Presumed Guilty

“Yes, he mentioned that last night. Something about Peeping Toms.”

She smiled. “Eddie grew up in Chicago. He never did shake those big-city jitters. He swears he spotted some mob car watching my…” She suddenly paused, frowning. “You know, I never paid much attention to his stories. But now that I think about it…”

“When did he tell you about that car?”

“Maybe a month or two ago.”

“Before Richard’s murder, then.”

“Yes. So it’s probably not related.” She sighed. “It’s just poor, crazy Eddie.” She stood. “I’ll change clothes. I can’t go to the lawyer looking like this.”

“You really want to go right now?”

“I have to. Until I do, I won’t feel clean. Or free of him.”

“I’ll call ahead, then.” He glanced at his watch. “We can just make the ferry to Bass Harbor.”

“Bass Harbor? I thought Les Hardee was Richard’s lawyer.”

“He is. But this last will was drawn up by some lawyer named Vernon FitzHugh. Do you know him?”

“No, thank God.” She turned and headed up the hall.

“Or you’d probably accuse Mr. FitzHugh and me of fraud.” She vanished into the bedroom.

Chase watched the door swing shut behind her. “As a matter of fact,” he muttered, “the thought did cross my mind.”

Vernon FitzHugh was expecting them. What he didn’t anticipate was the purpose of their visit.

“Have you really thought this through, Ms. Wood? This is prime real estate we’re talking about. The north shore has just been rezoned for development. I expect your piece of property, in a few years, will be worth well over—”

“It should never have come to me,” said Miranda. “It belongs to the Tremain family.”

FitzHugh glanced uneasily at Chase, one of those sidelong looks that reveal so much. “Perhaps we should discuss this in private, Ms. Wood. If Mr. Tremain would care to wait outside…”

“No, I want him to stay. I want him to hear every word.” She looked meaningfully at FitzHugh. “So he can’t accuse us of collusion.”

“Collusion?” FitzHugh, alarmed, sat up straight. “Mr. Tremain, you don’t think I wanted to get involved in this, do you? It’s a messy situation. Two lawyers, two wills. And then, the complicating circumstances of the client’s death.” He assiduously avoided looking at Miranda. “I’m just trying to carry out Mr. Tremain’s instructions. Which are to ensure that Rose Hill Cottage goes to Ms. Wood.”

“I don’t want it,” said Miranda. “I want to give it back.”

FitzHugh looked troubled. He removed his glasses and set them on the desk. It seemed, with that one gesture, he simultaneously shed the role of the detached professional. Now he was speaking to her as a friend, an adviser. The flat accent of a working-class Mainer slipped into his voice. This man knew only too well what it was like to be poor. And here was this stubborn young woman, throwing away the promise of security.

“Richard Tremain,” he began, “came to me with a request. I’m bound to honor it. It’s not my job to decide whether you’re innocent or guilty. I just want to see that the intent of the will is carried out. I made very sure that this was what he wanted, and he wanted that land to go to you. If you’re convicted, then the point will be moot — you can’t inherit. But let’s say you’re found innocent. Then Rose Hill goes to you, no question about it. Wait a few days, Ms. Wood. If this is really what you want, come back and I’ll draw up the papers. But I won’t do it today. I have to think of Mr. Tremain’s last request. After all, he was my client.”

“Why did he come to you?” Chase asked. “Mr. Hardee has been Richard’s attorney for years.”

FitzHugh studied Chase for a moment, weighing the man’s motives. Coercion was what he suspected, the wealthy Tremain family putting pressure on this woman, this outsider, to surrender her inheritance. It wasn’t right. Someone had to take the woman’s side, even if she refused to stand up for herself.

“Richard Tremain came to me,” FitzHugh said, “because he didn’t want Les Hardee involved.”

“Why not?”

“Mr. Hardee is also Noah DeBolt’s attorney. I think Mr. Tremain was worried this would leak out to his father-in-law.”

“And what a riot that would have caused,” said Chase.

“Having met Mr. DeBolt this morning, yes, I can imagine there would’ve been fireworks.”

Chase leaned forward, his gaze narrowing on the attorney. “The day Richard was here to change his will, how did he seem to you? I mean, his state of mind. People don’t just walk in and change their wills for no good reason.”

FitzHugh frowned. “Well, he seemed…upset. He didn’t mention any fear of dying. Said he just wanted to straighten out his affairs….” He glanced at Miranda and reddened at the unintentional double entendre.

Miranda flushed, as well, but she refused to shrink from his gaze. I’m through with being punished, she thought. Through with cringing at the looks people give me.

“You said he was upset. What do you mean?” asked Chase.

“He seemed angry.”

“At whom?”

“We didn’t discuss it. He just came in and said he didn’t want the cottage to go to Mrs. Tremain.”

“He was specific about Evelyn?”

“Yes. And he was concerned only about Rose Hill Cottage. Not the bank account or the other assets. I assumed it was because those other assets were joint marital property, and he couldn’t redirect those. But Rose Hill was his, through inheritance. He could dispose of it as he wished.” FitzHugh looked at Miranda. “And he wanted you to have it.”

She shook her head. “Why?”

“I assume, because he cared about you. Giving you Rose Hill was his way of telling you how much.”

In silence Miranda bowed her head. She knew both men were watching her. She wondered what expression she’d see in Chase’s eyes. Cynicism? Disbelief? You can’t imagine that your brother would feel love, not just lust, for a woman like me?

“So, Ms. Wood?” asked FitzHugh. “You agree this isn’t a move you should make?”

She raised her head and looked across the desk at the attorney. “Draw up the papers. I want to do it now.”

“Maybe you don’t,” said Chase quietly.

Miranda looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

“Mr. FitzHugh has brought up some points I hadn’t considered. You should think about it, just for a few days.” His gaze met Miranda’s. She could see that he was baffled by something he’d heard here today.

“Are you saying I should keep Rose Hill Cottage?”

“All I’m saying is this. Richard had a reason for changing the will. Before we go changing things back, let’s find out why he did it.”

Vernon FitzHugh nodded. “My thoughts exactly,” he said.

They exchanged scarcely a word on the ferry back to Shepherd’s Island. Only when they’d driven off the pier and turned onto Shore Circle Road did Miranda stir from her silence. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“The north shore.”

“Why?”

“I want you to see Rose Hill. It’s only fair you know exactly what you’re handing back to Evelyn.”

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” she said. “Running me around in circles. Playing your little mind games. One minute you say I’m stealing Tremain property. The next, you’re trying to talk me into playing thief. What’s the point of it all, Chase?”

“I’m bothered by what FitzHugh told us. That Richard wanted to keep the cottage away from Evelyn.”

“But it should go to her.”