Free Lou Mason Mystery 03-Cold Truth by Joel Goldman Page B

get out of her contract with you?"
    "What if she was? What's that got to do with any of this?" Arthur asked.
    "It's the story line in Jordan's confession, that's all," Mason said. "Dr. Gina threatened to cut off Jordan's treatment if you didn't let her out of her contract. You didn't think the good doctor was that bad, but she was. Last Friday, Gina told Jordan good-bye and why. Jordan didn't take it well and threw a brass paperweight at the window, leaving a nice long crack. After spending the weekend thinking it over—what the prosecutor calls premeditating—she called Dr. Gina and arranged to meet her Monday night so she could throw Gina out the window."
    Arthur Hackett stood behind his desk chair, shielding himself from Mason's explanation. He folded his arms over the back of the chair, pulling it toward him, backing up until he slumped against the credenza along the wall.
    "My God," he whispered, the enormity of Mason's description beginning to take hold. "I didn't think she would do it."
    "Do what?" Mason asked.
    "Both of them. Everything," Arthur said. "Gina had lost her own daughter. The poor girl killed herself. I never dreamt she would abandon Jordan over money. That's what it was all about—just money."
    "And your daughter?"
    Arthur shook his head. "Jordan has a temper," he said. "That's a little like saying a volcano makes smoke. But I always believed she could control herself if she wanted to."
    Mason asked, "Is Jordan adopted?"
    Arthur Hackett came out of his slump, raising his eyebrows. "Why do you ask?"
    "There may be another angle to this. Was she adopted?"
    Arthur pushed his desk chair away and stared out the window for a moment. "Yes. Trent's birth was very difficult. Carol couldn't have more children afterward. She didn't want another baby, but I did. We were living in St. Louis at the time. I was selling advertising for radio, just getting started in this business. Some young girl got herself pregnant and we adopted her baby." He shook his head, "We didn't know anything about the mother," he added as if that was a curse.
    "You didn't like that?" Mason asked.
    Hackett squared his shoulders. He was shorter than Mason, but broader, more full than fit, but powerful enough to throw Gina Davenport through the window.
    "I like to know what I'm getting, that's all," Hackett said. "When Jordan started having so many problems, all I could think about was the mother—was she like that?"
    "Did you ever try to find Jordan's birth mother?"
    "No. We asked Gina if we should look for the mother in case she had a history of psychological problems. Gina said it wouldn't matter, that we had to deal with Jordan, not her mother."
    "Do you have Gina's home phone number?"
    "Of course, but don't expect much help from Robert—that's her husband."
    "Why not?" Mason asked, though he was more interested in whether the number matched the one Abby had called.
    "He's a painter, teaches at the Kansas City Art Institute."
    "That's okay with me," Mason said. "I never got past paint-by-numbers."
    "He's a drug addict," Arthur said. "Cocaine. Gina couldn't do anything with him. He was in and out of treatment centers all over the country. Cocaine is an expensive way to kill yourself." Arthur wrote the number on a slip of paper and handed it to Mason. "It's unlisted, but I guess that doesn't matter so much anymore."
    Mason looked at the number. It didn't match Abby's. He was zero for three. "Do you recognize this phone number?" Mason asked Arthur as he wrote the number Abby had given him on the same paper.
    "Where did you get this number?" Arthur asked, a tremor rippling through him.
    "That's confidential for the moment. Whose number is it?"
    "It's Jordan's cell-phone number. What's going on here, Mason? I'm paying you and I want to know."
    Mason said, "I don't know. When I find out, I'll tell you if I can."
    "You'll by God tell me period!" Hackett told him, pounding his desk with a fury, making Mason wonder whether Jordan's temper was the