Page 81 of Precise Justice

Jefferson remained silent for a minute. The three of them were standing on the porch in the cold watching Robbie and Claudia drive away.

“Well?” Lucy asked.

“Something’s not right. I don’t think Ms. Robbie is going to miss her mother very much.”

“The place was burgled,” Melissa said.

Jefferson looked at his detective subordinate and asked, “Was it?”

THIRTY-TWO

Dear Diary:January 10th

I know I’m not supposed to feel this way, but I can’t help it. I’m glad the evil witch is dead. She was my mother and I loved her for that. But she was not a good person. Not to me, not to almost everyone, especially my Dad, who did not deserve it. Sorry, but because of that and what she did to me, I simply did not like the type of person she was.

Funny thing, the night she died, the night before me and Claudia found her, I have no memory of what I did that night. It’s too weird. I have tried very hard to remember what I did that night but I can’t remember anything.

It will be another couple of days before the autopsy is finished. The preliminary (I hope I spelled that right) autopsy indicates she was smothered. Probablywith the pillow found on the floor next to her bed. That is what the detective, Lucy Compton, told me. The same two detectives from the Minneapolis police who handled my rape case are handling Priscilla’s case.

In the morning, I have to call my Dad about a funeral for her. He told me he knows what to do.

The three days before Priscilla’s funeral, the temperature barely rose above zero. The weather people had predicted mid-twenties for the day of the event. Fortunately, they were right.

Robbie had spoken at the service in a local Lutheran church. They were occasional members and Priscilla donated five thousand dollars every year. According to Blake, she took ten thousand as a deduction on her taxes for the church donation. How would God view lying about how much someone donated every year? Priscilla may be finding out.

The graveside part of the service was mercifully short. Even with the warmer weather, it was still January and this was still Minnesota. The cosmetic company where Priscilla was executive V.P. was closed in her honor. There was a nice crowd of employees in attendance. Of course, Priscilla’s lunch, dinner and drinking buddies were also there. One in particular was genuinely upset. Robbie could not remember her name.

Following the service, both Blake and Robbie made the rounds of the crowd. Each shook as many hands and thanked as many people as possible for coming. Hugs with Priscilla’s friends.

At one point, Blake wandered away from the departing crowd with another man. Robbie saw them and wondered who the man was. A few minutes later, Blake rejoined her.

“Who was that?” Robbie asked.

“Priscilla’s boss, Ray Davies. Did you know Priscilla had an ownership interest in the company?”

“No, I don’t think she ever mentioned it,” Robbie said.

“I knew she did but I had no idea what it might be worth,” Blake said.

“Why? What?” Robbie asked.

“They have an insurance policy on her. A key-man life insurance policy,” Blake answered.

“How much?” Robbie asked.

“Five million.”

“Holy shit!” Robbie said a little too loudly.

“And, he asked if we had finalized the divorce.”

“Did you?”

“No, we hadn’t even started it,” Blake replied.

“So, I don’t understand,” Robbie said.

“It’s a buyout policy. The money is to be paid to Priscilla’s beneficiaries, her heirs, to buy out her interest in the company. Of course, she named the business as primary beneficiaries to use the money to pay us off. Now that I think about it, she did mention something about this, I don’t know, maybe four or five years ago, but I forgot about it.

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