Chapter 23
What a day. Paradise’s morning had been packed full of pets, including a sick iguana. She’d had to research notes from a distant
college class about the creatures to treat it. Her neck ached, and a faint headache pulsed at her forehead. Her belly signaled
she’d skipped lunch, which was probably the source of the pain in her head.
She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the chicken salad she’d picked up at the grocery store last night. She wanted nothing
more than to fill her tummy and veg out with the newest Denise Hunter novel. Blake was watching the boys so Jenna could attend
a fundraising event with Frank, who’d pulled it together in a week. Paradise had offered to babysit so Blake could go, too,
but he’d insisted his mom’s pretty face would win over the donors better than he could, and he wanted a boys’ night out to
play mini golf in Gulf Shores with the kids.
She made a chicken salad sandwich, threw some carrots onto her plate, and called it a healthy meal. The kittens curled up
beside her while she ate, and the stress of the day melted away as she opened her book.
She’d just finished her meal and was on the second chapter of her novel when her doorbell rang.
It was probably a surprise visit by the boys, and she went to the door with a smile forming.
Her breath caught when she spotted Mary Steerforth standing on the small deck at the top of the steps outside her entry.
She was crying, and the scars on her face were florid from whatever had caused her distress.
Paradise threw open the door and took Mary’s hand. “Mary, what’s wrong?”
The older woman swiped at the moisture on her face and stumbled across the threshold. “I need to sit down a minute. I’m so
sorry to bother you, Paradise, but Blake and Jenna weren’t home. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
Paradise led her to the kitchen table and poured two glasses of sweet tea. She handed one to Mary, then pulled out a chair
and sat beside her. The woman was still distraught and kept choking back sobs.
Mary took a sip and shuddered. “I still can’t believe it.”
Paradise took her hand. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’ll do whatever I can.” Maybe she should call Blake, but she hated to interrupt
his fun evening with the boys. They thrived on the time they got to spend with their big brother.
Mary clutched Paradise’s hand in a painful grip. “It’s Dean. I—I think he killed Allen.”
Paradise set down her glass of tea. Blake had suspected that Allen Steerforth’s death hadn’t been an accident. “Did Dean admit
he ran Allen off the road? Or did you discover something about drugs?”
Mary downed a gulp of her tea. She took a deep breath and her tears slowed.
“Allen and I went through a hard spell after the tiger attack. It was mostly my fault. I pushed him away because I felt ugly. I couldn’t believe he could love me in spite of my scars and told him to move out.
He was angry but he went. He moved in with Dean for a while. ”
Paradise’s fingers crept to the ridge of scars on her shoulder. A traumatic injury could mess with anyone. “How long were
you separated?”
“A year. Too long really. I knew I’d made a mistake three months in, but my stupid pride wouldn’t let me go crawling back
to him. In that time he changed his will and left everything to Dean. Or so Dean says. Dean said he saw a signed copy. No
will was found when Allen died though.”
“But could he even do that? Didn’t you own the property jointly?”
Mary wiped condensation from the glass. “Allen inherited it from his parents free and clear, and we never bothered adding
me to the title. I never dreamed . . .” She broke off and shook her head. “And maybe it’s not true.” She lifted her gaze to
Paradise’s. “But it feels true.”
“Dean just told you this out of the blue?”
“He was drunk, raging around and yelling at me that I needed to hand over the will. That it was all my fault he didn’t get
the money he’d expected, and he had to have it. I think he’s in trouble with gambling, but I’m not sure.”
“What about Allen’s death?”
Mary took another gulp of tea. “He said something like, ‘If I’d known the will would be missing, I never would have—’ He broke
off and didn’t say the rest, but I—I could fill in the rest of it. He never would have run Allen off the road and injected
him with meth.”
That was a stretch. He could have finished that sentence various ways. Maybe he wouldn’t have gambled if he didn’t know he was getting the money. Still, Mary might have a point.
“I can see you’re not sure if Dean is capable of murder, but you don’t know what else he’s done. He’s convinced that Allen
hid the will on Sanctuary property for safekeeping and told me he’s been searching the property to try to find the will. I
shudder to think what he would do to the boys if they walked in on him. You have to be careful!”
Paradise swallowed down a bitter taste in her mouth and followed it with a gulp of sweet tea. “But you already sold the refuge
property. What can he do now?”
“He can submit the will within five years of probate and it could reverse everything. If he can find the will in the next
month, we’re all in trouble.”
“B-but what about the money Jenna paid you for it?”
“I don’t know how it all works, but the refuge would be gone. Maybe I’d have to pay back the money, but it’s gone, so I wouldn’t
be able to.” Mary wrung her hands. “I don’t know what to do.”
