by E B Corbin
A storefront of pebbled, bulletproof glass? It felt like overkill to Roxanne, but she couldn’t blame the older woman after the recent gunfire. In any case, Sylvia owned the place and could do as she wished. Most of the clients were holdovers from when her husband ran the firm and Roxanne still felt like an employee, not a legitimate partner.
“We had a few cancellations. That damned snow the other night seems to have spooked everyone. They’re tired of the cold and ice and want to stay home. That’s why it wasn’t a problem for you to be away yesterday. You didn’t need to show up today, either.” Sylvia held out a leather-bound appointment book. “Take a look at next week and let me know how you’d like to reschedule.”
“Whatever works for you and them will be fine with me.” Roxanne unsnapped Puka’s leash so the dog could roam freely. “I’m sorry I’ve been so lax in showing up these past few weeks.”
“Nonsense. No one’s been complaining.” Sylvia stuck a pen in the appointment book and turned on her computer. She stopped to pat Puka’s head when the dog wandered over. “This time of year, hardly anyone comes in for a consultation. And it’s always hit or miss whether the people with appointments will show. As long as one of us is here to answer phones we’ll be fine.”
Roxanne sat in one of the waiting area chairs and gazed out the window. She had hoped for a distraction from the craziness in her life. What would she do all day? She sighed and stood. “I think I’ll run over to the bakery and get some coffee and treats.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sylvia said. “I didn’t have time to make any coffee yet. Since we don’t have any clients scheduled, I guess I don’t need to.”
She pulled her parka from the closet. “I’ll leave Puka here. I doubt they’d be thrilled with him at Patty’s Pastries.”
Sylvia smiled, giving the dog several strokes. “Since you’re here, I’m going to run out and look at the Mitchell’s house this morning, if you don’t mind answering the phone. They’re thinking of moving to Florida and want my opinion on pricing their place for a quick sale.”
“Fine by me. Do you want a chai tea to go?”
The other woman nodded. “That would be great.”
Out on the street, Roxanne forced herself to walk, not run. It wasn’t just the blasts of wind; she felt vulnerable out in the open even at this hour. She placed her order at the counter, glancing over her shoulder while she waited. The tightness in her chest only loosened upon her return to the law firm.
When she unloaded coffee, tea and two bear claws, she realized she had no treats for Puka. Sylvia showed her a drawer in the break room where she had stashed a box of Milk Bones and some rawhide ropes. She insisted it was for clients who brought in their pets. Since Puka was the only dog Roxanne had seen in the office, she felt certain Sylvia bought them especially for the golden retriever.
“I’ll be going now.” Sylvia finished her bear claw and poured her remaining tea into one of the travel mugs she kept in the break room. “Be sure to lock the door behind me.”
Alone in the office, Roxanne sat at her desk and reviewed the two wills she’d completed in the past few days. Nothing complicated about either. After she set them aside, she checked her bottom drawer. The pistol was still there but, without her car, visiting the gun shop for more bullets would have to wait.
A stack of papers in her inbox drew her attention. An advertisement for continuing legal education classes sat on top. She didn’t remember seeing it before. Probably a hint from Sylvia that she had to get her credits started before too long. She hated CLE classes and usually did as much as she could online. She threw the ad in the trash, since she still had most of the year to fulfill the requirement.
The insurance paperwork from Tom O’Malley came up next. She had to decide what to do about the house—rebuild from scratch or sell the land. Although Roxy had told her to do whatever she wished, she wanted to clear any final decision with her. The problem was, she still couldn’t make up her mind. Plus, as long as the older woman remained in town, Roxanne found it difficult to assume complete control of the trust without second guessing what her mother would do.
The office phone rang four times before Roxanne remembered Sylvia was not in there to answer. She picked it up, almost forgetting the standard greeting. Just in time, she stuttered, “Patterson and Associates, Roxanne speaking.”
For several seconds she heard only heavy breathing. “This is your last warning,” a man’s voice snarled. “Stop sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong or you’ll be sorry.”
“What? Who is this?” In response, a dial tone hummed in her ear.
Roxanne stared at the receiver in shock until a loud beeping reminded her to hang up. What did he mean by “last warning”? Did it tie into all those shots fired at her?
It would have helped if she knew what the caller was talking about. Sticking her nose in what?
Could the message be from Vicki’s brother? But how could he know what they’d talked about? She hadn’t seen the woman since Monday when she showed up in the office without an appointment. If he had been in town as Sam speculated, maybe he saw his sister leave the law office. He could have assumed they were plotting to cut him out of the windfall he felt certain was coming.
Or could it be about the money Roxy and Conor were searching for? But aside from helping out yesterday, she’d taken a back seat in that pursuit. That damn money played a major role in Chester’s death and Roxanne wanted nothing more to do with it. It was her mother’s quest, not hers.
If it wasn’t about Vicki or Roxy, she had no clue what the caller wanted her to do or stop doing. She felt uneasy enough to check the front door even though she knew she’d thrown the deadbolt after Sylvia left.
