Читать книгу The Truth About Jane Doe - Linda Warren, Linda Warren - Страница 7

COBERVILLE WAS A QUIET community of fewer than five thousand people. A three-story limestone courthouse in the Second Empire style sat in the middle of a town square. Main and Cober streets ran parallel, and just about every business in town was located on one of those two streets, except for larger stores like Wal-Mart and H.E.B., which were located on the outskirts of town. Matt Sloan’s office was across from the courthouse in a nineteenth-century building typical of the business district.

Matthew stood in the middle of his father’s office, soaking up the atmosphere. Shelves filled with law books lined one wall and filing cabinets were up against another. On the third wall, beside the large window, hung family pictures. Files cluttered the desk and in the single ashtray was a half-smoked cigar. This big cluttered office was the essence of his dad. He remembered visiting here after school, and the way his dad had always smiled and said, “Come on in, son. I could use a second opinion.”

He had spent many afternoons here, reading, watching his dad labor over the letter of the law. He could almost hear his voice. “Never forget that people are human and never take their opinions or feelings lightly.” Had he lost those finer aspects his father had taught him? He ran his finger along the edge of the large oak desk, hoping he hadn’t.

Even after his dad had retired as judge, he never forgot about people and their emotions, their needs. People kept calling him, wanting his advice. So he’d come out of retirement and reopened his old office and practiced law part-time.

Matthew took a deep breath and glanced around at the general chaos of the office. Before he could decide what to do next, the front door opened and Miss Emma, his dad’s secretary of forty years, walked in.

A short plump woman, Miss Emma Stevens had a mound of dyed red hair curled atop her head. As a boy he used to wonder how it stayed there so neatly. She frowned at him from behind thick glasses with cat’s-eye frames and rhinestones at the corners. They must have been made in the 1950s.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming in today,” she accused in her irritating high-pitched voice.

He didn’t like having to explain his actions, but remembering the manners his parents had instilled in him, he replied, “Mom’s visiting with the reverend and I thought I’d get acquainted with Dad’s files.”

“You should’ve called me.”

“It’s no big deal, Miss Emma. I only plan to stay for a little while, and I really don’t need any help.”

“How will you find anything?” She waved an impatient hand. “I have a special filing system, and I don’t like anyone messing it up.”

He forced himself to take a calming breath and wondered how his father had put up with this woman for so many years. Diplomacy, that was it. His dad knew how to handle people. He hoped he’d inherited some of his father’s tact.

He looked around at the dust and clutter. “Can you get someone to clean the office?”

“Clean?” she shrilled, her eyes darting around.

“What’s wrong with this office?”

“Everything needs to be cleaned, from the floors to the windows. The place has been closed up for weeks.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

Yeah, he thought, she probably had cataracts the size of doorknobs. He smiled his best smile. “Humor me, Miss Emma. Find someone.”

She hesitated, then his smile won her over. “Okay, I could get Bertha. She cleans the bank.”

“Fine, get Bertha.” His smile broadened at the small victory.

She took a step, then turned back, pointing a finger at him. “She’ll cost you. She won’t do it for free.”

His smile immediately vanished. “I didn’t expect her to,” he answered, a slight edge to his voice.

Miss Emma turned on her heel and headed for the door, muttering, “His father never had any complaints. City ways gone to his head. Nonsense, just nonsense.”

As the last word died away, Matthew grinned and sank into his father’s chair. He marveled at the comfort and the way the contours seemed to fit his body. Maybe he and his dad were more alike than he’d imagined.

Reaching for a file, he heard the door open again. Now what? Surely Miss Emma wasn’t going to argue some more.

To his surprise, a tall blond man with a veneer that bespoke money and power entered the room. John Robert William Townsend. Even though Rob, as he was called, was eleven years older than he was, Matthew knew him and his family well. The Cobers, Rob’s mother’s family, had settled Coberville in the 1800s and they stilled owned almost everything in and around the town.

Matthew got to his feet and shook Rob’s hand.

“It’s good to have you back in Coberville, Matthew.” Rob’s smile showed off his perfect white teeth and angular features. Rob Townsend was known for his charm and virility, which were apparently lethal to any and all women. At forty-nine the man still hadn’t lost those qualities.

“Thank you,” Matthew replied.

“I’m sorry about your dad. He was a good man.”

“Thank you,” Matthew said again. “Have a seat.”

Rob hiked up his tailored slacks and sat in one of the leather chairs opposite the desk. Matthew resumed his own seat, wondering what Rob Townsend had on his mind.

“How long has it been?” Rob mused. “A long time, I’d say, but I remember you as the young hero that led the Coberville Tigers to the state championship. Quite a victory for this town.”

Matthew smiled at the memory.

“I wished my parents had let me finish high school in Coberville, instead of sending me to school back East. All that togetherness and bonding sure could’ve helped me in this election.”

At Matthew’s puzzled look, Rob explained, “I’m running for Dad’s senate seat in the fall.”

