Morgan James - Promise McNeal 01 - Quiet the Dead by Morgan James Read Free Book Online Page A

Becca’s mom, Stella Chandless Bennett Tournay, an Atlanta debutante with money of her own from the Chandless and Bennett side of the family, either hanged herself, or was murdered while she and Paul Sr. lived at the house in Atlanta. Becca was only five, so understandably she wouldn’t really know anything first hand about her mother’s death, and you can bet your last dollar Papa wasn’t forthcoming with any information, since the newspaper clipping stated he was apparently the main suspect, if there was foul play. I take it the Atlanta police couldn’t make a case for murder against him and the whole case just withered away. Soon after that, Tournay moved himself and little Becca over to Columbia, where he took a teaching position at the University of South Carolina. Stella’s family tried to get custody of Becca. I gather they were unsuccessful. I think she has not seen any of her mother’s people since then, though she did inherit some money from her mother by way of the Chandless side of the family. I checked that out to make sure she could pay me. I surmise that money is what jumpstarted her business ventures. I’m not sure.”
    My mind tumbled at each of Garland’s words about Stella Tournay, and the face in my dream came back with fierce clarity. “Garland, stop for a second. Did you say Stella Tournay died by hanging? Was she by chance found hanging out over a creek?”
    “Yeah, she was actually,” Garland said with surprise, “the newspaper article said she was found about half way out a sturdy oak limb extending over Howell creek. Strange way to commit suicide, don’t you think? The paper hinted she might have been killed elsewhere and then taken down to the creek. Creepy, don’t you think? Boy, I’m glad I don’t do criminal work. I hate this weird shit. Wait a second, how’d you know she was hanging over the creek?”
    I kept my eyes focused down at my pad, finishing the somewhat crudely drawn ballet shippers I’d been sketching while Garland talked. “Oh, I don’t know. I must have read the story at some point in time.”
    Garland glanced at my pad. “Promise, why are you drawing ballet shoes? Did I tell you Stella Tournay was a dancer and that Becca owns several dance studios? She owns that franchise, Danse . However you pronounce it in French. Have you heard of them?”
    “No, I haven’t,” I replied honestly.
    “Well, apparently my client does very well on her own. Doesn’t really need Papa’s money. In fact, I don’t think this trust thing is about the money. I honestly think she hates her son’s guts. Just doesn’t want him to have any part of her Papa. You’re the expert. Tell me, Promise, is that possible? Can a mother just plain hate her son’s guts?”
    I allowed myself to exhale a deep sigh I had been holding for what seemed to be a long, long time. “It’s a little more complicated than that, Garland. Although sadly, it is possible for a mother, or a father, to have only feelings of anger and resentment for their own child. Sometimes the bond of love just doesn’t develop. It’s not a random happenstance though, and parents can’t catch it like the flu. From what I understand, we are talking about pretty emotionally damaged mothers and fathers here.”
    “Crap. I hate this case already. Let’s do what we have to do and get it over with.”
    Remembering Becca’s cold hand, and sensing her equally cold heart, I was wishing I’d stayed in North Carolina. “Does Paulie know his mom is trying to cut him out?”
    “My guess is he does. When I phoned him and asked if he would talk to you, he agreed without any hesitation. I think I heard him laugh. Then he said, ‘Come on over, it’s always interesting to see what mean stew my mother is cooking up.’ Clever, huh?”
    I know I must have rolled my eyes at the bad pun. “Yes. Very clever. Did you make an appointment for me?”
    “I did. One o’clock today. His house. Down in Buckhead.”
    I checked my watch: