“Congratulations, Ellie-Stuart-Radford!” Quinn whispered in her ear.
“Thank you, Quinn Parker.” She melted into his warm embrace and the pleasant scent of his citrus aftershave and wanted to remain there for a week.
Then the stench of cigarettes ruined everything.
Turning, she realized the vile odor reeked from the obese body of Fletcher Falcone who’d snuck up behind her.
She stepped back and faced him.
How incredibly naïve she’d been. From the beginning, she’d assumed Falcone was the friendly country lawyer trying to help her. Now, she realized he’d most likely been behind everything – behind the sabotaged DNA tests, even behind the hit men sent to kill her – all because he’d known, perhaps from the beginning, that she was Leland Radford’s daughter.
“Well, Ms. Stuart, congratulations to you,” Falcone said, extending his chubby manicured fingers.
She fake-coughed so she didn’t have to touch the bastard.
“This probate process has been at times hotly contested,” he said, smiling, “but I must say you have played fair and square.”
Unlike you! she thought.
“You understand, of course, that as executor for the estate, I was required to employ rather stern protective measures.”
Like murder.
“You can also appreciate that the Radford estate is quite vast and complex and requires great experience in coordinating all its disciplines cost-effectively. My managerial team and I are really the only ones conversant with all its complexities … know where all the bodies are buried so to speak.”
He grinned his eyes into puffy slits which made him look like a fat python.
“In brief, I would suggest that your interests can be best served if my highly experienced team continues managing your vast estate – but under your direction.” Another grin.
She stared at him, speechless, amazed at his blind arrogance. Did he not see, or even feel, the incredible rage she felt toward him? Did the idiot actually think he could continue managing the estate?
Beside her, Quinn looked ready to punch out Falcone. She placed her hand on Quinn’s to calm him, but it didn’t help.
“Mr. Falcone …” Ellie said.
“Yes?”
“Let me be clear.”
“Please do …”
“You are about as likely to continue handling this estate as angels are to fly out of your ass!”
Falcone fell backward as though she whacked him with a Louisville Slugger.
“Mr. Delacroix, if he wishes to, will manage the estate.”
Delacroix smiled at Falcone.
“But – ”
“Effective immediately!” she said, feeling her rage mushroom. She looked at Quinn and Delacroix who grinned back.
Falcone took another step back, looking shocked, like he couldn’t possibly imagine what he’d done wrong.
Delacroix leaned over and said, “Mr. Falcone, I’ll call you this afternoon to facilitate the transfer of all estate documents and files.”
“I’ll need a few days to – ”
“We’ll be at your office in one hour, Mr. Falcone. Our team will immediately assist your team in this transition … you know … to make sure nothing falls between the cracks.”
“I’ll help too,” Quinn said, moving toward Falcone.
Ellie stepped in front of Quinn, surprised at his fury. She’d never seen him this angry.
Falcone backed up a few more steps, clearly stunned by the turn of events. Red-faced, he waddled back to his table where he stuffed papers into his briefcase, snapped it shut and huffed off toward the door.
“Mr. Falcone …!” Judge Shue said, putting down his cell phone.
“Yes …?”
“Please remain here.”
“But your honor, I have very important business – ”
“You have more important business right here right now!”
Ellie was surprised at the judge’s stern tone.
“I’d like everyone in my chambers now, please.”