“Okay, no, you’re absolutely right. I’ll keep this to myself,” Traci said, her mind racing at all the possible skulduggery Ric Eddings might be up to. “Thanks, Hannah. I owe you one.”
“The reason I called you was because I can’t stand that bastard Ric, excuse my French.”
Traci laughed. “Sounds personal.”
“Oh, it is. Back when I was a penniless college student, Ric sideswiped my poor little Chevy in the parking lot at the mall. He was driving the Saint’s black SUV with the logo on the door. Ripped the right rearview mirror clean off my car, and he didn’t even slow down. When my daddy called Mr. Eddings to complain about it, Ric straight up called me a liar.”
“That sounds exactly like him,” Traci said. “I’m gonna quietly ask some questions, and I’ll definitely keep your name out of it, but if you hear any more details, will you let me know?”
“You got it, girlfriend.”
She left a message on Andy Plankenhorn’s voice mail, telling him she had an urgent matter to discuss.
He called back fifteen minutes later. “Traci? What’s so urgent?”
“I can’t tell you how I found out about this, but I understand my brother-in-law may have retained Reeves Corbett to do some legal work that involves Fred.”
Plankenhorn let out a long, low whistle. “If he has, this is the first I’ve heard of it. Ric certainly hasn’t notified me that your family is changing law firms.”
“He hasn’t notified me, either,” Traci said. She told him about Reeves Corbett and the videographer. “That’s pretty concerning to me, given Fred’s current medical status.”
“It’s damn concerning,” Andy agreed.
“You and I both know that if Ric has hired an outside law firm, it means he’s up to something nefarious,” Traci said.
“I can’t say I blame you for having this reaction. Let me make some discreet inquiries and see what I can find out. In the meantime, when was the last time you saw Fred?”
“I check in on him at least once a week. The last time was two days ago. He’s no longer ambulatory, and he’s nonverbal these days, you know.”
“Does he seem mentally alert?”
“I suppose so. He watches the financial news all day, every day. One thing that makes me suspicious about Ric is that he rarely bothers to visit his dad. Says it’s too depressing. So why, all of a sudden, is he inviting Reeves Corbett—along with a videographer—for a drop-in?”
“I’m wondering the same thing,” Plankenhorn said. “Stay tuned.”
CHAPTER 20
“Miss Eddings?” Parrish recognized the voice—and the scent of its owner—before looking up. It belonged to Colonel McBee, the military retiree who, in only a week, had quickly become Parrish’s least favorite guest.
The Colonel smelled like a combination of cheap aftershave and mothballs, and his pronounced Southern drawl reminded her of Foghorn Leghorn.
He slapped a folded newspaper onto her desk with such force that it sent a stack of real estate brochures flying. His yellowing mustache quivered with outrage.
“Thee-us,” he snapped, “is a day-oldWall Street Journal. I need you to find me today’s paper.”
Parrish sighed. She’d suffered a variation on this same theme for three straight days.
“I’m sorry, Colonel, but as I explained yesterday, print versions of the big national newspapers are flown in here every evening from Atlanta. They’re not available same-day here on the coast. However, all of them are available online.”
“Online?” His upper lip curled, as though the word was as distasteful as something from a porn novel. “I can’t read that small print. I must have a real newspaper.”
“There’s a computer monitor in our library,” Parrish said, in the kind of soothing voice she’d heard mothers use on the screamingtoddlers having meltdowns out by the pool. “I can show you how to enlarge the print with the click of a mouse.”
“Never mind,” he said. “All those advertisements swimmin’ around and poppin’ up give me a migraine.”
She gave a weak smile. “Sorry. Is there anything else I can assist with?”
“The maid. My wife is certain the girl was rummaging through her jewelry. When we came back from dinner last night, the things she’d left on the bathroom counter had been moved.”