Puka followed her to the front office and barked once when a shadow appeared outside the door. Roxanne jumped, debating whether to open the door or not. She saw two silhouettes through the pebbled pane. The figures looked too short to be Callahan and Ron, but she didn’t know if the new glass created some sort of distortion. Since she was in plain sight if the visitors decided to peek in the bay window, she squared her shoulders and flipped the lock.
Sam pushed through, stomping her feet for warmth. She blew on her fingers, red and raw from the cold. Vicki stumbled into her, her head turned to watch the street. Roxanne didn’t care what they wanted, she was thrilled to see them. Apart from providing a much needed distraction, they might have some ideas about the threatening call.
“Shouldn’t you be at the restaurant?” Roxanne asked Vicki as she closed and secured the door.
“I put up a new sign saying I’m closed until next Monday.” Vicki glanced around the empty waiting area. “Do you have a minute? We’d like to discuss some things with you.”
“I have all the time in the world today.” Roxanne took a step toward her office. “All my appointments cancelled.”
“Oh, too bad for you but good for us.” Sam pulled her coat off and hung it on the coat rack then indicated for Vicki to do the same. They followed Roxanne down the hall.
“What’s with the locked door?” Sam asked. “Where’s Sylvia?”
“She had a real estate appointment, so I’m alone. We thought it best to make it difficult for random strangers to walk in with no one at the front desk.”
“I can understand that.” Sam drew up a chair for Vicki then brought another close to the desk for herself. “Did anything more happen last night after I left?”
Roxanne shook her head. “Nothing. This morning they checked out the area by the barn again and followed snow prints to the road at the far end of Chester’s property. There were two sets of footprints. It looked like they had a vehicle waiting.”
Vicki slumped in her chair. “Oh, thank God. I was afraid it was Henry.”
“I told you I have a tracker on his phone,” Sam said. “He’s in Maryland, or at least he was last night. I haven’t c
hecked it today.”
Roxanne leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk. “Well, I just received a strange phone call.”
“Strange?” Sam immediately sat up straight. “Was it threatening? Do you know who it was?”
“Whoa.” Roxanne held up both hands. “Yes, I’d consider it threatening. And, no, I don’t know who it was. Someone with a rough voice told me to mind my own business or I’d be sorry. Actually, his exact words were to stop sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. Trouble is, I have no idea what he’s talking about.”
Vicki studied the pattern on the oriental carpet. Her words came out a whisper. “Sounds like something my brother would say.”
“But I haven’t done anything besides put out an alert for you. Your place was wide open, the door not latched. It scared me, I’ll tell you.”
“I’m sorry I involved you in my problems,” she said.
“It’s not your fault.” Sam touched Vicki’s arm. “We don’t know who’s shooting at Roxanne but we’re pretty sure it’s not your brother.”
“Unless it’s a friend of his,” Vicki mumbled.
“Why would a friend do that?” Roxanne sat back in her seat.
Vicki shrugged. “Who knows? My brother’s crazy.”
“Have you heard from him again?” Roxanne asked.
“No. I didn’t even know he was in Oilville until Sam told me.”
Sam scratched her nose and regarded Roxanne over her fingers. “Which is why we came to see you. Vicki needs some legal advice.”
Roxanne raised her eyebrows. “Sounds like she needs more than that.”
“True. But the legal advice should come first,” Sam said.
Vicki coughed to clear her throat. “Sam tells me my family has a large sum of money coming. I’m fairly certain my father has… passed away but I need a death certificate or some other proof. Can you tell me how to go about getting what I need?”
“Has your father changed his name, as far as you know?”
The redhead shrugged. “I’m thinking if he didn’t want to be found, he would have changed it. But when he walked out, he said nothing about not coming back or changing his name.”
“Not surprising, is it?” Sam cracked her knuckles loud enough to make Roxanne wince. “I mean, if he was running away, he wouldn’t give you a way to trace him.”
“As far as I know, Anita never even looked for him. I guess she wanted to be free and clear. As a penniless accountant, he wasn’t worth keeping around. After he lost all that money, she bitched about having to go back to work.”
Roxanne still wasn’t sure what they wanted her to do. “I can check death certificates using his real name, but I don’t know what state to start with. Do you have any idea where he would have gone?”
Vicki shook her head. “None. I told Sam it was hopeless. I don’t need his money, don’t even know if I want it, but Henry will never let it go.”
“Then let him try to find your father,” Roxanne said.
“I would, but he insists I know something. He won’t leave me alone.”
Sam stared at the front of Roxanne’s desk—seemingly lost in thought. “I feel responsible for Vicki’s problem. I shouldn’t have contacted her brother until I was certain I couldn’t locate their father by some other means.”
“It seems a logical starting point. You probably thought Henry might know what happened to his father.” Roxanne looked to Vicki for support but the other woman stared at her fingers, twisting them into knots.
“I should have done more research first,” Sam said. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
Vicki lifted her head. “How were you to know that Henry would be such a jerk?”
“I should have considered the possibility,” Sam continued. ”Your family is the first one I’ve made contact with. I thought it would be easy. After I developed a software program to track the money from each patsy and calculate the interest, I focused on the money, not the people.”
