Barry took the folder, but didn’t open it. “Is it important that we have this?”
She shrugged. “My father’s attorney didn’t see anything wrong with giving you a copy. A few weeks ago, my father contacted his attorney about changing his will. It was finalized three days before he died. I didn’t know anything about it. When my father married Adeline, he changed his will so that, essentially, she and I would split his estate, plus a trust fund to keep open the library he helped rebuild and a few other bequests. Now, everything Adeline was going to receive has gone to me, including the house. He didn’t tell me. He didn’t tell Adeline—at least, that’s what she says.”
“You don’t believe her?” Barry asked.
“I don’t know.” Jolene rubbed her eyes. “She appeared shocked when the lawyers told us yesterday afternoon. Completely stunned. Scott doesn’t think she was faking it. But what if she knew he planned on cutting her out? What if she killed him?”
“It’s a serious accusation,” he said, “but there is no proof that she had anything to do with your father’s death. We’re still investigating his death as suspicious, but there is nothing that points to Adeline.”
Lucy wondered why Barry didn’t tell Jolene that they’d confirmed homicide.
“Elected officials get a pass all the time,” Jolene said bitterly. “On corruption, adultery, any number of things. When Uncle Roy was alive, he had these stories about people, both Republicans and Democrats, who were so corrupt in taking money for this and that and passing legislation to help their friends, and no one did anything about it. Aren’t you guys supposed to stop that?”
Barry said, “Are you referring to Roy Travertine, the former congressman?”
“Yes, I’d known him since I was born. I’ve always called him Uncle Roy, and his wife Aunt June. Uncle Roy was my daddy’s closest friend.”
Barry slid over the list of numbers. “We accessed the tablet you gave us. On it were a bunch of spreadsheets and this list of numbers. Do you know what this is?”
She studied them. “These are land tracts, these”—she pointed to a group in the middle with the same beginning numbers—“are in Bexar County, but the others are a variety of different counties. I don’t know which ones offhand.”
“Were these your father’s properties?”
“No. He only owns his house and a couple commercial buildings, including the HWI buildings here and in Dallas. Maybe this is related to one of his clients. Do you want me to run it through our system?”
“No—not yet. We’ll let you know if we need your help there, but we’re still pursuing a couple of angles. One other thing—we were going over your father’s schedule for the last month. He was in D.C. the first week of May. His office indicated that he was on vacation. He had a change of travel arrangements.”
Jolene seemed confused by the question. “I vaguely remember that. He went to D.C. with Adeline because she was being recognized at some award dinner. He really didn’t like going to D.C. Daddy was a homebody.” She smiled wistfully and looked out the window, lost in thought.
Lucy gently prodded. “He flew in a day early, to Dallas, not San Antonio.”
“Yeah—it was strange. Maybe—that was about the time he became preoccupied. I should have asked him more questions. Pushed him. Maybe I was too selfish to see that something was bothering him.”
“Maybe he hid it from you,” Lucy suggested. “Fathers do that when they don’t want their children to know something. My dad was in the hospital after a heart attack over Christmas, and none of us kids knew he had been having heart trouble because he and Mom didn’t want us to worry.”
Jolene nodded. “Maybe you’re right. My dad didn’t like me to worry about him.”
“On that weekend he was in Dallas, there was nothing on his calendar, but he didn’t return to San Antonio until the eleventh.”
“I really don’t remember. I wasn’t in Dallas with him. Our office manager, Beth Holloway, might know what he was doing. You’re welcome to contact her. Her information should be in the employee files Gregor sent over.”
Barry wrote down the information. “We’ll do that. One more thing—can you think of a friend or colleague of your father’s who has the initials G.A.?”
Jolene looked at the ceiling, her brows furrowed. “No,” she said slowly. “I can look through his personal files. It could be a client. HWI has hundreds of clients.”
“If you could, that would be great.”
“What does it mean?”
“We don’t know yet, but if you come up with a list, it would be helpful.”