Taylor relaxed fully into her chair. “A friend in the mayor’s office called and told me what happened to Asher.” The facade of strength never faltered, but emotion glittered in her eyes. “I knew a bad end was coming. It was only a matter of time. I warned him, but he was as stubborn as I am, so there was no stopping him from charging forward.”
Falco shot Kerri a look. “Can you explain what you mean, Ms. Taylor?”
“Let’s start with the fact that he was even in Birmingham. Do you think that young man came here after graduating at the top of his class at Harvard and then clerking for a Massachusetts Supreme Court justice because it was the best he could do? Please. The opportunities available to him were endless.”
“Did he come to Birmingham to be near you?” Kerri asked. The lady had no children or family remaining in the area as far as they had found. “You’re related to him in some way?”
“I suppose that played a small role in his decision.” One elbow propped on a chair arm, she clasped her hands together in her lap. “When he was a child—until he was fifteen—he came for a few weeks each summer. But then his father decided he didn’t really want anyone making the connection between the Walsh family and this one, so the visits became shorter and far less frequent.”
“Then you are related to him,” Kerri offered. “On his mother’s side?”
“His father would say not, but it’s true. Lana and I are sisters. When I was only two, our mother left my father and me. She moved to Boston to go to college. She was very young when she had me. Her greatest wish was to escape her southern heritage and pursue a different life. Eventually she married again and had another child, my sister, Lana—Asher’s mother. To make a long story short, I grew up here with my father, and Lana grew up in Boston. Our mother insisted we know each other, so she’d fly me up to Boston each summer. Lana and I kept in touch to some degree until our mother died. After that, not so much. We had very different pursuits. As my daddy often said, my little sister got my mother’s looks, but I got her brains. I became a law professor, and my sister found herself a rich husband. Her husband doesn’t like me. I’m certain I don’t meet his high standards.” She made a soft sound, a sort of laugh. “I suppose it’s only fair since I literally despise the bastard.”
Kerri bit her lip to hold back a smile at her bluntness.
“But they allowed Asher to visit you,” Falco noted.
“Only because they wanted to jet all over the world, and Asher, being quite the handful, made traveling difficult. Mother died before he was born, so there was no one else save nannies, and I don’t think they liked the idea of anyone knowing so much about their private lives. Asher was one to repeat every word he heard his parents say. It was quite a problem until the desire to have a car outweighed the boy’s need to annoy his parents.”
“He stayed in contact,” Kerri said, “even after he stopped visiting so often?”
“Not at first.” She sighed, a sad smile furrowing her face. “Hormones, you know. The teenage years are fraught with love and loss. But by the time he was in law school, he found his way to me again. I think he realized we were very much alike.”
“How so?” Kerri asked.
“Our determination. Our love of the law. Most of all, I think, was our distaste for the privileged class.”
“People with money,” Falco pointed out. “But his father is very wealthy, and he went to Harvard.”
“And his distaste grew. No one was more surprised than me when he chose to move south rather than join his father’s esteemed firm. Leland had been planning that moment since Asher was born.” She gave a small shrug. “Granted, I imagine his father was more surprised. In fact, I’m certain he was gobsmacked. I was quite overjoyed.”
Kerri steered the conversation back to the present. “Once he moved to Birmingham, did he spend a lot of time with you?”
“There’s a condo he leased, but he rarely stayed there. It was more for appearances, in my opinion. He spent most of his nights here. I knew there was trouble when he didn’t come home last night. I scarcely slept at all. I wanted to call him, but he’d asked me not to. He had an important meeting. He assured me he would explain everything today.”
Kerri’s instincts moved to the next level. As cooperative as this lady appeared, she knew the law. Obviously better than most. To go beyond the room she’d invited them into, they needed a warrant. Or her permission. She seemed all too happy to talk, but she might very well balk at anything more. Still, it never hurt to ask. “We were planning to visit his condo next. Perhaps that’s not where we need to start. May we see his room here?”
Ms. Taylor sat forward in her chair. She stared silently at Kerri for a long moment. “You do whatever you have to if it helps find who took Asher from me. He was a brilliant young man with a bright future ahead of him. More importantly, he was a good person. He wanted to help others and to rid the world of drugs—he was very antidrug—and other evils. Truth is, Detectives, he was too good for this world.” She stood. “His room is on the right at the end of the upstairs hall. I’ll make tea.”
Falco followed the lady from the room. “Is there any way I can help?”
“No. No. You go along and do your job, Detective. I’ve been making tea since I was old enough to light the stove.”
Kerri climbed the steep stairs slowly, studying the framed family photographs. There were several of Walsh when he was a kid but only one of Lana, his mother. The photo appeared to be thirty or so years old. Lana and Naomi stood in front of some historic building that was obviously not in Alabama. By the time Kerri reached the landing, Falco had caught up with her. The house appeared to be trapped in its last update. The seventies, she decided, considering the owl accents and geometric shapes and patterns in some of the paintings. No recent upgrades or decorating.
“You think there’s any chance the lady actually knows what Walsh was doing with Kurtz?” Falco asked.
“I have a feeling she knows a great deal, but like any good lawyer, she’s not going to tell us anything before it’s necessary.”
There were four doors along the narrow hall. The first on the right was a pink bedroom with lots of lacy curtains and shabby chic linens. The gold shag carpet screamed more of that seventies vibe. The perfume bottles on the dresser suggested it belonged to the lady of the house. The next door was a large vintage bathroom complete with a massive soaking tub. Across from the bathroom was a second bedroom. This one dark and masculine with heavy antique wood furnishings, including a four-poster bed. The musty, closed-up smell was indication enough that it had likely belonged to Naomi’s father.
The final door led into the largest of the bedrooms. Across the room a door to an en suite stood ajar. An open set of bifold doors displayed shirts and suits and a few pairs of jeans. Though still dated, the furniture was newer than the other furnishings in the house. This was likely the room Walsh had used when he’d visited growing up as well as since moving to Birmingham. This space was another indication of how much Naomi Taylor adored her nephew. She’d given him what was obviously the owner’s suite.
Falco opened a dresser drawer. “Looks like Mr. Walsh was as organized at home as he was at work.”