Death & Decluttering Page 5

  Chip’s personal office was exactly what you’d expect a successful lawyer’s office to look like: a lot of leather seating, row after row of books, framed diplomas, photos of Chip in increasingly-impressive suits shaking hands with other men in suits and, finally, a large, imposing desk strewn with papers.

  Max Goggins was on his knees behind the desk, rifling through the drawers. He looked up with a desperate hope in his eyes as he heard Aurora’s footsteps, then stood up shakily. Despite his floppy hair and a pair of spectacles that looked as though they could have belonged on a librarian from the 1950’s, Max managed to look every bit the gentleman lawyer. His sleeves were rolled up and his jacket was tossed over the desk chair, but the cut and look of the material told Aurora that Max was used to casual luxuries. He blinked down at her, trying to compute who she was.

  “You’re not Henrietta,” he said finally.

  “Er, I’m afraid not.” Aurora held out her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m a client of your late uncle. Well, sort of. He executed the will of Ricardo Ricci, and I—”

  “Oh, you’re the one who inherited half of Ricci House.” Max nodded. “I know all about that. Joy’s new roommate…Aurora Sparks, right? Welcome to Bent River.” He had a cobweb in his hair and, although he was speaking to her, Aurora got the impression that he was on autopilot.

  “Is this a bad time?” she asked.

  “Bad? What could be bad about it? My uncle just died, Henrietta quit and I’ve got no idea where anything is kept in this horrible office.” Max gave a laugh that came out a tad too bitter. “If you’ve got questions about your case, Ms. Sparks, I’m afraid I’ll be of no help for some time. Not until I’ve gotten all the files in order. Henrietta made excellent coffee but, bless her, her idea of organization was to toss papers into a drawer and hope nobody ever needed them again.”

  “Henrietta was your secretary?”

  “Administrative assistant. She quit last week. Uncle Chip was supposed to hire someone new, but it’s not like people want to move to this forsaken town.” Max suddenly gave her a shrewd look. “You’re new here, though.”

  “I am.” Aurora nodded. “I’m also really good at organizing things. Not to boast, but I could make a career out of it, probably.”

  “You’re hired.” Max said.

  “Just like that?”

  “I’m desperate.” He shrugged. “But let’s start off with a one month trial, shall we? We’ll draw up a contract after that if it all works out.”

  “Don’t you need references?”

  “I know you were working for an insurance firm in NY,” Max said, “And that you were fired.”

  “How did…” Aurora stared at him. “I wasn’t fired…I quit.”

  “That’s debatable. Also, it was silly on your part to quit. Never quit when you can get fired instead. A company’s forced to give you extra compensation if they fire you but not if you quit.”

  “I’ll remember that if I ever have to leave you.” Aurora raised an eyebrow.

  “If we work well together, then maybe you’ll never have to.” Max smiled. “What do you say?”

  “How did you know about my last job?” Aurora asked.

  “Uncle Chip did a thorough criminal background check on you. Mr. Ricci insisted on it,” Max said.

  “Ricardo Ricci wanted a criminal background check on me? Why?” Aurora was baffled.

  “I guess he wanted to know he was giving his house to someone who deserved it, and not a felon or something.” Max shrugged. “Who knows? So how about the job? I know it’s not what you’re used to and the pay won’t be anything special, but it’ll be steady work. That isn’t so easy to find here in town.”

  Aurora didn’t have to think twice. “I’ll take it. So, do I call you boss now?”

  Max smiled suddenly, and Aurora was hit by it. It was the kind of smile that told people you were in the presence of royalty. It was a smile that made you feel as though you were curled up in a blanket while it rained outside.

  Careful Aurora, a voice inside her said. For someone who’s just lost an uncle to murder, he seems to have recovered a little too easily.

  “I can’t tell you what a relief this is,” Max said. “I’d be done for otherwise. Uncle Chip’s death threw everything into confusion here. I haven’t even had time to grieve or plan the funeral because I’ve been desperate to organize things here.” He came forward and shook both her hands with his. “Can I trust you to help me out? I’ll need a little extra time from you initially, but I promise it’ll reflect in your wages.”

  “I’d be glad to help,” Aurora said. “I just…I’ve got one request.”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t know if you’ve told others in town what you found out about me…”

  Max simply watched her, his head cocked slightly to the left.

  “What I mean is…please don’t tell anyone.” Aurora’s face lit up red. “I’d rather not have them know.” Her last words trailed off into the air, and shame filled her up.

