This is Part IV of a seven part series that will conclude on Sunday.

Franklin Danbury was about to ease into some of the more difficult questions he had for his client.  The loud rumble of distant engine noise derailed his line of thought.  The rumble didn’t remain distant for long.

Someone, whom Danbury could only assume to be the prodigal son, sped along the blacktop drive from around the corner of the mansion, past the pool area and into the open doors of the carriage house.  The brief glimpse of the car identified it as a Porsche 356A, identifiable by comparing it in his mind to ones he’d read about in popular automotive magazines, as well as Angela’s query as to whether or not there had been a Porsche in the carriage house earlier.  The quick view of the driver seemed to confirm the identity.  Thomas Crane was the spitting image of his father, or was prior to his father becoming a lead magnet the night before.  He was about to ask his client when he might be able to interview her guest when he saw Thomas walking out of the carriage house and directly towards them.

“Ah, Thomas,” Angela said. “Good to see you. How are we doing this morning?”

Thomas walked up behind her, rested his hand on her shoulder while he looked Danbury up and down, and replied, “Making it, Mother.” The word ‘Mother’ seemed to come with a smirk that made its way to the lips of both of them like a beagle that had just buried a bone. Perhaps it was an inside joke, as the two of them couldn’t have been more than eighteen months apart in age. Yet, it didn’t seem like the time or place for inside jokes.

“This is Mr. Danbury.  He is the attorney I’ve hired to handle the situation that took place last evening,” Angela told him.

Thomas removed the hand from her shoulder and extended it out for Danbury to shake. “Thomas Crane. Pleased to meet you, despite circumstances being what they are. I’ve heard of you in town. You’ve quite the reputation.”

“We’ve built a good practice over the years.  How long have you been back in Fort Stockton?” Danbury asked him.

“Too long.  Or maybe not long enough,” Thomas said.  “Or maybe just in time.  Hard to say.  It’s odd being from here, but not really from here.  I suppose I’ll be here long enough to help Angela sort things out, then we’ll see.”

Danbury glanced towards the carriage house.  “Was that a 356A Speedster you were driving?  Quite the exotic machine.”

“Indeed.”  Thomas looked towards the carriage house.   “It’ll pass anything but a highway patrolman.  Well, to be honest, it passes those too.  But they eventually catch up, or radio ahead to the next one.”

“You inherited your father’s appreciation for the finer things in life,” Danbury said.  Thomas glanced down at Angela and smirked again.  “What do they call that color?  It’s beautiful.”

“Aquamarine.  Red leather cabin.  The finest looking thing I’ve ever seen wrapped in red leather,” Thomas said.  He glanced back at Angela again.  “At least in the carriage house.”

Danbury was taken aback at how whatever the relationship was between Angela and Thomas was nothing either of them were attempting to conceal. “Between the Dual-Ghia, the Mercedes 220 and your Porsche the cost of the collection must be damn near fifteen grand. Do you ever worry about them?”

Thomas looked off in the distance and thought for a minute. “I’ve never really thought of what’s in the carriage house from a cost standpoint, only a value standpoint. They’re watched over very well. I never worry.” Danbury tried to analyze exactly what Thomas meant, but would have to ponder those details at another time. “Are you the attorney that will be handling my father’s estate, as well?”

“Mrs. Crane and I haven’t discussed it. I assume your father had the family attorney on retainer for that. I am only here to assist in the matter that took place last night.”

“Ah, yes. ‘The matter’. I’ll leave the two of you to work out that situation. I’ll be in the apartment above the carriage house should you need me, though I doubt you will. It seems as though everything is under control.” And with that, Thomas walked casually back across the lawn, into the garage, right past the Porsche, the Mercedes, and the rug stained with several pints of Crane blood. So much for ‘thicker than water’ Danbury thought as he watched Thomas disappear.

“He’s taking it well,” Danbury said to Angela as she sipped her cocktail.

“As I said, they weren’t particularly close,” Angela replied.

Danbury jotted down a number of notes in the alligator skin covered portfolio he’d brought with him for the interview before continuing with a number of questions for his beautiful young client.

“What about the relationship between you and Thomas?  Are the two of you close?” Danbury asked Angela.

“More so than at first.  We have more in common than either of us did with his father.  The age thing I suppose.  I actually remember him from my high school days.  Always thought of him as a stud when he’d come back to visit.  Seems like fifty years ago,” she said.

