Page 26 of A Little Discovery

He slowly opens one eye, and whatever he sees in the box makeshim open both and reach out for the contents of the jewelry box in a hurry. I have to tighten my hold on him to make sure he doesn’t fall, like the jewelry box does after he grabs whatever he needs from it. The items he grabs out don’t appear to be much, but by the way he’s clutching them to his chest, they are priceless to him.

CHAPTER 17

SPENCER

The address Alex gave me to meet the judge corresponds to a massive estate with a box that I can only assume is an intercom at the gate. When I pull up, I have no idea what to do. I wasn’t given any further instructions. There is not a button to press or anything. I don’t even see a place for a card or a code…

“State your name and purpose,” comes a voice from the speaker. They probably think I’m lost. Lord knows my seven year old Toyota is not the type of vehicle they are used to seeing.

“Uh,” I stutter for a moment before clearing my throat to start again. “My name is Spencer Wright and I’m here to see Judge Roberts.”

There is no response for what seems like forever, but the gate starts to open. Before I pull forward, the voice on the intercom gives me directions of where to park and where to go. Apparently, the judge is in the stables. Being a city boy from a solidly middle-class family, I am thoroughly lacking knowledge on which outbuilding is which, but luckily there are signs pointing the way.

When I round the corner in the path leading to the stables, according to the signs, I can see two older gentlemen having a conversation outside of the building. I slow my approach so as not to interrupt them, but one of the men waves me over as soon as he notices me.

“Mr. Wright, I presume?” he asks and looks delighted at my affirmation. Pointing to himself he introduces himself. “I am Judge Michael Roberts and this is Mr. Joseph Grable, Mr. Holloway’s grandfather. He isalsovery interested in what you have found out about Ms. Sinclair’s accusations and actions over the past year.”

I’m in the process of shaking the man’s hand when his name registers.

“Any relation to Eli Grable?” I ask and he jerks like he just got zapped by static electricity. His heavy gaze searches my face for something. Whatever it is, he apparently gets his answer then nods.

“Eli Hawthorne, you mean,” he says. “How do you know my son?”

“He’s one of my roommates, Sir,” I tell him and step back so that the judge isn’t excluded and we can get back on track. “I think I’m gonna have to have a conversation with him when I get back to the house about secrets, though. He never said anything about being related to Lucky, or one of the richest men on this continent for that matter.”

At that, the old man lets out a hearty laugh. “No, I’m sure he didn’t. Never cared about the money, that one. As for how he relates to my grandson, Elliot has been overprotective of Lucky his entire life, outside of the month or so he was jealous after me and his mama split up. He even wanted to give up his own inheritance to the boy when he found out the other night what that sorry excuse for a woman did to him. I had to tell the lawyers not to answer his calls until Monday.”

Here I was thinking that Eli was growing soft. I mean, yeah, hecancomfort a sub in distress, but he will usually pawn the joboff to a care giver type if possible. It usually takes him weeks, if not months, to open up to a new sub in the house. He has been taking the initiative and running interference for Lucky from the minute he saw him. It was out of character, so I was worried I had competition for my boy’s affections… Damn sadist...

“And here I was thinking it was just going to be another Sunday morning riding lesson for my grandson,” Judge Roberts says, clapping each of us on a shoulder. “Let’s take this discussion somewhere more private while the kiddo is distracted.”

Joe shrugs and leads the way toward what appears to be a small house. “We can use Jessie’s office while she’s giving Oscar his lesson.”

When we’re all seated in the office, Joe directs my attention to the wall of photographs behind him, specifically the ones showing a happy and smiling Lucky sitting up on the back of a horse as a child.

“Lucky was always the brightest sun here at the ranch,” he tells us. “That is, until his mother figured out that Jessie, my right-hand gal around here, is also a daughter of mine. Her mother was a night of grief sex after my father passed, which Nadine never forgave me for. I went through about a decade or so, sleeping around and heavy drinking. My Juliet got me the help I needed for my addictions, but Nadine never forgave me for fathering other kids and watering down her inheritance. Her mother kept her mostly in line, though, so the young ones were safe enough from her venom as they grew up.

“Unfortunately, Lucky suffered the worst for it. He was about twelve or thirteen when it was found out that I had one of my daughters working here around her perfectlegitimateson, and Nadine stopped bringing him out here. It was years before he set foot here again.

“Once he started college, he came back as often as he could without his mother finding out, but then that other one got her claws in him…

“I haven’t spoken to or seen my only grandson in over a year, not since that joke of a wedding reception. I know you just met him, but please tell me they didn’t take his smile.”

There is anguish in the old man’s voice, and his friend pats his arm in a comforting gesture. His eyes are pleading with me to give him good news, but I don’t know what to tell him. The only time I’ve seen Lucky really smile was the flash of relief at finding the watch and rings in that box.

“He hasn’t really had much to smile about since I’ve met him, Sir,” I tell him, trying to hedge as much as possible. “But he’s not broken. Not yet at least. I think he got away from her in time, though, based on what I managed to dig up over the past couple of days.”

“And that brings us to why we are here, sweating our balls off in this tiny office,” Judge Roberts cuts in. “You both alright with me recording this? Need it all legal and up and up for the judge taking over the criminal side of things.”

We nod as the man sets an old-fashioned pocket recorder, complete with miniature cassette, on the desk. At my look of surprise, he chuckles.

“It’s less likely to be accused of tampering in this form. Digital manipulation is a lot easier than splicing a cassette tape,” he explains before he presses the record button. “Today is August the twenty-second and the time is one twenty-seven in the afternoon. I, Judge Michael Roberts, am here with private investigator of record Spencer Wright to get his testimony regarding his investigations into Mr. Lucas AnthonyHolloway on behalf of Ms. Sabrina Carlisle and the subsequent investigation into Ms. Carlisle herself.

“Mr. Wright, do I have permission to record you for the duration of this conversation, understanding you have the right to revoke that consent at any time?”

“Yes,” I say. “I understand and give my consent to have this conversation recorded.”

The judge nods and turns back to the recorder. “Also present is Mr. Joseph Grable, grandfather of Mr. Holloway, as witness to the conversation held here today. Mr. Grable, do I have your consent to record you for the duration with the understanding you have the right to revoke your consent at any time?”

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