Santa's Subpoena Read online

  Clark grimaced. “I wish we were big enough we didn’t have to take on divorces.”

  “Ditto,” I said. “However, she’s much better off without him, so I don’t mind this one. The guy is an ass, Clark. So is his lawyer. I might have to make a Motion to Compel for the discovery.”

  “You waiting until after the mediation?” He reached for his jacket from the coat tree my Nana O’Shea had insisted he have from her basement. It was oak and well-maintained.

  “No. I need to know all of his assets before we can agree to anything.” I stood, my ears perked to the rest of the office. “Where are Pauley and Oliver?”

  Clark secured his file folders in his briefcase and strode toward the door. “Pauley is taking a test at the college, and Oliver had a dentist appointment. They should both be in later today.”

  I liked that our office staff consisted of my cousin Pauley, who at sixteen attended the local community college, and Oliver Duck, a kid I’d represented a while back. They both worked odd hours for little pay and were tons of fun to have around. I’d let them choose their own business cards, and Oliver was the Czar of our office while Pauley was the King. “I’m thinking of getting Aiden a…keychain for Christmas? Maybe one of those that opens beer bottles.”

  Clark paused and turned. “What?”

  “What do you think?”

  “If you’re going to break up with him, do it on the phone,” Clark said.

  I sighed. Okay. No keychain. I stood and followed him through the hallway and doorway to the reception area, where a woman waited patiently in one of the two leather chairs my Uncle Sean had given us.

  I paused. “Hello. I’m sorry, we didn’t hear you.”

  She stood, wearing a long red overcoat, black snow boots, and sparkly jewelry on both hands. Her blondish gray hair was swept back in a thick updo, her eyes were a faded green, and her skin was smooth for a woman who had to be in her mid-sixties. “Hello. I’m Florence McLintock, and I’m here to tell you that there is no way Bernie killed Lawrence. He was with me, in my bed, all night. Well, all morning. So he couldn’t have done it.” Her lips pursed, showing fine wrinkles above her mouth.

  I sighed.

  Clark patted my shoulder. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” He half-bowed to Mrs. McLintock and then made a hasty escape.

  “Why don’t you come back and talk with me,” I suggested, motioning the woman through the doorway to the hallway. “My office is all the way at the far end.” She moved, and I followed, passing two conference rooms, the restrooms, one office Pauley utilized, one empty office, and then reached mine at the end with the wide windows, which was adjacent to the kitchen.

  She walked inside and sat in one of my two leather guest chairs, planting her monstrous green purse next to her. “We used to be married, you know? Sometimes he makes a booty call.”

  I coughed up a little latte and strode around my desk to sit. Unlike Clark’s organized chaos, my case files were perfectly lined up to the right of my desk with a pen next to a pad of paper. My computer was behind me on the credenza, and the windows looked out past buildings to Lilac Lake. “Mrs. McLintock, I already spoke with Bernie, and he wasn’t with you that morning. So lying to me is just fine, but if you lie to the police, they could arrest you for hindering an investigation.” I leaned toward her, softening my voice. “Plus, the truth always comes out, and the police will think you’re lying to cover something up.”

  Tears filled her deep-set eyes. “Bernie couldn’t kill anybody.”

  “I know,” I said, not really knowing that fact but being willing to go on faith for now. “I’m glad you came in today because I was going to ask you to talk to me.” I reached for the notepad. “How long have you and Bernie been divorced?”

  She released the wide black buttons on her coat. “Let’s see. We were married for seven years and have been divorced for about five now.” She fluttered her hands. “He’s a sweet man, but all he wants to do is play cards, watch golf on television, and then be Santa Claus once a year. Seven years of that was all I could take—especially since the dickhead cheated on me.” She leaned in, her eyes widening. “Although he is very well endowed, if you know what I mean. I would’ve left him a good year or two before that, but the man is…gifted.”

  I could feel the latte coming all the way up, so I cleared my throat. I tried to clear my brain, but the image of Bernie being endowed was in there for good. “I see,” I murmured, wishing with everything I had that I did not see. “You obviously have remained friends?”

