“We are, and aren’t you a dream for noticing,” Gilley said, swishing his hips and looking coyly at Marcus.
Marcus chuckled again and waved us over to his desk and the two chairs in front of it. “Come, sit, and tell me about this whiteboard, which, I see, you didn’t bring.”
“I took a picture,” I told him, holding up my phone. “It was easier to get in the car.”
Marcus grinned. “Excellent. Mind texting it to me?”
I did just that, and he opened the text to survey the board. “You two have been hard at work,” he said, and I could tell he was impressed. Gilley looked over at me and bounced his eyebrows.
While Marcus reviewed the names on the list we’d compiled, I took in his office, and I found it interesting that there were no shades of gray to soften the stark contrast of the bright white walls and the dark wood tones of the furnishings.
I’d once read that the law wasn’t written in black or white, but in subtle shades of gray. I thought it telling that Marcus largely surrounded himself with back-and-white tones. His view of the world seemed more pronounced and assured in that regard. Either something was right or it was wrong, and his confident assurance in one or the other no doubt helped juries to decide in his favor more often than they didn’t.
Marcus set his phone down and eyed us with interest. “This list is very helpful. Thank you,” he said. “How sure are you about the names on the list?”
“For most of them, we’re probably eighty-five to ninety-five percent certain,” I said.
Marcus nodded. “And which names are you unsure about?”
“Mark Purdy,” I said.
Marcus’s brow furrowed, and he picked up his phone again to glance at the list. “I don’t see his name here. Which one is he? Two, Ten, or Twelve?”
“None of them,” Gilley said. “Which is another reason we’re here.”
Marcus set his phone down. “Enlighten me.”
Between us, we filled Marcus in on what we knew about Mark Purdy, including the backstory of my encounter with him on the night of Yelena’s murder.
Marcus waited patiently throughout the explanation, and he didn’t interrupt us once. When we finished, he said, “I heard there was a murder in the area near the theater, but I hadn’t yet learned that it was timed so soon after Yelena’s.”
“We think there’s a connection,” I reiterated.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m thinking there must be, especially in light of the women’s size-ten coat.”
“We think Purdy was paying off Yelena,” I said.
“For whom?”
“For Gene Bosworth. Or rather for his estate.”
“You said Purdy was an estate attorney, yes?” Marcus said, pulling up the lid to his laptop to type on it while we answered.
“Yes,” Gilley said. “We think he handled the estate of Gene Bosworth.” Gilley then produced his copy of the script—the original—and handed it over to Marcus. “On page twenty-eight there’s a handwritten note in the bottom left corner, where Yelena wrote, ‘Call Gene,’ and then the dollar sign.”
“Since Gene Bosworth died last December,” I said, “we think Yelena wasn’t saying to call Gene so much as she was reminding herself to call the trustee of Gene’s estate to ask for money.”
Marcus set down the script and pursed his lips in thought, and then he swiveled to type on his laptop for a few moments, before his eyes darted back and forth as he read the screen. “Purdy retired right before the pandemic got bad,” he said.
I nodded. “That makes sense.”
Marcus picked up his phone and hit a button. “Jaz, I know it’s late, but if you call right away, you can catch the clerk’s office. I need you to find out who the attorney of record was on a Mr. Gene Bosworth’s estate. Good. Thank you.”
“Yelena indicated in her script that she suspected Gene had the hots for his sister,” I said.
Marcus’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Gilley said.
Marcus again picked up the script and flipped through the pages. He stopped when he got to Lover Number Eight and read the lines while we waited. His phone buzzed, and he picked up the receiver. “Yes?” he said. Then, after a moment, he added, “You’re sure?” Another moment passed, and he finished with, “All right. Thank you. I’ll have a research project for you tomorrow regarding Mr. Purdy, so see me first thing when you get in, okay? Good. Good night, Jaz.”
When Marcus hung up the phone again, Gilley said, “It was Purdy, wasn’t it?”
“No,” Marcus said.
