Page 73 of The Attercop

“You’re a life-saver, Emily. Truly. Thank you so much.”

Mrs B disconnected. She had no sooner hung up the phone when the chirp of the door alarm indicated a visitor. Mrs B pulled a small vanity bag out of her purse and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. She had just finished tidying her hair up when the door opened.

Mrs B smiled broadly. “Harold. So nice of you to come over.”

Harold Vanstone made his way to her desk. He reached for her hand, and gave it a kiss. “I could tell you that I came over here to avoid having my office manager question me as to why I’m doing a property search when it’s clearly a clerk’s job, but that would be a lie. I came over because I like seeing you.”

“Likewise,” Mrs B said.

“Before I forget, I have some information on Charlie’s legal case.”

“Good news, I hope,” she said.

“The plaintiff’s lawyer has asked for a few more days. They are waffling. I can almost guarantee that they’ll fold. Obviously, they’ve realised that Harold Vanstone J.D. LL.B. is not a man to be toyed with.”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “Indeed.”

“Now, shall we get to work on your land title search?”

She nodded. “Thank you, Harold. You’ve always been so good to me. Here are the addresses.”

“Two of them?”

“The second one was a last-minute addition.”

Mrs B gave up her chair to the lawyer.

“Well, hello there,” Harold said to Duck, who had remained under the desk. Without coaxing, the dog left his spot and silently moved over to Mrs B. “I see we’re on better terms today,” he said. “No growls.”

The dog stayed where he was, watching from a distance.

Harold plugged in his credentials to the land titles search. In no time at all, he had information on the first address, which was owned by a numbered company. He rattled off the number. Mrs B frowned. It was the same numbered company that the account manager at the bank had indicated had paid for Jules’ security. Joan didn’t have to check—she had an excellent memory when it came to numbers.

The second property, the one that Charlie had been led to believe was Jules and her father’s residence, was eerily listed as being owned by the very same company.

“Harold,” she asked coyly, “are you able to identify the owners of that numbered company?”

He laughed. “For you, I could look up the shoe size of the Prime Minister, if that’s what you needed.”

She watched as his fingers flew across the keyboard, taking them to another government site. “What was that number?” he asked.

Mrs B rhymed it off by memory.

He looked up at her. “Is a corporate name sufficient?”

“I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

He leaned in toward the monitor. “Both properties are owned by a Monarch Holdings.”

Mrs B immediately recognised the name. She took a deep breath.

He frowned. “What we found out, Joan…it’s serious, isn’t it?”

She took his hands in hers. “Lives are at stake, Harold.”

“Do you want me to stay? I would if it would make you feel safer.”

“I appreciate it, but there’s no need to involve you in this. But when this is all over, we should do dinner…my treat—for everything you’ve done.”