The law office was bustling when Hollis arrived. It had been hard to leave home early with John there. Still, she flashed back to her wake-up call from him and a smile played on her lips.
“You’ve had two messages already this morning,” Tiffany said, holding out the phone slips. “And George wants to see you as soon as you’re available.” She turned to assist another caller.
Hollis read the messages as she walked hurriedly back to her office. There were no surprises—Detective Silva and Tony Grueber. Both said urgent.
It’s going to be a great day.
Hollis walked down the hallway and tapped on the door jamb. “George, you wanted to see me?”
“I’ve been served.” He held out a thick packet of paper. “The suit claims Zoe Allen’s will is fraudulent. There’s also another injunction, this one drawn up by their law firm, to cease all processing of the will until which time the plaintiffs can prove their case.”
Hollis quickly scanned the particulars and sat down.
“This must be why Anthony Grueber is trying to get in touch with me.” She glanced up at his drawn face. “The suit alleges that the witnesses to the will, a Phyllis Mason and a Chris Tappen, were contrived and don’t exist. That’s easy to defend; Grueber was probably there when they all signed.”
George pursed his lips. “I don’t like it. That’s too easy to push back. All we’d have to do is present the witnesses. There has to be something else.”
She took a hard look at George. He did not look his best. His hair had been finger-combed and his eyes darted back and forth as if he were air-reading. There was a small ketchup-like stain on his tie and his shirt appeared limp. No, he did not look good.
“Let me go and contact Grueber to get his take. Your response isn’t due for thirty days, but we can have this issue resolved and dismissed way before then. I definitely got the feeling from the Allen clan that they had no interest in the wheels of justice turning slowly.”
He frowned. “Let me know what Grueber says. Then maybe we should all get on a conference call.”
“I’m your attorney. Why don’t you let me handle things? I’ll make you a copy of the complaint.” She stood. “Don’t worry, I’ll be talking to you.”
When Hollis got back to her desk, it was Silva she called first. Life and death matters trumped paperwork.
A female officer responded. “Detective Silva is not available, but he left a message that he would contact you later today.”
She punched in Grueber’s number.
“Hollis, I assume you know that Ravel has been served. Virgie Allen called me in the middle of the night to tell me.” He cleared his throat. “What does he want to do?”
“Do?” she asked. “He wants me to defend the suit by producing the witnesses. Who are they?”
There was silence.
“One I know,” Grueber said slowly. “Tappen I’m not familiar with.”
Hollis frowned. “Do you mean you don’t know the name? Or, you don’t know who Tappen is?”
“Both, I’m afraid,” he said. “I wasn’t there when the witnesses signed. I was with Zoe at the end, but she had already signed the will. She was fading fast, and all she wanted to talk about was her son, George, and why she’d given him up.”
“She said nothing about the will?”
“Only that she wanted me to assure her that she had done everything correctly,” he said. “Remember, she had handwritten her own will, and since everything looked in order, I saw no problem. At the time I wasn’t aware of the revised trust being developed in San Diego. Frankly, as she never executed it, I don’t think it needs to be considered.”
“But the will … you never questioned her about the witnesses? She never gave the slightest indication who they were?”
He cleared his throat again. “I … I … actually know one of them, er … Phyllis Mason. She and Zoe have been friends for years. She and I became … estranged … and I don’t know where she is now.” He paused. “Ah, did you notice that the signature dates are different? That means—”
“That the witnesses weren’t together when they signed and they won’t be able to verify each other.” Hollis scribbled a note. “Tony, was there someone taking care of Zoe when you came to visit? Was there anyone else in the room when she died?”
“Well, certainly none of the Allens were there. I don’t think they visited her, even once. She did have a caretaker, a nurse.” He rustled some papers. “I have her name somewhere. She’s the one who called me to come and see Zoe. I can’t locate it now, but I know I have her name somewhere. I’ll have to call you back.”
“All right, Tony, call me as soon as you can.” Hollis clicked off.
She debated going to see George with the latest update, but she opted to wait until she heard back from Tony. She picked up Zoe’s will and glanced at the names of the witnesses: Phyllis Mason and Chris Tappen. There was no phone number or address for either of them. Hollis tried to refrain from judgment. Save me from homemade wills. Still it could have been worse; at least there was a will.
Her phone buzzed as she was making notations in George’s file.
“Detective Silva, I got your earlier message. What is so urgent? Have you found out about Olivia Shur?”
“That’s why I’m calling. I want you to see her picture. Maybe you can identify her.”
Hollis felt chilled. Something told her it would be a morgue photo.
“Er … sure, that makes sense. When would you want to meet?”