“No?” Gilley and I repeated in unison.
“It was Albert Finch.”
“Who’s Albert Finch?” Gilley asked.
Marcus shrugged. “I’m not familiar with many estate attorneys. You don’t run into them in the criminal defense law circles.”
“Ah,” Gil said. And then he muttered, “I really thought we were onto something there.”
“You may be,” Marcus said. “I’ll have Jasmine check around and see who Purdy’s clients were. Maybe there’s another name on the list that he’s attached to.”
Gilley and I both perked up. “Ooh, yes,” I said. “That must be it. If Yelena was looking for cash from Gene, she probably was looking for cash from at least one or two others, right?”
“She was,” Marcus said, in a way that suggested there was more to the story.
“Did she try to extort you?” Gilley asked.
“She did,” he said. “Not overtly, but she did call me and suggest that she was launching her one-woman show, and if I wanted to remain anonymous, I might want to think about making a charitable donation.”
“Whoa,” I said. “What did you say?”
“I told her that extortion was a crime punishable by up to twenty years in prison, and she hung up. I had hoped that I’d scared her off the tactic, but obviously, I hadn’t.”
“We should talk to the other names on the list and see if she tried that trick with them,” I said.
“How?” Gilley asked me. “Do we just call them up and say, ‘Hey there! Your ex-girlfriend was brutally murdered. She wasn’t by chance trying to extort money from you, was she, Suspect . . . I mean Lover Number Five?’ ”
Marcus chuckled. “No, we’ll have to be more subtle than that.”
Gilley snapped his fingers. “I know!” he said. Turning to me, he said, “Cat, what if we threw a party and invited all these guys, and once they’ve had a chance to imbibe a little truth serum, we ask them about Yelena?”
“Truth serum?” I asked.
“Vodka.”
“Ahhh,” I said. “You know, that’s actually not a bad idea. The problem is, how do we get them to show up? I don’t know any of them, and they’d likely decline an invite to a random stranger’s party.”
Gilley frowned. He’d thought he was really onto something.
“What you need is a lure,” Marcus said.
We both looked at him. “A lure?” I said.
“A party honoree,” he said. “Someone well known, with status.”
“Like a celebrity? We don’t know any celebrities,” Gilley said.
Marcus shook his head. “Gilley, here in the Hamptons, celebrities are a dime a dozen. What you need is somebody rich.” Pointing his finger back and forth between us, he said, “Who’s the wealthiest person you know?”
“Catherine Cooper,” Gilley said immediately.
I blushed and laughed. “Oh, Gilley, I am not.”
“Uh, yeah you are,” he insisted.
Marcus wore an amused smile on his face, and I felt my blush deepen.
“What about the Entwistles?” I said.
“Oh,” Gil said. “Yeah. I forgot about them. They’re definitely richer than you.”
I laughed lightly and looked again at Marcus, but his amusement had turned to seriousness. “You know the Entwistles?” he said.
“Yes,” Gilley and I both said in unison.
“Julia Entwistle?
” Marcus stressed.
“Yes. And her grandson Willem,” I said.
Marcus sat back in his chair and held his hands up in surrender. “Catherine, Gilley, if you could make either of them your honoree, you’d have one of the hottest tickets in town.”
“Really?” I said, looking at Gilley to see what he thought. He seemed as surprised as I was. “I mean, we’ve been to their home, and we know they must be very comfortable, but neither of them socializes very much, Marcus. How could they be so attractive to our guests?”
“Julia Entwistle is one of the wealthiest women on Long Island, Catherine. Her money and pedigree go way back. She’s blue blood, and nothing brings out the ever-social-climbing Hamptons crowd like a billionaire blue blood in attendance at a social gathering. Plus, you’re right. Julia hasn’t been to a social event in a decade. If you could score her appearance at your gathering, you’d get all your suspects to accept in a hot second.”
I frowned. The last time I’d seen Julia she’d been bound to a wheelchair, and she’d looked quite frail. I didn’t want to do anything to put stress on her. “Would Willem Entwistle be an equally appealing draw?”