Neither did Paradise. She glanced at the clock on the wall. In another two hours she could take it to Blake.
Blake pulled the door shut as he backed out of the boys’ bedroom. It hadn’t taken long to get them to sleep. They’d been tuckered
out from miniature golf, pizza, and go-carts. He yawned himself. It had been a full day, but he grabbed his phone to call
Paradise. He’d missed her tonight.
Lights swept across the picture window, and a vehicle parked in front of the cottage. Paradise’s green Kia. He smiled. Maybe she’d missed him as much as he’d missed her. Mom wouldn’t be home for at least a couple of hours.
He opened the door before she could ring the bell. His welcoming smile faded at the worry on her face. He reached out to take
her hand. “What’s wrong?”
She raked her hand through her mane of hair and went past him to the small living room, leaving her plumeria scent behind.
“It’s crazy. I need coffee.”
“I’ll make it. Come with me and tell me what’s going on.” Blake went to the kitchen and tossed beans into the grinder.
“The park is in serious jeopardy,” she began.
Over the sound of the grinder, he listened to her story of Mary’s visit and Dean’s obsession with a will. He punched on the
coffeepot. “That sounds unbelievable. You can’t roll back the clock on a sale when the will wasn’t found at the right time.”
She hugged herself. “Call Hez and find out.”
He’d do it to appease her, but it didn’t make sense. His chest was tight when he placed the call to Hez. This had to be wrong.
He hated to bother him while he was still recovering, especially when he was dealing with some issues at TGU for Savannah,
but his cousin would know whether the law was on the park’s side or not. Blake turned on the speakerphone.
Hez answered on the first ring. “Hey, Blake.”
“How you doing, buddy?”
“Pretty well. The headaches are improving, so that’s good. I can’t drive for a while, so that’s bad. You sound upset.”
“Can a sale of property be invalidated if an unknown will is found after the place is sold?”
“Whoa, that’s a loaded question. What’s going on?”
Blake spilled out everything he’d heard. “That can’t be true, right?”
“It’s not an easy question to answer since there are some layers to it.
Alabama law says a good faith purchaser is protected after a year, and you’ve had it longer than that.
But if the will is found within five years and your mom knew there was a will, the purchase could be invalidated.
Mary Steerforth would be required to pay back the money.
If she doesn’t have it, which seems likely, you guys might be out of luck.
You could sue, but it could take a long time to be repaid, and you’d still lose the property. ”
“I’m sure Mom didn’t know anything about a will, but I’ll ask her and find out for sure.” Blake poured two mugs of coffee
and handed one to Paradise. They both sat at the table with the phone between them still on speakerphone. “I was told he has
a month to find the will or it’ll be too late. In a month it will be five years since we bought it.”
“That’s also correct. But if the will hasn’t turned up by now, it probably won’t. I would guess Dean has checked with town
attorneys.”
Blake glanced at Paradise to verify. She shrugged. “I would guess so,” she said. “He was drunk when all this came out to Mary,
and he seemed frustrated. Mary thinks he might have killed Allen.”
“Whoa, that’s a piece of info I wasn’t expecting.” Hez’s voice rose. “Does she have any proof? Murder would mean he couldn’t
inherit.”
“Just a suspicious comment he never finished.” Paradise told him what Mary had said.
“You might dig for proof just in case the will shows up at the last minute. And if he did kill his uncle, he needs to be brought
to justice even if the will never surfaces.”
Though Hez’s comment was meant to reassure him, Blake pressed his hand against his forehead. “Not sure how to go about investigating something that happened so long ago.”
“Mary believes Allen was run off the road, correct? Ask her if she still has the vehicle he was driving at the time of his
death. If he was forced off the road, there might be damage on it. And talk to Dean’s friends. If he spilled something while
drunk, he might have said something to one of them. I can try to get a copy of the accident details. There might be something
suspicious in them.”
Paradise took a sip of her coffee. “The authorities didn’t suspect foul play at the time, though Mary tried to get them to
consider it when the drug screen showed methamphetamine in Allen’s blood. She says he hated drugs of any kind after their
son died of an overdose.”
A kitten twined around Blake’s ankles, and he picked it up. The contact settled his agitation. “So someone, presumably Dean
Steerforth, drugged Allen, then forced him off the road.”
A long pause followed before Hez replied. “Or maybe he was drugged up and ran off the road by himself. He could have had a
heart attack or some other effect of a drug overdose like a seizure or disorientation. It would still be murder. It’s odd
the detectives didn’t take Mary’s statement into account about how unlikely it was that he’d taken a drug.”
Everything Blake needed to do crashed in with an overwhelming weight. Not only did he have to figure out how to save the refuge,
but now he had to prove Allen was murdered. With the way things had been going, he didn’t dare assume the will would stay
missing.