Fatal Impulse: A Widow's Web Novel Read online

  By the time Dana’s tires crunched in the driveway, Andi had thrown the cookies away and the cookie sheet soaked in suds in the sink. The smell of burnt cookies lingered in the air as the two women sat at the kitchen table and sipped coffee.

  “I know it isn’t funny,” One corner of Dana’s mouth tugged up in a grin. “But I can’t help it. I burn stuff all the time. Nice to see that you, Ms. Perfect Cook, do too!”

  Andi shook her head and rolled her eyes, “I haven’t done that in years.”

  “Don’t worry. The smell goes away pretty quick.” Dana’s tone turned serious. “Now, tell me what happened with the cop.”

  Andi related the conversation with Detective Johnson to her friend. Occasionally, Dana interrupted to ask a question.

  Once Andi finished, Dana folded her hands in front of her and leaned forward. “Now tell me about the night it happened. Every single detail you can remember.”

  Andi took a deep breath and told her everything. Bits and pieces were unclear. The memories was cloudy, foggy. The incriminating holes in her story made her look bad, she knew, but the memories simply weren’t there. When she finished, Dana took a deep breath and puffed her cheeks out.

  “Wow,” she said, “I don’t know what to say.”

  Andi swallowed hard and hugged herself. “It was just a horrible accident, right? I’m not a murderer, am I?”

  Dana caught Andi’s gaze. “You are not a murderer. Don’t even think that way.”

  Andi swallowed and hoped her friend was right. Memories of her imperfect marriage flitted through her mind. Her husband demanded she wipe out the sink every time she ran water, so there wouldn’t be water spots. She had to remake the bed if the hospital corners weren’t crisp enough. Did anyone else wash their sheets every day – and iron them? His insistence that she iron his underwear – that one always did astound her. His voice as he chastised her for not holding the flashlight still in spite of the driving rain. Her favorite jacket covered with mud so the carpet in his precious Grand Cherokee wouldn’t get dirty.

  The pain in her chest was real.

  Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks.

  “It was an accident, Andi. Let yourself off the hook. And think how much time you’ll have to spare now that you’re not catering to his every whim.” Dana reached across the table and grasped Andi’s hand. “Did you suspect he was having an affair?”

  Andi sucked in a deep, quivery breath and nodded, “But I don’t know who. For sure, anyway. I thought him and Jennie, maybe.”

  “And what was the name the cop asked you about?”

  “Woodward? Wood-something-“

  “Woodson?”

  That clicked, and Andi said, “Yes, but how did you know?”

  “Woodson. Think about it. One of the most powerful names in New England. They own most of the state. Well, from here down to Kennebunkport, at least.”

  Of course. Those Woodsons. Images of mansions and fancy dresses and hobnobbing with celebrities filled her mind. Andi got up and refilled their mugs, then dropped into her chair. Surely Chad couldn’t have been involved with folks like that.

  Dana said, “Let’s talk legal stuff. Do you know how probate works?”

  The two sipped while they talked about what had been, and what was yet to come. Dana’s legal knowledge made Andi feel much more comfortable about all the things that she’d have to deal with over the next few months. Her friend promised to help her through it all, and Andi knew she would.

  Dana glanced at her watch, then pushed her chair back. “Now, the insurance company may have a few questions for you. Just remember that you did not do anything wrong, but I’d leave out the part about swinging the flashlight.”

  Dana winked at Andi and they hugged. Before Dana left, Andi gave her the life insurance policy and a business card for the funeral home so she could file the necessary paperwork. Dana offered to sit in with Andi if the insurance company insisted on an interview. Andi’s heart was much lighter when she waved goodbye to her friend from the front doorway.

  Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten anything substantial all day long. She headed for the kitchen to make herself a sandwich.

  After she finished her sandwich, she rinsed the plate and put it in the dishwasher. She glanced at the clock, then picked up the phone and called her mother. It was almost bedtime back home, so she thought it might be a good time to talk.

  She was wrong.

  Martha answered with a curt, “Hello?”

  Andi’s spirits rose just hearing her mother’s voice, “Hi, it’s me!”

  “Oh, hi, honey.” Something crashed in the background and Martha sighed heavily. “What are you doing?”

  Andi plucked a clean dishcloth from the drawer, ran it under hot water, and said, “Nothing. Dana came by earlier for coffee and helped me go through some paperwork.”

  “That’s nice of her,” Martha grunted as if she’d lifted something.

  “Yes, it was.” Andi scrubbed the countertop, moving canisters out of the way as she cleaned left to right, back to front. “And then a police officer came by.”

  “That’s nice. Oh, I got some pictures developed the other day. Got some good ones of little miss Romy.” There was another crash in the background. “Jakey! Put that down right now and get back in bed!”

  Andi’s jaw dropped. She stopped scrubbing and said, “Did you hear what I just said? I said a policeman came by!”

  “I’m sorry, honey. Guess I was distracted. Jakey has the flu and has been puking all day and I just can’t get him to sit still long enough for his tummy to settle down. Jakey! I said NOW!” Martha sighed again. “Now what were you saying?”

