CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mandy changed the calendar. April first. If anyone was a fool, it was her. Yesterday had been a nightmare and a dream all in one. Mud bath—they had actually taken a mud bath, and the massage had been to die for. Colin and Bonnie had met them for a private dinner. Colin had been adamant about them both changing their passwords for everything from Amazon to Zulily. Bonnie had not been what she’d expected at all. Daniel’s secretary was grandmotherly yet feisty enough to make Mandy wonder if Daniel ran his office at all.
Mandy’s toenails, painted with white flowers on dark peach, were mini works of art. In two weeks tops, they would be chipped and worn.
In two weeks her boot might be off. Hopefully. Had it only been two weeks since she’d fallen off the fence?
In two weeks she would be old news. Less if she was very lucky. Sunday’s kiss attempt by Summerset Vandemark hadn’t made the headlines. Fake, they had called it.
In two weeks her MFA project would be done. If Only . . .
In two weeks Daniel would be back. Or not.
People can survive without food for two weeks. She could do this.
She returned too late last night to call him and hadn’t gotten up the courage to even text today. After seeing part of his life in Chicago last night, she wondered if she could ever live in his world. He’d be in court now so there was no point in texting yet.
At least the whole fiasco had given her two extra days on her project. She set about turning the Crawford mansion into an art museum with a statue garden and art classes on the lawn.
When a video-chat icon popped up on her computer, she clicked it open. Her parents never called in the morning. Mandy’s mother’s face filled the screen. Dirt smudged her cheek, and hair escaped the messy bun she always wore. “Oh, Mandy! Glad we caught you before work. My grad students showed me all the photos! How long have you been on crutches?”
“I told you about them last week, remember? Right before you told me about the stone pillar.”
“Oh, that is right. Something about trespassing, right?”
Mandy loved her mother but had long ago realized that outside of the latest dig, she was incapable of focusing for long. It was ADD meets the Mummy’s Curse. “Not exactly trespassing, but my foot is healing well.”
“Who is this man in the photos? You didn’t tell me you were dating someone.” There was a distinct pout in her mother’s voice.
“It is just Danny Crawford. Remember I met him the first summer I stayed at Grandma Mae’s?”
“Oh. Why is your date all over the web?”
“He has low level celebrity status, that’s all.”
Mandy’s father rested his head on her mother’s shoulder. “I don’t like some of the things people are saying about my little girl.”
“I don’t either, but the story will die down soon.” Mandy didn’t want to discuss the current status of her life. “How is the dig? Anything new?”
As expected, her mother launched into a detailed description of an intact tablet they believed to be of Chavín origin. Mandy only half listened. A tiny twinge of guilt nudged her for deliberately distracting her mother. But she was afraid if she mentioned the vandalism or her bodyguard, her father would abandon the dig for the first flight home.
In two weeks she would tell them the truth.
Two weeks was too long and not long enough.
Daniel studied the courtroom. The second day of testimony was well underway. A sketch artist in the corner scrutinized Daniel. At least there were no cameras inside. Dodging the ones outside had been difficult enough.
The EMT who had been punched by one of the photographers took the stand.
Across the aisle, Summerset sat with her father. Her soft-white suit and pink blouse reminded him of someone other than the party girl he knew. It wasn’t until the single pair of pearl earrings caught the light that he realized she was trying to exude Princess Diana. If only she mimicked the late princess outside of the courtroom, he might have some peace. Of course, she was always better behaved in the presence of her father.
The bailiff called his name.
The assistant DA asked the standard identification questions before getting to the meat of Daniel’s testimony. “Mr. Crawford, in your own words, please tell us what led to your 911 call the afternoon of December 29 and your subsequent actions.”
“After lunch, I took a walk in Central Park to clear my head and make some calls. As I was returning to the hotel, I saw Miss Vandemark exiting. As always, there were a dozen or more photographers around. Miss Vandemark appeared to be more animated than usual. About the time I reached the corner, she collapsed. Someone yelled, ‘She’s not breathing!’ and several of the photographers surged forward. The doorman tried to get them to move back. I dialed 911 and gave the pertinent info, then attempted to get through the crowd to her.”
The lawyer reread his notes. “You are not a trained medic. Why did you try to reach her?”
“Miss Vandemark suffers from asthma and usually has an inhaler with her.”
