the caller. She accepted the call
and held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“So you’re still alive.”
“Just barely.”
“I’ve been ringing your doorbell for five minutes.”
“Well stop it, damn it.”
“Then let me in.”
“Give me a minute.”
Cell phone in hand, Teri staggered to the front door and opened it to
greet her producing partner. Mona brushed past her and on to the kitchen.
Teri followed meekly. As Mona set about making coffee, Teri sat at the
kitchen table and held her head in her hands.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Mona asked.
“That seems to be the consensus.”
Mona spun around, her brow knit, her lips pursed. “I’m serious.
When Mike told me you went to that hotel room at night, all alone, I
couldn’t believe it. Who knows what could have happened.”
“The fact that I’m sitting here, listening to you lecture me, is proof
that nothing did.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I know, I know.” Teri shrugged. “But I can’t change it now, so let’s
move on.”
They waited silently for the coffee to brew then, when they had filled
their cups, they adjourned to the deck, where a smoky haze hung in the
air.
“How bad is it?” Mona asked.
“I don’t know.”
“But bad?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“What do you think this guy’s gonna do?”
“I’m more worried about what we’re gonna do.”
Mona sipped her coffee and appraised her friend. “You look tired.”
“I didn’t get much sleep last night. And I’ve got a busy day ahead of
me.”
“That’s what Mike said. I want to go with you.”
Teri shook her head. “I need you doing something else for me.”
“Name it.”
“Find out everything you can about Leland Crowell and his will. Was
there anything strange about the probate? Was there an order that allowed
me to take the script? I need to know everything, and I don’t trust the
lawyers to do it.”
“Okay.”
“And I need to know as much as I can about Doug Bozarth and his
money. I want to know where it came from. And I want to know what
he’s capable of.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s just a hunch, but I think that we may end up having more to
worry about from him than we do from Leland Crowell.”
Mona stopped in mid-sip. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s what I need you to find out.”
Then Teri got up and went inside, leaving Mona slack-faced on the
deck.
CHAPTER 19
The neighborhood where
Spencer West, attorney-at-aw had
maintained his home office had not changed in the two years since Teri’s
first and only visit there. She pulled up in front of the house and killed the
engine on her SUV. She checked herself in the rearview mirror. With her
hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing faded jeans and a golf shirt, a Texas
Rangers baseball cap, and sunglasses,
she
thought herself passably
disguised.
As she approached the front porch, the first thing she noticed was the
absence of West’s “shingle” out front, pathetic though it had been. She had
not heard from him since that prior meeting, so she had no way of
knowing if he had moved or simply shut down his practice. She pushed the
doorbell, but heard no sound inside. She knocked on the door, her
knuckles causing the flimsy wood to wobble with each rap. After a
moment, she heard shuffling sounds from inside, then the thin curtain over
the window in the door moved aside. A few seconds later, the door
cracked open about ten inches and an elderly Hispanic woman peered out,
her eyes wide behind thick glasses lenses.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked, in perfect, unaccented English.
“I’m looking for Mr. West.”
“There’s nobody here by that name.”
“Is this no longer his office?”
The door opened wider, to reveal a diminutive woman, no more
than five feet tall, wearing a threadbare flowered housecoat. Her hair was
shoe polish black, though surely she was approaching her eighties.
“You looking for the lawyer?” she asked.
“Yes, Spencer West.”
“He’s
and held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“So you’re still alive.”
“Just barely.”
“I’ve been ringing your doorbell for five minutes.”
“Well stop it, damn it.”
“Then let me in.”
“Give me a minute.”
Cell phone in hand, Teri staggered to the front door and opened it to
greet her producing partner. Mona brushed past her and on to the kitchen.
Teri followed meekly. As Mona set about making coffee, Teri sat at the
kitchen table and held her head in her hands.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Mona asked.
“That seems to be the consensus.”
Mona spun around, her brow knit, her lips pursed. “I’m serious.
When Mike told me you went to that hotel room at night, all alone, I
couldn’t believe it. Who knows what could have happened.”
“The fact that I’m sitting here, listening to you lecture me, is proof
that nothing did.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I know, I know.” Teri shrugged. “But I can’t change it now, so let’s
move on.”
They waited silently for the coffee to brew then, when they had filled
their cups, they adjourned to the deck, where a smoky haze hung in the
air.
“How bad is it?” Mona asked.
“I don’t know.”
“But bad?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“What do you think this guy’s gonna do?”
“I’m more worried about what we’re gonna do.”
Mona sipped her coffee and appraised her friend. “You look tired.”
“I didn’t get much sleep last night. And I’ve got a busy day ahead of
me.”
“That’s what Mike said. I want to go with you.”
Teri shook her head. “I need you doing something else for me.”
“Name it.”
“Find out everything you can about Leland Crowell and his will. Was
there anything strange about the probate? Was there an order that allowed
me to take the script? I need to know everything, and I don’t trust the
lawyers to do it.”
“Okay.”
“And I need to know as much as I can about Doug Bozarth and his
money. I want to know where it came from. And I want to know what
he’s capable of.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s just a hunch, but I think that we may end up having more to
worry about from him than we do from Leland Crowell.”
Mona stopped in mid-sip. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s what I need you to find out.”
Then Teri got up and went inside, leaving Mona slack-faced on the
deck.
CHAPTER 19
The neighborhood where
Spencer West, attorney-at-aw had
maintained his home office had not changed in the two years since Teri’s
first and only visit there. She pulled up in front of the house and killed the
engine on her SUV. She checked herself in the rearview mirror. With her
hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing faded jeans and a golf shirt, a Texas
Rangers baseball cap, and sunglasses,
she
thought herself passably
disguised.
As she approached the front porch, the first thing she noticed was the
absence of West’s “shingle” out front, pathetic though it had been. She had
not heard from him since that prior meeting, so she had no way of
knowing if he had moved or simply shut down his practice. She pushed the
doorbell, but heard no sound inside. She knocked on the door, her
knuckles causing the flimsy wood to wobble with each rap. After a
moment, she heard shuffling sounds from inside, then the thin curtain over
the window in the door moved aside. A few seconds later, the door
cracked open about ten inches and an elderly Hispanic woman peered out,
her eyes wide behind thick glasses lenses.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked, in perfect, unaccented English.
“I’m looking for Mr. West.”
“There’s nobody here by that name.”
“Is this no longer his office?”
The door opened wider, to reveal a diminutive woman, no more
than five feet tall, wearing a threadbare flowered housecoat. Her hair was
shoe polish black, though surely she was approaching her eighties.
“You looking for the lawyer?” she asked.
“Yes, Spencer West.”
“He’s
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