Page 23 of Accidental Murder
“Not as long as I’ve got a credit card.” It was an Ashley-type response.
Walter shoved the wad back into his pocket. “Sorry about your sister. Want me to handle the dispensation of her estate?”
Aha.Walter. Ashley’s business manager who was also her attorney. “Why are you here?”
“I plan to yank Margaret’s chain. Get her to negotiate for more money on your Maybelline deal.” Ashley had hired Walter to review all her contracts. “So what about your sister’s estate?”
“No,” Kayla said. “Thanks for the offer, but I want to hold on to everything until I can?—”
“Bear to let go,” Walter said, finishing her sentence. “I understand. Let’s have dinner soon.”
“Sure. We’ll go for burgers at A Little Slice of Heaven,” Kayla said, remembering the name of one of Ashley’s favorite diners.
Walter huffed. “You know I don’t eat meat anymore.”
Kayla blanched but rallied. “I was testing you.” She pointed at him.
Walter mirrored the action and honked out a laugh. “Keep that sense of humor, Ash. Humor carries the day.” He backed out of the office still aiming his finger.
After he disappeared down the hall, Kayla sat in the desk chair and forced herself to make telephone calls, starting with her primary suspects—Nolan Trask and Jacob Feinstein.
In her cell phone’s contacts, she located Trask’s home number. Using the office telephone, she tapped in the digits. After five rings, the call rolled into voicemail. At the beep, her mouth went dry. “Mr. Trask, this is Ashley Macintyre, Kayla’s sister.”Oh, the lies we weave. “Please call me. My numberis 650-555-1—” She stumbled, realizing she was about to give her own number.“650-555-2414,” she recited.Ashley’s number. After adding the information about the memorial service, she hung up, her palms sweaty, her breathing choppy.
Next, she phoned Jacob. That also went to voicemail.
After leaving a message, she thought of a client Jacob had referred to her—Cindy Norton. Cindy made dog pillows and sold them online. Her husband, William, was an abuser. A month ago, thanks to Kayla’s insistence, Cindy had sought a restraining order to keep him at bay. Was it conceivable he’d gone after Kayla for interfering?
Kayla called Cindy’s home phone. An automated voice came on the line. “The number you have dialed has been disconnected.”
Disconnected?No way.Last week, she’d visited Cindy to show her how to upload a digital movie of her infant’s first steps. Cindy was fine. Safe.
Her insides snarled. Had something happened to Cindy? Had William hurt her again?
She tried Cindy’s cell phone. It rolled into voicemail.
Fear sliced through her. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, she telephoned 911. Claiming to be Cindy’s neighbor, she said she’d heard a disturbance at Cindy’s house and recited the address.
“Are you at home now?” the emergency operator asked.
“No, ma’am, I had to go to work. I don’t know if the fighting persisted, but I can’t reach her and I’m worried.”
“Your name please.”
“If my boss catches me on the telephone—” Kayla hung up and hoped that the woman, despite Kayla’s hasty exit, would send someone to the Norton’s home.
She resumed her calls as Ashley. For the few clients who didn’t answer, she left messages. Most of those who answeredhad heard the news about Kayla’s death and were stunned. No client sounded guilty or evasive.
Although her voice was tired from overuse, she made one last call to Sara Simmons. At home.
“Hello,” a man answered.
Kayla faltered. She’d hoped Sara would pick up. “May I speak with Sara?”
“This is her husband. Who’s this?”
“Ashley Macintyre, sir. My sister, Kayla?—”
“Kayla,” he rasped. “Oh, heavens, I heard she died. I’m sorry. I . . . Sara . . . ” His voice caught. He cleared his throat. “You must be calling about Kayla’s bill. Meet me at my office at four o’clock, and I’ll give you a check. Eleventh floor of the Worldwide Finance building on California Street. Suite one-oh-two.” He ended the call, cutting off any objection.