Matt raised one dark eyebrow in amusement. “Are you here to ask for my support?”

Rob chuckled. “No, not really.” Then his expression grew serious. “I was glad to hear you’re staying in town, taking over your father’s cases.”

“I promised Dad I would.”

“I didn’t realize you had a Texas license or practiced anything but criminal law.”

“I got the Texas license mostly for my dad’s sake,” he said. “I hadn’t planned on practicing here this soon, but I assure you I can handle most cases.”

“How long do you plan on staying in Coberville?”

“I’m due for a long vacation. So I plan to stay as long as Mom needs me and until I get all of Dad’s cases closed. At least a month.”

“That’s good to hear. I presume you’re familiar with the case your dad was handling for the Townsend family?”

“No,” Matthew said, “can’t say that I am.” He figured this had something to do with the case his mother had mentioned last night. He wished she’d told him more.

“Then you haven’t got a clue about what’s going on around here.” The statement held an accusing tone, similar to Miss Emma’s earlier. It had the same effect on him. But Rob was a client and deserved his patience.

“No,” Matthew repeated. He picked up a pencil and, searching for a pad, came across the Townsend file. “Dad must have been working on it because the file’s right here.”

“Hmm,” Rob murmured. “Sad to say, your dad didn’t give it a lot of attention.”

“Oh?”

“He was dragging his heels so long I was thinking of hiring an attorney from Austin.”

“Doesn’t sound like Dad. He always believed in taking care of business.”

“My mother had a lot of faith in him, but I guess he just wasn’t feeling up to par.”

“Maybe,” Matthew admitted reluctantly, knowing his dad would never let a client down. He touched the thick file. “I’ll review this tonight, but generally what’s the case about?”

Rob crossed his legs and began to talk. “After a lengthy illness my mother passed away about six months ago. Her will was pretty straightforward, leaving everything to her three children. She also stipulated that Aunt Martha could live at Seven Trees until her death with all expenses paid, and she left her a trust fund, as well.”

“You don’t have a problem with any of that, do you?”

“No, it was what we expected. Mother was the sole owner of the Cober estate. She bought out Aunt Martha a long time ago. Dad and my mother had been having marital difficulties for years, and they had separate estates. So we all knew the bulk would go to her children, but what we didn’t expect was an outside party being named in the will.”

“An outside party?”

“Christmas Jane Doe.”

Surprise darted along Matthew’s nerves, but he made sure that nothing showed on his face. “The girl who was left on the Watsons’ doorstep?”

“Yes. Mother left her a hundred thousand dollars and a thousand acres of Cober land.”

“What?” Matthew’s surprise turned to shock.

“You heard me right. My mother had to be insane if she thought we’d accept this. As I said, she was ill for a long time and she wasn’t thinking straight. I want this will broken and I want it done as soon as possible.”

“Was your mother making business decisions up until her death?”

“Yes, although Dad and I advised her. She would never relinquish her power.”

“Let me see if I can find the will,” Matthew said. He opened the file and quickly sorted through the contents.

“Here it is.” He pulled out the legal document and glanced through it briefly. “There’s a personal letter from your mother.”

“Oh, yes, about how she wants us to accept her decision.”

“It’s very heartwarming.” Matthew scanned the letter and wondered at Rob’s coldheartedness.

“Mother thought we took our inheritance for granted, and she wanted to give something to someone who’d appreciate it. It’s all crap. Mother just felt sorry for the girl. We will not accept an outsider inheriting Cober land.”

“I see,” Matthew replied, continuing to read through the papers. One small detail caught his eye. He glanced at Rob. “Did anyone mention the date on this document?”

“No, I don’t believe so. I just assumed she’d made it recently.”

“This document is dated twenty years ago.” Matthew turned the will around so Rob could read the date.

“What?” he choked out. In one swift movement Rob was on his feet, grabbing the document from Matthew’s hand. “Damn, how could this have slipped by us? By your father? Surely he knew the date and he never said a word! I only saw this letter briefly. It’s been in your father’s custody ever since. How could this have happened?”

Their eyes locked. Matthew didn’t miss the slur on his dad’s capabilities as a lawyer—and he didn’t like it. But he also knew his dad had been ill. “I have no idea,” Matthew said slowly, “but did anyone check for a recent will?”

“That was the only will at the bank where she kept all her important papers. I’m sure there isn’t another one.”

Matthew nodded at the document in Rob’s hand. “That’s going to make it much harder to break.”

“Dammit, I’m so tired of dealing with this.” Rob tossed the papers on the desk. “We only plan to spend the spring months in Coberville, so I want to get this settled. I need to concentrate on campaigning, instead of this bizarre mess.” He turned away. “Why the hell would Mother do this to me? To her family?”

Matthew folded his hands across the file. If he was going to represent the Townsends, he had to be completely honest. “I was only a kid when the baby was found, but I still remember the rumors.”

Rob swung around, his blue eyes dark with resentment. “My father and I have nothing to do with that girl’s existence!”