  Andi massaged her temple in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure starting to build. “Nothing important, Mama. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

  Martha laughed, then there was a moan in the background. “Oh, no! Jakey, aim for the bucket! Sorry, honey, I’ve got to go.”

  Andi stood there for a moment listening to the dial tone, then pushed the end button and sat the phone in its dock. The clock on the wall said 8:32 p.m. Mama said she had sent some pictures of Romy, and Andi was anxious to see them. She hadn’t gotten the mail yet, so she hurried out to check the box. As she walked back to the house, she tipped the envelopes towards the porch light. One envelope caught her eye. It was from a law firm in Bangor.

  The firm that prepared the new Will in Chad’s desk.

  11

  No pictures from home, and nothing else but bills and junk mail – and the mysterious legal mail. She sighed and took the mail in, dropping most of it on the breakfast counter. She slit the linen envelope open and pulled the letter out. A self-addressed, stamped envelope fell onto the granite. She read the letter, then perched on a bar stool to read it again.

  The attorney had been notified of Chad’s death, and his client had told him he would keep the Will at home, so the attorney wanted Andi to deliver the original to him so he could file it with the Probate Court. He added that the Will nullified all previous Wills and that it would override any other Wills that might be filed with the Probate court.

  Andi didn’t want to get in trouble for not filing it, but also hesitated to mail it back to some attorney she didn’t know. Of course, it was too late to call the office. Why had she waited so long to check the mail? She meant to get it when she ran next door to get the mail that had been delivered to Mrs. Harrison, but the cop distracted her.

  She shut off the lights and went upstairs. It was going to be a long night, and the words in that letter scrolled through her mind over and over.

  At exactly 8 the next morning, she picked up the phone and punched in the number printed on the letterhead. She asked the receptionist for an appointment with
Benson Harrington. She was transferred to his secretary, who offered an appointment at 1:30 that afternoon.

  Andi gave her name and the woman asked her to repeat it, then placed the call on hold. She wondered if she should’ve called Dana first. The instrumental version of Singing in the Rain entertained Andi until the woman came back on the line. “May I ask the purpose of the visit?”

  “I have a Will that Mr. Harrington wishes to file with Probate.”

  “Sounds good. We’ll see you at 1:30. Do you need directions?”

  After Andi placed the phone in its cradle, she stared at it, hoping she was doing the right thing.

  That afternoon, she found herself sitting in the elegant reception area of Harrington, Jefferson and Biggs, P.C. The only other time she’d been in an attorney’s office was when Chad took her to sign their own wills and powers of attorney. This office was much nicer, tastefully decorated in muted tones, understated and expensive. The chairs looked plush, but were hard as a rock.

  She gripped her purse tightly, as if the Will would escape at any moment or someone would snatch it away from her.

  A tall, athletic-looking woman with cascading brunette curls, perhaps a couple of years older than Andi, appeared in the hallway and asked Andi to follow her. She led Andi into the conference room and offered coffee or a cold beverage, diet or otherwise. Andi declined. The woman left and returned a moment later with a portly older gentleman with cold, dark eyes, a deeply lined forehead and a bulbous nose lined with broken capillaries. The two sat down across from Andi, the polished expanse of the table stretching between them.

  The attorney spoke first, his voice deep and cultured. “Thank you for coming in today, Ms. Adams. I understand that you have a Will for me?”

  “It’s Missus Adams.” She smiled, her handbag clutched in her lap. It took a couple of false starts, but finally she spit out the words, “I have a few questions first.”

  His frown lines deepened and his assistant glanced at him, then down at her legal pad. His voice was low, but powerful. “You are welcome to ask, but attorney-client privilege extends beyond death, so I don’t know if I will be able to answer your questions or not.”

  “You represented my husband?” She folded her hands and rested them in her lap to keep them from shaking.

  He nodded, “I can confirm he was a client.”

  Of course he was a client. Why else would he have sent that letter? “For how long?”

  He shrugged, “A while.”

  She chewed her lip and asked, “And you prepared this Will at his request?”

  “Yes,” he said, then raised his eyebrows and stared at her. Was that a challenge?

  Andi’s brain wasn’t working like she wanted it to. There was so much she didn’t know, she didn’t even know the right questions to ask. “Did you prepare any other documents for him?”

  He nodded once and pursed his lips.

  “What other documents?” She glanced at the big brown file pocket sitting directly in front of him.

  He bit off his words as he said, “I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you.”

  She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I assume you prepared a trust, because it is referenced in the Will as being dated on the same day as the Will.”

  He hesitated a beat, then nodded.

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth. She asked the question she’d been afraid to articulate even to herself. “Did you prepare divorce papers for my husband?”

  His assistant’s eyes opened wide and the attorney blinked. Bingo. Andi could feel confidence welling inside her. She tucked her hair behind her ears and raised her chin.

  The furrows in his forehead deepened again. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  There had to be a way to find out more. She kept at it. “So you do divorces in addition to estate planning?”

  “For certain clients, yes.”

