The Fallen Angels Book Club (27 page)

“What if Avery finds out?” I couldn't help but ask.

“Then I'm screwed.”

I finished off my glass of wine and chased it with a big sip of water. “Wouldn't it be easier if you just called Bethel and asked when and where they sent the report?”

“I did. They said they finally sent it to the office a few days ago. I checked every day up until I left, but it never came. I think it must be lost in the mail room.”

The building's mail room was not called the “black hole” for nothing. Most of us at Triple D sent things overnight. Mark had experienced firsthand what happened when urgency met incompetence.

“I'll be on the lookout for it, and I'll give you a call when I retrieve it. It'll still be a problem when the bill comes, through.”

“Yeah, but that's thirty days from now. I'll deal with it then, if I have to.”

Rena started to fidget. I was ready for bed.

I picked up my purse. “Enough. I'm out of here. Thank you very much for the dinner.” I smiled at Mark. “Let me know how the interviews go.”

We said our goodbyes outside. It was a beautiful evening. The kind I dreamed about seeing again when I was in prison. I wanted to enjoy it but I was drawn back to my world, where my future hung by a thin thread.

At home, Clay's voice greeted me on my message machine: “Hollis, give me a call tomorrow. I'll be in the office early. The court clerk assigned our hearing to the court calendar. I need to know how the investigation is moving forward.”

Ah, yes, the investigation
.

The next day Clay agreed to meet me during my lunch hour. His receptionist was gone and he ushered me down the hallway into his office.

“We got a confirmation that your hearing has been moved up two weeks. I received the last of your references yesterday. I'll file them with the court tomorrow.” He tapped a file folder on his desk.

My heart immediately went into overdrive. “Two weeks … so we got Judge Pine?”

Clay hesitated. “No, that's what I wanted to tell you. Pine had a heart attack last weekend. We've got Mathis.”

I couldn't believe it. Wasn't anything going to go my way? “Clay, from what you told me, I don't have a chance in hell to get a pardon from Mathis.”

“It's rotten luck. If I didn't believe your petition has merit, I wouldn't bother with any judge. Mathis can be difficult, but he's fair. We're going to make sure your petition is one he can't refuse.”

I tried not to give into stress and or let discouragement take control, but I was tired of fighting. The pardon was the only thing that kept me going.

“So, tell me, are you still a suspect?”

“The police still don't know who the killer is.” I sighed. “They haven't said so, but I get the feeling I'm not their prime suspect. To be honest, it could just be my wishful thinking.”

“What makes you think they're still considering you?”

“The police searched my house and found nothing. There's been another murder. They found my ex-husband's body in an apartment downtown.”

Clay ran his hand down his face. “Bill Lynley! Good grief, what is happening? They don't think you did it, do they?”

He looked like he was on the verge of a heart attack.

“No, no. I have an alibi and they have nothing to link me to his death.”

“Well, we'll just have to proceed as if all this will be worked out. Hollis, I'm not going to mislead you. If you're a suspect, Mathis will throw your petition out. I'm going to be out of the office the rest of the week. So on the following Monday I want you back here for a prep session.” He made a note on his legal pad.

We talked for a few minutes more about what I knew of Bill's death. I tried to downplay any concern the police might have regarding my involvement. I wasn't sure if Clay bought it all.

Back at work, I rushed to finish working on my in-box of case matters. I wanted to make a call before I left for home.

“Ri, hi, it's Rebecca.”

There was a pause.

“Rebecca, is everything okay? Are you in tr—”

“No, I'm not in trouble.” I spoke through clenched teeth. It was going to take time before my family would see me as I was now. “I called for a couple of reasons.”

Another pause, this one a little longer.

“Yes, go ahead.”

“How is Kirk? What did the test results say?”

My brother-in-law had always treated me with kindness, more so than my family members. At least he seemed to give me the benefit of the doubt.

Rita cleared her throat. I could almost see her pinching the bridge of her nose, her habit when trying to compose herself.

“The results were good. The cancer was caught early. He has six more treatments and then they'll keep him under close watch.”

I smiled. “That's real good news. I know you must be relieved.”

“What else, Rebecca?”

What was it about my family that always put me on the defensive? My sister's coolness made me feel about eight years old.

“I want to thank you for your reference letter. My attorney says it struck just the right note.”

“Good, I'm glad,” she said. “I hope … I hope you'll have another chance to prove yourself. You deserve it.”

“I intend on taking advantage of that chance, Ri. I'm much wiser now.”

“Good, is there anything …?” She almost didn't let me finish my sentence. I knew she was struggling with conflicting emotions and judgments, and wanted to get off the phone.

“Bill is dead. He was murdered.”

Her sharp intake of breath reassured me that she wasn't as robotic as she'd sounded since the beginning of the call.

“Oh, my god, they don't think—?”

“No, they don't think I did it.” I wasn't able to hold back a sigh. “Well, that's all I wanted to tell you.”

There was a moment's silence.

“Here's a thought, why don't you plan on coming home for the fourth of July?” she said. “Yes, I think that would be a good idea. Kirk will be finished with his treatments.”

Her offer was a shock and now it was my turn to pause.

“Ri, what about Mom and Dad?”

She laughed. “I'll start talking to them now. They'll have a couple of months to get used to the idea.”

At that we both laughed then grew silent, knowing that a couple of months might not be enough.