“Were you successful in reaching her side?”
“With the help of two of the photographers, I reached her about the time the police arrived.”
“Which two photographers helped you?” The lawyer gestured to the courtroom.
Daniel pointed to Vic. “This one, Vic Jamison, whom I’ve met on occasion, and the taller man there with the gray sideburns, whose name I did not know at the time.”
“Were you able to locate Miss Vandemark’s inhaler and assist her?”
“Yes and no. The contents of her bag had spilled, and someone had stepped on the inhaler and broken it. I stood to tell the EMTs this and saw they couldn’t get through.”
“What happened then?” The lawyer took a step toward the jury.
“A whole lot of shouting, and me, Vic, the doorman, and the police trying to clear a path. Flashes going off, photographers still taking photos.”
“Did you see who hit the EMT?”
“No, but I did see him go down.”
“How long of a delay do you estimate was caused in Miss Vandemark’s care?”
“Including my inability to get to her bag and an intact inhaler, at least ten, maybe twelve, minutes.” As they’d agreed, he did not say anything about how the inhaler worked. There would be an expert witness for that later.
The attorney for the defense started his questioning.
“Mr. Crawford, did you at any time hit or push any of the photographers?”
“I pushed my way through the crowd and photographers, but I did not use excessive force.”
“What was Miss Vandemark wearing?”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
“Other than locating the inhaler, did you administer any first aid to Miss Vandemark?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“One of the hotel employees was already administering first aid, and there was nothing I could do. As has been previously stated, I am not a medic.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
Daniel sat down, and Vic took the stand. At the break, the assistant DA informed Daniel he would be contacted if he were needed in the courtroom again, so he hurried to meet with the realtor about an apartment
Daniel shuffled the papers in front of him and shifted his phone to his other ear. “Thanks for looking at the contract, Morgan. I don’t want to be in the same hotel as Miss Vandemark, and I should be able to move in Thursday.”
“You could move in tonight if you were willing to live without a bed.”
“It’s the desk I need. Between you, Colin, and Bonnie, I haven’t had a chance to leave the hotel room since I got back last evening trying to keep up with work. I have one of those dates tonight, too, don’t I?”
Morgan chuckled. “Not all the women we have arranged for your social calendar can fake eating bad sushi for lunch and cancel your evening plans just to get out of her contract like yesterday. At least tonight’s is to benefit a school in Haiti and you both felt that was a good cause.”
Daniel knew he wouldn’t get another reprieve after both Monday and Tuesday night to himself. “You said you had news about the Indiana estate?”
“I had Colin put some documents on the secure server for you regarding the Indiana property. I’ll never get the hang of all of that locking and unlocking. I didn’t want to have one of the assistants do it. There must be some leak going on. I don’t like the last offer one of the developers sent over—way too much money.”
Daniel used the code Colin had set up last week to get into the secure folder. “There is some odd language in the original sale of the land to the Fowlers. It keeps referring to another agreement. Any idea what it’s referencing?”
“No, but the mineral rights were retained by the Crawford estate. George Fowler sold his mineral rights to the property two years ago. The buyers must not have done their due diligence, or they would have realized the Fowlers never owned them. What is odder is that Mae Fowler deeded the home to a trust in Mandy Fowler’s name when she was sixteen, but the property was sold out of the trust weeks before Mae died, using George’s power of attorney.”
“Have you found Mae’s will?”
“Just the original with her husband, and he died twenty-five years ago.”
“Something like that.”
“I have researchers looking for the other document. Any chance your girl has anything?”
Daniel stiffened at the reference. “I am not sure if she does. She did mention she was to inherit the house. Not that it matters now. A tornado destroyed it.”
“Ask her. I’ll send you a copy of this latest offer.”
“No rush. I don’t think I want to take any offers dealing with gas drilling, not without protection for some of the land.”
“I see.”
“It has nothing to do with Amanda.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
Daniel set the phone down. He had been getting offers for years now. But until this year, selling wasn’t an option due to the one-hundred-year clause. As much as he hated the mansion, he loved the property. At least twice a year he went down to have a quiet few days, but there were other places to do that. He hadn’t been as big a fool about the old mansion as Amanda believed he was. There were no leaks, and the broken windows had all been boarded up quickly. At least he hadn’t sold the house to the buyers who’d wanted to turn it into a mortuary and private cemetery.