Chapter 15
Vee
When I returned to my office, Jen was at her desk. “Any word from Aunt Rachel’s office?” I asked.
Jen shook her head. “I’ve spoken to Millie. She’s still in football operations. With Bre Stanton gone, Kandace Jessup oversees Ms. Marsh’s new assistants.”
I blinked my eyes. “I don’t care who’s in charge. I want to speak to Ms. Marsh before she leaves the building.”
Jen stood and handed me a note. “You did get calls from Ms. Loften, Tony Witkoff, and Bre Stanton all asking for you to return them ASAP.”
My stomach twisted as I read the names on the small piece of paper. “Did Bre say what she wanted to discuss?”
Bre’s arrest was common knowledge around the football facility. Arrests were a matter of public record including a listing in the Lexington Herald. While the charge read murder, the victim wasn’t listed. Assumptions were running wild.
“She said it was important that you call her. She also said she’d come to you but was told that she’s barred from entering Maker’s Mark.”
“Honestly, Cammy Wilcox is coordinating the franchise’s response with Grant. She’s doing the legal and Grant, the communications.”
Jen knitted her eyebrows together. “And you haven’t been told?”
Closing my eyes, I exhaled. “You’re right. I need to inquire.” With Jen’s note in my hand, I made my way into my private office. After removing the Coopers pullover, I hung it on the hall tree and settled behind my desk. The plays I’d been listening to and discussing with Fin were fresh on my mind.
My ability to understand the plays, anticipate the players’ movements, and articulate what was happening was improving. The Coopers’ plays were a foreign language. As such, it was a matter of understanding and mastering the basics.
At one point, Fin asked me what call I would make after Dennison’s pass was blocked. We had a minute or so and I thought about the scenario. The center linebacker was big and fast. I told Fin that I’d have one of our guards assigned to that linebacker to stop him from blocking another pass.
Fin grinned. “Now tell me in play language.”
I was about halfway through the play when Garcia’s voice was again in my ears. “He’s talking.”
Fin leaned close. “We have homework tonight.”
The way he said it and the timbre of his voice had me looking forward to tonight’s study session. However, as I stared at the note, I pushed those thoughts away. It was time to concentrate on the matters at hand.
Tony was the Coopers’ head pilot. Of the names on the list, he seemed the easiest to tackle.
I entered his number on my desk phone.
“Ms. Hubbard,” Tony answered.
“Tony, are you calling about our trip to Nashville?”
“I was. I know you have a lot happening. Mr. Hubbard usually informed us by Wednesday morning of weekend travel.”
I let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. Yes, we’ll need the Gulfstream to fly to Nashville on Saturday morning by ten. We’ll return Sunday after the game.”
Tony cleared his throat.
I sat forward. “Did you receive different instructions?”
“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Marsh said that Ms. Marsh wanted to leave after noon on Saturday. She wouldn’t be available before then.”
“Tony, we need you and a crew this weekend. I’ll work out the particulars.”
“Ms. Marsh is now the CEO.”
It wasn’t a question. “She is. I’m the owner. I promise we’ll get our ducks in a row soon.”
Tony scoffed, his tone lighter. “We’re flexible, Ms. Hubbard. I’ll wait until I hear from you.”
“Thank you.”
My next call was to Aunt Rachel’s cell phone. After three rings, I was sent to voicemail. “Aunt Rachel, this is Vee. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Call me as soon as you get this message.”
My next call was to my new attorney. It only took a moment for her assistant to patch me through to Tricia Loften.
“Vee, I’m glad I was able to reach you.”
“Do you have anything new?”
“First,” Trish said, “As you know, your father listed Darin and Rachel Marsh as co-executors of your father’s will.”
I nodded.
She went on. “The county issued your father’s death certificate earlier today.
That was the first step in getting the ball rolling.
Mr. Eads filed a petition with the district court to initiate probate.
I have no doubt the court will follow your father’s wishes and appoint the Marshes as co-executors.
Next, the will needs to be validated. After that, heirs and creditors will be notified.
There will need to be an inventory and appraisal of, well, everything.
This is a very lengthy procedure for someone with an estate such as your father’s.
“The executors will be responsible for paying any creditor claims, funeral expenses, and taxes from the estate. After all that comes the distribution of assets. All in all, it’s likely this will take at least a year, possibly longer.”
I inhaled. “Is there anything I need to do at this point?”
“What you’re doing, Vee. Once I have a copy of Mr. Hubbard’s written will, I’ll share it with you. I wanted to let you know that the ball is rolling.” She scoffed. “Or is at least on its way to rolling.”
A look at Jen’s note reminded me about Bre. “Trish, do you know anything about the case against Bre Stanton?”
“I’m aware, but I’m not a criminal lawyer.”
“She left a message today for me to call her. Aunt Rachel told me a few days ago that Bre is out of jail.”
“As your attorney, I would advise against speaking to her. Whether she’s innocent or guilty, you will most likely be called to testify. If there’s record of the two of you conversing, it could be used in her defense or her prosecution.”
“Please hold.” I stood and closed the door to the outer office. Once back at my chair, I spoke softly. “Are you still there?”
“I am,” Trish said.
“As the police were taking Bre away she told me something, something that she’s now also told my aunt.” The next sentence made my chest ache. “Bre claims to be pregnant with my father’s child.”
Silence.
I waited.
“Um,” Trish finally said, “Vee, this could change things. If Reid’s will specifically lists you as the primary beneficiary—”
“It doesn’t,” I interrupted. “I haven’t seen the will, but I’ve been told by Joe Eads that the will designates the beneficiary or beneficiaries as Reid’s children.”
“We will need confirmation of her claim, paternity tests.”
“I don’t care about the estate. I care about the Coopers. How am I supposed to be co-owner with an infant?”
“Shit, Vee. Don’t panic. Right now, all we have is a murder suspect claiming to be pregnant with the child of the man she is accused of killing.”
“Should we let the prosecutors know?”
“That isn’t your place. I would think Bre’s attorney would be the one to share the information. This case is still very young.”
I asked a question that had been bothering me.
“I don’t understand. Bre told me days after my father’s death that she loved him and he loved her.
She showed me an engagement ring that she claimed he’d bought for her nearly a year ago.
Now she states she’s pregnant. Why would she kill him?
Hell, I don’t know how an automobile accident turned into a murder investigation. ”
“Why?” Trish asked. “If there’s a love component to this case, it’s just gotten exponentially more complicated.
I didn’t go into criminal law because civil law is ruled by precedent.
Criminal isn’t as predictable. Why do people do anything?
And as for why and how your father’s accident grew into a murder case, we need to wait to hear the evidence given for probable cause.
The thing is that a prosecutor heard evidence and agreed there was enough to arrest her. That means there’s something there.”
“Have you found any documentation from my parents’ divorce?”
“I have people working on that.”
“What if I can’t avoid a conversation with Bre?”
“Record it,” Trish said. “Kentucky is a one-party consent state. As long as one party in the conversation—you—knows about the recording, it’s legal. I’m not suggesting it would be evidence, but it could save you if Bre’s attorneys implicate you in any way.”
“Thank you for the update.”
“I’ll know more about your parents’ divorce soon. I’ll also put out feelers for anything on the Commonwealth of Kentucky v. Bre Stanton.”
“Thank you.”
The time in the corner of my computer screen said 5:15 p.m. If I had a chance of cooking for Fin tonight, I needed to head to the grocery store and home. My cell phone rang. Aunt Rachel’s name was on the screen.