Ферн Майклз - Truth and Justice

Maggie led the way up a paved walkway surrounded by colorful, late-fall chrysanthemums. She looked around at the manicured grounds. Steven Conover had a good eye for color, style, and uniformity. It was all very pleasing to the eye. “It’s nice here, but off the beaten track so to speak. You’d really have to know this place is here to get here. Too far from town for me. I’m a convenience kind of gal myself.”

“Me too.” Nikki giggled. “You do realize, don’t you, Maggie, that’s just an excuse we use for being lazy?”

Maggie didn’t agree or disagree, but she did laugh out loud.

A bell tinkled over the door when Nikki opened it. Soft music, golden oldies, could be heard coming from the back of the building.

Nikki looked at Maggie. Both women shrugged at the same time. “Do we whistle, do we yell, hey you! What?”

The air moved and swirled all at the same time as a whirling swarm of Yorkshire terriers descended on the floor of the showroom. They came from all directions, yapping, barking, and yelping, stubby tails swinging furiously back and forth.

“They’re my welcoming committee,” a tall man with a bushy beard said, laughing at the expressions on Nikki’s and Maggie’s faces. “They’re all from the same litter. When it was time to find them a home, I just couldn’t part with them. By way of introduction,” he said, pointing to each dog. “Meet Jam, Jelly, Flash, Rosie, Maxine, Charlie, Gus, and Harvey. They were the litter. The mom is Lily, and the dad is Lenny. Yep, ten dogs. Love each and every one of them. But you didn’t drive all the way out here to hear about my dogs. What can I do for you? And the next question I always ask anyone who walks through that door behind you is, how did you hear about me?”

“For starters, we aren’t customers. I’m not adverse to buying something if it screams my name. My name is Maggie Spritzer. I’m a reporter for the Washington Post . My friend is Nikki Quinn. She’s an attorney with the Quinn Law Firm in Georgetown. We’re here to ask for your help. The only thing I can offer you in return for said help is some free advertising in the paper and an interview or article if you prefer. In answer to your second question, I searched you out.”

“Since this appears to be more social than business, let’s go upstairs to my apartment and have a cup of coffee. I was about to do that when you arrived. I pretty much live by a schedule, and I tend to get a little cranky when I get behind.”

“I’m kind of like that myself,” Maggie said, as she tiptoed around a cluster of little dogs who were bent on sniffing her feet. “I think they smell my cat on my shoes,” she said, and giggled.

Steven laughed. “For sure, those little rascals can smell a cat or a squirrel a mile away. So what’s it gonna be, ladies, coffee, tea, soft drinks, or something stronger?” Steven asked, as he prepared the coffeepot. “By the way, this is Kona coffee, straight from Hawaii. Nothing better in my opinion if that will help you make a decision.”

“We’ll take it!” Nikki said. Maggie nodded.

“This is very nice,” Maggie said, looking around the lived-in beautiful kitchen. It was full of antique Alabama red brick, a monster fieldstone fireplace big enough to roast an ox, green plants hanging from the beams and over the windows. What looked like handcrafted chairs and a table were covered in bright red tartan plaid cushions, while matching place mats decorated the rough-hewn table.

“I inherited all of this,” Steven said, waving his arms about, “from my parents when they passed away. Both my parents were world-renowned sculptors, so they pretty much paved the way for me to take over their business once they were gone. I didn’t change a thing—the plants were my mom’s. They were my biggest challenge, but I persevered. My dad had rigged up a watering system because Mom wasn’t tall enough to reach up to water them. I just turn on the water and voilà, the plants are watered. The cushions and place mats were made by my mother. She used to sew and craft things at night during the long winter months. All these dogs I just introduced you to are descendants of my parents’ dogs, the dogs I grew up with. The prize, though, is the fireplace. I like sitting here in the winter with the dogs, having my dinner and watching the evening news in front of a blazing fire. In my opinion, it doesn’t get any better than that. Now, having said that, my ex-wife hated this place. She did her best to get me to go all glass and shiny stainless steel and silk flowers, to which, of course, I said no. I don’t have that wife anymore.” He chuckled.

Maggie and Nikki nodded to show they agreed as Steven set out delicate cups both women knew were heirloom china along with cream and sugar. “I have some cookies, but I’m afraid they’re store-bought?” It was more a question than a statement. Nikki and Maggie both shook their heads no.

The minute the coffee was poured and everyone was comfortable at the table, Steven looked at both women and said, “Talk to me. Tell me how I can help you.”

“We’re here about Major Andrew Nolan and his wife, Bella.”

Steven looked perplexed. “Am I supposed to know Major Nolan and his wife, Bella? Were they customers? If so, I don’t remember them. The names do not ring any kind of bells. Please, please tell me they aren’t disgruntled customers.”

Nikki’s and Maggie’s expressions went from shock to disbelief. “Seriously?” Nikki finally managed to gasp. “You really don’t know them?”

“No! Why are you looking so surprised? Who are they? I repeat, please don’t tell me they are past customers who are now unhappy with something they bought from me and now want to kill me because they don’t like it after paying a small fortune for whatever it is they bought.” Steven laughed at his own wit, but when neither woman joined in, he grew serious. “Suddenly, I’m not feeling so chipper. I think you had better explain things to me.”

The sudden anxiety Steven was exhibiting made both women rush to explain their presence. Nikki took the lead.

“It’s not you, Mr. Conover. It’s about your ex-wife. Major Andy Nolan was her brother. He died some months ago. He was wounded in Iraq and sent here to Walter Reed hospital, where he died. He was married to Bella Ames, so she would be your ex-wife’s sister-in-law. It seems that the military paid survivor benefits to your ex-wife, his sister, and not to his wife. Bella was told that his sister had his power of attorney. Major Nolan apparently did not notify the army about his married status before he died, so when your ex-wife presented herself as his sister, they paid her his military insurance.

“It was a rushed wedding during a two-day furlough, and we’re sure that filling out paperwork was the last thing on his mind before he deployed. I’m sure the major had good intentions, but, for whatever reason, he didn’t follow through. Another possibility, though, is that he asked his sister to do it for him since she had his power of attorney, and therein lies the problem.”

“Can you add anything to that? We need to find Major Nolan’s sister. According to the army, she took the money and disappeared. You never knew about the brother? I can’t wrap my head around that somehow. Do you know where your ex-wife is, so we can straighten this out. Our client, the major’s wife, has been left out in the cold here. That’s just not right. We can’t even go after the army because the sister obviously had all the paperwork in place and was able to collect not only his military insurance but whatever funds he had in his personal bank account. I’m not getting how,” Maggie said, giving Conover the evil eye, “you know nothing about any of this. She was your wife, for crying out loud!”