Stonechild and Rouleau Mysteries 5-Book Bundle. Brenda Chapman

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СКАЧАТЬ be honest, I don’t think my father thought Max was the right man for me. Dad tried to get along with him though because he loved me and wanted …” Geraldine’s voice broke and she lowered her head. “I’m sorry. This is just so difficult. The doctor told me not to get upset because of the baby. I’m trying to stop thinking about how my dad died.”

      “I understand. I have just one more question. You mentioned that your father and Hunter were on speaking terms. How did Hunter feel about having your dad back in his life after not speaking for so many years?”

      “I think he wanted a relationship. He’d realized long before that Dad did him a favour marrying Laurel. Hunter deserves better.”

      “You think highly of him.”

      “He’s the only one who’s been able to leave and lead his own life. My father and Laurel couldn’t hurt him anymore. He had no reason to want my father dead.”

      Kala studied Geraldine’s head, tilted to the left so that her eyes were fixed on something outside the window. She sounded sincere, but Kala would have been much happier if Geraldine had turned to face her when insisting on her brother’s innocence. It was a lot more difficult for someone to lie when they were looking you in the eye.

      Rouleau hung up the phone and walked toward the fax machine in the outer office. Grayson was working at his computer, but everyone else had gone home early.

      “Any luck?” asked Grayson without looking up.

      “Yeah. The lawyer’s sending a copy of the will from a secure server.”

      The machine whirred into action and six sheets of legalese appeared in the tray. Rouleau picked them up and skimmed their contents, having already gotten the highlights from Tom Underwood’s lawyer. He crossed the floor toward Grayson’s desk and sat down in Malik’s chair. He spread the papers on the desk and reread the key paragraphs.

      “So?” asked Grayson. “Anything worth killing for?”

      “Depends how badly somebody wanted their money. Underwood gave his kids Hunter and Geraldine each a million and put another million in trust for his youngest. He left his ex-wife Pauline two million and his current wife Laurel two million as well as the house and contents and stock options in his company.”

      “That’s crazy he left so much to his ex.”

      “And to Hunter. They’d only spoken once in ten years. When I talked with Underwood’s lawyer, he said that Underwood revised his will a month ago. Before that, Laurel got most of the money. He upped what he left the kids and added Pauline.”

      “Two million.” Grayson whistled. “If I was his current wife, I wouldn’t be too happy about that.”

      “No,” said Rouleau. “I don’t imagine any woman would.” He stood and stretched. “Any plans for the evening?”

      “I’ve got a date and should push off. What about you?”

      “Home to leftovers and a movie.”

      “Too bad I made this date or we could have gone out for a bite.”

      “I don’t mind a night in. Go enjoy your evening. I’ll put these papers away and will be right behind you.”

      “Night then,” said Grayson. He turned off his computer and reached for his coat.

      Rouleau returned to his office and sorted through the papers on his desk. His phone rang as he was locking the filing cabinet. A number flashed on the screen that he didn’t recognize, and his first thought was to let the answering machine take a message. Then he remembered that Stonechild was on her own, interviewing the daughter, and he had no idea of her number. He picked up. “Rouleau here.”

      “Jacques, it’s Frances. I almost didn’t recognize your voice.”

      She’d surprised him twice in one week. He looked out the window. The lower half of the glass was patterned in frost and blurred his view of the buildings across the street. What he could see of the sky had darkened into early evening.

      “How are you, Frances?”

      “Not too bad. I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. Did you make the trip to Kingston?”

      “I did. Dad sends his love. Merry Christmas to you too.”

      “Give him my love back when you next talk to him.” She paused and he didn’t try to fill in the silence. He could hear her deep intake of breath. Her words came out quickly. “I know this is short notice, but I decided to take your advice. Gordon and I are getting married at city hall four days from now, on New Year’s Eve. Around three o’clock. I was hoping you could come.”

      It took him a moment to speak. “I’m happy for you, Frances, for you both, but I can’t promise anything. We’re in the middle of a murder investigation.” Even as he said the words, he knew they were inadequate.

      Her voice lost some of its bounce. “I know it’s unusual, but it would mean so much to me to have you there. Maybe you could come to the Weston for the reception afterwards if you can’t make the ceremony. We’ll just be thirty or so and you wouldn’t have to stay long. Will you think about it, Jacques?”

      “Are you sure you want me there?”

      “Yes, we’re both sure. We’ll be leaving the next day for Paris. We’re planning a few months away, or as long as my health holds up and the doctors let me. Remember how I always wanted to visit the south of France and swim in the Mediterranean? I’m excited for this trip.”

      “I’m glad for you, Franny. I truly am. I can’t promise to make the ceremony but I’ll try to get to the reception.”

      “Thank you. It would mean a lot to me … to us. You can bring someone if you like. It would be nice to meet who you have in your life.”

      “Thanks, but I’ll probably come alone.” The silence lengthened. “Take care, Fran,” he said before hanging up the phone. He stood for a long while afterward without moving, his eyes fixed on the frosted window pane.

      He’d failed her in so many ways over the course of their marriage. She’d wanted to travel and see all the exotic places she’d read about in the novels she inhaled like fresh air. She’d minored in art history at university and spent many Sunday afternoons visiting Ottawa’s museums and art galleries, returning with pamphlets, maps, and dreams of foreign lands. He’d used his job as an excuse for not taking her the places she’d wanted to see and convinced himself that her increasing silence about distant places was a sign she’d lost interest in going. He’d allowed his work to colour his personal life, rationalizing his neglect by falsely believing that Frances had accepted the routine of their lives. Those days, he’d been overwhelmed with the toll of long work hours and the weight of murder cases. He’d wanted nothing but to be home with her on his time off. Home where they were safe from the ugliness of the world. He knew too late that he should have tried harder. They should have bloody well gone to Europe. He could have taken her dancing before she went looking for another partner.

      He turned and crossed the floor to take his coat from the hook on the wall. He flicked off the lights and started down the hall on his way out to the parking garage. A few uniforms were around but most were on patrol or home with their СКАЧАТЬ