Gilbert Clarke sat in front of his lawyer, William Drake. His mouth hung open in a mixture of shock and horror. "You're telling me that my brother signed everything he owned over to her?"
"That's what the document says." Drake said with a slight hint of misfortune in his voice.
Gilbert sat with his chin in his hand and thought for a moment. "I was in California when he died. How did he actually died? The papers all say it was an accident." His eyes narrowed at Drake.
William Drake didn't answer immediately. He wondered where Clarke was going with this inquiry. "Does it make a difference?"
Clarke stood up abruptly. "You tell me. How did he die of this "accident"?"
Drake pulled the doctor's report from his file and opened it. "The doctor who examined your brother at the scene said that your brother tripped on his shoelaces on the staircase. He died of a broken neck..." Drake sat back in his chair and watched Gilbert Clarke.
"Shoelaces!"
"That's what is says. Right here." Drake pointed to the line on the paper in front of him.
Gilbert turned toward his lawyer. "Richard hated shoes with laces..."
"What are you suggesting, Gilbert?" Drake stood and leaned across his desk.
"I think Annie murdered him. She seemed perfect and played herself into Richard's life." Gilbert continued. "He wrote me just before he was married to her. He said that she was like she had fallen from Heaven because she was everything he was hoping for..." Gilbert began to pace the law office floor. "If you wanted something from some one, wouldn't you pretend to like them?"
"You have a point. But I don't know how I can prove it for you." Drake said cautiously.
Gilbert Clarke turned to his lawyer. "I want you to find out where she has gone. I need to talk with her..." His eyes narrowed as he tried to hide his rage.