Well, better to say your mother has always had a mind of her own.”
However you phrased it, Joanna knew what caused it. It was the death of John Clarke, Joanna’s father, and the cruel treatment her mother had received from Clarke’s family. Her mother had rarely talked to her about it, and never without crying. But Joanna knew of the injustice. The way her mother had been treated must have been as painful as the loss of her lover. It certainly hurt her daughter.
It wasn’t the money, Joanna told herself. She didn’t need it. She was getting along fine without it, just as her mother had managed to. It was the cruelty of it. The contempt. That had been a wound that would never heal unless she could finally give her mother justice. And revenge. Maybe what Simmons would tell her would mean that would finally be possible.
He rose from the high-backed chair behind his battered old desk, smiling at her. A big, broad-shouldered man who her mother had told her she could always trust. And she did.
“Miss Craig,” he said. “Have a seat. Get comfortable. Explaining this will take a while. I don’t want you to expect too much out of what I’m going to tell. But at least it seems to me to represent a chance.”
Joanna felt suddenly weak.
“A chance?”
“One of those diamonds seems to have turned up.”
She sat down. Closed her eyes.
“Are you all right?” Simmons buzzed his secretary, ordered a glass of water.
“Just the diamonds?” Joanna said, in a voice almost too faint to be heard.
Simmons peered at her. Took the water glass from his secretary and presented it to Joanna, who was looking out the window at the busy streets, at the gray, overcast sky, at the traffic rolling below.
“Remember how your father carried those diamonds, padlocked to his wrist in that special carrying case your mother told you about? It seems to me that finding them…” Simmons paused, looking for a way to put this. “Well, that may finally give us a chance to find his bones. And we’ve heard a little more about that, too. Just a collection of rumors, perhaps. But…”
“Yes,” Joanna said. She sat up and straightened her blouse collar. “Tell me everything you’ve heard. Tell me what you think we should do next.”
Simmons tilted back in his chair, took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, replaced the spectacles, and studied her thoughtfully.
“As friend of your mother, or as lawyer?”
Joanna considered that.
“As lawyer,” she said. “Not that you haven’t been a good friend.”
Simmons sighed. “As friend, I would remind you that you are getting along very well. Good job, and I think the funds your mother left you were always well invested. So you could buy diamonds if you want them and you don’t need to make yourself a multi-multimillionaire and start dealing with all the troubles that brings with it. Right?”
“Well, yes,” Joanna said. “But that’s not the point. It never has been the point.”
“I know,” Simmons said. “Your mother suffered a lot. And you’d like to see old Plymale pay for that. So would I. But Joann—”
Joanna Craig raised her hand, cut him off. “I’d like to see justice done. I’d like to see him burn in hell.”
Simmons considered that a moment, leaned forward.
“Then I’ll tell you that if you can find those bones—find anything from which your father’s DNA can be extracted—I think we can get your estate claim back into court. With that, and with the evidence in those letters your mother left you, we can establish legally that you are a direct descendant of John Clarke, and thus a direct descendant of Clarke’s father. Thereby you can reclaim the Clarke family estate. Thereby you can make Plymale suffer and, from what I’ve heard of how he has looted that foundation, make him do some burning in bankruptcy court, and probably criminal court as well.”
Joanna Craig smiled. “I guess it doesn’t sound very Christian. But I’d like that. In fact, I’d enjoy it immensely.”
Simmons considered that a moment, shrugged.
“The only way I know of to locate those bones is to find the person who found that container of diamonds. We know it was locked to your father’s arm. Trace it back. For the first time that looks faintly possible. And knowing old Plymale, I must warn you that he will be well aware of that possibility. Probably losing sleep thinking about it. Planning what he can do to keep that from happening.”
Joanna Craig was still smiling.
“So you are saying go find them?”
“As your lawyer, yes. We’ll renew our contract with that investigations agency. I’ll keep you informed and advised.”
“How about as a friend?”
Hal Simmons shook his head.
“Joanna, as a friend of your mother, as your friend now, I’d say just go home and forget all this. Try to be happy. Even with this diamond showing up, the odds are very slim his body can be found after all these years. And hunting something Plymale doesn’t want you to find is sort of like hunting a crocodile in the crocodile’s own river.”
“Just tell me how to go about it. How to start.”
