Read Online Morgan James - Promise McNeal 01 - Quiet the Dead by Morgan James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Morgan James
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guess it is possible Papa didn’t tell my mother he gave me the house. He was a very private man. I didn’t even know there was a trust until he died and the attorney read us the will. I assumed my house was not part of the trust, though I don’t know what my mother thinks. The trust attorney sends me small monthly checks from the trust account for upkeep and taxes on the house. I would think my mother knows about that. Although, now that you ask, I’m not sure what Becca knows.” Then he said more to himself, than to me, “Does she hate me so much she would take my house? If she gets the trust, why would the house even matter to her? She has the Columbia house from his will. And her businesses. Not to mention, with five million dollars she can have any house she wants. She doesn’t need mine. This house is all the family I have.”
“Paul, listen to me. I didn’t say your mother is trying to take the house from you. Please don’t jump to conclusions.”
I could hear anger seeping into his voice. “No? Well if she thinks the house is still part of the trust, and she wants all of the trust, then she thinks she gets the house as part of the deal!” He slapped both hands, palms down, on the table. “In that case, forget what I said. I’m not giving up the trust until I know my house is my house. She can have the money only if I keep my house. You can take that message back to Garland Wang!”
I decided it was time to deal with the doll and retrieved the shoebox from the sofa. “I’ll tell Mr. Wang what you said. Of course you know, Paul, you can go downtown and record your deed today. Just go do it. Then talk to an attorney yourself to see what all this means. You owe that to yourself and your grandfather. Okay?” Paul seemed calmer, having made a stand against her mother, and nodded his assent. “Could I change the subject, just for a moment? Please look at this. It has something to do with you and the trust; I’m just not sure what. I put the box down on the table in front of him and removed the top. His sharp intake of breath seemed genuine.
“Good Lord, what is that?”
I began slowly, “Someone sent this doll to your mother this morning at her hotel.” I gave him a moment to let the information sink in. “Have you ever seen it before? Does it look familiar?”
He peered into the box without touching it. “Familiar? No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the doll, if that is what you mean. But,” he hesitated, “look at the blond hair and the pink suit. Mother always wears suits like that. It looks like her. Did she smash the head?”
“She says not. She says the head was smashed when it was delivered to her. According to your mother, the doll is meant to frighten her. Maybe as a threat. Who would do such a thing?”
Paul sat back, as far away from the box as possible. “Who knows? My mother is known to be a ruthless businesswoman. She would smash a lot of live heads if she could get away with it. There are probably hundreds of people left devastated, and financially ruined, in her wake. Believe me. If Becca wants something, she gets it.”
I had no trouble believing him on that observation. Becca had impressed me as the kind of woman who embraced the idea that winning is all that matters, no matter the cost. “Do you see the white card at the side of the box?” I pointed to the card, not wanting to touch it. “Yes, there. It says, ‘Your Choice.’ The threat seems to be that if she doesn’t make the right choice she will end up like the doll. She believes the person who sent the doll wants her to stop trying to get control of the trust.”
Paul studied me as though he was trying to make sense of my statement, and then said sadly, “Oh, my God. You mean she thinks I sent the doll. Is that why Garland Wang sent you over here?”
I liked this man and he deserved the truth. “My job is to facilitate your mother getting the trust. I don’t understand how this awful doll is connected
“Paul, listen to me. I didn’t say your mother is trying to take the house from you. Please don’t jump to conclusions.”
I could hear anger seeping into his voice. “No? Well if she thinks the house is still part of the trust, and she wants all of the trust, then she thinks she gets the house as part of the deal!” He slapped both hands, palms down, on the table. “In that case, forget what I said. I’m not giving up the trust until I know my house is my house. She can have the money only if I keep my house. You can take that message back to Garland Wang!”
I decided it was time to deal with the doll and retrieved the shoebox from the sofa. “I’ll tell Mr. Wang what you said. Of course you know, Paul, you can go downtown and record your deed today. Just go do it. Then talk to an attorney yourself to see what all this means. You owe that to yourself and your grandfather. Okay?” Paul seemed calmer, having made a stand against her mother, and nodded his assent. “Could I change the subject, just for a moment? Please look at this. It has something to do with you and the trust; I’m just not sure what. I put the box down on the table in front of him and removed the top. His sharp intake of breath seemed genuine.
“Good Lord, what is that?”
I began slowly, “Someone sent this doll to your mother this morning at her hotel.” I gave him a moment to let the information sink in. “Have you ever seen it before? Does it look familiar?”
He peered into the box without touching it. “Familiar? No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the doll, if that is what you mean. But,” he hesitated, “look at the blond hair and the pink suit. Mother always wears suits like that. It looks like her. Did she smash the head?”
“She says not. She says the head was smashed when it was delivered to her. According to your mother, the doll is meant to frighten her. Maybe as a threat. Who would do such a thing?”
Paul sat back, as far away from the box as possible. “Who knows? My mother is known to be a ruthless businesswoman. She would smash a lot of live heads if she could get away with it. There are probably hundreds of people left devastated, and financially ruined, in her wake. Believe me. If Becca wants something, she gets it.”
I had no trouble believing him on that observation. Becca had impressed me as the kind of woman who embraced the idea that winning is all that matters, no matter the cost. “Do you see the white card at the side of the box?” I pointed to the card, not wanting to touch it. “Yes, there. It says, ‘Your Choice.’ The threat seems to be that if she doesn’t make the right choice she will end up like the doll. She believes the person who sent the doll wants her to stop trying to get control of the trust.”
Paul studied me as though he was trying to make sense of my statement, and then said sadly, “Oh, my God. You mean she thinks I sent the doll. Is that why Garland Wang sent you over here?”
I liked this man and he deserved the truth. “My job is to facilitate your mother getting the trust. I don’t understand how this awful doll is connected
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