“I needed Mel at home.”
“So both of you could watch the flowers grow?” Ralph threw back his head and laughed. “Ah hell!” He reached out in extreme frustration sending a pile of glossy magazines flying. “You’re the big shot lawyer, Conroy, what’s your advice?”
“Nice of you to ask me, Ralph. The will would only be invalid if your father had been of unsound mind when he made it,” Jude pointed out in a deceptively calm voice. “As far as I know there wouldn’t be a soul around who could prove he was. Your mother has rights by law, family home, etc. In that regard, she’s been provided for. You and Mel don’t actually have rights as such, Ralph. Your father was free to do as he liked with his money. You and Mel have been provided for. In terrorem means in layman’s language if any of you contest the will you’ll get nothing.”
Ralph executed a full turn, swearing violently. He slammed his fist down on the mahogany coffee table, the steam of anger rising off him. “What if the old devil was insane? What if this girl had him wound around her little finger? What if she bamboozled him into making the will in her favour? I wish I knew where she came from.”
That makes two of us Jude thought. “You could contest the will on that basis, Ralph,” he offered a legal opinion, actually feeling sorry for the guy. “Work the duress angle. But I’m duty-bound to tell you legal proceedings could risk your inheritance. What’s more, your mother has first claim on the estate. If you wanted to fight it your mother has to initiate the action. She could lose. That would be a terrible result. What I have to do is meet with this young woman and establish the connection.”
“Even your dad, that honourable man, betrayed us.” Ralph looked across at Jude with open hostility.
Jude’s whole body tensed. “Don’t bring my father into this, Ralph. You’d better know right now I won’t stand for it. My father carried out your father’s wishes.”
“Shame on you, Ralph.” Melinda’s soft voice turned shrill with rebuke. “You know the respect Dad had for Mr Conroy. Dad was always interested in Jude, too. Dad put a lot of store in brains.”
“You were behind the door when they were handed out,” Ralph taunted his sister. He turned his glance back on Jude. “I bet your dad told you all about it.”
“I’ve got a couple of things to say, Ralph.” Jude, who’d had just about enough of Ralph even given the years in-between, looked at him out of steely eyes. “Mel was actually considered a good student, remember? She got good grades.” He never added “unlike you” but it hung in the air. “My father said nothing whatever to me.” Jude stood up, quietly returning the time bomb of a will to his briefcase before snapping it shut. “It’s called lawyer-client privilege. My father was absolutely clear about his role. I’m very sorry, believe me, your father’s will wasn’t what you all wanted, and confidently expected. As your father’s executor I have to pay Ms Costello a visit.”
“Just be sure you report back to us straight away,” Ralph threw up his big head belligerently.
“I’m not your lawyer, Ralph,” Jude pointed out. “I act as executor for your late father’s estate.” He turned to Myra, his hand out, a sympathetic smile in his eyes. “As a family friend, Mrs Rogan, if you do wish to retain me I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”
Myra stood up, still holding his hand. “Thank you so much, Jude. We do need your help. My boy needs help. I can’t take all this in. Everything has been such a shock.”
“I can appreciate that, Mrs Rogan.” And how!
“I’ll walk you to the door, Jude,” Melinda offered catching hold of Jude’s arm. “I’m so glad you’re here for us. I guess we’ll find out soon enough what this Catherine Costello was to Dad.”
What indeed! Jude felt all kinds of horrors creep along his skin. He and Cate Costello were strangers though they had spoken briefly. Nevertheless he wasn’t sure he could deal with the possibility she might have been Lester Rogan’s mistress. It wasn’t as though such things didn’t happen. Rich powerful men, even geriatrics as Ralph had suggested, didn’t have much of a problem picking up female trophies. But how could a young woman so beautiful and seemingly so refined as Cate Costello be part of anything so totally ugly? The very idea didn’t so much disgust as numb him. Life was so complicated. He doubted he would ever reach a period in life when it wasn’t.
CHAPTER THREE
HE DIDN’T mean to deal with the issue today. He wanted time to think about the whole situation at least overnight.
He went home. Jude focused his gaze on the high beach road that was the quickest route to his house at Spirit Cove some three miles from the Rogan mansion. The narrow road, divided by a white line down the middle, clung on one side to the glorious blue ocean; on the other, beyond an open space of lush tropical vegetation were the plantations; sugar cane, banana, mango, pineapple, avocado, new species of tropical fruits some of which he’d never even tasted.
The town had grown, extending much further south along the coast road and up the low indigo hills of the hinterland. The hills, tropical rain forests, were full of beautiful birds, gorgeous parrots, and plants. There were tree dwelling orchids, the dendrobium, the state flower of Queensland, spider orchids, angel orchids, terrestrial orchids, the extraordinary bromeliads with their vividly coloured centre leaves. He knew all those hills. He had explored them as a boy.
The golden disc of the sun was hot and brilliant. There was a bluish haze over the water. Blue water all around, glittering as if a billion metallic sequins had been cast on the rolling surface. Blue sky above. This was the tropics. Ineffable gold and blue.
He’d lowered the passenger window so the sea breeze could waft in. It bore the fragrance of sea water and salt mingled with the tropical fruits that grew nearby and the delicious scent of flowers. The lovely frangipani that grew everywhere in profusion, the common cream-yellow-centred flowers and nowadays almost as many pink and red. There were frangipanis twenty feet high in his home garden and the scent when they were in flower was so exquisitely heady as to be near unbearable. The frangipani were as ubiquitous as the indestructible oleanders of many colours that massed in great numbers around the cove where he was heading.
As he drove he could see draped over every fence and outbuilding a spectacular array of flowering vines; golden trumpets blazing away, the flashy Morning Glory, jasmines in flower all year round, allamandas and black-eyed Susans, the flame vines and the giant solandras. One had to be very careful planting vines in the tropics. They had a habit of running rampant, in no time at all turning into impenetrable jungle.
At least the lush beauty all around him was calming his thoughts. They’d been heading off in all directions, mostly centred on the mystery woman, Cate Costello. She’d fooled him with her clear direct gaze.
He couldn’t bear to think of her as Lester Rogan’s mistress. For that matter he couldn’t bear to think of any man’s hands on her which didn’t exactly make sense. He didn’t even know her. Was it possible there was a biological tie to Rogan? There was no evidence of it in her appearance. She bore no physical resemblance whatsoever to him—no single feature, eyes, mouth, nose, chin let alone the hair colour. Could she possibly be Rogan’s long-lost illegitimate daughter? She’d told him she didn’t know the family. She’d lied. She definitely knew Lester Rogan. That was a bad start.
He remembered those beautiful eyes, their cool green colour emphasized by her delicate dark brows and thick eyelashes, startling given the copper hair. Maybe that cascade of glowing silk was dyed? Women changed
