Tyler’s plan had gone off without a hitch. Margo Posner had played her part perfectly, and the fingerprints had been the crowning touch. Everyone was convinced that she was the real Julia Stanford.
“I, for one, am glad it’s finally settled. Let me go up and see if she needs any help.”
He went upstairs and walked along the corridor to her room. He knocked at her door and called loudly, “Julia?”
“It’s open. Come in.”
He stood in the doorway, and they stared silently at each other. And then Tyler carefully closed the door, held out his hands, and broke into a slow grin.
When he spoke, he said, “We did it, Margo! We did it!”
Chapter Eighteen
In the offices of Renquist, Renquist & Fitzgerald, Steve Sloane and Simon Fitzgerald were having coffee.
“As the great bard once said, ‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.’”
“What’s bothering you?” Fitzgerald asked.
Steve sighed. “I’m not sure. It’s the Stanford family. They puzzle me.”
Simon Fitzgerald snorted. “Join the club.”
“I keep coming back to the same question, Simon, but I can’t find the answer to it.”
“What’s the question?”
“The family was anxious to exhume Harry Stanford’s body so they could check his DNA against the woman’s. So I think we have to assume that the only possible motive for getting rid of the body would be to ensure that the woman’s DNA could not be checked against Harry Stanford’s. The only one who could have anything to gain from that would be the woman herself, if she were a fraud.”
“Yes.”
“And yet this private detective, Frank Timmons—I checked with the district attorney’s office in Chicago, and he has a great reputation—came up with fingerprints that prove she is the real Julia Stanford. My question is, Who the hell dug up Harry Stanford’s body and why?”
“That’s a billion-dollar question. If…”
The intercom buzzed. A secretary’s voice came over the box. “Mr. Sloane, there’s a call for you on two.”
Steve Sloane picked up the telephone on the desk. “Hello…”
The voice on the other end of the line said, “Mr. Sloane, this is Judge Stanford. I would appreciate it if you could drop by Rose Hill this morning.”
Steve Sloane glanced at Fitzgerald. “Right. In about an hour?”
“That will be fine. Thank you.”
Steve replaced the receiver. “My presence is requested at the Stanford house.”
“I wonder what they want.”
“Ten to one, they want to speed up the probate so they can get their hands on all that beautiful money.”
“Lee? It’s Tyler. How are you?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“I really miss you.”
There was a slight pause. “I miss you, too, Tyler.”
The words thrilled him. “Lee, I have some really exciting news. I can’t discuss it over the phone, but it’s something that’s going to make you very happy. When you and I—”
“Tyler, I have to go. Someone’s waiting for me.”
“But…”
The line went dead.
Tyler sat there a moment. Then he thought, He wouldn’t have said he missed me if he didn’t mean it.
With the exception of Woody and Peggy, the family was gathered in the drawing room at Rose Hill. Steve studied their faces.
Judge Stanford seemed very relaxed.
Steve glanced at Kendall. She seemed unnaturally tense. Her husband had come up from New York the day before for the meeting. Steve looked over at Marc. The Frenchman was good-looking, a few years younger than his wife.
And then there was Julia. She seemed to be taking her acceptance into the family very calmly. I would have expected someone who had just inherited a billion dollars or so to be a little more excited, Steve thought.
He glanced at their faces again, wondering if one of them was responsible for having Harry Stanford’s body stolen, and if so, which one? And why?
Tyler was speaking. “Mr. Sloane, I’m familiar with the probate laws in Illinois, but I don’t know how much they differ from the laws in Massachusetts. We were wondering whether there wasn’t some way to expedite the procedure.”
Steve smiled to himself. I should have made Simon take that bet. He turned to Tyler. “We’re already working on it, Judge Stanford.”