Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [40]
“And with their breakup, there’s no doubt Gretel was going to change this will pretty quickly. It certainly looks bad for Pearly.”
I picked up the will again and asked, “Was she nuts? She leaves something worth this much to Pearly, but then there’s her cousin Jubal—a man she likes enough to have him help run her shop—and he’s not even mentioned. I don’t get it.”
“I imagine that might be why Morton’s so eager to speak with Pearly. I wouldn’t mind having a word or two with him myself.”
I tapped another page of the document and asked, “Why am I surprised she had this much money and property? I was under the impression she put everything she owned into her candleshop.”
Markum said, “It’s not all that unusual for folks with lots of money to hide its existence. If she’d been determined to follow through on her threat of burying you, she could have given candles away for the next forty years and never felt the pinch.”
“I guess you’re right. I wonder if Jubal knows how much his cousin was worth?”
Markum said, “I highly doubt it. Harrison, I once knew a husband and wife who were each independently wealthy in their own right. They both ended up hiring me to find out what the other was worth after a mutual friend bragged about something I’d done for him.”
“Did you?” I asked.
“No, that’s not really my line of work. I did recommend the same accountant to each of them. Those two didn’t have much imagination. They both hired him.”
“So you didn’t get a dime from it?”
He laughed. “Don’t kid yourself. The finder’s fee I got for sending them to James was enough to pay for a month in Bali.”
“Pearly can do a lot more than that with the proceeds from the sale of those masks. I’m sure in the sheriff’s mind it’s enough of a motive for murder.”
“No doubt that’s why he’s looking for our friend. The only question is, what do we do about it?”
I stifled a yawn, then said, “I’m not really sure, and I’m too tired to think about it right now. It’s been a long day.”
Markum stood. “This probably could have waited until morning, but I wanted you to know.”
I joined him as he walked to the door. “I appreciate you digging into this,” I said. “You’re a lot better at it than I am.”
Markum locked his door behind us and said, “Don’t sell yourself short, Harrison; you’re getting better by the minute. Tell you what. Let me see what else I can come up with and we’ll talk again soon.”
“What about your plans in Eastern Europe?”
Markum said, “The project’s not going anywhere, and I’m not about to jump into anything before I’ve had the chance to check it out a lot more than I have. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
After Markum was gone, I walked into the apartment, happy that the long day was nearly over.
I hadn’t been getting many calls since the first deluge had stopped, and I’d become pretty lax when it came to checking my messages. I was surprised to see a flashing “2” on the machine.
I hit replay and heard Becka’s voice. Her words came out in staccato. “Harrison. Pick up! He’s here. I don’t know what to do.”
The connection broke, and as I listened to the second message, I started dialing Becka’s number. Since I wasn’t in the market for aluminum siding, I hit the pause button on the machine and waited for Becka to pick up.
Her line was busy.
I waited a few minutes, paced around the apartment, then tried her again.
Her line was still busy. All kinds of thoughts were swirling through my head. Had the stranger become bolder in his stalking? Was Becka trapped there, or worse yet, had something more ominous happened to her? Becka had a cell phone, but I didn’t know the number anymore.
I tried her home number again. It was still busy. Or the line had been cut.
This was getting ridiculous. I hung up and dialed the operator. When I explained that it was an emergency, she tried the number, then came back on the line. “I’m afraid no one’s there, sir.”
I slammed the phone down and grabbed my keys as I ran out of the apartment. I just hoped I wasn’t too late.
I got