Chapter 9: Royce at the Door
I told Gerald to ask him to wait.
Patricia was already sliding documents into her case with quiet efficiency.
"Do you want me to stay?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"But stay in here.
Keep the door closed."
I went to the front door alone.
The man on my front step was around fifty, broad-shouldered, in a dark jacket that was slightly too warm for the weather.
He had the kind of face that was designed to seem reasonable — open expression, easy smile, nothing threatening on the surface.
"Mrs.
Norris," he said.
"My name is Royce Callahan.
I'm a business associate of your husband's.
I apologize for coming without calling ahead."
"What do you want, Mr.
Callahan?"
"I'm here as a courtesy," he said.
"Everett asked me to stop by and make sure everything was all right.
He's concerned about you."
"He's concerned about me."
"He is." The easy smile held.
"He also wanted me to let you know that there may be some paperwork in the house that's been misfiled.
Business documents that ended up in the wrong place.
He'd like them returned before there's any confusion."
I looked at him.
"What paperwork?" I said.
"He wasn't specific.
He just said if you'd come across anything related to his business interests, it would be better for everyone if those materials were handled through him directly, rather than through—" he paused— "third parties."
"Third parties," I repeated.
"Attorneys.
Accountants." The smile didn't move.
"People who might misread things."
I leaned against the doorframe.
"Mr.
Callahan," I said.
"Those documents are already scanned and in the possession of my attorney.
The originals are being held as evidence." I watched his face.
The smile stayed, but something behind it recalibrated.
"If Everett would like to discuss them, he can contact Eleanor Marsh at Marsh and Associates.
Her number is on the firm's website."
A pause.
"Mrs.
Norris," he said, and his voice dropped just slightly, "I want to be straightforward with you.
Everett has been very generous to a lot of people for a long time.
People who would be very unhappy if his situation became complicated.
I'd hate for any of that unhappiness to land on someone who doesn't deserve it."
There it was.
"Is that a threat?" I asked.
"It's a concern," he said.
"Expressed as a friend."
"You're not my friend." I straightened.
"And if you come to my door again without an appointment, I'll call the police and tell them that a man named Royce Callahan showed up at my home attempting to recover evidence in an active legal matter." I met his eyes.
"I'll also mention that my attorney already has a written account of a phone call in which Everett said — and I'm quoting — *'By the time she figures out what's in that house, it'll already be gone.'* We have a timestamp on that account.
It was sent before you arrived."
The smile finally left his face.
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he nodded once, turned, and walked back to his car without another word.
I closed the door and stood in the hallway, breathing.
Shirley appeared at the end of the hall.
"Who was that?" she asked.
"A man named Royce Callahan," I said.
"Do you know him?"
Her expression flickered.
Just for a second.
Just enough.
"No," she said.
"All right," I said.
I went back to the study.
Patricia was standing at the window, watching Royce's car pull away from the curb.
"I heard most of that," she said.
"Good," I said.
May you like
"Write it down."
She was already reaching for her notebook.