  Max sat down on the thick leather chair and cupped a hand under his jaw. “I don’t tell tales. But why wouldn’t you want Bent River to know? What you did was downright heroic. If I understand it correctly, you stood up to a boss who was refusing to accept the claim of a fireman’s widow based on a technicality.”

  Aurora flushed. “Well, let’s not talk about it. Please. That’s all in the past now.”

  “Why?” Max looked genuinely curious.

  “Because being fired is humiliating, that’s why. Or forced to quit, or whatever you want to call it,” Aurora admitted. “You wouldn’t know it, I suppose. I’m guessing you’ve never been fired. It was one of the lowest points of my life. Especially because I felt like I’d been punished for doing the right thing.”

  “I understand,” Max said. “You’re right that I’ve never experienced it, but I’ve handled lawsuits for people who have been unjustly fired. Personally, I think if you’d had the patience to fight them, you’d have made some money out of the whole deal.”

  “That’s not who I am,” Aurora said. “Besides, I found out that I inherited Ricci House soon after, and that helped me decide to move here.”

  Max nodded. “Ricci House. Is that why you originally came down here?”

  He had a sympathetic face, and she found herself pouring out the whole story about Joy’s behavior and her fear of getting kicked out of the house in detail as he nodded along and made notes on a piece of paper.

  “So I’m afraid that, with your uncle gone, Joy will just get more aggressive now,” she finished. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You don’t need to worry, I’m sure that won’t happen. Joy’s not the type to start lawsuits,” Max said.

  “She might be. How could you be sure?”

  “You know I’m friends with Joy, right?” Max asked.

  “That’s brave of you.”

  Max laughed. “No. She’s a good sort. Honestly. Then again, the best of people can turn into monsters when it comes to wills sometimes, and Joy sounds like she feels very righteous about who the house belongs to.”

  “I just don’t want trouble,” Aurora said. “If she hates sharing the house with me so much, I wouldn’t mind if she cut me a check. But she won’t do that, either.”

  “She can’t really afford to do that,” Max said. “Land-rich, pocket-poor. That’s what my Uncle Chip used to call the entire clan. Everyone in that family owns property in Bent River, but nobody has money just lying around.”

  “Is that common in Bent River?”

  “Well, let’s put it this way: taxes and inflation eat up money faster than people can earn it around here. The tale of every small town in America.” Max grinned. “Still, we’ve got a few flourishing businesses here. Like the vineyards. I expect you’ll want to tour one soon enough, since you’re new.”

  “Oh, yes. That would be nice.” Aurora nodded.

  “Wednesdays are best if you can manage it. Weekends see a lot
of tourists flock in,” Max said. A little wistfully, he added, “Uncle Chip always said he’d like to go to a proper tasting but, for whatever reason, he kept putting it off.”

  “I’m really sorry, by the way, about everything,” Aurora said. “Were you very close with your uncle?”

  “Growing up, he was my hero. I don’t know if you met him, but he’d always been a hit with kids.” Max gazed off into the distance. “I moved away with my parents when I was twelve. When I became a lawyer, he convinced me to move down here instead of practicing in the big city. The plan was for me to eventually take over his practice when he retired.”

  “And now you’re going to carry forward his legacy?” Aurora asked.

  Max cleared his throat. “Right. Now I’m going to move forward the best I can.”

  “Do you…did your uncle have any clients who might have hated him?” Aurora asked. “Criminals he’d put away or something like that?”

  “My uncle?” Max shook his head. “No. No way. He didn’t do criminal cases, for one. Most of his work was just drafting wills and writing stern letters threatening legal action. Harmless stuff.”

  “Isn’t it a little strange that he handled Ricardo Ricci’s will? I mean, considering Joy’s father had a feud with him and all.”

  “A feud?” Max snorted. “Is that what you’ve been told? Boy, this town sure knows how to gossip.”

  “I heard that Joy’s father once beat your uncle up.”

  “Joy’s father is a good man with a big personality, just like my Uncle Chip was,” Max said. “If he and my uncle brawled a little bit, that’s understandable. It gets boring here, people fight over silly things.”

  “Oh, so you often get into fist fights?”

  Max laughed. “No. But to be fair, it’s much easier not to get bored these days with the internet available 24/7.”

  “So you don’t think Joy’s father was the one who killed your uncle?” Aurora asked.