  She nodded. “I’m friends with all of my exes. I did forgive him for cheating, but I couldn’t stay married to him.” She shook her head. “I’m a free spirit, Ms. Albertini. I’ve tried love several times, and I just can’t get it right.”

  I took notes. “If you don’t mind my asking, how many times have you been married?”

  “Oh, about five, I guess. Six if you count the ceremony jumping out of a plane with an Elvis impersonator reciting the vows—three husbands ago. I don’t,” she said. “That one doesn’t really count. You know, I was hoping that Lawrence would be lucky number seven and that we might make a go of it.” More tears gathered in her eyes and she brushed them away. “Why would anybody kill him? He was harmless.” Her voice lowered. “And also very well endowed, if you know what I mean.”

  I held back a gag. “So you have a type.”

  She jolted and then laughed, the tears dissipating. “I like you.”

  I smiled. “I like you, too.” Although I could go the rest of my life without mentally picturing a bunch of Santas with big dicks. I handed over another notebook. “Would you please write down the names, addresses, and phone numbers of your ex-husbands, as well as dates of marriages and divorces?” It was a long shot, but maybe one of them hadn’t been happy that Florence was getting remarried. “Wait a sec. Does everyone know that Lawrence was going to propose to you?”

  She reached for a pen. “Yes. He posted on social media when he was at Earl’s Jewelry Store last week. In fact, I have the ring.” She looked up, frown lines digging into her forehead. “I should return the ring so his son can have the money, shouldn’t I?” She drew a box out of her pocket and pushed it across the desk. “It’s the right thing to do?”

  I slowly opened the lid and gasped.

  She winced. “I know. It’s beautiful. I do love it.”

  So did I. The ring was a simple diamond solitaire, and it had to be three karats, easy. The color and clarity were stunning. “Lawrence must’ve been well off,” I said, closing the lid before I was tempted to try on the darn thing.

  She gulped. “No, he wasn’t. Well, he had a significant savings, but he spent it all on that ring.”

  I leaned away from the box. “All of it?”

  She nodded. “Every bit. He proposed last night before meeting the guys for poker and their Kringle club meeting, and I think he was planning to celebrate with all of his friends since I accepted.”

  I tore my gaze away from the innocuous dark blue box. “Really?” Bernie hadn’t mentioned that fact to me. Why did he keep hiding facts?

  “Yes. We had an early dinner together, and then he left. I didn’t know it’d be the last time we spoke.” She sighed, clasping her hands together in her lap. “I liked him, a lot. While it wasn’t the love of the century, we were compatible, and sometimes I think that’s more important than the rush of romance and wild emotions. In fact, after my various romances, I can tell you it is much more crucial. You have to be able to laugh with each other and enjoy the boring times as well as the adrenaline-rush ones.”

  My stomach cramped. “I see.” My entire relationship with Aiden was built on adrenaline and danger. We’d never even watched a movie in bed together. Was it the excitement as well as history that kept us together? It certainly wasn’t new memories or day-to-day life. In fact, we weren’t really together. He was in a different state, no doubt being stitched up by a doctor right now. Hopefully, anyway. I dragged my attention back to th
e grieving woman in my office. “Was Lawrence’s son angry he spent all of his money on the ring?”

  “Yes,” Florence admitted. “He was furious. Hoyt Forrest doesn’t like me very much. He runs the bait and tackle shop around Lilac Lake that has been there forever. The man is in his early forties and thinks, or rather thought, he could run Lawrence’s life.” She shook her head. “It’s sad they didn’t reconcile before Lawrence’s death.”

  I would need to look into Hoyt. For now, I studied the box. “Do you want me to escort you to the bank so you can put that in a safety deposit box?”

  “No.” She pushed the finished list across my desk. “How about we go to the jewelry store and return it? I wouldn’t mind having company on the way.”

