smile.'
I laid the keys on the counter. It was another nail in the coffin of my legal career. However, if I didn't get a job offer or even a good recommendation from Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter, it wouldn't be the end of the world. A legal career in Savannah wasn't the dream job of a lifetime. I could always return to Powell Station and beg Oscar Callahan to hire me.
Julie wasn't in the library. Trying to ignore my headache, I began working on the eminent domain memo. Delivering an opinion as soon as possible might soften Bob Kettleson's reaction to my tardiness in returning the car. The library door opened. It was Zach. He quickly glanced around the room.
'I'm alone,' I said.
'Did you check out the old files?'
I handed him the key. 'Would you return this to Ms. Patrick? I have a headache and a complicated memo to research for Bob Kettleson.'
Zach ignored my problems. 'Any smoking guns?'
'Smoke but no gun.'
He sat down across the table from me, and I told him about the empty folder, leaving out what I'd learned from Vince about the memo from Mr. Carpenter to Mr. Braddock and his advice that I consider quitting the case. Zach seemed to relax as I talked.
'Do you feel you've reached the end?' he asked.
'Not really.'
'What else can you do except show Moses the newspaper articles and ask him if they help him remember anything? If he says some thing about Floyd Carpenter, what does that prove? Without corroboration, any information from Moses is unreliable because of his mental status.'
'What about your mental status?'
Zach's eyes narrowed.
'I'm sorry,' I continued. 'It's just that all you seem to care about is getting me to drop the whole thing. It's frustrating knowing that something is there but not being able to figure it out.'
'Welcome to the practice of law. I had no idea Floyd Carpenter was a shady character, but that shouldn't cast a shadow on his son. My big concern is that you're going to hurt people who don't deserve it and put a client at risk in violation of your ethical duty to him. You're a disciplined person; transfer that to your professional life and focus on what you're supposed to be doing.'
'Don't you get tired of preaching the same message?'
Zach stood up. 'Not if I believe it's the truth. You'd do the same thing.'
After Zach left, I pressed my fingers against my temples. The pressure felt good as long as I didn't move my hands. After a minute, I released them and continued working on the eminent domain project. I made slow progress but hadn't started to type anything when Julie returned at 5:00 p.m.
'I have a headache,' she said. 'Are you ready to leave?'
'I have the same problem. What caused yours?'
'Ned and I met with the client in my criminal case and then went round and round about the best way to handle it. Ned is pressuring me to take it to trial in front of a six-person jury for the experience. I think the best thing is to work out a plea agreement that will get my client out of jail and on with his life. Don't you think I should put the client's interests first, not what might be more beneficial or interesting to me?'
'I'm ready to leave,' I answered.
THAT EVENING, Mrs. Fairmont was in a mild fog. She didn't speak much during supper except to ask me three times if I'd turned off the television before we sat down to eat. My headache eased as we ate, and I realized it was probably caused by lack of food combined with eyestrain.
'Is there anything you would like to do this evening?' I asked as we finished supper.
Mrs. Fairmont blinked her eyes a few times and stared past my left shoulder. 'I miss my friends,' she said sadly. 'So many of them are gone.'
I reached across the edge of the table and put my hand on hers. 'I'm sure you had many good friends.'
Mrs. Fairmont's eyes brightened. 'Would you like to look at my picture albums?'
'You have albums?'
'Yes. They're in the small dresser in my show closet. Would you bring one or two to the green parlor?'
I remembered seeing the small white piece of furniture. 'Yes ma am. Are there any particular ones you want to see?'
'No, surprise me.'
I cleaned up the supper dishes while Mrs. Fairmont went into the parlor. Upstairs, I discovered that every drawer in the dresser contained photo albums. I grabbed one from each drawer and returned downstairs. We sat beside each other on a firm sofa. I placed an album in her lap, and she opened it.
It was from Christine's early years.
'What was Mrs. Bartlett like at this age?' I asked, pointing at a photo of the family and several other young girls at the beach in front of a huge sand castle.
'Christine has always been social. She recruited those other girls and got them to haul buckets and buckets of sand to build that castle while she bossed them around.' Mrs. Fairmont stared at the picture. 'I knew she would have to marry someone with plenty of money because she wouldn't lift a finger to do any work herself. What do you think made her that way?'
I didn't try to answer. Mrs. Fairmont turned the page. The faded images seemed to bring a spark of life back to her. We finished one album. I handed her another.
'Aren't you bored?' she asked.
'No ma'am.'
I'd picked an album of pictures from before Christine was born. It was filled with black-and-white photos of Mr. and Mrs. Fairmont. Mrs. Fairmont spent time inspecting each picture, especially the ones with her friends. She couldn't remember every name, but when she identified one, it was like discovering the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. One picture was a group scene from a fancy outdoor party in the spring. I could see the flowers but not the colors in the black-and-white photo. Mrs. Fairmont touched it with her slightly gnarled index finger.
'That was a big soiree. A lot of our social set was there.'
The women were wearing fancy dresses and the men stood around in suits and ties. Several servants could be seen in the photo.
'There's Ellen Prescott,' Mrs. Fairmont said, pointing to a statuesque woman beside a tall man. 'Of course, this was a long time before Lisa was born.'
'Is that her husband?' I asked.
'No, it's her older brother Floyd. The party was at his home.'
'Her brother was named Floyd?'
'Yes, Ellen was a Carpenter before she married. Their father worked as a clerk in a shoe store. Ellen was so sweet and married Webster Prescott, who had inherited a lot of railroad stock. Floyd was the black sheep of the family, but he made a lot of money and that has a way of making people forget the past.'
My eyes opened wider as I stared at the photo. 'Why was he a black sheep?'
'Oh, I never heard anything but rumors.'
Mrs. Fairmont reached out to turn the page, but I held it firm.
'What's wrong?' she asked.
'I'm still looking at that picture. What did Floyd Carpenter think about Lisa?'
Mrs. Fairmont gave me a strange look. 'I don't know, but I'm sure everyone considered Lisa the little princess. Her blonde curls stood out in any crowd. Christine claims Lisa misbehaved, but I think Christine was probably looking at herself in the mirror.'
While Mrs. Fairmont talked, I tried to come up with an innocent way to frame my next question. 'Did Floyd's name come up in conversations after Lisa disappeared?' I asked nonchalantly.
Mrs. Fairmont's eyebrows arched downward. 'What an odd question. I'm not sure what you mean.'
'I'm just curious about Floyd and Lisa and their families.'
'Floyd had a son named Joe, who is a lawyer.'
'He's my boss.'