  “I don’t think anything,” Max said. “I think I’ll let the police do their job and, hopefully, the truth will come out soon.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Now, do you want to get started today, or would you rather come back fresh in the morning?”

  *****

  Chapter 9

  Theories

  Since seeing Aurora only seemed to irritate her, Joy thought she’d be able to find solace at work. But before she could even go in, her boss, Tim, met her at the door and asked her to take the week off.

  “Focus on your family. I know they need you right now,” Tim had said, his spectacles slipping halfway down his nose as he looked at her. “I don’t want you to think of anything else. You’re overdue for some time off anyway.”

  Joy felt grateful, but she knew there was a reason Tim wasn’t letting her near the paper - he didn’t want people in town to think that the reporting was biased in any way. It was as much self-preservation as kindness.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Care to grab a coffee with me, Tim? I’d like your opinion on the whole mess.”

  “Coffee isn’t such a good idea. Half the town would be listening to us,” Tim replied. “But why don’t we take a walk by the river?”

  Joy nodded. “Let’s.”

  Bent River curved around town in an unusual U-shape, and The Bulletin’s office stood on one edge of the curve, with the railway tracks behind it marking another boundary of the town. A jogging track had been created that followed the river throughout its path. It hadn’t been kept very well, and the grass on the river bank beside them was almost knee-high as they walked through a rutted track. Still, Joy couldn’t help but appreciate it as she always did - the gentle murmurs of the river, the birds and insects playing hide-and-seek around it and the trees that seemed to bend their heads together in conversation like office workers at the water cooler.

  “It doesn’t look good for your father, does it?” Tim asked.

  “I wish I could say otherwise.” Joy sighed. “What do you think Tim? Do you know the details?”

  “I spoke to the chief.” Tim tapped a finger against his nose. “Unofficially of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, six shots. A vendetta killing. We don’t get many of those around town,” Tim said. “The chief’s reasonably certain he can build a case against your father. I’m sorry about that, Joy.”

  “But Dad didn’t do it,” Joy said. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Of course. Everyone in town knows that your father’s a fine man.” Tim nodded. “But…he did have that little tiff with Chip. There was no love lost between them.”

  “Well, so what? My father’s a doctor. If he wanted to murder Chip, he would have figured out a way to do it that left no trace. Besides, he doesn’t even own a gun!”

  “Well, it’s not so hard to get one on the black market,” Tim said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not calling him a killer. I’m just pointing out what the town’s going to think.”

  “You know what I think?”

  “What?” Tim looked calm and interested, as though she were talking about an idea for a story instead of a murder that involved her parents.

  “I think that this might have something to do with Chip’s autobiography. He’s been working on it for years and nobody took him seriously. He said it just got accepted by a publisher, didn’t he? Well, there’s your motive. Whoever killed him didn’t want that book published.”

  “Fascinating.” Tim tapped a finger against his chin. “Yes. That’s a good motive alright. It does make sense. Except for one thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Chip’s laptop was untouched. If someone wanted to steal his book, wouldn’t they have torched his laptop? Surely that’s where all his notes are.”

  “Oh.” Joy deflated a little bit. “Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe the murderer just panicked because my mother came in at the wrong time.”

  “Speaking of which, why was your mother in his house that late at night?”

  “I don’t know,” Joy said unhappily. “I wish I did. She didn’t say a word to me. I want to help my family…but I don’t know how.”

  Tim nodded. He was actually a few years older than Joy’s father, but his skinny build, wire-frame spectacles and turtleneck sweaters combined to give him a sort of boyish-agelessness. Joy had been working with him for years now, and his matter of fact words had helped her on more than one occasion. She knew that he didn’t dole out advice lightly, so she took it seriously when he spoke.

  “If you really want to help, I’d suggest going about it methodically,” Tim said. “Work it like you would work a news story - be detached and observant. Right now, what you’re doing is reacting to events. You’re operating on fear. That’s natural. But if I were you, I’d rein in that fear and use curiosity and an open mind to light the path forward.”

  “I… see.”

  “The facts we know are few,” Tim said. He began counting them off on his fingers. “Chip is dead. The killing occurred in the middle of the night. The killer walked up to Chip’s room, shot him in cold blood and ran away. Your mother was found unconscious in the living room. Your father wasn’t home when the police arrived. The weapon hasn’t been found yet.”

  Joy nodded. “Yes.”