“Detective Lee and I are about ten minutes away.”
She sighed. “All right, I’ll see you then.”
They arrived promptly in ten minutes. Tiffany seated them in a small conference room off the lobby. Hollis noticed that both men looked stern and spoke little other than to take one black and white photo and one in color out of a manila envelope. Lee pushed the first over to her.
“Do you recognize this person?”
Hollis exhaled the breath she had been holding and peered at the picture. She knew immediately that she didn’t recognize the dark-haired young woman who stared straight ahead, but there was something about her that was familiar. She looked at it a long moment. Whatever it was that caught her attention was gone. She passed the photo back.
“Is this her driver’s license photo?” she asked.
“Passport,” responded Silva. “Do you know her?”
Hollis shook her head. “No, I don’t. Is this the woman who was killed?”
“Take a look at this one. Do you know this woman?” Lee passed her the second picture without responding.
It was a Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation photo and Hollis stared at a face she knew only too well. The woman had aged since she last saw her. She actually looked much better. She must have had her teeth fixed to fill the obvious gap in the upper front that used to make her self-conscious. Her eyes still had a hard glint, and she was unsmiling. But then she’d never smiled much.
“Ms. Morgan, do you recognize this woman?” Silva urged.
“Yes,” said Hollis. “Only I didn’t know her as Olivia Shur. When I knew her years ago, she was Melanie Jones.” She looked up at the men. “She was my cellmate in prison.”
Lee and Silva exchanged looks.
“Were you in contact with her after your parole?” Silva asked.
“No, I don’t remember any contact with her. We were only cellmates for a short while, less than three months. My parole came through and we said goodbye.”
They exchanged looks again.
Lee said, “Ms. Morgan, we discovered Melanie Jones, aka Olivia Shur, through her fingerprints. Can you think of any reason why she would want to get in touch with you after all these years?”
Hollis shrugged. “No, I can’t. We weren’t close in … in prison. We weren’t hostile either—we were just doing our time. I didn’t know her that well. And why she would need the assistance of a probate attorney … well I can’t even guess.”
“Do you know anyone who was hostile to her? Did she ever mention she was fearful of someone or something going on the outside?” Lee asked.
“Detectives, really, it has been eight years. No, I can’t remember any conversations at all with Melanie, other than simple cordial ones. Nothing stands out.”
Silva folded his hands and leaned in. “Work with us, Ms. Morgan. You get a text which sounds a lot like a murder plot, and a few days later your former cellmate is killed.” He raised his hands. “You’re a bright woman. What would you make of it?”
Hollis sighed. “That I’m the common denominator.”
As soon as the elevator doors closed behind Lee and Silva, Hollis went to the first aid cabinet and picked up the aspirin. They seemed to believe her, but it was their job to distrust. They left her with cautions to contact them immediately if anything came to mind. But it was their request that she not leave the area without notifying them that gave her a chill.
“Hollis,” Tiffany said in an almost whisper. “Are you okay?”
She looked up from holding her head in her hands at Tiffany standing in the doorway. “I’m fine, just a little headache. What’s up?”
“Mr. Grueber called again, and he insisted I get this message to you right away.” Tiffany handed her the slip of paper.
It was the name of Zoe Allen’s nurse, Leticia Lund. He’d also provided her phone number and asked Hollis to call him after she contacted Lund.
“Some of us are going to lunch at the new deli up the street,” Tiffany said. “Can I bring you back a sandwich?”
Hollis gave her a weak smile and nodded, yes. She gave her some cash and told her to use the rest on her own meal. She was behind on the routine work that was rising in her in-basket. A lunch at her desk would help her make strides into the backlog. But first she had a call to make.
“This is Leticia Lund,” a warm voice answered after Hollis introduced herself.
“Ms. Lund, I was referred to you by Anthony Grueber. He thought you might be able to help me contact the witnesses to Mrs. Zoe Allen’s will.”
“Oh ….” She hesitated. “Yes, I remember Mr. Grueber. He would visit Mrs. Allen. She was a charming patient, even though she’d been ill for some time. I was definitely sad to see her go. She hadn’t been a resident long, and we weren’t confidantes like it can be with some patients but we were friendly. What are the names of the witnesses?”
Hollis picked up a copy of the will. “Phyllis Mason and Chris Tappen.”
Lund cleared her throat. “Yes, of course. Well, I know one of them. Phyllis Mason was Mrs. Allen’s friend who lives in a senior residence home in Castro Valley—I’m not sure which one. A lovely woman. A caretaker would bring her to see Mrs. Allen from time to time. They would sit in the garden and talk about the flowers.”
