Sleeping Beauty by Phillip Margolin Page A

changed.
    â€œAnother thing.” Philips looked uncomfortable again. “I talked to Detective Birch. He said you could bury your mother now.” Philips didn’t tell Ashley that there had been an autopsy. He didn’t want her thinking about her mother lying on cold steel as a stranger made incisions in her flesh and unemotionally dictated findings about cause of death. “I can arrange the funeral, if you want me to.”
    â€œYes, if you could,” Ashley answered, relieved that someone would take the burden of organizing the funeral from her shoulders.
    â€œOkay.” Philips took out a yellow pad and made a note. Then he took out some papers.
    â€œWe don’t have to get into details today. We can do that at your convenience. I can tell you that you’re going to be okay financially if you watch yourself. You’ll inherit some money and both of your parents had good life insurance policies. The money will probably last a while if you’re careful. I can suggest a financial adviser when we get together.”
    Ashley wanted to know how much money she would inherit but she could not bring herself to ask. She didn’t want Philips to think that she was greedy, and it felt wrong to think that she had profited from her parents’ deaths.
    â€œYou should also think about selling your house,” Philips continued.
    Ashley took an involuntary breath.
    â€œIt’s hard, I know. I sold my dad’s place and it broke my heart. It’s where I grew up.”
    â€œI know I’ll have to let it go.”
    â€œThe market is good now. With the life insurance, what you’ll get for the house, and the other money, you should be fine.”
    Ashley wiped a tear from her eye. Philips stood up and handed her a handkerchief. He spotted a glass on her night table.
    â€œDo you want some water?”
    â€œI’ll be okay. It’s just so hard to….”
    Ashley bit her lip. Philips looked down. “Anyway,” he continued self-consciously, “I’ll take care of the funeral arrangements. Do you want to set a time to meet so we can go over all of the financial stuff?”
    â€œAnytime is okay,” Ashley said sadly. “I don’t have anything else except the funeral.”
    â€œDo you have any questions?” Philips asked.
    â€œNot now. I’ll call you about the meeting. And thank you for coming to see me.”
    â€œIt’s my job,” Philips answered with a kind smile. He stood. “See ya.”
    â€œSee ya,” she answered.
    Â 
    As soon as Jerry Philips left, Ashley realized that she was famished. She had barely eaten anything in the past few days. Someone had brought meals to her room while the school cafeteria was open for the soccer clinic but she only picked at them, leaving most of the food. Laura Rice’s duties as dorm proctor had ended with the soccer clinic. After she packed, Laura visited Ashley to say good-bye and to deliver a message from Henry Van Meter, who had invited Ashley to take her meals in the Van Meter mansion.
    Ashley pulled on a pair of sneakers and cut across the campus toward the mansion. Her bodyguard followed her at a discreet distance. The morning was spectacular. The sky was bright blue and decorated by fluffy white clouds, the air was fresh with the smell of pine and roses and birdsong filled the air. The very perfection of the morning was pure torture for Ashley. Every bird that sang, every heavenly scent, and every multicolored flower garden made her remember what she had lost.
    Ashley heard the hum of a lawnmower, and the mansion came into view. A crew of gardeners was mowing the grass, edging the bushes,and tending the flower gardens. To get to the kitchen Ashley walked between a pool and a large flagstone patio furnished with lounge chairs and glass-topped tables shaded by sturdy umbrellas. Ashley caught a glimpse of the main dining room through a leaded-glass window. It was paneled