“But really less than ten.” Danbury mentioned.

“Is that a question or a statement?” Angela asked.

“Just an observation.”  Danbury wasn’t going to get anywhere with that line of questioning and moved on to other things.  “We have to think about a trial.  The facts would indicate there is a reasonable chance you’ll be charged with your husband’s murder.  You’ve said it was self defense, but not offered up any indications that was really the case.”

“Would you like me to strip right here so you can see the signs of abuse?  Indications of a struggle?” she asked.

“Mrs. Crane, I get a sense your offer would bring you a great deal of pleasure, were I to accept it. Probably more than it would me, and that’s saying something. But such actions would only complicate a situation that is already quite complicated, and becoming more so by the minute,” Danbury admonished. Angela looked equally annoyed and disappointed. “We need to talk about your defense for when you’re charged for your husband’s murder .”

“Mr. Danbury, let me cut to the chase. As I’ve mentioned, my husband and I enjoyed a very complicated, unorthodox relationship. Besides the age difference, there were a great many facets of our marriage that might surprise you. There is no need to get into every one of those. At least not now. Suffice it to say, for the time being, that you have observed my husband’s appetite for the finer things life had to offer. The automobiles he collected were indicative of his quest for only the finest. Only the most beautiful. Only that which other men would covet. It is that desire that eventually led to his downfall.” Angela seemed prepared to delve into more of the personal affairs of the man who was laying in the cooler of Fort Stockton Memorial. Danbury got ready to write as fast as he could for whatever information she was about to provide.

“You see, I am no different than the shiny new Dual-Ghia you drove me home in.  Nothing separates me from the Mercedes 220 that Theodore drove.  In fact, I have much more in common with Thomas’ Porsche 356A than most people would recognize, at least at first glance,” Angela explained.  Danbury put down the pen so he could concentrate completely on the words, looking for the nuances he might miss if he was trying to capture all the details.

“I was acquired to be enjoyed.  To be shown off.  To be displayed,” Angela continued.  “Just like his carriage house full of exotic automobiles.  His faux plantation estate.  His collection of wine, cigars, and rare books.”  Angela swept her arm in front of her widely as she spoke slowly, indicating everything around them within view.  “Make no mistake, I was a willing participant in that agreement.  I did not go in blind.  In fact, I went in without reservations, as I suspect most young girls do who marry much older men who can provide them with everything they could ever want.  Or think it’s everything they want, anyway.”

“But . . .” Danbury prodded.

“But . . .” Angela continued, “Even the finest imported cigars can lead to lung disease.  The rarest, most sought after French wines will lead to alcoholism if enjoyed to excess.  Fast, exotic cars will kill you if you lose control of them while driving at high speeds they were never meant to endure for long periods of time.  Unlimited supplies of money creates unlimited ways to spend it.  Rare is the man who deems to use it for the betterment of his fellow man.  It is far easier to spend it seeing how much personal pleasure it can buy.”

“This is quickly turning into an essay of the sins of Man worthy of Thomas Payne rather than the outline for a defense for murder,” Danbury noted.

Oh, don’t misunderstand, Mr. Danbury. I am more than well enough aware of the sins of man and the wake they leave behind. My words are not a sermon.” Angela took a long sip from the crystal tumbler, as if punctuating the lesson with a visual aid. “My husband was probably well aware that his blessings would one day turn to excess. He may have even suspected that excess would come at a cost that would outweigh what he could pay, even with his millions.” The young, beautiful widow put the empty tumbler back on the table. She looked directly into Danbury’s eyes and held her gaze there for what seemed like a long time. “And sure enough.”

Danbury had never had a client as vexing, nor as bewildering as Angela Crane. He began to wonder whether the fee she was paying would be worth the possible damage to his psyche, the firm’s reputation, or his ability to defend her in court. “True as that all may be, Mrs. Crane, none of it constitutes an argument that is made to persuade a jury of your innocence, and that is why I am here.”

“No, Mr. Danbury,” she retorted quickly.  “You are here to ensure it never even goes to trial.  And I am completely confident I chose the right man to be sure it doesn’t”

Danbury felt like things were becoming more clear, but at an alarming slow pace.  He wished he could find the Auto-Focus button and have all of this make sense.  He hadn’t lost a big case since he came back to Fort Stockton to practice.  He darned sure didn’t want this to be the first, being the most high profile murder in decades.

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