Hollis wanted to cheer. Maybe she would have a good day after all.
“Ms. Lund, what about Chris Tappen, does that name ring a bell?”
“No, I don’t know her at all.”
Strike one.
Hollis asked, “You said ‘her.’ If you didn’t know Chris Tappen, what made you think she was female?”
“Oh, you’re right. I guess I said ‘her’ because my niece is named Chris.”
“So, you’re only familiar with Phyllis Mason,” Hollis went on. “Do you know which facility in Castro Valley she resided in?”
“Er … no, I never thought to ask, and Mrs. Mason’s caretaker was not very talkative.”
Strike two.
Hollis licked her lips. “Ms. Lund, I have just one more question. Why do you think Mrs. Allen didn’t ask you to be a witness?”
“Oh, she told me,” Lund said breathlessly. “She left me some of her jewelry, and she said it was best that a person who was a beneficiary to a will not be a witness to that will.”
“She was right. Her will could have been contested on that point.”
At least she hadn’t struck out.
Hollis went to Penny’s office and gave her the assignment of calling every senior residence home in Castro Valley to locate Phyllis Mason. Some people would have groaned at the task, but Penny took it on gladly.
A few minutes later Hollis was on the phone with Grueber. “If Zoe was smart enough to know that Leticia Lund shouldn’t be a witness,” he insisted, “wouldn’t it stand to reason she would have selected only qualified persons to be a witness?”
“I would think so, but I could also argue she was running short of time and she was desperate to leave a will acknowledging her son,” Hollis persisted. “And perhaps she signed it herself.”
He fell silent.
“Tony, we’re only getting started looking for Mason and Tappen. Let’s see if we can come up with them in the next few days.” Hollis paused. “I’m hoping that Phyllis Mason might know Chris Tappen. You said you knew her … do you know how to contact her?”
“It’s been a few years since we’ve spoken. I would have used Zoe to get in touch with her. Let me see if I can find her.”
Before they clicked off, she and Grueber agreed to keep each other informed of any discoveries.
And then she was free to muse.
Hollis stared at her desk. As much as she tried, she couldn’t keep her mind off Melanie Jones. Her brain churned on overdrive and she couldn’t get the woman out of her head. The circumstances surrounding her own prison internment had formed memories that refused to stay away. At times they loomed before her like a relentless, ever-deepening hole that always threatened to swallow her up.
Melanie Jones had been sent up for embezzlement. Hollis had no sense of whether she was innocent or guilty. They never spoke of it, or of Hollis’s insurance fraud charge. Jones was a pleasant enough thirty-five-year-old who had lived in Los Angeles. Neither were interested in “bonding,” since they were both aloof loners. Still, Hollis racked her brain for some thread of rationale as to why Melanie would be contacting her now.
More critical was, who among her acquaintances had Hollis’s number for a text message and knew Melanie? That was the relationship triangle that was making Hollis hit her head against the wall. She could think of no one. Then there was the final question: why would anyone want Melanie dead?
Tiffany put a brown bag on her desk. “Here’s your sandwich, and I brought you a drink.”
Hollis thanked her. “Tiffany, when you spoke with Olivia Shur, did she say anything about knowing me already, or anything at all about her needing to see me?”
Tiffany scrunched up her face in thought. “She sounded really anxious to see you. When I suggested next week, she said that wouldn’t work, the paperwork had to be in by the end of the week.” She frowned. “I just assumed she had some kind of probate claim deadline.”
“But nothing about me? She didn’t say she knew me?”
“Yes, in a way. She said you were referred to her and that she had been trying to reach you and had finally spoken to you a few days before, and it was you who suggested she make an appointment. That’s why I didn’t insist on her phone number.”
“What?” Hollis blurted out. “I don’t remember talking to her at all.”
Tiffany shrugged. “I’ve got to get back to the front desk.” She moved to leave. “But that’s what I told the police.”
Hollis got home early enough to start dinner. Her mind was still whirling from the conversation with Tiffany, until at last, she did remember talking to a woman who did not give her name as Olivia Shur, or Melanie Jones, and in fact had not given her name at all.
She went through her mental contacts list trying to remember the call. Penny had been out of the office and would have ordinarily screened the call, but Tiffany had put her through to Hollis.
“Hey, I’m home.” John leaned over and kissed her. “You were so deep in thought you didn’t hear me come in.”
Hollis smiled. “It’s been one of those days.”
“You’ve had a lot of those lately. Want to share?”
“Not really. I’d like to talk about something completely different. How was your day?” She began to set the table.
