Morning, Noon, and Night by Sidney Sheldon

She smiled, and said, “I feel safe here. Thank you.”

He started to say something, then stopped. He looked at his watch. “I’d better get dressed and get down to the office. I have a lot to do.”

Steve was meeting with Fitzgerald.

“Any progress yet?” Fitzgerald asked.

Steve shook his head. “It’s all smoke. Whoever planned this is a genius. I’m trying to trace Dmitri Kaminsky. He flew from Corsica to Paris to Australia. I spoke to the Sydney police. They were stunned to learn that Kaminsky is in their country. There’s a circular out from Interpol, and they’re looking for him. I think Harry Stanford signed his own death warrant when he called here and said he wanted to change his will. Someone decided to stop him. The only witness to what happened on the yacht that night is Dmitri Kaminsky. When we find him, we’ll know a lot more.”

“I wonder if we should bring our police in on this?” Fitzgerald suggested.

Steve shook his head. “What we know is all circumstantial, Simon. The only crime we can prove is that someone dug up a body—and we don’t even know who did that.”

“What about the detective they hired, who verified the woman’s fingerprints?”

“Frank Timmons. I’ve left three messages for him. If I don’t hear back from him by six o’clock tonight, I’m going to fly to Chicago. I believe he’s deeply involved.”

“What do you suppose was meant to happen to the shares of the estate that the impostor was going to get?”

“My hunch is that whoever planned this had her sign her share over to them. The person probably used some dummy trusts to hide it. I’m convinced that we’re looking for a member of the family…I think we can eliminate Kendall as a suspect.” He told Fitzgerald about the conversation he had had with her. “If she were behind this, she wouldn’t have come forth with a confession, not at this time, anyway. She would have waited until the estate was settled and she had the money. As far as her husband is concerned, I think we can eliminate Marc. He’s a small-time blackmailer. He isn’t capable of setting up anything like this.”

“What about the others?”

“Judge Stanford. I talked to a friend of mine with the Chicago Bar Association. My friend says everyone thinks very highly of Stanford. In fact, he’s just been appointed chief judge. Another thing in his favor: Judge Stanford was the one who said that the first Julia who appeared was a fraud, and he was the one who insisted on a DNA test. I doubt he’d do something like this. Woody interests me. I’m pretty sure he’s on drugs, and that’s an expensive habit. I checked on his wife, Peggy. She isn’t smart enough to be behind this scheme. But there’s a rumor she has a brother who’s bad business. I’m going to look into it.”

Steve spoke to his secretary on the intercom. “Please get me Lieutenant Michael Kennedy of the Boston police.”

A few minutes later, she buzzed Steve. “Lieutenant Kennedy is on line one.”

Steve picked up the phone.

“Lieutenant. Thank you for taking my call. I’m Steve Sloane with Renquist, Renquist, and Fitzgerald. We’re trying to locate a relative in the matter of the Harry Stanford estate.”

“Mr. Sloane, I’d be glad to help if I can.”

“Would you please check with the New York City police to see if they have any files on Mrs. Woodrow Stanford’s brother. His name is Hoop Malkovich. He works in a bakery in the Bronx.”

“No problem. I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks.”

After lunch, Simon Fitzgerald stopped by Steve’s office.

“How’s the investigation going?” he asked.

“Too slow to suit me. Whoever planned this covered his or her tracks pretty thoroughly.”

“How is Julia holding up?”

Steve smiled. “She’s wonderful.”

There was something in the tone of his voice that made Simon Fitzgerald take a closer look at him.

“She’s a very attractive young lady.”

“I know,” Steve said wistfully. “I know.”

An hour later, the call came in from Australia.

“Mr. Sloane?”

“Yes.”

“Chief Inspector McPhearson here from Sydney.”

“Yes, Chief Inspector.”

“We found your man.”

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