  With that ring, she should have an armed guard. I guess I’d have to do. Plus, I still hadn’t found a Christmas present for Aiden, and the idea was giving me a headache. Constantly. “All right. You can tell me more about what makes a successful relationship on the way.” I stood and dug my purse from my laptop bag, figuring if she’d gotten it wrong so many times, maybe she had now learned how to make one work.

  I could use all the help I could find.

  Chapter 6

  Earl’s Jewelry Store was across the border in Washington state, and I spent the ride watching the icy roads and listening to Florence recall her various romances through the years. Her adventures were impressive, and she’d spent time in several different countries, including a summer in a castle in Scotland with a modern-day laird.

  She finally wound down with a sad sigh, saying that Hoyt Forrest wouldn’t even let her attend the funeral for Lawrence.

  It seemed unnecessarily mean to me. “I’ll talk to him,” I promised, driving through an older part of Spokane, its brick buildings having seen better days. “I can’t promise anything, but I need to discuss the case with him, anyway.”

  Florence patted my arm. “That would be so kind of you. Thanks.”

  “Is he a decent guy?” I asked, hoping it was grief and not cruelty that drove him.

  “He’s okay,” she said quietly. “I know that Lawrence loved him very much, although they’ve been having problems lately because Hoyt likes to gamble.”

  I stiffened. “That’s news. Any idea how much money he’s lost?”

  “No. He asked Lawrence for a loan two weeks ago, and it hurt Lawrence to refuse to help, but he just couldn’t send bad money after bad money.” She unhitched her seatbelt as I pulled alongside the curb, frowning at the barred windows set on either side of the metal door. “I remember when this area of Spokane didn’t even need locks on the doors, although the jewelry store was always careful, you know.”

  “So do I,” I murmured. Hoyt was looking good as a suspect for the murder, but I didn’t have a feel for him yet. “Do you think Hoyt could’ve hurt his father for money? That he was that desperate?”

  “No. I can’t imagine anybody wanting to hurt Lawrence or being that desperate. It just doesn’t make sense.” She opened the door and snow blew inside my SUV.

  I wondered how many of her jewelry items had been purchased at Earl’s but didn’t know of a polite way to ask. Dodging through the rapidly quickening snow, I grasped her arm and ushered her across the newly shoveled walkway to push open the door. A tinkly bell announced our arrival, and we hurried inside to see counters of sparkling gems. Christmas decorations danced across the walls in several winter scenes, and music played a muted holiday selection.

  Did Aiden like jewelry? I’d never seen him wear any, but a nice gold cross seemed like him. Of course, that was seriously personal. He could probably use another leather jacket, but that was both out of my budget and not personal enough. I sighed.

  Florence pulled the box from her pocket just as a man bustled through the door at the far end, his blue bowtie perfect over his neatly pressed shirt. His eyes were brown, his spectacles thick, and his gray hair thin. He smiled and laugh wrinkles extended out from his eyes.

  “Florence. How good to see you.” He moved around the counter and straight for her, reaching for her hands and losing the grin. “I’m so very sorry to hear about Lawrence.”

  Florence leaned in. “Thank you, Earl.” She partially looked over her shoulder at me. “This is my friend, Anna Albertini. Anna, this is jewelry genius extraordinaire and a lifelong friend, Earl Jacobson.”

  Earl released her and held out a gnarled hand to me. “Anna, it’s so nice to meet you. I know your grandparents from different events in Silverville and think very highly of them. Your Grandpa Albertini was about five years older than me in school, and our high schools were rivals. I went to Bourn High.”

  Bourn was the next valley over from Silverville, and I had many friends from the small community.

  I shook his hand, being gentle with the obvious arthritis in his fingers. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” The place smelled like lemon cleaner and pipe tobacco that somehow melded neatly with the Christmas pine air freshener.

  Florence handed over the ring box. “I can’t keep this and would like to give the money to Hoyt, Earl. I’m sorry about the sale and hope you can recoup somehow.” She wiped snow off her forehead, and a piece dripped down to her red jacket.

