Betrayal of Trust (29 page)

Authors: J. A. Jance

BOOK: Betrayal of Trust

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Hallways fed off one another, as though the house had been enlarged over the years simply by adding another section. Finally, at the end of the last one, Sally opened the door on an enormous bedroom. It was unrelentingly pink. There were froths of pink curtains at the windows and a cloud of pink material crowning the four-poster bed. There seemed to be a whole houseful of furniture arranged in the spacious room: a flowered sofa along with several matching easy chairs and several pieces of high-gloss cherry furnitureâcoffee tables, end tables, and dressers.

A tiny white-haired woman lay in the middle of the bed, propped up by a mound of pillows and wearing a pair of amazingly thick glasses. She looked downright ancient.

“No company, Sally,” Hannah Greenwald grumbled disapprovingly. “I told you very clearly that I was too tired for any more company today.”

“He's come a long way to see you, Mama,” Sally said respectfully. “This is Mr. Beaumont.”

“Sure he is!” Hannah exclaimed. “Beaumontâthat's not a fit name for a chicken. And if he's Mr. Beaumont, then I'm Miss Dallas.”

Sally shot me a sympathetic glance, but I deserved it. After all, hadn't I made fun of Ronald Darrington Miller?

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, suppressing a chuckle. “I suppose it is a silly name. Some might even call it pretentious.”

That's all I saidâthose few words, but suddenly there was a sea change in that appallingly pink room.

“You come closer, young man,” Hannah ordered. “Let me get a look at you.”

I stepped forward. She reached out a bony hand and pulled me to her, peering up at me, her eyes huge behind those ungodly glasses. She studied me for a long time. Then she dropped my hand.

“There you have it,” she said. “I guess I'm done.”

“Mama .Â .Â .” Sally began.

“Yes, I'm dead already, and Saint Peter has sent Hank to take me through the Pearly Gates. Believe me, I'm ready.”

“You're not dead,” Sally scolded. “This is your brother's son, Jonas. He and his wife, Melissa, have come here all the way from Washington just to see you.”

Hannah squinted at her daughter. “Are you sure? Are you just playing a trick on me?”

“I'm sure, Mama,” Sally said. “It's no trick.”

With that, Hannah Mencken Greenwald, the beloved aunt I never knew I had, broke down and sobbed like a baby. And I admit itâso did I.

Hannah stopped crying abruptly and looked at Sally. “All right then,” she said. “Tomorrow first thing, you get Leroy over here. Tell him I need to change my will.”

“Yes, Mama,” Sally said. “I'll call him as soon as his office opens up in the morning.”

Hannah frowned. “What year is it again?” she asked.

“It's 2009, Mama,” Sally said. “June.”

“All right then,” Hannah said. “You-all had better hope I die this year or next. After that, the damned estate taxes are going to be sky-high, and I don't want you to give Uncle Sam one more nickel of my money than you have to.”

I guess there wasn't much question about Hannah Mencken Greenwald being of sound mind.

Chapter 29

A
fter that initial audience with Hannah, Sally took us to our room. It was upstairs. I had seen Bobby bounding up that carved double stair loaded down with our luggage, and I was dreading having to make that long climb under my own steam. To my immense relief, however, I discovered the house had a tiny elevator tucked invisibly into the wall behind the same stairway.

Our luggage had been taken to our room and unpacked. I was surprised to see my tux and one of Mel's silvery, shimmery gowns laid out on the bed.

“I thought so,” Mel said. “We're expected to dress for dinner.”

I spent the rest of the evening being very glad that I had turned the packing over to Mel instead of doing it myself.

Cocktails were served before dinner. Wine was served with dinner. After I had a word with the server, my glass of delightfully sweetened iced tea never made it below the halfway mark, and the food that was served easily outstripped anything we'd seen in the governor's mansion.

When dinner finally ended that night, somewhere on the far side of ten o'clock, I was glad to ride the elevator back upstairs and fall into bed.

We stayed for three days. When Hannah was up to it, I spent several hours of each day sitting in one of the flowery chairs in her room, chatting with Miss Dallas, as I teasingly called her. She wanted to know about my life, my kids, my work, my everything. In exchange, she told me stories about my father, her beloved Hankâher fun-loving, mischievous, sorely missed older brother. Hannah and I were like two parched travelers wandering in the desert. The stories we told back and forth slaked our thirst. And knowing my historyâmy family's historyâmade me feel whole.