Matthew stared at Rob. His eyes didn’t waver as they challenged that statement.

“Okay.” Rob threw up his hands. “I’ve had my share of women and so has my dad. I’m not denying that, but if either of us had gotten some girl pregnant, she would have bled us for every penny. Instead, she leaves the baby five miles from our house. That doesn’t make any sense. Anyway, just look at C. J. Doe with all that black hair and those green eyes. She looks nothing like us, and no one’s going to make me believe that Mother knew anything about her birth. It’s all just rumors. The truth is, some teenager probably got pregnant and, being scared and alone, decided to leave the baby on the Watsons’ doorstep. Everyone knew how desperately Maggie Watson wanted a baby. That makes more sense than those ridiculous rumors about us.”

Matthew could see the fear in his eyes. Rob wasn’t sure the girl wasn’t a Townsend, but he was never going to admit any doubts. He was a Cober and a Townsend. He didn’t have to.

Suddenly Rob’s eyes narrowed. “Offer the girl a million dollars.”

Matthew frowned. “Pardon me?”

“I’ll pay her a million dollars to keep from dragging this through the courts. I’m sure the greedy little witch will take it.”

“I strongly advise against this. Let me—”

Rob cut him short. “I’m not asking for your advice. I’m ordering you to make her an offer. If you have a problem with it, I can find another attorney.”

Matt’s first impulse was to tell him to do exactly that, but he’d made a promise to his dad and he wouldn’t go back on his word. Besides, there was something going on that made him very curious—his dad’s reluctance to move on the case and the date on the document, among other things. He had to find the answers for his own peace of mind.

Giving in to Rob’s highhandedness wasn’t in his nature, though. He’d been an attorney, and a successful one, for a long time and he didn’t like being talked to like some hack for hire.

He got slowly to his feet, his eyes narrowed with a warning his colleagues knew well. “It’s my job to advise you.”

By the glint in Rob’s eyes, Matthew could see that he was debating whether to tell him to go to hell or to see if the New York lawyer could live up to his reputation. As the blue eyes darted away, Matthew knew the latter impulse had won.

Rob ran a quick hand through his expertly groomed hair. “Hell, man, I know you’re a good lawyer and I trust your judgment, but this whole situation has my family in turmoil. I just want it settled, and I’d rather spend the money than put the family through a long court battle.”

“If your mind is set on this, I’ll make the offer,” Matthew conceded. He knew it was useless to try to persuade him otherwise.

“Fine,” Rob muttered. “You’ll find her at the Watson place. I’ll be waiting for her answer.” With that he turned abruptly and headed for the door. Suddenly he turned back. “A note of caution. Don’t let her wrap you around her finger like she did your father.”

Matthew frowned. What was Rob talking about? His father wouldn’t be involved with C. J. Doe; he was the Townsends’ lawyer. He shook his head. There was so much he didn’t understand. The confusion made him more determined than ever to solve the mystery between his father and C. J. Doe.

LATE AT NIGHT, a light burned in the law offices of Dylan, Kent and Reed in Austin, Texas. Attorney Stephen Reed was hard at work. He had a lot to catch up on after six months in France. He heard a noise and glanced up. A big man with a mask over his face stood framed in the doorway. The gun in his hand pointed at Stephen.

“What do you want?” Stephen asked in a barely audible voice.

“Victoria Townsend’s will,” came the shocking reply.

“That’s confidential and—”

“Are you willing to die for it?” the man asked.

“No.” Stephen headed for the safe, which was installed behind a painting. With a shaky hand, he pulled back the picture. He quickly turned the dial to the correct numbers and the safe swung open.

He saw the gun kept there, on top of the papers. It was his only chance. His hand closed over the cold steel and he turned swiftly around. Before he could pull the trigger the man fired and Stephen fell to the floor.

The man jerked the mask from his face and stepped over the body. Pulling several documents out of the safe, the man searched until he found what he wanted. “Bingo.” The will of Victoria Cober Townsend, dated one year ago. Hastily he put the other documents back and closed the safe.

As he turned to leave, a rattle of keys sounded and a security guard entered the office. Another gunshot echoed in the room. The guard toppled to the carpet.

DALE WEEKS HELD the will in his hand and dialed a number. “I’ve got it,” he said.

“Good,” the voice on the other end answered. “Is it what I expected?”

“Yeah, she tells everything she knew or suspected and changed her will accordingly. It’s very interesting. You really should read it.”

“I have no interest in reading that garbage. Destroy it. Do you understand me?”

“Sure, that’s what you’re paying for. There’s just one small problem.”

“What?”

“Reed was in the office and I had to shoot him…and the security guard.”

“Why?”

“It was unavoidable. Besides, no one’ll ever know the safe was broken into. They’ll think the guard interrupted a routine robbery. Your secret is safe. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust anyone, Weeks, especially you. Just make sure your tracks are covered.”

Dale Weeks hung up the phone, then stared at the document in his hand. A smile twisted his lips. So many secrets. A shame no one would ever know. Except him.