lawyer stopped writing and raised his eyes. “Of course. Hello, Mr. Gilford. Have a seat.” He motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk.
Jake smiled at the man, taking in his appearance as he sat. Watkins, probably fifty years old, had thick dark hair slicked back with gel. He was tan and seemed fit. Jake guessed him to be a golfer. A man didn't get that tanned walking to and from his car. “Actually, it's Detective Gilford. I'm with David Taylor's outfit. I believe you know him.”
Watkins didn't bat an eye. “Yes, I know him, he's a good man.”
“He was a friend of Edward Cooper.”
“An old friend, perhaps. Edward didn't socialize much in his later years.”
“Why is that?” Jake leaned back, crossing his legs. “Poor health?”
“He suffered from prostate cancer for the last five years of his life. After his first surgery he was in remission for a few years. His symptoms reappeared, and the doctor found the cancer had metastasized to his lungs. Nothing could be done at that point. Edward died nine months later.”
“Nine months.” Jake mulled that over. “Do you know why he didn't try to contact his daughter earlier? If he had, they might have had the opportunity to at least meet.”
“Edward had conflicted feelings about the girl. He didn't plan to contact her at all. I convinced him it would be the best thing, since she's his sole heir. He could go to meet his maker knowing he'd done what he needed to do.”
“You convinced him,” Jake repeated, trying to keep the skepticism from his voice. He highly doubted this version of events, but no one could refute it.
“Of course. He harbored feelings of guilt. He never felt like he did enough for the girl. This was the least he could do.”
Jake snorted. “Leaving her everything he owned is a lot more than the least he could do, Mr. Watkins. According to the will, the estate is valued in the millions.”
Watkins shrugged, an insincere smile pasted on his face. “He never knew his daughter, Detective. Edward suffered miserably because of that.”
“Really?” Jake paused to mull the statement over. Suffered miserably? He saw an easy fix for that. All Edward Cooper had to do was pick up the phone and call Joss. They might have had their reunion long before the man kicked off.
The lawyer stood up and moved to a small table at the side of the office. From a carafe, he poured coffee into one mug, took a sip, and returned to his desk.
“I'm good, thanks.” Jake waved a hand.
“Sorry, Detective. I thought we were about done here. You have more questions?”
“Yes, I do.” Jake uncrossed his legs, pulled the notebook from his jacket pocket. He read from it for a moment then said, “ Save Our Wildlife . What can you tell me about them?”
“Edward contributed to them at the highest level. He was very interested in the cause of animals.”
“Interested in hunting them, that's pretty obvious,” Jake added. “But why would he care enough to leave them millions? I find that rather incredible.”
Watkins settled back into his chair. “Edward was concerned about the humane treatment of animals. He hunted, but he was ethical and followed the rules. Besides, he didn't leave them millions, Detective Gilford. Miss Wheeler gets the money, remember?”
“I remember. But the funny thing is , someone's trying to scare Miss Wheeler out of the house. Strange things are happening there. That's how I became involved.”
Watkins' phone buzzed. He ignored it, staring at Jake, who continued, “It's not going to work, though. I don't scare as easily as Miss Wheeler. We'll figure it out, or just sell the house, makes little difference to me. She'll get her money either way.”
Another buzz had Watkins glancing at his phone. He frowned before saying, “Excuse me.” Punching the red flashing button, he spoke into the receiver, “Yes? Okay, put him on.” He swiveled in his chair, his back toward Jake. “What is it, Devon ? I'm in a
Jake smiled at the man, taking in his appearance as he sat. Watkins, probably fifty years old, had thick dark hair slicked back with gel. He was tan and seemed fit. Jake guessed him to be a golfer. A man didn't get that tanned walking to and from his car. “Actually, it's Detective Gilford. I'm with David Taylor's outfit. I believe you know him.”
Watkins didn't bat an eye. “Yes, I know him, he's a good man.”
“He was a friend of Edward Cooper.”
“An old friend, perhaps. Edward didn't socialize much in his later years.”
“Why is that?” Jake leaned back, crossing his legs. “Poor health?”
“He suffered from prostate cancer for the last five years of his life. After his first surgery he was in remission for a few years. His symptoms reappeared, and the doctor found the cancer had metastasized to his lungs. Nothing could be done at that point. Edward died nine months later.”
“Nine months.” Jake mulled that over. “Do you know why he didn't try to contact his daughter earlier? If he had, they might have had the opportunity to at least meet.”
“Edward had conflicted feelings about the girl. He didn't plan to contact her at all. I convinced him it would be the best thing, since she's his sole heir. He could go to meet his maker knowing he'd done what he needed to do.”
“You convinced him,” Jake repeated, trying to keep the skepticism from his voice. He highly doubted this version of events, but no one could refute it.
“Of course. He harbored feelings of guilt. He never felt like he did enough for the girl. This was the least he could do.”
Jake snorted. “Leaving her everything he owned is a lot more than the least he could do, Mr. Watkins. According to the will, the estate is valued in the millions.”
Watkins shrugged, an insincere smile pasted on his face. “He never knew his daughter, Detective. Edward suffered miserably because of that.”
“Really?” Jake paused to mull the statement over. Suffered miserably? He saw an easy fix for that. All Edward Cooper had to do was pick up the phone and call Joss. They might have had their reunion long before the man kicked off.
The lawyer stood up and moved to a small table at the side of the office. From a carafe, he poured coffee into one mug, took a sip, and returned to his desk.
“I'm good, thanks.” Jake waved a hand.
“Sorry, Detective. I thought we were about done here. You have more questions?”
“Yes, I do.” Jake uncrossed his legs, pulled the notebook from his jacket pocket. He read from it for a moment then said, “ Save Our Wildlife . What can you tell me about them?”
“Edward contributed to them at the highest level. He was very interested in the cause of animals.”
“Interested in hunting them, that's pretty obvious,” Jake added. “But why would he care enough to leave them millions? I find that rather incredible.”
Watkins settled back into his chair. “Edward was concerned about the humane treatment of animals. He hunted, but he was ethical and followed the rules. Besides, he didn't leave them millions, Detective Gilford. Miss Wheeler gets the money, remember?”
“I remember. But the funny thing is , someone's trying to scare Miss Wheeler out of the house. Strange things are happening there. That's how I became involved.”
Watkins' phone buzzed. He ignored it, staring at Jake, who continued, “It's not going to work, though. I don't scare as easily as Miss Wheeler. We'll figure it out, or just sell the house, makes little difference to me. She'll get her money either way.”
Another buzz had Watkins glancing at his phone. He frowned before saying, “Excuse me.” Punching the red flashing button, he spoke into the receiver, “Yes? Okay, put him on.” He swiveled in his chair, his back toward Jake. “What is it, Devon ? I'm in a
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