Grace Under Fire (Buchanan-Renard 14)

“Yes. That’s right. I was in Edinburgh when I got the call on my cell phone from the stranger telling me he had overheard talk about Grace MacKenna. The man on the phone was fearful. I could hear it in his voice. I don’t know how he found out, but he knew I was in charge of the MacKenna estate, and he pleaded with me to convince Grace to stay away. He was concerned about her safety. Before I could ask any questions, he ended the call.”

“What did you do then?” Michael asked.

“I got hold of my friend Craig Walsh. I had talked to Isabel when I took over for Mr. Abernathy and notified her that I was her solicitor and would facilitate the terms of Mr. MacKenna’s will. She told me she was going to Boston for a week and then coming here. After that disturbing call from the stranger, I had to do something. I knew Isabel was probably on her way to Boston by then, and so was Craig. I had spoken to him a couple of days before and knew he was flying up to Boston to visit family. I told him about the call and my worry for Miss MacKenna, so he agreed to look in on her and talk to her about the possible danger. I thought I might be overreacting. There wasn’t an actual threat, but I felt compelled to warn her all the same. You can imagine my distress when I was contacted by the FBI and was told that someone was trying to kill Miss MacKenna. I now know I should have immediately gone to the authorities. It was a terrible mistake on my part. I didn’t know any of this was happening until I was contacted by the FBI a couple of days ago. I gave them all the details, and they assured me, with the date and time of the call, they’d be able to track down the caller.”

Isabel’s back began to ache, and she realized she was sitting ramrod straight on the edge of the chair. Any straighter and her spine would snap. She forced herself to sit back.

“What do we do now?” she asked. “Do I still sign the papers?”

“The terms of Mr. MacKenna’s will specifically state that you must read the letter he wrote to you before you take possession of the property.”

Gladstone’s statement was discouraging, but Isabel wasn’t ready to admit defeat just yet. “If the letter can’t be found, you’ll have to go to court and start the process of straightening this out, won’t you? It could take years, and by then Harcus will have made himself king of the manor, drive everyone off the land, and make a deal with the Patterson vultures to build hotels and water slides and only God knows what else.” Turning in all directions she scanned the office. “We have to find it.”

“If MacCarthy hid it, chances are it’s with the instructions that were given to Ferris,” Michael said.

He didn’t know how much Gladstone had been told about the flash drive his friend Craig Walsh had slipped into Isabel’s pocket. He gave him a quick summary and then said, “We believe MacCarthy kept the original kill order, but we can’t look through the client files. You can. And, while you’re looking for the letter Compton wrote Isabel, you could also look for the instructions MacCarthy gave the killers.”

“My God, what was that depraved man into?” Gladstone asked as he pushed his chair back and stood. “Fortunately, I know that MacCarthy didn’t have many clients. Most of them moved on to other solicitors, so this shouldn’t take long.”

Shouldn’t take long? Had he been inside MacCarthy’s office lately? Isabel wondered.

No matter what, she was determined to stay positive. Maybe Gladstone was right. Maybe it wouldn’t take long to find what they were searching for.

Gladstone and Nessie immediately set about searching through files while Michael and Sinclair went back upstairs to complete their examination of MacCarthy’s personal records. Isabel couldn’t go through client files, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help. As soon as Nessie finished checking all the stacks on the floor, Isabel put them in boxes and labeled them.

“Why was he shredding all those papers?” she asked Nessie as she closed the lid on the last box.

“Most are old reports he didn’t use anymore. From comments Mr. MacCarthy made I got the feeling he was expecting a windfall and was going to retire. I don’t believe he liked the law much.”

At that moment Michael walked in and heard what she said. “He sure knew how to manipulate it.”

Isabel looked at her watch and was shocked at the time. They had been there all day. She stood by the door and watched two officers carry out the remaining boxes. Where hadn’t they looked? The desk was completely empty; every paper in the file cabinet had been examined, and even the papers in the shredder had been bagged and tagged. She’d done that on her own. Her thought was that maybe someone would take the time to tape the shredded pieces back together. She’d do it if no one else would.

Isabel realized she was becoming desperate. She couldn’t help it. She had such a strong feeling those papers were hidden somewhere in this office. Where else could they be?

Reality eventually smacked her upside her head. All of this searching could be futile. What they were looking for could be in any of a hundred places. MacCarthy could have mailed them to someone to hold for him. He could have placed them in a security box at the bank. He could have buried them in his backyard. The He could have went on and on.

Sinclair seemed to be as frustrated as she was. “Maybe he did shred them.”

Michael shook his head. “I don’t think MacCarthy destroyed the kill order or the envelope with Compton MacKenna’s letter. Keeping them gave him leverage.”

Gladstone picked up a pile of folders. “I’ll take these and put them in my file cabinet. I have a client coming in for a late appointment, so I’ll be in my office.”

Nessie stood and brushed the pieces of shredded paper from her skirt. “I’ll be going home, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Sinclair said.

Isabel took Nessie’s hand. “Thank you so much for your help. We couldn’t have looked through any of this without you.”

Nessie blushed at the praise. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Isabel stayed with Michael and Sinclair in MacCarthy’s office. She wasn’t quite ready to give up.

“Did you look behind the bookcase? Were there any loose panels he could have tucked the papers behind?”

“We looked,” Sinclair assured her.

“What about the empty office? Did anyone look there?”