Death In The Garden by Caroline Clemmons

Author:Caroline Clemmons [Clemmons, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-07-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Devlin said, “The office isn’t far and not much out of the way home. Just up Oak Lawn and a few miles north on Preston.”

It took only about fifteen minutes to arrive at a modest office complex, not at all what I’d imagined Rockwell would choose. On a low brick wall, foot high metal letters spelled The Douglas-Rockwell Corporation. The wall was prominently displayed amid a raised flowerbed neatly landscaped—but without imagination—in begonias, petunias, and dwarf nandinas.

Devlin must have noticed my scornful glance. “These plants not something you’d choose?”

Caught. “They’re well balanced, but the selection is . . . ordinary.”

“While you’d use something different?”

“Yes, but these present a pleasant view to visitors and that’s probably all that’s necessary.”

The uniformed night attendant in the lobby recognized Devlin and opened the door. “Evening ma’am, Mr. Douglas. Sorry to hear about your stepfather.”

“Thank you, Mick. We won’t be long.”

The guard went back to the half circle that served as a reception desk where he had a view of several monitors. I wondered if one of them could be changed to receive a television station on dull nights.

The lobby was spacious, but not inviting. All grays, a color I usually enjoy, but this looked institutional instead of soft. The oil landscapes on the walls looked as if they’d come from a motel sale. Two sofas flanked a glass coffee table near where two ficus and a spathiphyllum added some greenery.

Rubbernecking as we walked to the elevators, I asked, “Do the company’s offices occupy the entire building?”

“The company owns the building but an insurance company leases the second floor. A couple of doctors have the first. Vance took the third and fourth floors.”

The doors opened on four and we stepped out into the hallway. More drab interior.

“This is it. These offices house the licensing clerks and billing and receivables.” He nodded to our left. “Aunt Kay’s office is there and Uncle Lionel’s is next.” Devlin guided me down the hall.

He stopped and pulled out a key ring. The gold lettering on the door clued me that this was Vance Rockwell’s private office. Inside the corner office, the drab grays became soft and luxurious, accented by burgundy and green. A wall of windows on one side offered a view toward downtown.

“Very nice.”

“I need to pick up some papers. Won’t be long.”

Devlin sat at his stepfather’s desk and opened a drawer. The sleuth in me wanted to look over his shoulder, but I wandered to a display of photos on the console behind the desk. I recognized Rockwell posing with various dignitaries, but an early photo showed Rockwell with another young man.

I held up the photo and held it where he could see it. “This your dad?”

He glanced up. “A month before he died. Not that I remember the occasion, of course. I was two.” He resumed his exploration of Rockwell’s files.

Scrutinizing another photo, I was surprised to see Mr. Denby. He stood next to Rockwell, smiling broadly as Rockwell shook hands with President Reagan. On his other side stood a man who looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him.

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