“He might,” Marcus said. “He stands to inherit everything, I assume, so that’s a definite plus in his favor, but his influence over some of the more powerful players here in the Hamptons is far less than that of his legendary grandmother.”
“How do you know all this about the Entwistles?” Gilley asked.
Marcus grinned. “It’s my business to know who’s who around here, Gilley. Defending big names takes big money, and I like that about practicing law in the Hamptons.”
“Would you also be looking to score an introduction?” Gilley said.
Marcus’s grin widened. “I wouldn’t ever say no to meeting the legendary Julia Entwistle. Or her grandson.”
“We’ll make sure you get an invite,” Gilley promised.
“Excellent,” he said. “What else do you need from me?”
I raised my hand slightly and said, “Did Yelena try to extort Aaron?”
“He says she didn’t,” Marcus confessed.
“Why don’t you look like you believe him?” I asked, reading Marcus’s expression.
“Because I don’t.”
“He’d lie to you?” Gilley asked.
“He’s still in love with her ghost,” Marcus said. “He’s trying to protect her.”
“The poor man,” I said. “How’s he doing overall?”
“Not great. The odds for sovereign immunity in this case are long, and my colleague at the Danish embassy says it doesn’t look good.”
“When will you know?” I asked.
“Within a few days.”
“What can we do for him?” I asked next.
Marcus waved his hand casually in our direction. “You’re doing it. You’ve given me a list of eight other suspects to focus on, and you’re going to throw a party where we can casually question at least a few of them. This will really help his defense.”
“And don’t forget about the Purdy angle,” Gilley said. “If Purdy was delivering a payoff to Yelena, and if we can prove that, then that’s motive pointing to one of these other guys for sure, right?”
“It is,” Marcus said. “I’ll know more in the next day or two about him and his client list, and I’ll call you with any updates.”
“Perfect,” I said, getting to my feet. Extending my elbow out to Gilley, I said, “Come along, Mr. Gillespie. We have a party to plan.”
Gilley bounced to his feet and looped his arm through mine. “Marcus,” he said, dipping his chin demurely. “Always a pleasure.”
Marcus grinned. “It is, isn’t it?”
Gilley laughed, and with a wave goodbye, we left to head home.
Chapter 13
The first thing we did when we arrived back at Chez Kitty was to order dinner and feed Spooks. The dog always gulped down his food like he was afraid someone else would steal it.
“The poor thing,” I said, watching him eat.
“I know,” Gilley said. “He eats every meal like it’s going to be his last. I read in one of the pamphlets they sent home with us that dogs who’ve experienced intense abuse and hunger can act like that. I’m hoping that with time and regular meals, he’ll realize that he’ll always get enough to eat here. Oh, and I’ve got to order one of those special bowls that forces him to slow down, because eating that fast isn’t good for him.”
“You didn’t already buy it at the Pet Palace?” I said, giving his shoulder a playful knock with my own.
“That was the only thing I didn’t buy.”
Gilley’s phone rang, and he took it out to read the display. After declining the call, he stuffed the phone back into his pocket and cleared his throat. “Spam,” he said, avoiding my gaze.
“You’ll have to talk to your husband sometime, lovey,” I said.
“I know,” he sighed. “But I just can’t right now, Cat.”
“Does he know that you’re this worked up over the prospect of a talk?”
“I keep sending his calls to voice mail, so I’m thinking yes.”
I sighed. “Okay. It’s your marriage.”
Gilley bent low to hug Spooks, who had finished his meal and had come over to thank Gilley for it. I watched the two of them play tug until Sebastian let me know that our dinners had been delivered and were waiting on the front steps to Chez Cat.
“Here or there?” I asked Gilley.
“Here or there what?” Gil replied, pulling hard on the other end of a braided rope, which Spooks was inching out of Gilley’s hands.
“Where would you like to eat?”
