Water's Edge (22 page)

“That’s what happened,” he said when he reached the end. “Even the quotes are correct. I didn’t realize he was going to talk to Gary Wheeler, the river guide.”

“Hush, I’m still reading,” Bernice responded. “I can practically feel the freezing water drawing the life out of your bodies.
Hypothermia
is a scary-sounding word.”

Tom waited until Bernice finished.

“What is the big award they give to the best journalists each year?” she asked.

“Pulitzer prize?”

“Sonny should get one. And these pictures of the two of you at the Pelham office building are good too.”

The phone rang. Bernice answered it. “Yes, he’s here,” she said, placing the caller on hold.

“You’re not going to do anything this afternoon but talk on the phone about this,” she said. “If you try to dodge the calls, they’ll just try again tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Tom said, retreating to the office. “Pass them along.”

Bernice’s prediction about phone calls proved accurate. Tom spent most of the next two hours talking to one person after another, often reconnecting with people from his past. But he didn’t just talk about himself and what happened on the river. He asked about their lives too. That felt good. A small step away from selfishness is a long journey for the heart.

______

At noon Bernice left to go home for the rest of the day. Tom turned on the answering machine so he wouldn’t be disturbed and went into his father’s office. It had been several days since he’d read the Bible and written down his thoughts and prayers. He took out a legal pad that he’d been using as a journal and began to read. Halfway down the page, his mind started to wander. He opened the Bible to Isaiah. After a few verses, the words on the page began to run together. Tom stared across the room.

And thought about Tiffany.

Every logical cell in his being argued that spending half a second mulling over the possibility of life with Tiffany at his side was a waste of time. But other, less logical cells exerted a powerful influence over where his mind went when set free to roam. He couldn’t escape her challenge to look into his heart and admit the truth. And when he did, Tom ran directly into the ache of genuine longing he felt for her. He could try to suppress it and he might struggle to ignore it, but it was there.

Tom got up from the chair and began to pace back and forth. He’d kept his distance when he was with Tiffany, but in the safety of the office, he didn’t have to put up a false front. Images of future happiness sprang up so fast in his imagination that he couldn’t fully enjoy one before another leaped forward and demanded his attention. He saw himself with her in multiple places he’d visited across the country. With her beside him, every venue would be fresh and new.

Tom’s entrenched reluctance to commit to a woman evaporated at the prospect of life with Tiffany. Of course, their relationship would have an opportunity to flourish only postdivorce and after a private marriage ceremony a long way from Bethel. The pain of the split for Rick would be intense for both of them, but Tiffany was right. It would pass. Future legal business with Pelham Financial would disappear. But money gained from legal work seemed cheap compared to life with the only woman who’d ever come close to being his soul mate.

Tom sat down at the desk and turned on his computer. Running a search for Tiffany’s name, he scored multiple hits that documented her appearance in horse shows. There were online videos of her riding championship horses in places like Louisville, San Diego, and Kansas City. Seeing how much Tiffany enjoyed herself made Tom smile. Happiness should mark every aspect of her life. And while Rick was a good guy, he’d not matured into the kind of man Tiffany deserved. Better to move on now than stagnate in a dead-end relationship.

A new e-mail came into Tom’s in-box and interrupted his thoughts with a ping. It was from Nate Becker. Tom clicked it open.

Tom,
The partners of the firm met yesterday and unanimously voted to offer you a position with the firm. Attached is a proposed employment agreement. Look it over and let me know what you think. Please keep the terms confidential.
All the best,
Nate

Tom scrolled through the boilerplate language on the first page of the agreement and reached the specific terms that began on page two. When he saw the base salary amount, he stopped and read the figure twice. It was more than he could have reasonably expected to earn as a junior partner at Barnes, McGraw, and Crowther. The other benefits were equally impressive. Sweet and Becker didn’t hold to the archaic law firm philosophy of money trickling down from the senior partners. They turned on the spigot and splashed everyone.

Tom sat back in the chair and smiled. The possibility of staying in Bethel to practice law had been an entertaining diversion, but his desire was to fight in the legal arenas where the best attorneys crossed swords. Sweet and Becker could make that happen. He quickly typed a reply to Nate Becker.

