The Return of the Fallen Angels Book Club (A Hollis Morgan Mystery 3) by R. Franklin James Page B
Authors: R. Franklin James
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Gene.
“It didn’t take him long to get over his grief,” he said.
“That was my thought. It sounds like he wants us to play private detectives.”
Hollis took some satisfaction from having Brian request their assistance. He would be her second client. She ignored the nagging concern that she would have to deal with John’s warnings about police interference. “I’m not sure Brian knows what it is we’d be looking for.”
“I think you’re right,” Gene said. “But we can put it out there with the Fallen Angels. As a group we might be able to come up with a few avenues to pursue. Although to tell you the truth, I’m sure Jeffrey would be skeptical that we would be able to avoid crossing over into police territory.”
“Yes.” Hollis was glad Gene wasn’t sitting in her office to see her look of resolve. “But I think he would want us to help his son. We’ll meet and decide then how to handle things.”
“That’ll work. Maybe while we’re helping one Wallace, we can find out who killed the other.”
After the call with Gene, Hollis got down to tackling Shelby Patterson’s case. She’d finished checking out real estate agency references and had narrowed it down to two. The firm she finally chose offered to place more advertising and oversee getting the house and yard in shape. She looked up to see Tiffany standing in her doorway.
“What?”
“There’s this guy waiting to see you in the lobby. You didn’t tell me you had an appointment other than Mr. Wallace.”
Hollis frowned. “I don’t have any other appointments today. Why didn’t you just call me and announce him over the phone?”
“He seems upset.” Tiffany smiled weakly, turning to look over her shoulder. “We used to be able to talk about this kind of stuff when you were a paralegal, but you’re one of my bosses now and I feel funny.”
Hollis’ curiosity clicked in. “First, I’m still me and I hope you’re still you. So, for me, we’re on the same team. But tell me the name of this mysterious gentleman and I’ll come and talk to you after he’s gone.”
“It’s Shelby Patterson’s father, Mr. Darol Patterson.”
Entering the lobby, Hollis could immediately see why Darol Patterson had caused Tiffany to lose her usual professional cool. He was strikingly handsome, brown-skinned, tall and with a presence—a man who oozed charm. For Hollis, the greater surprise was his well-tailored attire—navy sports coat, open collar white shirt, and gray slacks. He looked nothing like the drug-addicted loser Shelby had described, except for his piercing dark eyes, which projected agitation and frustration .
She took him to the same conference room she’d shared with Brian Wallace that morning.
“Mr. Patterson, what can I do for you?”
“I understand you’re representing my daughter in a lawsuit.” His voice was low, clear, and articulate. “I want to know what my rights are, and I’d like you to hear my side of the story.”
Hollis shook her head slowly. “Mr. Patterson, you need to get your own legal representation. I can’t advise you regarding your rights. As you said, your daughter is my client. I can’t discuss or share any—”
“Okay, okay, I get it. If it gets to that point, I’ll be representing myself.” Leaning across the table, he let his eyes bore into Hollis’, and his voice rose with just a little irritation. “Besides, I think you’d be better able to serve her if you knew my side. Wouldn’t you agree?”
She gave him an open-palm gesture to go ahead.
“I won’t go into my … my disgrace as a man with an addiction. Suffice it to say that I hit bottom and then I saw the error of my ways and came back to the living. I’m ten months clean. Unfortunately, my mother was a mean and vindictive woman who I think always hated me because I resembled my father. He left her after five years during which she made his life a living hell.” He looked around the room. “Can I have a glass
“It didn’t take him long to get over his grief,” he said.
“That was my thought. It sounds like he wants us to play private detectives.”
Hollis took some satisfaction from having Brian request their assistance. He would be her second client. She ignored the nagging concern that she would have to deal with John’s warnings about police interference. “I’m not sure Brian knows what it is we’d be looking for.”
“I think you’re right,” Gene said. “But we can put it out there with the Fallen Angels. As a group we might be able to come up with a few avenues to pursue. Although to tell you the truth, I’m sure Jeffrey would be skeptical that we would be able to avoid crossing over into police territory.”
“Yes.” Hollis was glad Gene wasn’t sitting in her office to see her look of resolve. “But I think he would want us to help his son. We’ll meet and decide then how to handle things.”
“That’ll work. Maybe while we’re helping one Wallace, we can find out who killed the other.”
After the call with Gene, Hollis got down to tackling Shelby Patterson’s case. She’d finished checking out real estate agency references and had narrowed it down to two. The firm she finally chose offered to place more advertising and oversee getting the house and yard in shape. She looked up to see Tiffany standing in her doorway.
“What?”
“There’s this guy waiting to see you in the lobby. You didn’t tell me you had an appointment other than Mr. Wallace.”
Hollis frowned. “I don’t have any other appointments today. Why didn’t you just call me and announce him over the phone?”
“He seems upset.” Tiffany smiled weakly, turning to look over her shoulder. “We used to be able to talk about this kind of stuff when you were a paralegal, but you’re one of my bosses now and I feel funny.”
Hollis’ curiosity clicked in. “First, I’m still me and I hope you’re still you. So, for me, we’re on the same team. But tell me the name of this mysterious gentleman and I’ll come and talk to you after he’s gone.”
“It’s Shelby Patterson’s father, Mr. Darol Patterson.”
Entering the lobby, Hollis could immediately see why Darol Patterson had caused Tiffany to lose her usual professional cool. He was strikingly handsome, brown-skinned, tall and with a presence—a man who oozed charm. For Hollis, the greater surprise was his well-tailored attire—navy sports coat, open collar white shirt, and gray slacks. He looked nothing like the drug-addicted loser Shelby had described, except for his piercing dark eyes, which projected agitation and frustration .
She took him to the same conference room she’d shared with Brian Wallace that morning.
“Mr. Patterson, what can I do for you?”
“I understand you’re representing my daughter in a lawsuit.” His voice was low, clear, and articulate. “I want to know what my rights are, and I’d like you to hear my side of the story.”
Hollis shook her head slowly. “Mr. Patterson, you need to get your own legal representation. I can’t advise you regarding your rights. As you said, your daughter is my client. I can’t discuss or share any—”
“Okay, okay, I get it. If it gets to that point, I’ll be representing myself.” Leaning across the table, he let his eyes bore into Hollis’, and his voice rose with just a little irritation. “Besides, I think you’d be better able to serve her if you knew my side. Wouldn’t you agree?”
She gave him an open-palm gesture to go ahead.
“I won’t go into my … my disgrace as a man with an addiction. Suffice it to say that I hit bottom and then I saw the error of my ways and came back to the living. I’m ten months clean. Unfortunately, my mother was a mean and vindictive woman who I think always hated me because I resembled my father. He left her after five years during which she made his life a living hell.” He looked around the room. “Can I have a glass
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