you. But we’re required to inform Falcone about this. He needs to place a legal notice in the newspaper to try to notify the boy, who’s now a young man, to come forward before the probate court date in a few days.”