“Ah, no. I don’t want to talk about my day either. Working for Homeland Security is a great job, but I’ve learned to close the door on it when it’s time to go home. By the way, I have to go out of town next week.” He opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. “I leave on Monday and I’ll be back on Friday. I’m actually being called in as an advisor on a crisis team. It’s an interesting assignment.”
Hollis was getting used to his travel schedule; she suspected the last-minute assignments were due to the eruption of a high profile case. His absences didn’t bother her at all; in fact, they made her feel less guilty about the time she needed to get her own job done. The aspect of his work being possibly dangerous crossed her mind, but she wouldn’t let herself dwell on something she could do nothing about. John had to be John. She reached over and nuzzled him on his cheek, which was already starting to feel rough with stubble.
“I can tell. You should see your face; it’s all lit up. The team sounds challenging.”
John took the plates from her hand and finished setting the table.
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. But getting back to you, what’s going on?”
“After dinner,” she said. “I brought you rum raisin ice cream for dessert.”
They ate companionably. They both hated small talk, so they talked about mutual friends and a potential vacation. Hollis could sense John was giving her space to confide in him on her own without the pressure of questions. She also suspected, due to the intra-agency involvement, that he knew more about the Shur/Jones investigation than she did.
The dishes were put away and the kitchen light turned off. John took two wine glasses down from the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of wine with one hand and Hollis’s arm with the other. He poured them both a glass of wine.
“Okay, let’s hear it,” he said.
Sitting next to him on the sofa, Hollis sighed. Opening up was not her usual mode of operation, but she was attempting to change. She recounted the findings of her day and the meeting at the San Lucian Police Department.
“I’m so frustrated. I don’t think Lee and Silva believe me. Heck, when I listened to how I must have sounded, I wouldn’t believe me.”
“So you didn’t recognize Melanie Jones’s voice when you talked on the phone?” John prodded.
Hollis furrowed her brow, trying to remember. “It had been years, and I didn’t know her that long when I did know her.”
“Well you’re half right, I think,” he said. “I had a chance to speak with Detective Lee. They’d been watching Jones for the past several months as a part of a sting operation, but she dropped off their radar. Her re-appearance as Olivia Shur answered that question, but where had she been and why was she trying to contact you are the answers they need now.”
“I’ve gone over and over the events of that week. There are only two calls I remember taking that could have been Melanie Jones. They were both pretty typical.” Hollis took a sip of wine. “As always, I took notes. I take notes of all my calls, just in case I need background.”
“Even if they don’t leave a name?”
Hollis scrambled off the sofa and ran upstairs. She was back shortly with her briefcase, and in a moment she retrieved a thick legal pad. She flipped through the pages.
“You see, each call is dated with a name and contact number. When the caller doesn’t leave a name I just put down the date and question marks.” She read and flipped the pages. “Here’s the first one.”
John leaned over to read alongside her.
“This one was pretty straightforward,” Hollis said, pointing to the note. “She just wanted to know the difference between a will and a trust and how much they cost. Ordinarily Penny would have handled this call, but she was out.”
She flipped through a few more pages.
“Here’s the other. This is the one they’re probably looking for. The call corresponds to the date on the printout.” Hollis scanned her notes and frowned. “She avoided giving me her name and asked about name changing in a will. She had legally changed her name, but all of her assets were in her birth name. She wanted to know, could she have a will that didn’t disclose her earlier name.”
Hollis stared at John.
“Did she say how long ago the name change was?”
She shook her head. “No, I told her to make an appointment and bring a list of the type of assets and an estimated value with her. I was pretty sure she was going to need a trust, but I don’t do interviews over the phone.”
“Did she say why she wanted to keep her birth name secret?”
Hollis looked down at her notes. “She was anxious to get this settled because she was getting married ….” She paused. “Now that this has blown up, I remember thinking she was lying—that she wasn’t telling me everything. Take a look at this notation.” She pointed to a series of circles. “This means that I felt there was a bigger story, or a problem she didn’t want to share over the phone. It’s not unusual. This happens sometimes when families are arguing and they don’t want it known they’re seeking legal help, or the ownership isn’t clear, and the client wants a bargain quote.”
“So, if this is Shur, she could have had another reason for contacting you besides what she owned up to.” He pointed to the phone number. “Did you check out the number? Does this match up with your ‘Private Caller’?”
“You told me to leave it up to the police. I didn’t want to get in the middle of things. Besides, I didn’t know about Melanie Jones, or now, Olivia Shur.” She dug in her tote for another piece of paper. She glanced down and did a double-take. “Yes, this number matches one of the Private Callers on my cellphone. My gosh, John, this might be the first link.”