'I know. Zach has given me more than one refresher course.'
'Okay, I won't repeat it. What are you going to do now?'
'Call the courthouse.'
After several transfers from one clerk to another, I found out that there were three weeks of criminal court scheduled during the rest of the summer. Two of those weeks were assigned to Judge Cannon, and the judge for the third week was a woman named Linda Howell. I called Maggie Smith, and her assistant informed me the Jones case had not yet been placed on a specific calendar. I sent Zach an e-mail with the dates. He immediately responded with a request that I come to his office. I trudged up the winding staircase that no longer reminded me of a plantation mansion.
'Is there a problem with the dates?' I asked.
'One week in front of Judge Cannon is out because I'll be on vacation in California. I'll let the DAs office know. The other two weeks will depend on my schedule, but I've already let Mr. Appleby know what's going on.'
'Okay.' I moved away from the door.
'No, come in and sit down,' Zach said.
'I don't need another lecture this morning,' I replied wearily. 'The fruit of patience in my life may not be as mature as I'd hoped, and I don't want to get upset.'
'We need to set a day and time to talk to Moses Jones and discuss trial strategy. It will also be a chance for you to show him the newspaper articles if you want to.'
'Okay.'
Zach studied me for a few seconds. 'What else have you found out?'
'Do you care?'
'You can tell me now or later.'
I took a deep breath. 'I'm not finished in the microfilm records. I want to uncover the connections between Floyd Carpenter and this firm.' I paused. 'Especially regarding Floyd and his relationship with his sister and niece.'
'Who?'
'Ellen and Lisa Prescott. Mrs. Fairmont told me about the Prescott-Carpenter connection while we were looking at old photos last night.'
I could tell Zach was surprised by my latest information. He pulled twice on his ponytail. If the lawyer ever cut his hair, he would have to find something else to do with his hands during moments of intense mental activity.
'How does this fit?' he asked.
'I don't know until I do more research. Should I ask Julie to do it?' I asked sarcastically then immediately felt guilty.
Zach ignored my dig. 'No, you're so far ahead of her that it would be inefficient. Wait here while I get the key from Gerry so you can finish your research. We can meet with Moses later today.'
While Zach talked to Ms. Patrick, I checked on the firm car. It was scheduled to return in a few minutes and I reserved it for a couple of hours. I went to Zach's office where he handed me the key.
'Gerry started asking questions,' he said. 'I simply thanked her and left.'
'But she's an employee of the firm. According to your logic…' I began then stopped. 'Will you pray that God will put a rein on my tongue? It's been out of control since I got to the office this morning.'
'No man can tame the tongue,' Zach said. 'Does that include women?'
'Yes.' I turned the key over in my hand. 'And thanks for confronting me when you think I'm out of line. My mother does a good job of correcting me, but I thought I'd be without that kind of help this summer.'
'Sure, but I don't want to be a surrogate mother or father. Did you find out a date and time when I can meet them?'
'Not yet. When will you be in California?'
Zach gave me the dates and eyed me closely. 'Is there a reason why you wouldn't want me to meet your parents?'
'Let's not talk about it now. I have too much to think about.'
'If there is something-'
'We'll talk soon,' I said. 'I promise.'
I GOT OFF THE ELEVATOR and opened the door to the archive facility. Eddie, the young man who wanted to go to law school, looked up and smiled.
'Welcome back,' he said.
I signed in. Only two people had visited the facility since I'd been in the day before. Apparently, business was slow for dead records. I put down the pen, and Eddie started to walk toward the storage room.
'I know the way,' I said.
Eddie stopped. 'Okay. Let me know if you need to use my phone.'
I turned on the microfilm reader and used the index to locate the earliest Prescott file. I found the proper cassette and inserted it into the reader. It was toward the end of the roll, and I scrolled through pages of documents typed with the font of an old typewriter. The letterhead for the Braddock Law Firm still listed the date of birth and death for Vernon Fletchall. When I reached the beginning page it contained records for the purchase of a house near Colonial Cemetery. Nothing relevant.
The next file was on a different cassette and related to a business deal. It contained several pages of handwritten notes by Lawrence Braddock. The lawyer wrote in a tall, yet tightly compacted script and fully utilized a sheet of paper. Once I got used to his style, it wasn't hard to read. On a third cassette, I found a copy of a Last Will and Testament prepared for the Prescotts when Lisa was about three years old. It was a lengthy document. My hand stopped advancing the pages when I reached Item XXI, a catchall provision that designated the beneficiary of the will upon the deaths of Webster and Ellen if Lisa predeceased her parents and there were no other surviving children.
If that event occurred, the sole beneficiary of the will was Ellen's 'beloved brother,' Floyd Carpenter. I bit my lower lip in disbelief. I pressed the Print button.
I'd found the smoking gun. And it contained three bullets, not one.
The page inched out of the printer. I held it in my hand and read it again. In crafting a plan for wealthy individuals, estate lawyers have to consider remote possibilities that no one expects to happen. Unless, of course, human intervention makes the unlikely certain. Lisa's disappearance and death, followed by the deaths of her parents, was a simple matter of economics and federal tax liens.
It was hard to imagine the evil that could murder an entire family for money. I thought about the grainy picture of Lisa in the newspaper and the picture of Margaret Fairmont and Ellen Prescott as little girls standing on tiptoe to get a drink of water. Tears came to my eyes. I took a tissue from my purse.
After the tears passed, I returned without enthusiasm to the index. I found several more Prescott files. Righteous indignation rose up in me when I found notes from a consultation Webster and Ellen had with Lawrence Braddock a few days after Lisa's disappearance. The Prescotts, upset over the lack of progress with the police investigation, met with the lawyer to discuss the case. In his notes, the lawyer promised to make 'appropriate contacts' with state law enforcement officers in Atlanta who could assist in the investigation. However, the last line of Mr. Braddock's notes was the most incriminating. 'Call EC.'
I printed the notes. The next file was the probate of the Prescotts' will after the car wreck. Mrs. Fairmont was wrong. The couple lived only slightly over a year after Lisa's death, just long enough to provide a buffer against any suspicion. The circumstances surrounding their car plunging into a tidewater canal weren't mentioned-they were simply listed as the 'decedents.'
The file contained pages of inventory about stocks, bonds, bank accounts, antiques, art objects, and real estate. I slowed when I came to a petition asking the court to judicially declare Lisa deceased even though no body had been found. Several law enforcement officials were listed as witnesses, and three weeks after the petition was filed, the probate judge signed an order granting Lawrence Braddock's request.
The provisions of the will didn't require an accounting to the probate court identifying the total value of the estate, but I found a handwritten memo from Mr. Braddock to Floyd Carpenter listing a summary of all tangible and intangible assets-the Prescotts left their child's killer slightly under two million dollars, a huge sum at the time, and more than enough to satisfy Floyd Carpenter's tax liens.
I printed out the entire probate file. While I waited for the pages to inch from the printer, I prayed for God's