  Earl took the box, his lips tightening. “I have no problem giving you a refund, but you really shouldn’t give the money to that dolt, Hoyt. Lawrence wanted you to have this ring, and he gave it to you, so it’s yours. A gift is a gift.” He nodded emphatically. “Lawrence and I were friends for fifty years, and I knew him. If you don’t want the ring, and you don’t want cash, perhaps you’d like to exchange it for that nice opal set over in the estate sale area? I know how much you like opals, and these have yellow diamonds around them. So stunning.”

  Florence hesitated, indecision crossing her face. She bit her lip and hovered uncertainly by my side. “I do love opals—and diamonds.”

  Who didn’t? I glanced at a row of truly stunning emerald earrings. “This is none of my business, but as a lawyer, I can assure you that a gift is a gift, and it’s all yours. You’re under no obligation to put the ring into Lawrence’s estate.” I paused. “Did he have a will?” It was a question I should’ve already asked, frankly. My brain had to get off Aiden Devlin and my personal life.

  Florence nodded. “Yes. The reading is tomorrow at noon.” She fluttered her hands together. “I’ve just been dreading it, so I pushed the entire situation to the back of my mind. Anna, would you come with me? I’m supposed to attend, and I really didn’t think about why, unless Lawrence left me something, which would probably anger Hoyt. I don’t want to make him mad or hurt him any more than he’s been harmed by the loss of his father.”

  “Of course,” I said smoothly. There was nothing I’d like better, actually. The more I knew about Lawrence, the more I could help Bernie, who I truly didn’t think had killed anybody. “Although, you said that Lawrence spent all of his funds on your ring.”

  She nodded, and almost-melted snow flew off her gray hair. “As far as I understand, he did spend all of his savings. However, he owns the bait and tackle shop, his house, some coins, guns, and other personal items. I hope he left everything to Hoyt, but I don’t know what he decided.”

  If Florence was invited to the reading, she had inherited something, whether she wanted it or not. I wouldn’t mind protecting her from Hoyt in case he got out of hand, and the more I knew about this case, the better.

  Her phone rang, and she pulled it from her monstrous purse to look at the face. Then she sighed.

  I peered over her shoulder, having no problem being nosy. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s that Jolene O’Sullivan from the paper. She somehow got my number and won’t stop calling me about Lawrence’s murder and the fact that I formerly was married to Bernie, the prime suspect.” Florence shoved the phone back into her bag with enough force that it clanked against a glass display case. “I told her I didn’t have a comment.”

  “Good.” I patted her arm. “That’s great and k
eep saying that. Jolene can’t be trusted, and she’ll expand any story for more reads. Trust me.” I had personal experience with that very situation.

  “No problem.” Florence tucked her bag tighter against her wool coat and moved toward the estate sale counter. “Since we’re already here, it wouldn’t hurt to look at some jewelry, I guess.”

  I turned to survey a series of large crosses in yellow and white gold that sparkled beautifully. Aiden’s Grams had been Catholic, and that’s how she’d raised him, but I had no idea if he practiced or even wanted a cross. He could use some cover while he worked such dangerous jobs, but it might not be my place to suggest that. Not right now, anyway.

  Earl moved toward me, standing only about an inch taller than my five-foot-four. His gray pants were pressed and his loafers polished. “Those are lovely,” he said. “Are you shopping for a present for your significant other?” His keys jangled as he drew them out of his pocket. “I can pull those out if you’d like to look at any.”

  Significant other? Was that what Aiden was to me? We were exclusive, although we’d never fully had that conversation. Aiden had pretty much said that he didn’t share, and I’d said the same thing, so…

  I sighed.

  Earl’s bushy eyebrows rose. “It’s like that, huh? What about a nice watch? We have some very manly and yet elegant timepieces over here.”

  A watch? Aiden was usually running out of exploding buildings and wore a military type of watch. “I don’t think so,” I murmured. Of course, many men had fancier watches to wear when they weren’t at work or were attending events—usually weddings in my expansive family. Would Aiden still be around during the next family wedding season?

  I swallowed. We should probably have that talk when he was home, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t looking for a commitment, but it’d be nice to have a path to a commitment if that’s what we both decided.