said, his gentle mouth turning down in a frown.
Lindsey pulled her gaze from his lips and met his eyes. “What?”
“A scam like the one you’re talking about would take a lot of planning on Kenny’s part. I’m not sure he has it in him.”
She didn’t know Kenny Rawlins, but from the limited exposure she’d had to him, she was inclined to agree. “Okay. What if he didn’t hire the blonde? What if she was the brains behind the brawn? It would explain how they know each other. It might even explain that picture of her and Jeb. She could have been setting him up for murder.”
Bart tilted his head, as if weighing her arguments, then nodded. “I could see that.”
“All we have to do is show a connection between Kenny and the blonde. And dig up evidence showing means and opportunity.”
“A tall order.”
It was. And at this point, it was pure speculation. But if they could find something concrete—
The sound of knuckles rapping on wood cut off her thoughts. “Come in,” she called.
The door swung open and Paul Lambert popped his head inside. “Excuse me, Lindsey. I need a word with Bart.”
“Sure, Paul, come in.” She waved him inside.
Paul Lambert was a year or so shy of sixty. But with the touch of silver at his temples, his casual confidence and his friendly brown eyes, it was no wonder Dot down at the sandwich shop chatted about him incessantly, even though he was married. But more important to Lindsey than his looks or confident air was the aggressive way he’d recruited her right out of law school. As if he truly believed she was capable of becoming the lawyer she wanted to be.
Paul crossed the plush money-green carpet that covered all the floors at Lambert & Church and held out a hand to Bart.
Bart gave it a firm shake. “What’s up, Paul? You aren’t here to ask me if I want to sell the Four Aces again, are you?”
Paul grinned. “Naw. I gave up hope years ago.”
Lindsey glanced at Bart. “You aren’t thinking of selling, are you?”
Bart shook his head. “Not a chance. It’s kind of a joke. When my daddy signed over the ranch to me, not a day passed that Paul or Don didn’t ask me if I wanted to sell.”
“We weren’t that bad. But if you’ve reconsidered, I do have a client who might be interested.” Paul’s grin widened.
“You’d be the first to know. Unless Don beats you to it.”
“Speaking of Don, have you talked to him yet?” Paul’s grin subsided, his business demeanor taking over.
“Don? I can’t say I’ve seen him. Why?”
“Your uncle stipulated that your father be present for the reading of his will.”
Bart took a step backward, his surprise evident. “You sure about that?”
“Quite sure.”
Bart shook his head. His lips flattened into an ironic half smile. “When I was a kid, I used to hope my daddy and Jeb would work through their differences one day and bring the family back together. I should have known one of them would have to be dead for it to happen.”
“Do you think your father will be able to attend?”
“Daddy? Not a chance.”
Sympathy furrowed Paul’s brow. “I suppose his only brother’s death is something of a shock.”
“I’m sure it would be, if I’d told him.”
“You haven’t told your father?” Lindsey sat up in her chair, surprise riffling through her. “Why not?”
Bart looked at her, the sparkle in his green eyes muted by obvious pain. “He hasn’t been well.”
“I know he’s sick, but wouldn’t he want to—”
“He just lost Mama a year ago. He doesn’t need to know.”
Paul cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to him. “If you want to represent your father, I’m sure that would be in keeping with the spirit of the will.”
Bart shook his head. “I won’t be there, either.”
Lindsey bit her lip. Murder was usually committed for one of two reasons—love or money. Finding out to whom Jeb had left his possessions could serve to illuminate both his love life and his finances. “It might be a good idea to attend.”
“Jeb didn’t leave my daddy anything. And Daddy probably wouldn’t want me to accept it if he did.” Bart’s gaze bored into her, as if he was trying to make her understand. Or simply get her to back off.
She returned the eye contact. Despite his discomfort, she couldn’t back off. Not when so much was at stake. “But it might be interesting to see to whom Jeb did leave his possessions.”
Bart glanced at the floor and pushed a stream of air through tight lips as if he saw her point. “I’ll think about it.”
Paul gave Lindsey an approving nod before turning to Bart. “Don has scheduled the will reading for Tuesday, three in the afternoon.”
“That soon?” Lindsey asked.
Paul shrugged. “I know. It’s a little irregular. But it’s what Jeb wanted.” His attention riveted to the newspaper laying on Lindsey’s desk. To the photo of Jeb and the blonde. He looked away, the planes of his face hardening.
“Do you know her?” Lindsey asked.
“Who?”
“The woman in the photo with Jeb Rawlins?” She pointed to the paper.
Paul bent over her desk and studied the woman’s features. He lifted his shoulders in a stiff shrug. “Can’t say I do.” He looked up from the paper, careful not to meet Lindsey’s eyes.
An uneasy feeling skittered over her skin. Paul knew the woman. Lindsey would stake her career on it. But why would he lie? “I think she’s involved with Kenny in some way.”
Paul casually crooked a brow. “Hmm.”
“She was with him last night at Hit ’Em Again. We thought maybe she was involved with Kenny in some of his scams.”
He nodded but still didn’t meet Lindsey’s eyes. “Before I forget, Nancy wanted me to tell you she has the files you wanted.”
Lindsey nodded. The office administrator, Nancy Wilks, had promised to have an intern copy every file that had been subpoenaed by the prosecution to present to the grand jury. No doubt Lindsey had a late night ahead of her. “Thanks, Paul.”
Paul nodded, glanced at his watch and focused on Bart. “I have to run. I have a meeting. I hope
