The 24th Hour by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson [Patterson, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781529160147
Published: 2024-02-28T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 58

IT HAD BEEN a long day and I was flagging. I needed coffee, heavy on the sugar. Cappy and Chi were in the break room, conversing over coffee when I walked in and poured myself a mug of dregs. I pulled a chair up to the table.

I was asked for an update and I was eager to share with the team. I briefed Chi and Cappy on what I’d learned that day about Jamie’s financial manager, his house manager, his driver, and his cook—all of whom they knew—and that Jamie had been in the process of revising his will.

“How’d you know that?” Cappy asked.

“Bevaqua showed us the new draft Jamie left out in the office.”

I told them about Arthur making a reluctant admission to Brady that Rae Bergen had been seeing Jamie Fricke romantically, both while Holly was alive and after she’d been buried.

Chi raised an eyebrow.

“That’s new.”

Cappy pushed a tin of sugar cookies toward me and I helped myself to one and then another.

After I’d downed some coffee, I said, “Patty Delaney told me to look at the pictures Bevaqua took at Holly’s funeral. You guys were there. Did anyone make it into your notebook?”

“There was a lot going on,” Chi said. “Retired Olympians breaking down, gut-wrenching eulogies, but when it came time to lower the casket, no one was allowed to stand by the grave except family.”

Cappy said, “Rae was there with her twenty-year-old son, Brock Picard. College kid. She’s been divorced from her husband for ten years. It’s all in the file.”

Chi said, “Brock gave a pretty moving eulogy about his aunt Holly. Jamie choked out something heartbreaking about losing his soulmate. He was so sincere. If you didn’t know better …”

“And Rae?” I asked.

“Rae was a mess. All she could get out was, ‘I’ll always love you, Holly.’”

Chi looked pensive, and to me that always meant a big idea was coming up. “Paul,” I said. “What are you thinking?”

“That a few of us should go to Jamie’s funeral.”

“Which is when?”

“Friday. Private service at the family chapel in Pacific Heights.”

“Volunteers?” I asked.

Chi and Cappy raised their hands.

“Good. You’ve got it.”

“What was in the will?” Cappy asked.

“I’ll show you if you give me half your sandwich.”

“You like pastrami? I didn’t know,” he said.

“Deal or no deal?”

Cappy laughed and pushed half a pastrami on rye with mustard across the table.

“Looks, uh, yum,” I said. “Can you spare the pickle?”

He gave it to me. When I’d finished my half of Cappy’s sandwich and my past-dead coffee, Chi handed me the whole Fricke family file: two thumb drives and a three-hole binder of tabloid clippings. I gave him the draft of Jamie’s will and took the files down the hall to begin reading up on Holly Bergen Fricke’s family.

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