'The amount that he left to his son was a very small bequest when you consider that Lamar's estate is worth twenty million dollars.'
'Why didn't he leave Junior more?'
DePaul considered the question for a moment before answering. 'Junior is not an idiot, but he's lazy and irresponsible. He's been able to run the mortuaries, but Lamar had to keep a close eye on the business. I believe that Lamar wanted to give Junior an incentive to work hard. He didn't want to leave him penniless, but he was afraid that Junior would not work at all if he had too much money.'
'He obviously didn't feel that way about his wife.'
DePaul hesitated. 'Detective Anthony, I don't know if I should be telling you this, but Lamar and I go way back. If there is something amiss . . . well, I just want to make sure that you're fully informed. Shortly before his death, Lamar discussed the possibility of changing his will.'
'In what way?'
'He didn't say specifically, but I had the impression that he was going to change his bequests to his wife and son dramatically.'
'How?'
'He never came right out and said what he planned to do, but I believe that their stake in his estate would have been drastically diminished.'
'So Senator Crease and Junior benefited when Mr. Hoyt was killed before the will was changed?'
'Yes. Senator Crease in particular.'
DePaul paused. He looked troubled, as if a new thought had just occurred to him.
'Of course, if Ellen was involved in Lamar's murder, Junior would inherit her share.'
'Why is that?'
'The law forbids a person to profit from a will if they cause the death of the person who made it.'
Chapter 8.
Karen Fargo heard the announcement of Lamar Hoyt's murder on the morning news while she was driving to work. She had pulled onto the shoulder of the highway because she could not see the traffic through her tears and she was shaking so badly that she was afraid she would lose control of her car. When she could drive, she took the first exit and returned home. She had called in sick that day and the next.
On her first day back to work, Mr. Wilhelm had called her into his office and fired her. Fargo was in a state of shock and her protests were feeble. Mr. Wilhelm had an explanation for his actions, but she barely heard them. She knew why she had been let go and who was behind the firing, though that person was so insulated by layers of middle management and executive power that she knew she would never be able to prove her suspicions.
After cleaning out her desk, Fargo drove straight home and called her parents in Michigan. She told them about being fired, though not about Lamar. Her parents were serious Baptists and would not have approved of her affair with a married man. They acted like cheerleaders, reminding her of how smart she was and what good work she did. Surely another company would hire her.
When Fargo ended her call to her parents, she was upbeat. She did not have very much money saved, but she had enough to get by until another job came along. There was always a market for a good secretary. Maybe, she thought, it was best that she not continue to work at Hoyt Industries, where every day would be a reminder of the life she had lost. Maybe being fired was a blessing in disguise.
The next day Fargo started her job search with high hopes. She had graduated at the top of her secretarial school class, she was attractive and friendly and she always received excellent efficiency ratings. Strangely, the jobs did not come. The interviewers were always enthusiastic and she left the interviews with high expectations, but her phone did not ring.
At first, she convinced herself that the companies had lost her number and she called them to see if a decision had been made. Most of the time, the person who had interviewed her would not take her call. A secretary would tell Fargo that the job had been given to someone else. On the few occasions that someone important did talk to her, they seemed embarrassed. It was only during the call that she had made two hours before to Durham Food Products that she found out why she was being turned down for job after job. Mr. Pebbles, the man with whom she'd had such a positive interview, sounded uncomfortable when they spoke. Toward the end of their short conversation, he told her sympathetically that he would have hired her if her reference from Hoyt Industries hadn't been so negative. When Fargo asked the man what he meant, Pebbles told her that he had said too much. He wished her luck and hung up.
Fargo was too numb to think straight. Then she remembered that all of the jobs for which she had applied required references. When she figured out that someone at Hoyt Industries was blackballing her, she became frightened, then she became angry. Fargo had driven to her old company to confront Mr. Wilhelm, but the security guard would not let her into the building. On the ride home, Fargo grew scared. What if she could not find a job? How would she live? She had broken down halfway home and she was still crying when she opened the front door of her small, rented Cape Cod.
Fargo had not bothered to raise her shades that morning and her front room was thick with shadows. She turned on a floor lamp. It took her a moment to realize that a man was sitting in the armchair near the window. Fargo took a step backward. The light from the lamp did not reach all the way to the armchair and she could just make out the man's profile.
'There's no need to be afraid, Miss Fargo,'' the man said quietly. 'I'm a friend, and I think you need one.'
Fargo reached behind her for the doorknob, but she made no move to open the front door.
'Who . . . who are you?' she asked anxiously.
'Someone who wants to help you. Are you upset because you've been turned down for another job?'
Fargo let go of the doorknob. 'How did you know that?'
'That's not important. What is important is that you know the identity of the person who has been stopping you from getting a job. She's the same person who made certain that you were fired from Hoyt Industries.
'Miss Fargo, there are people who are concerned about you. People who don't think that it's fair that Ellen Crease used her power to have you fired and is using her power to keep you from finding work. These people want to secure a job for you. A good job that will pay you the salary you deserve.'
'Why would these people do that for me?'
'They're the same people who believe that Ellen Crease is responsible for the murder of Lamar Hoyt. They want to see justice done.'
The man stopped talking to let Fargo absorb what he had said.
'What . . . what do you want from me?' she asked.
'There is almost enough evidence for the district attorney to indict Ellen Crease. The one thing that is missing is a powerful motive. Crease was well taken care of by Lamar Hoyt, she had her own career and everyone says that she loved Hoyt and he loved her.'
'That's not true,' Fargo interjected.
'What isn't true?'
'Lamar didn't love her. He loved me.'
'We know that, Miss Fargo, but the authorities don't. If you give that information to the police, they will know Ellen Crease's motive for murder.'
'I couldn't go to the police,' Fargo said.
'Of course you could. We would protect you and we would reward you. The day after you go to the police someone will call you with a job offer. A very good job offer. Someone else will deposit a substantial sum of money into your savings account. I believe it's down to three hundred and eighteen dollars, as of this morning.'
'How . . . how did you know that?'
'We're concerned about you, Karen,' the man said with compassion. 'We were afraid that you were suffering financially, so we checked your account to see if you needed our help. It looks like we can help each other.'
The man sounded so sure of himself, so comforting. Why, then, Fargo asked herself, did she feel so frightened?
'Why don't you tell me about your relationship with Lamar, so we can decide what you can say that will help the police?'
'I don't know if I should.'
