Meg, still on track with Quills' first suggestion about finding a lawyer said, "We've got a perfectly good lawyer...oh." She looked bemused. "You want to go to find out what Mr. Hawthorne knows?"
"The lawyer for the Houghtons? He won't tell us a thing. Now, Verger Taylor's lawyer? He might tell us a lot."
"Do we even know who Verger Taylor's lawyer is? Was? Whatever?"
Quill tapped the address book. "Franklin Carmichael, of West Palm Beach. It's on Poinsettia Road, which is about ten minutes from the police station. For heaven's sake, Meg, he attended your class with Ernst Kolsacker."
"And you said Dr. Bittern? I thought we crossed him off the list."
"You never know what a shrink knows, Meg. We've got to look him in the eye and find out if he's concealing guilty knowledge."
"Fine. There's not anything else to do today, with the institute closed."
Quill had thrown on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt when she'd gotten up, and she decided to change to a cotton dress. She talked Meg, who protested, into a skirt and blouse. They left the blinds and shades drawn and proceeded cautiously out the front door. The bulk of the reporters had given up; a few stringers hung out by Luis's office door. Quill stopped so fast that Meg plowed into her.
"Luis," she said, remembering the catastrophe the night before.
"The boat," Meg said. "You know, the amount of our bribe from Cressida would just about take care of a new boat for Luis."
They walked across the parking lot to the offices. Meg scowled horribly at the stringers, who scattered like seagulls. She rapped on the office door. Luis opened it.
"You!' he said. "One moment." He slammed the door.
Meg tried again, tapping lightly and calling, "Luis? Luis? We are really, really sorry about the boat."
He opened the door again, buttoning his Combers Beach Club coat. "I apologize," he said. "You caught me in my shirt sleeves." He stepped outside and waved to the reporters, who had retreated to a battered Ford Escort parked in the MANAGER ONLY spot. "You are both looking very pretty this morning," he said. "Would you like the Mercedes again?"
Quill put her hand gently on his arm. "Luis. We are so sorry about your grandfather's boat."
"It's fine. Don't worry. Grandfather had it insured." He beamed. "And I," he said, "have a book deal because you wrecked it."
"A book deal?"
"Well, part of one." He looked modest. "It is to be called The Taylor Tragedy: Blood, Sex, and Crime in Exotic South Florida. I am one chapter. Then there are the talk shows on television. For this, I get paid as well. America is wonderful, Miss Quilliam."
"America is wonderful," Quill mused, pulling into the police station some twenty minutes later. "Do you' suppose our wonderful police will believe that we got; Verger's appointment book from Tiffany? Will our wonderful justice system let Evan and Corrigan go free? Will we be arrested for the sake of making a better book?"
"If you're going to make a speech," Meg said, "I'm walking. And if you don't slow down, I'm walking. Just" drive, dammit."
Jerry Fairchild looked as if he hadn't slept at all the night before. He was unshaven, there were heavy bags under his eyes, and his expression was less than welcoming. "What do you two want now?" They were in his office, which was extremely neat and very clean.
"You probably won't believe us," Meg said belligerently, "but we genuinely forgot about this piece of evidence in all the brouhaha yesterday."
Jerry's expression softened a little. "What piece of evidence?"
Quill produced the address book. Jerry took it, flipped through it, came to Verger's rating system, and chuckled.
"I don't think it's funny." Meg crossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest. This further evidence of bellicose behavior seemed to amuse the detective. "The man was a pig."
"But a successful pig." "You're not hollering at us for concealing evidence," Meg said suspiciously. "I'd feel a lot better if you hollered. What's the matter, Jer?"
He sighed. "I don't know what Verger Taylor's address book is going to tell me that I don't already know.
He had a few meetings the afternoon of the day he disappeared. We're interviewing the people he saw that day - most of them have come forward anyway. Anxious to cash in on the publicity. So consider yourselves hollered at." Jerry opened his left desk drawer, took out an evidence bag, slipped the book into it, and labeled it in neat, precise handwriting.
While he was engaged in this, Quill asked, "You think that the boys had an accomplice-that the clues to Verger Taylor's disappearance - "
"Murder," Jerry said shortly. "The motive for murder lies with his sons? And not in Verger's own activities? What did Evan and Corrigan do with the body?"
"You can buy anything you want around here," Jerry said. His eyes looked more tired than ever. "Want your grandmother raped? There's kids who will do it for five bucks and a bag of cocaine."
Quill didn't know how to reply to this. She had a glimpse of the day-to-day routine of this man's life, and it made her shudder. She asked quietly, "Did you really receive another call from the kidnapper?"
"You saw the morning news."
"As a matter of fact, we didn't," Quill said.
"Yes. Hawthorne, that smart-ass lawyer for the Houghtons, got the call early this morning. He taped it. It sounded genuine, but then, the first one sounded genuine. That it, ladies? I've got work to do."
"We heard about Corrigan claiming his confession was coerced. That he's mentally unstable." Meg gave him her most appealing smile.
"As far as I'm concerned, anyone who offs his old man is crazy as an outhouse rat."
"So you think they did it, too."
"Of course they did it. We haven't even begun to dig into those kids' financial histories, but they owe money all over the place. And there's preliminary evidence that Verger had cut the flow of funds off. So they had a motive, all right."
"Do you think they removed the body?"
"Somebody did."
"So you're pretty sure they have an accomplice," Meg persisted. "Makes sense. I mean, who else would be making those phone calls?" She threw out another piece of bait. "Unless you think that Verger's alive, and that for some reason, he and his kids are involved in an elaborate scam."
"What I think is that you two ought to go shopping. Or out to lunch. Anywhere but here, butting into this investigation. I'm sure you're familiar with the penalties for civilians mixing in with police work?"
"Nope," said Meg pertly. "In all the cases we've been involved in, the police have been glad for our help."
"Uh huh." Jerry refused to be drawn. "Thanks, ladies. Now beat it."
"Ladies. Shopping. Lunch." Meg fumed a few minutes later. "So now what? We find ourselves a lawyer?"
"We find ourselves a lawyer. If he'll talk, we find out who inherits Taylor's money and who's running Taylor Inc. right now. And if the opportunity arises, we explore this business of Murex."