“I would have done the same thing,” Roxanne said. “The money’s the only constant.”
“But the effect it will have on the people receiving it is more important.” Sam removed a piece of lint from her sleeve. “And that’s almost impossible to gauge without close contact. I have to come up with a better way of making restitution.”
“Well, speaking as a ‘patsy’, I have to agree. Everyone is different. Just because Henry is difficult, doesn’t mean others will be.” Vicki pushed a colorful lock of hair behind her ear. “Look at me, I’m the opposite—pretty straightforward and uncomplicated.”
“I agree you should take some additional steps before you try to return the money.” Roxanne leaned back again, making the worn chair squeak in protest. “As to the mess you’re in now, can I offer a suggestion?”
“By all means,” Sam said. “Any and all advice is welcome.”
“Every case will be unique. But in this instance, locating her father or asking for proof of death is almost impossible.”
Vicki nodded in agreement.
“You can either move on to your next victim and come back if Vicki manages to find her father or his death certificate, or you can change your requirements. I assume this proof of death thing is something you came up with on your own?”
Sam looked up with a question in her eyes. “It’s not written in stone or anything. I’m more or less making this up as I go along. What do you have in mind?”
“We could put the amount you’re returning to her father in a trust. Vicki and/or Henry could be co-executors. If their father ever shows up, which I think we all agree will not happen, the trust will terminate and the remaining funds go to their dad. In the meantime, they will have access to the assets.”
Vicki was shaking her head in the negative. “I don’t want anything that belongs to my father. The two people he left me with considered me nothing but trouble. I’ve made my own way since I was sixteen, the restaurant is doing well, and I’m perfectly happy living within my current means. Henry, though, is another story. Why don’t you just give it all to him?”
“Because that would defeat my purpose. I want to give people a second chance. The opportunity to start over from where they left off. I don’t want them to consider it a windfall that they can blow on luxuries and extravagances.” Sam rubbed her forehead. “Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my part, but I want to give them back the life they should have had.”
Roxanne understood what Sam sought to do, even if she thought it would be impossible.
Vicki spoke softly. “Until Dad lost his money and left, all I thought about was clothes and boyfriends. I don’t want that life back.”
“You were a teenager! It was normal to focus on those things,” Roxanne said. “That’s not where you are now, is it?”
Vicki laughed. “No, I was only trying to make a point.”
“If your father never invested with mine, you’d inherit his assets anyway.” Sam raised her hands and leaned forward. “I’m only trying to give you what is rightfully yours.”
Before the two woman started an argument which neither could win, Roxanne held up her hands. “Look, I see both your points. I think a trust could solve your problem. I can draw up the trust so that both you and Henry get a set amount of funds every year. That way Henry can’t blow everything at once and you can do whatever you want with your portion. If you find you don’t want or need the money, you can give it to charity.”
Sam studied the wall behind Roxanne’s desk. “That’s not what I envisioned happening but I suppose it’s a good compromise.”
“Henry won’t be happy about receiving his share in bits and pieces, but even he has to understand it’s better than nothing,” Vicki said.
Roxanne slapped her hands on the desk before she stood. “So, it’s agreed then? I’ll draw up the trust and bring it over to you later tod
ay. We can make any changes either of you want, provided the other agrees.”
Both women nodded.
As Roxanne led them to the front, she glanced at the pendulum clock on her wall. It was nearly noon. If she could get some pizza delivered, she could work on the trust for the rest of the afternoon. That should keep her out of the line of fire and take her mind off that disturbing phone call.
- 17 -
Before Roxanne had a chance to order the pizza, Sylvia returned with soup and a turkey sandwich for her. Grateful she had a healthier option, she tackled the trust for Vicki in a much better frame of mind. Her confidence that this would provide a satisfying solution grew with each clause she added. It was fair to both of them. Henry shouldn’t bitch and his half-sister could share in the wealth.
As a lawyer, she felt fully capable. Too bad the rest of her life had become so unbalanced. It was like swinging from a tree, never knowing when someone would use her for target practice.
Just as Roxanne hit “print”, Sylvia stuck her head in to say she was taking off. Roxanne glanced at the clock. Four-thirty in the afternoon. They generally stayed until six or later, but her associate saw no point in hanging around on such a slow day.
“I’m right behind you,” Roxanne said. “I’ll run this draft over to Vicki and wait for Callahan at her place.”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Sylvia pulled a key out of her coat pocket. “Here’s a key to the new lock. It works on both the handle lock and the deadbolt.” With a wave, she headed for the front door.
Roxanne waited while three copies of the multi-page document printed, then put one copy in a file folder. The other two she slid into a manila envelope to take with her. Vicki could see to it that Sam had a copy. They could share any thoughts about changes and get back to her. Roxanne wanted to finalize the trust as soon as possible to eliminate at least one thing from her to-do list.
As she was about to lock the door, she remembered her gun. She hadn’t taken the time to clean it, but she’d feel better with it in her possession. Not that she had any desire to use it. She hoped like hell to never shoot at anything more than a cardboard target again.