The office door opened.
Paul came around the side of his desk to greet Kay.
She walked toward him, slim hand outstretched. She was strikingly attractive, layered short dark hair, deep-set, intelligent brown eyes, slim straight nose, generous mouth, firm chin. Her close-fitting black sheath dress with a white bamboo pattern emphasized her excellent figure.
As their eyes met, I became aware of that ages-old, ever-new, always-indefinable magic connection between a man and a woman.
Oh, my.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sorry to have kept you waiting.” His voice was pleasantly deep. His eyes told her he was acutely aware of her presence.
“You are very kind to see me without an appointment.” The words were mundane, but her gaze responded to his.
He still held her hand. “What can I do for you?”
She gave him a quick smile. “I’m hoping you can help me with some research.” She pulled her hand free. “I’ll try not to take too much of your time.”
He pointed at the chair nearest his desk. “The springs are better in that one. Martha’s been after me to redecorate.”
I popped out to the waiting room. Martha was a plump seventy with a mound of white hair and bright blue eyes in a face wrinkled with good humor. I returned to his office.
Kay sat lightly in the chair. She drew a small notebook from her purse. “Jack had your card among his papers. Had he consulted you?”
Paul settled in the other easy chair, the one with presumably inadequate springs. In my day, lawyers wore dark gray or blue suits, white shirts, and tastefully striped ties. He looked athletic, muscular, and very attractive in a light blue polo and tan slacks and black loafers. “I was not”—he spoke precisely—“representing him in a legal matter.”
“I’m eager to know whatever you and he discussed. Everything Jack did while he was in Adelaide is important to me.”
His quizzical look was pronounced. “How does that information fit into a book about his life?”
“Some of the information will be important. Some won’t. His life ended here. Readers may gain a particular insight if they know what mattered to him in his final days. Why did Jack come to you, if not for legal counsel?” Her gaze was intent. His careful answer had caught her attention.
Paul looked thoughtful. “I was his oldest friend. He trusted me.”
“He trusted me as well. I hope you will, too.”
Paul looked toward a wall filled with framed certificates and photographs. One pictured a football team in a formal pose. “He was my quarterback.”
That simple sentence told Kay everything she needed to know about Jack and Paul. When Jack turned to Paul, Paul helped him, not as a lawyer, but as a long-ago teammate.
The lawyer reached over to pick up a green folder from his desk.
I hovered behind his shoulder.
Paul opened the folder. “Jack came to see me a few days before he died. He didn’t want to go back to Africa until he was sure everything was right at The Castle. He felt responsible for the well-being of his sister and his brother’s widow.” Paul glanced at an index card. “He asked me to obtain information for him about Alison Gregory and Laverne and Ronald Phillips.”
I was abruptly alert. There were two more names on that card that he hadn’t mentioned.
“Alison Gregory.” Kay repeated the name, made a note on her pad.
Paul’s tone was warm. “That was easy duty. As I told Jack, I’ve known Alison for years. She played tennis with my wife. Alison was a huge help when Mindy was sick. Alison took her for some of her chemo treatments. She was there for Mindy right up to the end.” He glanced away.
“I’m sorry.” There was sincerity and understanding in Kay’s voice. “My husband died two years ago.”
They exchanged glances, understanding that each had experienced loss and that memories mattered.
She brought them back to the comfortable office. “Why was Jack interested in Alison?”
“Jack said Evelyn was considering becoming Alison’s partner. That surprised me. Alison’s very independent. I asked Jack if he was sure and he said maybe he’d misunderstood, but he wanted to know the financial status of her gallery, just in case. That would reassure him, even if nothing ever came of the proposal. He wanted a dossier on Alison. That was easy to put together. Alison grew up here, but she’s quite a bit younger. She was Alison Frazier. She has a degree in fine arts from SMU. Her folks owned an upscale clothing store. They did fine until her father died. Her mother ran the store well enough, but she let the insurance lapse. A fire wiped out the store. Her mother wasn’t able to rebuild. When she died, the money was all gone. Alison was an only child and she’d grown up having everything she wanted. Her degree was useless for a job that would make money. She ended up in Dallas, working for an art dealer. That’s where she made her contacts in the art world. She married a trust-fund cowboy, E. J. Gregory the Fourth. The marriage didn’t last. She took the settlement and came back to Adelaide and opened a gallery. She has contacts in Dallas and Mexico City. I got the names of some of the private collectors she deals with. She often brokers private sales of big-deal art. I nosed around, got financials on her. She’s made a bundle, no outstanding debts, good reputation in art circles. Evelyn Hume is her best client. Evelyn collects Mexican and American art. Evelyn’s awfully proud of a Frida Kahlo self-portrait. I thought it looked pretty dingy and lifeless, but I’m no art critic. Anyway, Jack didn’t see why Alison wanted a partner if she was solvent. I was able to reassure
