Chapter 22
Dylan was a bust. He legally signed away his parental rights when Zoe was in utero. Even with Isabel's death, he had no claim to Zoe or her inheritance.
Alex and Bobby met with the Harrington's former attorney next. No longer working, he spent his time in his greenhouse, growing flowers. At first he was resistant, but when Bobby showed him the crime scene photo of Isabel, he buckled. He was the one who had convinced Dylan to turn over his parental rights.
He gave them some insight into the Harrington family, but stood firm about attorney/client privilege. There were some questions he simply would not answer. It turned out the man had been fired by Lady Harrington's son. He did not believe the matriarch had anything to do with his termination or the death of Isabel.
Suddenly, the detectives saw the potential that the murderer was someone in her own family.
They spoke with Ernest Foley next, son of Lady Harrington, who was very clear to make it known that he was a Harrington by blood, if not by name. He ran a dance studio and had plans to add to the performance space.
Eames asked him whose money would pay for the expansion. He implied that there should have been no concerns about the family trust; that his mother had provided well for all of them, with instructions that they pay it forward.
Eames inquired about the woman's health, and though Ernest didn't give her a straight answer, he made it sound as if her health was failing.
"Yeah, Ma, everything's fine here." As Bobby spoke, he opened the door and Alex came in with a couple of bags of take-out. "Yeah, it's okay, they gave me leave for that." Bobby shut the door. "It's okay, Ma."
Alex put the food on the table and gave him a smile as she brought the Styrofoam containers out of the bags.
Bobby's contented face darkened a little. "No, I haven't heard from him. I'm sorry." Bobby listened a while longer. "Yeah, I'll keep trying. You know, maybe Frank's… maybe he's out of town or something…" Bobby became fidgety, but he listened respectfully. "Okay, look, Ma, I gotta go. I'm glad you had a good day. I love you." He smiled once more and tapped the button to end the call.
Alex smiled at him again as he sauntered in and sat down at the table.
"Eames, uh, thanks for… you know, what you did around here," he said, glancing around at his apartment.
She gave him a shrug. "I was bored. You want salad?"
He nodded and she slid the box his way so he could dish some onto his plate. "She… she had a good day."
"That's great, Bobby."
They ate a while in silence, and then he added. "She's still asking about Frank."
"Your brother."
He nodded, and then dropped his fork on his plate. "I-I guess I understand it. He is her son, she probably just wants to know… to see he made it, that she did her job."
Alex frowned. "But she can't count on that."
"She can't count on him. None of us can."
Alex reached out and caressed Bobby's hand. "Thank God she has you," she said quietly. He shook his head and began eating again. Alex spoke once more. "Maybe he'll turn up…"
Grant Harrington wasn't very forthcoming. According to him, his mother wasn't always lucid, had her good days and bad days. According to him, the decision to fire the lawyer was his mother's. They headed out to speak with Grant's wife, more sure than ever that something fishy was going on in the Harrington family.
It looked like they were moving. The woman was directing things be brought out of the house and loaded into trucks. She said it was to take some of Lady Harrington's things to the city. She said the elder woman spent most of her time in the city and wanted more of her things there.
They almost caught a lie about firing the lawyer. From the way this woman spoke, Lady Harrington was incapable of making decisions, but when Eames asked about firing the lawyer, the woman replied, "Lady Harrington is still the matriarch of this family. Her son does what she asks."
Back at 1PP, they brought in Josh Simmons to go over the finances with them. He'd been looking into the Harringtons for two days now and had a handle on the big picture.
Bobby felt a flash of indignance go through him when Josh revealed how much money the Harringtons had brought in selling the matriarch's things: Twenty Million dollars.
After the presentation and a cup of coffee, they were all in agreement with Captain Ross. "Find out if she's really signing these papers or if they're robbing her grave before she's even in it."
The New York apartment was impressive. Alex admitted, "As a little girl, I used to dream of living this way."
"It's musty in here, though. You see the dead flies in the lamp." Bobby looked around. "Fake flowers." For a moment, he looked at his lover. "I hope you got over that," he said. She showed him a quick grin before they moved back to their police personas.
"Mr. Grant will be right with you," the assistant told them.
"Actually, we were hoping to speak with Lady Harrington," Alex said, approaching the woman.
"He said he'll be right with you," she repeated with a smile.
Bobby looked her over. A touch of an accent, dark hair and eyes, what looked to be a medical uniform. "Are you Helena Arcenas?" he asked, and she nodded. "Can we talk to you for a minute about those papers you signed for Lady Harrington?" She looked worried, and he added. "We won't tell Mrs. Cheryl."
"They just told me to sign."
"Do you know what you signed?"
She shook her head. "The woman before me? She asked questions, she was fired."
"Do you know her name?" Alex asked.
"Birdie? Like…" She flapped her arms a little, and Grant Harrington appeared behind her.
"Thank you, Helena," he called out. She ducked her head down and hurried away.
Bobby gave Alex a look, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. They were going to see Lady Harrington, one way or another, no matter what her son told them.
He politely brushed them off, told them she couldn't be seen today.
"Well, if she's indisposed, she's indisposed, I don't know," Bobby said quietly, and walked away toward the huge window.
Grant walked Alex closer to the front entrance, yammering something about the old woman's pride. Bobby walked stooped over, studying the lines between the floor tiles. He was closer to the old woman's room, now.
"Detective, what are you doing?" Grant asked, as Bobby touched a portion of the floor with his hand.
He stayed hunched over, and waved a hand in the direction of his partner. "Eames you remember how we were talking about, uh, terra cotta tile?"
"Yes!" She said, smiling, as if they'd ever had such a conversation.
"Italian marble inlay," Bobby said.
"He's a tile buff," she explained to Harrington, turning away slightly, drawing his attention her way.
"Oh, that's nice," Harrington began, but when he turned back, Bobby was already opening the door to the bedroom. "No! No!" he cried. "Detective, I have to ask you not to disturb my mother!"
His wife Cheryl was sitting in the room, reading the paper in front of the tv, smoking a cigarette.
Bobby spoke. "Grant was just a little too concerned with shutting the door," he explained to her as she rushed to her feet.
"You can't come in here," Cheryl protested.
Bobby ignored her and walked to the old woman in the bed. He saw his own mother in his mind for a split second. "You know, actually," he continued, "this home reeks of everything but concern." Bobby took the old woman's hand in his, and both Harringtons tried to get him to stop touching the ill woman.
"What do you think you're doing? You can't touch her!" Grant said.
"Stop it!" Bobby warned. He picked up her hand again and looked her over. "She is clearly dehydrated," he said.
"I didn't realize you were a doctor, detective!" Grant smarted off.
"This is how you treat your mother?!" Bobby retorted, raising his voice. "She's flushed, her skin is dry." Alex walked in. "Eames, we're going to need an ambulance."
"You have no right to barge in here and start demanding ambulances," Grant announced.
"Shut up!" Bobby snapped. Again, he thought of his own mother. He was barely containing his rage.
Eames picked up the phone. "I'd shut up if I were you," she told Harrington.
"Detectives, get out of my home!"
Bobby was in a rage. "I said to shut up, so sit down and shut up!" He shouted with a finger up in warning.
At least Harrington had the sense to listen this time. Bobby laid his hand gently over the old woman's, trying to channel his emotions in another direction.