Nate,
Thanks so much for the offer. Everything looks great. I’m moving as fast as I can to close out my responsibilities in Bethel and will be in touch with you soon.
Tom

That evening Tom couldn’t suppress his excitement about the job offer. He caught himself smiling for no apparent reason.

“What’s on your mind?” Elias asked after they finished cleaning the supper dishes. “You seem happy tonight.”

“I am,” Tom replied.

Elias sat in his chair with Rover at his feet while Tom told him about the e-mail from Nate Becker. “I can’t tell you any details, but it’s a very generous offer with loads of opportunity down the road. I can practice law in the niche I’m familiar with and develop an even greater level of expertise. Sweet and Becker’s office is closer to my apartment than the old firm.”

“Sounds good,” Elias said.

“Better than good. It’s the best news I’ve gotten since coming to Bethel.”

Elias didn’t reply. Rover moaned and rolled onto his side.

Before going to bed, Tom spent a few minutes writing down a prayer of thanks. He was a different person from the one who’d driven from Atlanta to Bethel after the farewell lunch at the cheap sushi restaurant. When he returned to the big city, he’d take the new and improved version of himself with him.

Just before he dozed off, his thoughts returned to Tiffany. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Living in Atlanta would create the distance needed for the situation to sort out without his direct involvement. If Tiffany ended the marriage, Tom could consider a relationship with a clear conscience. He fell asleep to pleasant thoughts of a happier future.

______

Wednesday morning Tom put on his blue suit, straightened his yellow tie, and went downstairs. Elias was in the front room with Rover.

“Going to court?” the old man asked.

“Yes.”

“Your daddy would be proud of you. I’m not sure how and when the great cloud of witnesses is allowed to peer over the edge of heaven, but if your daddy has a front-row seat, he’s enjoying the view.”

At 8:55 a.m., Tom clicked shut his briefcase. All it contained was the empty folder. He’d not heard from Arthur about service of a subpoena on Pelham Financial. No lawyer had contacted him on behalf of Esther and Rose Addington. Bernice glanced up when Tom came out into the reception area.

“What’s in the briefcase?” she asked.

“An empty folder.”

The morning was overcast, with dark clouds moving across the sky. Tom entered the courthouse and walked upstairs to the main courtroom. Inside, Charlie Williams was talking to Rose Addington. No other lawyers were in sight. Rose, a serious expression on her face, stepped away from Williams and sat in the front row of the spectator area. A court reporter was setting up her machine. Tom shook Williams’s hand.

“Why a court reporter?” he asked.

“To record the proceedings.”

“I know that,” Tom replied curtly.

Judge Caldwell, wearing his judicial robe, came in through a side door and sat down. The judge nodded to the court reporter, who raised a gray voice mask to her face.

“Proceed,” the judge said.

“Your Honor,” Williams said, “we’re here pursuant to a subpoena served upon Thomas Crane as executor of the estate of John Crane. The subpoena required Mr. Crane to produce any and all information related to John Crane’s legal representation of Harold Addington, also deceased.”

Tom opened his briefcase, took out the empty file folder, and showed it to the judge.

“This is all I’ve located in response to the subpoena,” Tom said. “I don’t know why it’s empty. I’ve not been able to locate any correspondence between my father and Mr. Addington, and there’s no record of payment of any attorney fees. Perhaps Mr. Williams can inform both of us why he issued the subpoena.”

“Mr. Williams?” the judge asked, handing the empty folder to the DA.

“Your Honor, shortly after Mr. Crane and Mr. Addington drowned, it came to my attention that there may have been criminal activity involved.”

Tom spun around and saw that Rose Addington, her eyes wide, had her hand over her mouth.

“What kind of criminal activity?” the judge asked.

“Related to the cause of death.”

“You mean someone may have murdered them?” Tom asked.

“No.” Williams shook his head and looked directly at Tom. “As far as I know, there were no third parties involved.”

“Harold Addington drowned my father?”

