Chapter Two - Part Three

"Well, just let her know that if she needs anything, I'll be around. Maybe she'll give me the chance to make things up."

"Good-bye, Mr. Raines."

The heavy door swung shut, and I came from behind the pillar to lean forward against the cold marble railing.

"Well he's cute, and charming – definitely arrogant. But what does he want from me, Mrs. Trentley?"

"I've known Mr. Raines his entire life, Naomi. And the two things he likes most are money and girls." She folded her hands behind her back smartly. "Take your pick."

*  *  *

After breakfast, I retired to my room to study the documents that Mrs. Trentley had procured. The report that the New Harbor Police Department provided appeared standard enough, with no information or details that I hadn't expected. It described, in brisk words, how Mr. and Mrs. Jack Noble had arrived together at the Challenger Stables on the afternoon of May 3rd. They rented their horses, and rode until approximately 3:30 p.m., when Mr. Noble suddenly slumped over, and then fell from his horse. But by the time Mrs. Noble had reached her husband's side, he was deceased. The ambulance was called, the police questioned Mrs. Noble, and then she was released as her husband's body was delivered to the hospital. All in all, it was a neat little story with no loose threads to pluck.

I read the police report, and then re-read it again but still could find nothing about it to dispute. And so far, there was still no evidence to support my theory of foul play. Two emergency medical technicians had arrived on the scene that day, and neither of them had been able to find a pulse or revive him. It was as simple as that.

But the autopsy report was far duller and more convoluted a read – four pages of medical terms that I would have needed more than just a high school degree to sift through; however I still managed to grasp the gist of it. My father had died from a heart attack, and with no mention of any foreign constituents or drugs in his system. In fact, the medical examiners seemed to have rather easily concluded that Jack Noble died from some type of physical strain or exertion that had simply stopped his heart.

With a sigh, I gathered all of the useless papers together again, and slipped them back into the folder, where they would stay in the drawer of my nightstand. But I still couldn't seem to make any sense out of it all. Something nagged and itched at the back of my mind, telling me that I was missing a clue, right there beneath my nose. And it just wouldn't allow me to accept the idea that my father had gone horseback riding that day, just to have a heart attack and die.

*  *  *

A few hours later, I joined Mrs. Trentley in the foyer, where she waited with my jacket ready and keys to the black Camaro in hand. She wore an expression of leery interest on her face, so I tried to give her a smile to help assuage her reservations, but her gaze remained steely.

"Seeing as how this is will be your first time driving around Harbor on your own, you aren't going out to get yourself in any trouble, are you?"

"No, Mrs. Trentley." I said, along with a small sigh to go with. "I'm just going out to do a little shopping."

"Hmph. Well, did you find anything? In your reports?"

"No, not yet." I replied breezily, shrugging into my jacket. "But give me a little more time and I know I'll find something."

"If there's anything to find." she said with a sniff, and opened the door.

"Mrs. Trentley, since I was a kid, I've always been very good at reading people. And I also happen to have this really amazing sense of intuition. And that's not me tooting my own horn – it's just the truth."

"What is it that you're trying to say, Naomi?"

"What I'm trying to say, Mrs. Trentley, is that I ignored my gut once – the one and only time – and because of that, something incredibly bad happened. And for a year now, I've had my instincts screaming to me about this – my father's death. I'm telling you, somebody's planted roses all over this story, and yet somehow it still manages to stinks like –"

"There just isn't enough evidence to support your theory, Naomi." she replied wearily.

"Yeah, well, I hope I'm wrong too.  Keep dinner hot for me, would you?"

I cut across the lawn, scanning the empty street beyond, as I walked, but already I heard the sounds of an unseen car approaching. I entered the gate's passcode, quickly slipped through after it unlocked, and then headed to where the perfectly waxed Camaro was already parked at the curb. And it was just as I was hitting the vehicle's unlock button that a sleek, black limousine pulled up, smoothly, to rest alongside the curb behind my vehicle.

Openly suspicious, I watched as the right side passenger's door opened, and a tall, thin man stepped out. He had bad skin, a crooked nose, and long thinning hair that was slicked back from his face. The expensive cut of his suit said that this guy rolled in the dough, and his snobbish grin also told me that he was a man to watch out for.

