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.