“It’s not clear who may have been the perpetrator.”

It took Tom a split second to process the implication of the DA’s statement. “That’s crazy!” Tom raised his voice.

“Did your father have serious financial problems?” Williams asked.

“You know he owed money to the IRS, but he’d made arrangements for a repayment plan.”

Williams glanced over his shoulder at Rose. “And I have reason to believe that Harold Addington hired your father and paid him a substantial sum of money as a deposit. If that money isn’t accounted for, it would be important to the investigation.”

“What evidence for that do you have?” Tom asked sharply.

Williams looked at the judge. “Your Honor, based on prosecutorial privilege, I’m not going to answer that question. It’s part of an ongoing investigation.”

“Mr. Williams,” the judge said, his face stern, “you have a duty to fulfill your oath of office, but I’m very concerned that you act in a responsible manner before impugning the reputation of a man like John Crane. I never met Mr. Addington, but the same standard should apply to him as well.”

“I’m not trying to impugn anyone,” Williams replied. “No one in the media was notified about this hearing by my office. It was my intention to keep this a closed hearing. Ms. Rose Addington, the executrix of Harold Addington’s estate, is here because Mr. Crane contacted her. I can understand Mr. Crane’s reluctance to turn over any embarrassing information—”

“Are you accusing me of lying?” Tom interrupted.

“Enough!” Judge Caldwell called out, striking the bench with his gavel. “Mr. Crane, do you have anything else to produce in response to the subpoena?”

Tom had second thoughts about withholding information about the designated trust account, but he vigorously pushed them aside. He wasn’t going to be bullied by Williams’s insinuations.

“No, sir.”

The judge turned to the court reporter. “I’m instructing you not to transcribe this hearing until further notice and to keep what you heard here confidential.”

“Yes, sir,” the court reporter said, lowering her mask.

“Court is adjourned.”

The judge, his face visibly flushed, left the courtroom. The court reporter followed him. Tom turned angrily toward Williams.

“Don’t say anything you’ll regret, Tom,” Williams said and held up his hand. “I’m not going to indict a dead man, but if you want this to go away, you need to give me a reason to drop it.”

“And prosecutorial privilege doesn’t protect you from a civil suit for reckless slander.”

“You’re on my turf,” Williams said, handing the empty folder back to Tom. “If you find out anything, let me know.”

Williams picked up his briefcase and left the courtroom. Tom faced Rose from the other side of the bar that separated the gallery from the lawyer’s area. Rose, her eyes sad, remained seated.

“Well?” Tom asked. “Are you spreading lies to destroy my father’s reputation?”

“You should know the answer to that. This was as much a shock to me as it was to you. I don’t want to believe either of our fathers—” She stopped. “I can’t even bring myself to say it.”

Tears rolled from Rose’s eyes down her cheeks. Tom’s jaw loosened. He opened the low gate in the bar that separated the two areas and stood in front of Rose. She took a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes.

“This is worse than anything I could have imagined.” She sniffled. “I had no idea what was going to happen here this morning, and I’m not sure what to think about it now. All my mum and I wanted to do was find out why my papa hired your father as a solicitor. I don’t know what Mr. Williams was talking about. When I came into the courtroom, he told me what I was about to hear would be painful. I had no idea—” Rose stopped again.

Tom stared at Rose for a moment. He couldn’t see anything false or feigned about her response.

“Let’s go to my father’s office,” he said.

“What?”

“It will only take a few minutes. I want to show you something that I didn’t bring to court because I didn’t believe I had to and wasn’t sure I should.”

Rose gave Tom a puzzled look.

“Or you can go home,” Tom said with a shrug. “It’s up to you. But I don’t want you to be blindsided the way I was this morning.”

Rose put her tissue in her purse and stood up. “I’ll come.”

They walked silently from the courthouse and down the hill to the office. Tom held the door open for Rose.

“Bernice, this is Rose Addington,” he said.

“What is she doing here?”

“I asked her to come.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bernice said. “After what—”

“Don’t start,” Tom interrupted. “Please hold all my phone calls.”

Tom escorted Rose into the office and closed the door.