"Ah, Miss Noble? Naomi Noble?"

And yet another unpleasant characteristic about him – his voice came out in somewhat nasal tones, reminding me of Squidward from Spongebob Squarepants.

"That depends." I replied, pleasantly enough. "Who's asking?"

"Jeremy Franks, of Proctor and Sool. I'm Paris Noble' lawyer."

With narrowed eyes, I scrutinized the tinted black windows of the limousine, and suddenly I was quite sure that my mother watched us from within.

"Really? Hmm. I guess I just assumed that since you weren't able to help my mother seal the deal on her husband's will a year ago, that she would have packed up and moved on to a more competent law firm by now. You know – one that specializes in actually winning cases."

The grin slid right from his conniving face, and I realized with triumph that I had managed to find his sore spot on the very first try. He was the same lawyer that my mother had used to tie up the legal process behind my father's will after he had died. Which also meant that Franks was at least partially, if not mostly, responsible for the fact that I hadn't been able to afford the trip to my father's funeral.

Franks reached into the left breast pocket of his suit and withdrew an important looking white envelope, which he then handed straight to me.

"Miss Noble?" he said with a cold sneer. "You've been served."

I admit that momentarily I was taken aback, and could do nothing but look from the white envelope to Mr. Franks' self-satisfied, evilly gleeful face. At a loss for words, I slowly opened the letter, which revealed an official, signed document that stated that I was being sued for the 'unlawful inheritance' of the manor. And it was advised that I seek legal counsel, as a court date was already set for early next year.

"Wait, this has to be a mistake. This isn't right –" I said in bewilderment, but was interrupted by the sound of a high, electrical hum.

The window of the left-hand passenger door was lowered, revealing the face of a beautiful African American woman with skin the color of milk chocolate. Her eyes were hid behind a pair of lavish, black sunglasses that rested on a dainty nose. Her shapely mouth was painted a deep color of red, with a beauty mole resting one perfect half-inch from the upper right corner of her lips. And her face was framed by two neat wisps of curled, dark hair – the rest of which was pulled back into a bun.

But even with her eyes hidden, I couldn't mistake this woman – not if I'd tried.

"Oh it's no mistake, dear; the manor is mine."

Her voice was smooth and cool, reminding me of silk, but it did nothing to soften her hard countenance.

"That's not what it says in your husband's will." I replied, trying to keep the anger and bitterness from showing. This woman deserved nothing from me, and certainly not my feelings.

"Well it's clear you get the sarcasm from my side, but the naivety..." Paris shook her head sadly with no trace of comfort. "That's all Jack."

My hands began to shake with an unfamiliar fury, but I remained calm and focused on sliding the letter back in its envelope. But behind the protection of her sunglasses, I knew that she was sizing me up, carefully determining what kind of a threat her own daughter could pose.

I hadn't planned on things carrying on this way. In fact, I had even held on to a stupid, silly hope that we would become friends, or cordial acquaintances at the very least. And of course I hadn't expected (or even wanted) her to re-draw the reins as my mother, and pick up where we had left off all those years ago. But I had to admit, that besides her involvement in disrupting the release of my father's will, this particular show of callousness took me far past surprised. It told me that I was a thing of the past to this woman, and that I was not her daughter.

I was merely a memory, nothing more than a stranger that was unwelcome in her home.

"Jack left it to me." I said quietly, but with force. "And I suggest you accept that, Paris, since you already tried to take it once and failed. But now, the deed, including everything else, is in my name. There isn't anything you can do about it."

"Not according to Jeremy." Paris Noble replied, with careless ease. "After all, I did reside in that house for eighteen years of marriage, Naomi. So perhaps you could try imagining my surprise when I received a letter in the mail a year ago stating that I was no longer a lawful resident within my own home. No, apparently, I was in forfeit of the details of a secret clause of my dead husband's will, which stated that our estranged daughter had inherited my home instead. Now, does that sound fair to you, Naomi?"

"No, you're right. It isn't fair at all." I quietly agreed. "But then again, neither is being passed around in the foster care system, going from home to home for eighteen years. I think that would probably be pretty rough too."