Chapter 8
The slightly paunchy man behind the desk
didn’t bother to stand as
“Mr. Holt, I’m Abbie Carmichael from the
district attorney’s office.”
As she held out her hand, he hesitated just
long enough to make his displeasure at her visit obvious before reaching across
his desk to shake it. “Ms. Carmichael, what can I do for you?”
“I’m investigating a woman who was a client
of yours at one time.” She handed him the guardianship agreement signed by
Grayson and Hamilton. “I believe you drew up this contract for Sara Grayson.”
As
“I need to know exactly when Mrs. Grayson
approached you on this matter.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that. I’m sure
I don’t need to explain attorney/client privilege to you,” he said curtly,
tossing the papers across his desk toward her.
“I’m not asking you to reveal the details of
your discussion with her. The information I’m asking for isn’t confidential,”
she said with a slight smile as she retrieved the document.
“Your definition of ‘confidential’ is
obviously different from mine,” Holt answered. “I’m under no obligation to
answer any questions about my dealings with a client.”
“Mrs. Grayson has confessed to killing her
husband. My questions pertain to a murder investigation.”
“I’m well aware of Mrs. Grayson’s situation,
but unless she waives privilege, I can’t help you.”
“I doubt that you’ll find the answers to your
questions in my files. I’m not very good at keeping notes,” he quipped.
She stood up and started for the door. “And
my officers aren’t very good at refiling. By the time they’re finished going
through every piece of paper in your office, it will take you a month to sort
things out. And who knows what they’ll find in the process? I’ll be back within
the hour with a subpoena.”
“Now why do you want to bother with me?” Holt
asked cajolingly. “I’m only trying to do my job.”
Returning to stand in front of his desk,
Holt shifted in his chair and said, “Sara
Grayson came to me to draw up the guardianship agreement two weeks before the
death of her husband.”
“And when did she pick it up?”
“The Monday after he died.”
“Thank you, Mr. Holt. You’ve been a
tremendous help.”
***“I’ll be glad when daylight-saving time
starts,” Morgan observed as she stashed a water bottle on a tree branch. “It
will be nice not have to run in the dark.”
“I’m looking forward to that myself,”
“I am,” Morgan answered.
A little more than forty-five minutes later, they slowed their running pace to a stop under the same tree. When they had retrieved their water, they began walking around the parallel paths worn into the still-dormant grass of the small park.
Checking her watch,
“No, I guess it isn’t,” Morgan agreed. “Speaking of work, I thought you were going to call me about the charges against Sara Grayson. I was sure you would have an answer for us by today.”
“I tried to reach you earlier this afternoon, but you were with a client.” She took a long drink of water. “I paid a visit to a Mr. Holt today. He’s the attorney who drew up the guardianship agreement for your client.”
“Yes, I know who he is. I called him myself yesterday. I wanted to see if there was anything Sara had told him that I should be concerned about.”
“And?”
Morgan gave her a smile. “And, there wasn’t.”
“It doesn’t worry you that your client started making plans two weeks before she killed her husband? That sounds a lot like premeditation to me.”
“Having the agreement drawn up doesn’t prove she was planning to kill him. It only helps show how desperate and fearful she had become.” Morgan glanced at Carmichael. “Since you’re doing some snooping, I take it you don’t have an official decision.”
“Not yet. We have some questions about your client’s story. I should have an answer for you by Wednesday.” She stopped and turned to Morgan. “Want to split a pizza?”
“Sure. We can pick one up on the way to my place. I’ll even let you borrow my shower.”
As they started for the parking lot, Carmichael suggested, “How about a Canadian bacon and sausage with pineapple?”
“How about a vegetarian?”
Carmichael wrinkled her nose. “I need something more substantial than bird food.”
“You’d better start getting used to it,” Morgan advised. “All that fat and calories are going to catch up with you. Once you hit 35, you have to work twice as hard to get half the results.”
“I’ll worry about it when I’m 35.”
“Well, given that 35 came and went a few years ago for me, I have to worry about it now,” Morgan admitted.
Carmichael smiled. “So how about half Canadian bacon, half vegetarian?”