“Oh, um, here is fine,” Gil said. “Less to move,” he added, indicating the dog bed by the couch.
“I don’t know why you think we’d need to move that just to bring Spooks over. He never uses it.”
“Yes, but I want him to,” Gilley said.
“Do you?” I asked. I suspected that Spooks was cuddled up to Gilley at night on the bed, and I imagined that my dear friend rather liked being cuddled on the couch too.
Gilley waggled his fingers at me. “Shoo, fly. Shoo! And bring us back some dinner.”
We ate our meal over talk of the party. By the end we had a wonderful idea to create a sort of Dancing with the Stars theme, as I really wanted to have the affair outside if the weather would cooperate.
“This weather pattern is supposed to hold for the next ten days,” Gilley said, checking his phone.
“That’s encouraging,” I said. “Do you think next weekend is pushing it a little fast?”
“Not really,” he said. “But first, you need to see when and if Willem can make it.”
“Ach,” I said, getting up to retrieve my purse, where I kept my phone. “I’d completely forgotten that we needed to reach out to him.”
After placing the call, I waited several rings until a rather hoarse voice answered. “Catherine?”
“Willem!” I said. “Hello, my friend! How are you?”
“This is a nice surprise. I’m well, and you?”
“I’m very well. Thank you. But you don’t sound well. Are you coming down with a cold?”
Willem chuckled. “No, nothing like that. You just woke me, that’s all.”
I looked at the clock. It was ten past eight. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realize you went to bed so early, otherwise I never would’ve disturbed you.”
“I actually went to bed late, and you’re calling early. Chanel and I are in Thailand.”
“Thailand?”
“He’s in Thailand?” Gilley asked, scooting his chair close so that he could hear more of the conversation.
“Yes,” Willem chuckled. “We eloped!”
I gasped and stared with wide eyes at Gilley.
“What? What?” Gilley said.
“Willem and Chanel eloped!”
“Ohmigod!” Gilley squealed and grabbed the phone right out of my hands. “Willem! Congratu
lations! This is such amazing news!”
I pulled the phone out of his hands and laid it on the table, then pressed the speaker function.
Willem was in the middle of an explanation, it seemed. “Planned on coming here for vacation, and we had a layover in Vegas, of all places, and when we were there, I just kind of stood on my tiptoes and popped the question.”
Gilley and I let out a peal of laughter. Willem was a little person, and he thought nothing of making light of his dwarfism. His new bride was a former model. She was tall and lithe and completely smitten with Willem. They made an adorable couple.
“What did your grandmother say?” I asked him. Julia Entwistle couldn’t have been happy to hear the news that her grandson hadn’t invited her to his wedding.
“She’s fine. She’s throwing us a reception when we get home,” Willem said. “I’m sure you two will be getting your invites soon.”
That reminded me about the reason for my call. “When will that be?”
“The reception?”
“Yes, but more importantly, your return home?”
“Save the date of October twenty-third, if you can,” Willem said. “And we’ll be home on the tenth.”
Since it was well past September tenth, I took that to mean he wouldn’t be home for another three weeks. After hitting the MUTE button, I quickly asked Gilley, “Should we wait?”
“For what? For them to get home and attend our party before attending their reception, all in the span of a week?”
I frowned.
“Guys?” Willem said. “You there?”
“Sorry, Willem. I didn’t realize I accidentally touched the MUTE button,” I said. “I’m so thrilled and happy for both of you, and we will definitely be attending your reception.”
“Awesome,” Willem said. “But was there something else? You guys called me. What’s up?”
Gilley and I shrugged at each other, and then Gilley made the executive decision and said, “We were calling to invite you to a party, because we needed your help.”
“My help? Help with what?”
“Cat and I are up to our old tricks,” Gilley said, then added a laugh, like investigating a murder was such fun!
“Are you messing with the mob again?” Willem sounded worried.
“No,” I was quick to say. “But we are attempting to help another client of mine, who seems to have gotten himself into some trouble.”
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