The woman’s smile dimmed. Evie checked the desk but there was no name plate.
“He closed the office after his partner died in that dreadful mine collapse. The next thing I knew, he’d sold the place, lock, stock, and barrel and took off for some job back east. But he gave his staff recommendations, so we were all hired back. It was a long time ago, I suppose. Forgive an old woman’s reminiscences.” A buzzer rang and she gestured toward a door. “Mr. Pendleton can see you now.”
Evie had the distinct feeling that the secretaries behind the glass window to the right were listening to every word. She wanted to linger, but Jax grabbed her elbow and steered her in, intent on his own defined goal and not her—admittedly—blurry one. As they left, the receptionist was already reaching for her phone—to tell her friends about Franklin’s son? And how much hedidn’tlook like his father. Or how much he looked like his father’s partner?Thatcould make for some good gossip.
The man behind the desk was old enough to be Jax’s father. Balding, with gray hair, wire-rimmed spectacles, and trim enough to show that he exercised regularly, he stood and offered his hand. “Damon Jackson? This is amazing. I haven’t heard from Franklin in decades.”
Evie tuned out while Jax went into his spiel about his parents dying, yadda yadda. It gave her an opportunity to examine Pendleton’s aura. He appeared to be a nice, if not very exciting, man. She gauged from his lack of interest that he hadn’t known Franklin Jackson as well as his receptionist, but she saw curiosity, presumably at Jax’s presence.
She tuned back in when Jax laid the key on the desk.
“In going through my father’s effects in search of something else recently, I came across this, along with this cryptic code.” He added a note of the letters he’d copied from the circuit board.
Not a flat-out lie. He was a lawyer, after all. But he still hadn’t said the magic word. Now seemed an opportune time.
“And then I came along.” Evie smiled at both men. “When I asked about Aaron Ives, it seemed an auspicious reason to visit our origins.” She came from a family who knew how to obfuscate and embellish.
“Ives?” Pendleton’s gray eyebrows rose.
Evie smiled like a half-baked simpleton with wind between her ears. “He was a partner of Jackson’s, wasn’t he? That’s why I hunted down Jax. I’m trying to match DNA but not making a lot of progress.”
Jax smoothly picked up her trail. “It seemed a long shot that you might have thirty-year-old files, but along with the bank box situation, we didn’t see any harm in trying.”
Evie figured he’d like to muffle her, but she wanted to move forward. If they couldn’t explore California and hot tubs, she needed to go home, file for mayor, and get back to business.
“Hmm, I see. Well, genealogy is a fascination, and from all I know, Ives was an interesting fellow. I never really knew him, of course. He died shortly before I bought Franklin’s practice. I think it might have been his death that caused Franklin to pack it in and move to the opposite coast. They’d been boyhood friends, if I remember correctly. So you might be on the right track. It’s just too old to follow.”
“You knew my father?” Jax asked.
Pendleton shrugged. “Not really. I bought this law practice through a company that sets up these exchanges. We met when we signed the papers, that’s about it. His clients were all highly respectable and his files were in excellent condition. As an attorney yourself, you can understand the importance. Since Ives had already perished at that point, I had no reason to open his files, if there are any. All that material was scanned and digitalized decades ago.”
Bingo. Pendleton was far more technologically advanced than the law firm where Jax had been working, where half their files were still paper and stored in boxes.
“But y’all can access the Ives’ file? And maybe Franklin Jackson’s, since they were friends?” Evie asked eagerly, leaning forward and laying on the Southern accent. She wasn’t in the habit of flashing cleavage, but last night had awakened dormant hormones. Pendleton was distracted enough to remove his glasses to clean them.
“Yes, yes, I imagine I can. Both files? Hmmm, there would be a fee, of course.”
“Thank you, sir. Of course, we’ll reimburse you for any time you spend on us.” Jax jumped in, forcing Evie to sit back. He tapped on the key and the code. “My research indicates there was a Bank of Mojave thirty years ago, which would correspond with the BoM on here. We’re hoping the number is the box number. I know California code is strict on descendants accessing safe deposit boxes, but I have all the paperwork from my father’s death. Can you verify that the Monarch Bank currently occupying the same address would be the new name?”
“If you have the probate letters releasing Franklin Jackson’s assets in your name, you should be fine. I can’t verify that the safe-deposit boxes weren’t emptied when the bank changed ownership or that the fees were paid on the box. That’s a real longshot, son.”
“I know, but it’s intriguing, isn’t it? Like finding a treasure map. One has to look. But discovering what we can of Aaron Ives for my client is the more pressing business. How long do you think it will take for your secretaries to track down the material?” Jax scooped up the key and dropped it in the pocket of his jacket. He wasn’t wearing one of his suits, but the blazer looked sufficiently preppy for a lawyer on vacation.
“We’re not busy this time of year. Give me your business card. I’ll need to verify there is no other next of kin and that a DNA report is sufficient relationship to release the files. Then I’ll have them transferred as soon as they’re located.” Pendleton stood. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. It’s good to know that Franklin’s son turned out to be a gentleman. You favor your father strongly, if my memory recalls.”
Whoops. Not what the receptionist had said.
Evie didn’t even have to study Jax’s aura to know it shot excited lights from his root chakra. The lawyer had just verified that the man from whom he’d bought the firm hadnotbeen Franklin Jackson, but a man who looked likeJax—who looked like the Aaron Ives in the photo. How had Ives pulled off such a fraud?
When they left, the gray-haired receptionist was talking earnestly with a large older woman tottering on spiked heels. Dressed in a designer suit and dripping diamonds, the older woman appeared to be an important client. There would be no way of questioning the receptionist again. Dang. And the secretaries in the other office were on the phone and the computer—already responding to Pendleton’s request?
Incongruously, Diamond Lady sported a purple ball cap with an eagle pin similar to Marge’s. She stared after them as they approached the door. Evie felt an itch between her shoulder blades as they let themselves out. Should she have investigated aclient’saura? That didn’t seem practical.
They were both silent once they were in the car. Jax started the engine and drove down the street to the bank they’d looked up last night. It wasn’t a large town. Evie enjoyed the Spanish-style architecture and the weird trees and flowers, but small-town people were predictable. She had this notion that eyes followed them everywhere.
Were there people here who remembered Aaron Ives well enough for Jax’s resemblance to stir old memories? Ives must have assumed the identity of his friend and partner, pulled up roots, and transplanted himself clear across the country for a very good reason.
“Judging by the marriage certificate, my father married just before he moved to Georgia.” As if following her train of thought, Jax parked in the bank lot and stared out the windshield. “His mine had collapsed, possibly with his best friend and partner inside. So Aaron Ives abandoned his land, sold Franklin’s law office, married his girlfriend under a false name—and ran for his life?”