54
Nova Euclid stood with her arms crossed next to Belen Caldas in the near-empty parking lot. It was a sunny day, but not unpleasantly so—wind carried much of the cloying heat away and left them with a warm breeze. The buzz of a lawn mower operated by a hunched groundskeeper accompanied the sweet smell of freshly cut grass. A handful of deputies were leaning against their vehicles across the parking lot, chatting and sipping coffee. A box of assorted pastries from the Ore House—Sheriff Colcord’s café—sat on the hood of the sheriff’s cruiser. They said he often stocked his office with pastries, gratis. No wonder his deputies loved him.
Officer Wiley must have seen her, because he approached her with half a pecan bun and a bear claw sandwiched in a napkin. She opted for the pecan bun. Caldas snagged the bear claw.
“Hey, Officer,” Euclid said to Wiley, grinning. “Thanks.”
He was looking especially trim today, and she bumped his shoulder with her own in greeting. He gave her a dorky waggle of his eyebrows back. “Watsup, Counselor. Didn’t think I’d find you here. This is taking an awfully long time.”
Colcord ambled over and now joined them.
“Good thing the sheriff brought provisions,” Euclid said. “I wanted to make sure this went smoothly.” She took a bite. This was damned good. She wiped the corners of her mouth, crumbs cascading. “Say, Colcord, do prosecutorsalsoget free pastries from the Ore House?”
Colcord adjusted his Stetson against the sun. “Sure do, once in a while.” His eyes slid to Caldas. “And defense counsel too. And judges. Any court staff. Gotta be impartial, after all.”
“I can’t think of anything worse than being stuck in a room surrounded by Five-Os and charge stackers,” Caldas said, but as she took a bite of the bear claw, her eyes widened. She said with her mouth half-full, “But today I’ll make an exception.”
Colcord chuckled.
The officers were there for crowd control in case anyone got wind of Margie Brooksfield’s release. Luckily, it was apparent they hadn’t: The press were nowhere to be seen, and the only other individual in the lot other than cops and deputies was Paul Brooksfield, seated in shadow in his truck. He hadn’t gotten out of the car to greet anyone. Euclid didn’t blame him, given the circumstances.
Caldas left them to go speak with Brooksfield.
“So how’d you convince Adewale to let Margie go?” Colcord asked.
“I made it clear that the evidence strongly suggests that Margie Brooksfield wasn’t involved in the Shrouder killings and that Margie had valuable information on the illegal money transfers that Paradox made to Khachatryan. There’s a major charitable fraud case here, breach of fiduciary duty, not to mention wire fraud. I pitched it to my boss as an opportunity to
score credit even while turning the case over to the feds. It was enough
to work out a plea deal. Adewale knew from the case files that Margie did it to pay for her daughter’s heart surgery for Turner syndrome after the insurance companies gave her the runaround. It turns out”—she lowered her voice—“that Adewale’s husband died from osteosarcoma and they also, it seems, got screwed over by a health insurance company. As part of the deal, Margie agreed to ‘disgorgement’—she agreed to surrender the
ill-gotten gains—which she can do out of the Grooms inheritance she’ll be getting.”
“But she witnessed the will herself—doesn’t that invalidate it?”
At this, Euclid smiled. “Not under Colorado Revised Statues
Section 15. I had to look it up myself.The signing of a will by an interested witness does not invalidate the will or any provision of it.Grooms’s will is legally valid and—more importantly—uncontested.”
Euclid didn’t say that she had also showed Adewale some of the bad press she’d been getting over Brooksfield’s arrest. Rumors had it that Adewale was considering running for governor—bad press was the last thing she needed. That had worked like a charm.
“So your PI was wrong about the fight she had with Castillo at the ranch?”
Euclid had made quick work on the pecan bun and began to lick sugar off her fingertips.
“Oh, theydidfight. But it wasn’t entirely about the fraud and inheritance. Margie didn’t know him, thought he was crazy, and he never identified himself. He said some wild stuff to her, and they argued.”
“About what?” Colcord bent forward inquisitively.
“Brooksfield whispered it to me when she was in jail. It’s pretty absurd—” Euclid was about to tell them when a clang of metal interrupted them. Margie Brooksfield stepped out from behind the retreating prison gate, blinking, two guards on either side. There was the sound of a car door opening, and Paul Brooksfield ran up to her with a shout. What ensued was like a cheesy Hallmark movie—all blubbering and hugs and talk, too far away for Euclid to hear. She watched them in silent contemplation for a second. They looked so much in love. She wondered if she’d find that kind of love someday.
“So?” Wiley asked. “What did they argue about?”
“It was silly, really. A clash of conspiracy theories. You’re both gonna laugh.”
“Try me.” Colcord turned a surprisingly blue gaze to Euclid.
“During their argument, Javi Castillo told Margie what Paradox’s secret purpose was. She wasveryupset about it. They got into a shouting match, and she practically threw him off the ranch.”
The Brooksfield truck revved to life and backed out of the lot.
“And?” asked Wiley. “What was Paradox’s secret purpose?”
“Well…” Euclid smiled at the outlandishness of it. “She was aware that Willy’s donations went to funding UAP research, but it was his money, so she didn’t think much of it. Then Castillo told her that Paradox’s true purpose was to prove that the earth had been visited by aliens for thousands of years, and more importantly”—she hesitated with amischievous grin—“that among those alien wayfarers were—get this—Jesus and his closest followers.”
They all broke into laughter. All, Euclid noticed, except Colcord… who seemed strangely disturbed.
