'My father's house is just up this street,' Martha said. 'He bought it a few years after I was married. When he died, he left it in my name.'
'And now you'll live here and start that law practice?'
'That's my plan,' Martha said without a great deal of enthusiasm. 'I'm sure that my father left me a complete law library down at his offices. I've everything that I need to begin a practice except experience.'
'Isn't there some kind of test or formal requirement?'
'There is, and I qualified before my marriage. It was my father's fondest dream that I should join his practice. He never cared that I wasn't a man. He said that I'd make a terrific attorney.'
'I'm sure he was right,' Longarm said as they approached a very stately two-story frame house. It was a beautiful home, though clearly it needed a little attention.
'Your father must have been very successful to buy such a nice house,' Longarm said, lifting the gate and following Martha up to the front porch.
'He was.' Martha sighed. 'My father was a lawyer for the Union Pacific Railroad. He handled all litigation filed against them, and he saved the railroad thousands of dollars.'
'You don't sound very impressed.'
'There were some personal accident and injury cases where the railroad was clearly negligent and there should have been awards to some very desperate and deserving people.'
'I see.'
She studied him. 'Yes, I imagine you do. I was an idealist then, and you saw a hint of that in me when we first met on the train yesterday. I was very critical of my father. Too critical. I went off to law school determined to balance the scales of justice in favor of the individual. I even kept the names of some of the plaintiffs that my father prevented from receiving fair awards.'
'Do you still intend to right the wrongs of the past?'
'Absolutely. But this ordeal has shaken me and now, standing here on my father's porch, I feel as if I might somehow sully his name if I dig up the bones of the past.'
'You should follow your conscience,' Longarm advised. 'If you have names of people who were robbed of fair compensation, you should right the wrong.'
'Even if it might tarnish my father's name and reputation?'
'Your father is gone now. It's your reputation that you must establish, and I think you're going to do one hell of a good job of that.'
Martha smiled. When she smiled, it was as if the sun peeked through a blanket of dark clouds and warmed a man's soul. 'My father always hid a key on the porch,' she said. 'I doubt it will be hard to find.'
It wasn't hard at all to find. In less than a minute, they had the key and were opening the door. At its threshold, Martha Noble hesitated.
'What's wrong?'
'I don't know. I just wish that my father and I had not quarreled so much. I wish that we hadn't fought the last time we were together.'
'Put that behind you and look to your future. Obviously you've had some troubles with a bad marriage, and your father might not have been quite the knight in shining armor that a daughter would have hoped for. No matter. He worked for the railroad and he owed his allegiance to his employer.'
'And not to justice?'
'Never mind that,' Longarm said, gently pushing the young woman into the house and closing the door behind them.
Martha pirouetted around in a complete circle, her eyes missing nothing. 'This house still smells like him,' she finally said. 'He smoked an unusually aromatic blend of Turkish pipe tobacco. You could follow it through the house and locate him with your eyes closed.'
'It's a fine house and nicely furnished,' Longarm said, admiring the expensive decor. 'Your father had expensive tastes.'
'Yes, he did.'
Martha passed through the parlor and showed Longarm the library, kitchen, and other downstairs rooms that were primarily filled with French and Italian furniture and antiques. The ceramic floor tiles themselves were works of art, and the walls were covered with original artwork.
'I can't believe that no one has lived here since your father passed away.'
'Didn't I mention that he only died two weeks ago?'
'No.'
'Well, he did.' Martha took Longarm's hand and led him to a beautiful staircase of polished walnut. 'The bedrooms are upstairs. Would you like to see them?'
'I would,' Longarm said, unable to hide his enthusiasm.
'Then come along.'
She led him up the staircase and they entered the first bedroom, which had belonged to her father. Martha studied the room for a long time in silence, then backed out. When Longarm looked at her closely, he saw that her eyes were misted with tears.
'And this,' she said, trying to put some lilt in her voice, 'was my bedroom. He told me he kept it exactly the
