He typed back:no evidence anyone attempted to dissolve contract
because he diedshe retorted.
Yeah, there was that, even if it was a metaphorical death. Dead men couldn’t file suits.
He pulled out the Franklin Jackson will Jax’s adoptive father had executed upon his death. Jax read it now with new knowledge of his real father.
Vague clauses of “all land, properties, partnerships...” legally covered the law practice that Aaron Ives had sold to Pendleton. The land title, however, was still in the name of Aaron Ives. It hadn’t been mentioned directly in any of the wills and his adoptive father hadn’t known of its existence.
i think we own a ranch and mine,he texted Ariel.who paid property taxes on them for thirty years?
on it
Jax texted Conan, too, to see if his magic crew could determine who paid the taxes, but that was a long shot.
He pulled up profiles on Marge Thompson and Donna Ortiz. Marge lived right next to the land that was still in his father’s name. Donna Ortiz had worked for Franklin and should have known Ives. She was in Pendleton’s office the day he died. And her truck had followed them out of town.
If Marge and Donna had thought Ives dead and then Jax had shown up looking just like his father and camping on his land...
No evidence. No nothing except speculation.
A report from Roark popped up in his email. Jax scanned the document and whistled.
Before he could work through all the angles, a knock rapped at his office door. He needed a receptionist. Well, he needed a desk first. He’d bought one at the thrift store...
He got up and let in Evie, followed by the desk delivery people, as if she were his very own genie.
“They said you hadn’t picked out an office chair so I brought one for you. You can give it to an employee later if you don’t like it, but you need something besides that folding chair.” She gestured for the movers to place the desk in front of the big front windows—not the spot he’d chosen.
When Jax started to object, she waved a finger at him. “Good feng shui means your desk should face the door. And you can intimidate people if they have the sun in their face and can’t see you clearly.”
“Not a prosecutor,” he reminded her. He ought to be irritated. Hewasirritated. It was just that he was also fascinated. Evie broadened his horizons in entertaining ways. “And sunlight reflects on the computer.”
She gestured for the movers to bring in the next item. “A credenza for the computer. I have draperies for the window, but we need hardware before I can install them. You’ll need to sign for the extras.”
His credit card groaned, but he took the clipboard and signed away his life, then turned to examine his new acquisitions. She had a good eye. The old oak credenza looked as if it had been made to go with the enormous old desk. Together with the chair, they’d cost less than if he’d bought a single steel and glass desk at the furniture store.
After the movers left, Evie bounced in the Morris chair R&R had brought over this morning and admired his new office. “Very professional. You need photos on the desk.”
Jax tested his new office chair—tall back, solid leather, broad seat, spun and wheeled nicely. “Art on the wall, too, but clients are more important. I assume you arrived with the furniture for a reason?”
“Your aura is still too tight,” she complained. “You have to relax, smile more often, enjoy the world instead of seeing it as your foe.”
Jax pulled the chair up to his desk, folded his hands on top of it, and waited.
She wrinkled her nose. “I take it back. Move the desk to the wall. You’re much too good at this. I can’t even read your aura properly with all that light.”
“I’ll pull the drapes when you’re here. When I have drapes. What are you avoiding telling me?”
“Iddy took the thumb drive back to city hall, hid it in a plant—and she found the cat. Cats mostly remember people who feed and pet them. So she’s getting glimpses of secretaries like Dot and Helena.” She crisscrossed her shorts-clad legs in the enormous chair, focusing Jax’s attention in the wrong place. “But she says when she carried the cat to the council’s office door—they still have it taped off—the cat practically bristled and struggled to escape. She thinks she’s reading the impression of someone tall and heavy-set holding it, and a person who might be Clancy sitting at the desk.”
“But no clear image that might identify either?” Jax knew not to expect much from Evie’s weird family, but every little puzzle piece eventually created a picture.
“Iddy’s general impression from the cat was that it had been thrown at Clancy. The poor kitty is pretty traumatized.”
Jax rubbed his nose, then turned his laptop around so she could read the email Roark had sent. “We could look up animal abusers who might hate Clancy. But we shouldn’t eliminate secretaries.”
She leaned forward, studied the screen, covered her mouth, and fell back in the chair. “Oh, my. Way too many coincidences. Marge Thompson and Donna Ortiz are aunt and niece? They don’t look anything alike. And Donna isSenatorSwenson’s ex? And she’s still working? Wow. Bad divorce settlement.”