While I talked to Hannah, Mel plied Sally for information. Each night, after dinner ended, we'd retreat to our room and compare notes. Painful as it is for me to admit it, that's pretty much all we did in that roomâdress and talk and sleep.

Tuesday morning we packed our bags. Actually, Mel packed and I supervised. While we were in the breakfast room, Bobby brought the luggage downstairs. By ten o'clock we were ready to head for the airport.

Before we left, I made my way once more through the labyrinth of hallways to Hannah's gaily pink room. She was sitting up in bed, wearing a frothy pink robe that matched the decor. She was wearing powder and lipstick and a carefully combed wig.

“You've come to say good-bye,” she said accusingly.

“Yes, Miss Dallas. I'm afraid I have.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she pulled me into a perfume-drenched hug. “I'm going to miss you,” she declared. “But then I've missed you all your life. This way, though, I'm gonna die happy.”

There was still a lump in my throat when I got back to the foyer.

Bobby took us to the airport and loaded our bags into the plane's luggage hold. It was hot as blue blazes. Even though they had a fan on in the plane while it waited on the ground, it was a huge relief when the engines came on and with them the real air-conditioning.

The plane took off, gaining altitude far faster than a lumbering commercial plane.

“Well,” Mel said when we finally leveled off. “What do you think?”

“It was unbelievable,” I said. “I can't think of anything that would make my life more complete.”

“I can,” she said.

“What?”

She picked up her purseâher amazing purseâand reached inside it. She fumbled around, found a business card, and handed it to me.

“Dr. Merritt Auld, Orthopedic Surgeon.” Along with those words was a whole series of Seattle-area phone numbers.

“What's this?” I asked.

“Just what it says. Dr. Bliss tells me that when it comes to knee surgery, this guy is the best in the business. He already sent over your latest X rays. You have an appointment to see Dr. Auld tomorrow morning at ten o'clock for an initial consultation.”

“Come on,” I objected. “My knees aren't that bad.”

“Yes, they are,” she said.

“I don't need to have them fixed. I'm fine.”

“Maybe you're fine, but I'm not.
I
need to have your knees in working order,” Mel added forcefully. “If you won't have them fixed for you, then how about having them fixed for me?”

How could I argue with that?

“Right you are,” I said. “Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock.”

About the Author

J. A. J
ANCE
is the
New York Times
bestselling author of the J.
P. Beaumont series, the Joanna Brady series, the Ali Reynolds series, and four
Walker family thrillers. Born in South Dakota and brought up in Bisbee, Arizona,
she lives with her husband in Seattle, Washington, and Tucson, Arizona.

www.jajance.com

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www.AuthorTracker.com
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Also by J. A. Jance

Joanna Brady Mysteries

Desert Heat

Tombstone Courage

Shoot/Don't Shoot

Dead to Rights

Skeleton Canyon

Rattlesnake Crossing

Outlaw Mountain

Devil's Claw

Paradise Lost

Partner in Crime

Exit Wounds

Dead Wrong

Damage Control

Fire and Ice

J. P. Beaumont Mysteries

Until Proven Guilty

Injustice for All

Trial by Fury

Taking the Fifth

Improbable Cause

A More Perfect Union

Dismissed with Prejudice

Minor in Possession

Payment in Kind

Without Due Process

Failure to Appear

Lying in Wait

Name Withheld

Breach of Duty

Birds of Prey

Partner in Crime

Long Time Gone

Justice Denied

Fire and Ice

Walker Family Mysteries

Hour of the Hunter

Kiss of the Bees

Day of the Dead

Queen of the Night

Ali Reynolds Mysteries

Edge of Evil

Web of Evil

Hand of Evil

Cruel Intent

Trial by Fire

Fatal Error

Credits

Cover design by Richard Aquan

Cover photograph by Garret Veley

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BETRAYAL OF TRUST
. Copyright Â© 2011 by J. A. Jance. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

FIRST EDITION

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Jance, Judith A.

Betrayal of trust / J. A. Jance. â 1st ed.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-06-173115-0 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-0-06-208384-5 (international edition)

1. Beaumont, J. P. (Fictitious character)âFiction. 2. Private investigatorsâFiction. 3. Seattle (Wash.)âFiction. 4. Problem youthâFiction. I. Title.

PS3560.A44B47 2011

813'.54âdc22

2010037957

11 12 13 14 15 OV/RRD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1