  She took a shot in the dark and asked, “Clients such as the Woodsons?”

  A muscle in his cheek twitched. “My clientele is none of your business, Ms. Adams. Now, do you have the Will?”

  She wondered if she had any options, and wished that she’d confided in Dana and asked her advice before she made this trip. She looked from the attorney to his assistant. His eyes were cold, but hers were warm. Her forehead was pinched. Andi sensed an ally, and focused on the assistant. “If I read the Will correctly, everything my husband owned goes into his trust. I have a sneaking suspicion that I am not the beneficiary of the trust. So, can you explain to me why I should provide the Will to you for filing?”

  The assistant’s eyes flicked to the attorney, and he nodded. The woman produced a plain white envelope from underneath the legal pad in front of her. Andi’s name was typed neatly on the front of it. The brunette handed it to him, and he slid it across the polished table. Andi accepted it, opened it and her jaw dropped.

  The check, drawn on the law firm’s trust account for $10,000, shook between her fingers.

  It was made out to Andrea Adams. No notation in the memo line. “What’s this?”

  “My client instructed me to provide you with that check to reimburse you for any expenses that you may incur in relation to the Probate process.”

  Andi narrowed her eyes. She fingered the check for a moment, then folded it in half and tucked it into the inner zippered compartment of her handbag.

  This felt surreal. She should be home mourning her husband, not sitting in his attorney’s office. She noticed the coffee carafe sitting on the console against the opposite wall and slid her chair back. “If you don’t mind, I think I will have some coffee after all.”

  The woman started to stand, but Andi held out her hand. “Not a problem, I’ll get it myself.”

  She bent down and pulled the blue-jacketed Will out of her purse, then walked around the table. She dropped the document onto the table between the attorney and his assistant. Mr. Harrington immediately opened it to inspect it. Andi busied herself with the coffee, adding cream and sugar, while she peered over his shoulder at the file jacket. Three folders peeked out, one labeled, “Estate planning,” another “Dissolution,” and the final one, “Corporate / Flatlander Holdings, L.L.C.”

  Andi stirred her coffee and walked back around to her seat, as she repeated the words on the labels to herself over and over to memorize them. So, that was it. Chad planned to divorce her, and set up this new Will so that everything would be all tied up in a nice neat little package. But she’d never heard of anything called Flatlander Holdings. How could he betray her like that?

  She sat down and took a sip of sweetened coffee. Mr. Harrington handed the Will to his assistant. “We’ll get this filed right away.”

  The tall brunette picked up the file and walked out of the door without raising her gaze. Andi asked the attorney, “Do I owe you anything for the filing fee?”

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “It’s been taken care of.”

  Her brow bunched in a frown. “By whom?”

  His lips curled up. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that.” He pushed away from the table and stood, indicating that the meeting was over.

  Andi stood, also. He thanked her for her time and exited the room. His assistant appeared as if on cue. She swept her arm towards the door and said, “This way, please.”

  When the two women reached the reception area, Andi stuck her hand out. “Thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

  The assistant’s grip was firm. “Amanda. Amanda Dobbins.”

  “Well, thank you, Ms. Dobbins. I appreciate your making this as easy as possible. Do you have a card?”

  Andi fingered the crisp business card in her pocket as she walked to the parking lot. She felt as if she were floating thro
ugh unknown seas, a boat with no anchor. Flatlander Holdings. Why hadn’t she known anything about any of this? Not only was her husband cheating, he planned to divorce her and hid money in a holding company – at least that’s all she’d ever heard about holding companies. It seemed like that old movie with Tom Cruise as a young lawyer had something to do with holding companies.

  The visit left her with more questions than answers.

  When she passed through Ellsworth and the road opened up in front of her, she called Dana at work and left a message on her voicemail. The drive south on Highway 1 was boring, but after 1 broke off to the east and she continued south on Highway 3, the tree-lined blacktop with power lines running alongside reminded her of growing up in Missouri. The road was relatively empty this time of day, save a dark sedan a little ways behind her.

  Suddenly she remembered that odd phone call right after Chad died. She glanced in the rearview mirror again and couldn’t squelch the unease settled in her gut.

  As she passed the Hancock airport, her thoughts turned to her mother and home. It would be so easy to go home and leave all the drama behind, but that would mean giving up her newfound independence. Chad would’ve been shocked that she’d gone to see that attorney on her own. She slowed and looked out into the bay when she reached the bridge to Thompson Island and immediately felt the pull of the ocean. Maine was home. She couldn’t go back to Missouri.

  She blinked when she reached Mount Desert Island. She had been driving on auto pilot. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the same dark sedan still behind her, but not close enough for her to make out the driver. She eased her foot off the pedal and the car slowed.

  Her phone chirped and she swiped the screen when Dana’s name flashed on the screen. How secure was a cell phone? The whole situation made her nervous, and she didn’t want to risk having anyone else hear about what had transpired with the attorney.

  Dana asked Andi to dinner, and they arranged to meet at the law office when Dana got off work. Andi glanced at the clock on the dash. She should get there about 5:15. Hopefully Dana would have the office to herself.