I murmured, “Even if it doesn't happen, thanks for the suggestion.”

Rita spoke quietly, “I miss your laugh, Becca.”

“I miss you, too, Ri.”

That night, my happy thoughts about Rita were interspersed with thoughts of Bill. His face kept slipping into my alpha levels. Sometime around three a.m. I awoke, my eyes wide open. The full reality of Detective Faber's comment hit me. The only thing that linked all three murders … was me.

I
waited until the firm's lobby was empty and walked nonchalantly over to our receptionist.

“Emily, did you go down to the mail room, today?”

“No, I haven't had a chance. I've been stuck here on the phones. The clerks are having a staff meeting, and I won't be able to pick up the mail until after lunch.”

“I'll go. I need a change of scenery.”

“You will?” Emily looked at me with more than a little surprise. “Hollis, do you even know where the mail room is?”

“Of course I do. It's been a while, but I've been there. It's in the basement, right?” I grinned at her. “Just send somebody for me if I'm not back within the hour.”

She smiled with hesitancy. “Right.”

I found the mailroom in record time, considering I only missed one turn. Two young men, more than likely interns, busily pulled letters and packages out of a large canvas bin. The constant drone of the air-conditioning unit forced me to speak up to be heard

“Excuse me. Where is the pickup for Dodson, Dodson and Doyle?” I called out.

A youth with enough tattoos on his arms to resemble a Persian rug pointed to a far corner next to the only window in the room. Avoiding boxes and bins, I made my way to our area. I had a new appreciation for receiving any mail at all.

A large white plastic container with the firm's logo was almost full to the brim. I had a suspicion Emily had either missed the morning pickup, or Triple D was doing even better than I thought. I took the bin over to a long side table that was relatively clear. I shoved everything down to one end and started to sort the mail. First, I separated the letters from the large mailing envelopes, which left me with a much smaller stack. I scanned through the oversized envelopes, searching the return addresses for Bethel's logo. In a matter of minutes I held a large tan envelope with a three-day-old note attached saying it had been delivered to a wrong address. I didn't care. I dumped everything back into the bin and called out goodbye to the young men, who didn't even look up.

Emily was on the phone. She waved at me to put the mail on the far side of her cubicle. Clutching the Bethel envelope, I was ready to retreat when she held out the date stamp for me to properly log in the mail. It was easier if I just went along. I returned to my office, shutting the door.

Bethel was considered one of the best appraisal firms in the area, but they were a small company. Triple D used them when a value was likely to be contested. However, Avery rarely used them because a year ago he'd had a falling out with one of the owners. Male ego. If Avery knew Mark had spent money and, even innocently, hired a firm he was at odds with, he'd give Mark the reference from hell.

In the nineties, California cracked down on appraisers who either weren't qualified or couldn't justify their assessment. Since then, appraisals followed a standard format. An introductory letter described the assignment, followed by a regional, then area, then site description of the property. Some were twenty pages and others were one hundred and twenty. There was a value comparison of like properties. The evaluation closed with the value computation for the subject property. Finally, at the very end, the appraiser provided a résumé or qualification narrative.

The Riddick report was thick. I turned to the end to read the comparables and the valuation summary. Bethel had listed ten recent sales within two miles of the Riddick property, all similarly built, and all within the last six months. The two appraisals Avery received showed the Riddick property value ranging from four to five million.

Bethel's evaluation came in at two million.

I blinked to make sure my vision wasn't blurred. Then, as a sanity check, I confirmed I was reading about the Riddick property. The difference of three million on the high end was glaring. I needed to compare the other two reports to Bethel's. They were in Avery's office.

I walked past his office. The door was closed. I looked over at the “Out” board. One of Ed's favorite topics in management meetings was to harangue us about signing out on the “Out” board. Signing out let everyone know where we were and when we expected to return—an inexpensive tracking tool. Our team was always held up as an example of staff doing things right. When I saw the line after Avery's name was blank, I knew he was behind that closed door. I had to wait.

I was tempted to call Mark, but he'd told me he had job interviews today and I didn't think a cellphone going off in his pocket during an interview would be helpful. I went back to my office to read the full Bethel report.

It was clear Bethel hadn't embellished the valuation by using the listing prices for comparable properties, but had only included closed escrows. This made the findings more defensible. Sometimes appraisers inflated a value by basing it on a seller's asking price, not the price it eventually sold for. The real estate market was still reeling from the sub-prime market debacle. Conservative appraisers were erring on the side of only including done deals.

If Imelda's estate was worth not five million but two million, it would have major ramifications for estate taxes and how much her heirs would benefit. As executors, Triple D was responsible for liquidating the assets and distributing the proceeds. We got a percentage of the valuation, in this case an inflated valuation.

I got up and fetched a bottle of water from the lunch room. My agitation made me hyper and I avoided Emily, who was probably beginning to question my trips back and forth through the lobby. Avery's door was still closed. I stopped at Emily's desk and glanced down to see if his phone line was lit. It was.

“Do you want me to give you a call when his line is free? It will save you a few steps.”

“Thanks.” I walked back to my office and closed my door.

Mark's instincts had been right, but I wasn't sure what it all meant. We had three appraisals, but one was totally out of the ballpark. When Avery got the Bethel invoice, he wouldn't be happy.

My phone rang a few minutes later. “Hollis, he's off his phone.”