The probate court was located in a building not unlike any other building in Verdenier. That is, it was a very old building that now served multiple purposes. Once the Verdenier Opera House, its only ties to that once-lofty position were a set of now-defunct footlights, encased in a glass display in the lobby, with a card denoting such as "once having lit Beverly Sills.” Since its demise in the late seventies, the large building’s many functions now included, but were not limited to, the following: soup kitchen, polling place, severe weather shelter, Office of the County Clerk, Office of the Verdenier Chamber of Commerce, book drive drop-off location, bail bondsman, charity auction site, and Community Theater.
The receptionist at the desk was a young man of about twenty-three with eyes that positively glowed beneath a scruff of dirty blonde hair. Allie drew a breath upon seeing him and tried to mentally chase away all of Del's jokes about "liking them fresh out of high school."
"Hi there," she said, staring into those perfect eyes. "I was wondering if you could possibly help me. I'm looking for information about a will."
"Ok," said the eyes, "what kind of information you need?"
Distracted, she closed her own eyes while speaking. "I need to know who left what to whom and when, and, like, how does the process work?"
The man nodded. "Well, it starts with an executor. Or if an executor hasn’t been named, an estate administrator."
"Ok."
"That's the person in possession of the will. When someone dies, the administrator delivers the will to the court."
"Ok."
There was an uncomfortable silence. The young man blew a strand of hair out of his eyes and Allie closed hers again.
"Um, ok, so if a woman died, how do I find out who the administrator is?"
"You come to me."
"That is
so
wonderful," she said, immediately feeling the hot rush of blood to the face that can only come from inappropriate responses to a blonde twenty-three year old.
Come on, Allie, get a grip. You could be his mother. Almost.
"Yeah," said the young man. "It is, isn’t it?"
"What I meant was, I'm here to find out just that."
"Ok, give me a sec." He fiddled with his keyboard and mouse and asked her to forgive him for the fact that the court computers were slow today. And Allie waited, and stared.
"The decedent's name?"
"Hmm?"
"The name of the deceased?"
"Oh, Tori. Last name Cardinal. Like the fish."
The young man paused and looked up.
"The bird," said Allie, feeling the rush once again.
"Victoria?"
"Bingo was her name-o!" Rush.
"Oo-Kay. Here we are. Just to let you know, all bequests are held in confidence."
"I understand."
"And the estate administrator...looks like...here we are..."
"Jill Metzger?" screamed Del.
The two were wandering the stacks of the library.
"Say it a little louder."
"Get out," whispered Del, hitting her friend on the arm.
"Stop that! That hurts."
"Jill. Metzger."
"Our Jill."
"That honey-spiking harlot!"
"Yup."
"She's the estate administrator for Tori Cardinal."
"Apparently so."
Del shook her head in disbelief. "How?"
"The two were apparently tight I guess."
"It makes no sense."
"It does when you consider that the probate court guy—his name was Bryant, by the way, Bryant with a t, and he was gorgeous —Bryant said that Tori Cardinal had no next of kin."
"So, I still don’t get it. She and Jill were BFFs then?"
"Yeah. Or at least she trusted Jill."
Del stared ahead at the spines of Westerns. "This is very interesting."
"You think?" Allie said sarcastically. "Jill knew something about that will. So, let's review. She learns something about the will. Something Tori is leaving to someone somewhere. She offs Tori soon after."
Del continued staring at the spines. "Um. Those two don’t really connect."
"They don't."
"You have to find out what she left."
"I will. But right now I have a date."
Del finally looked over at her. "Pardon?"
"You heard me."
"Anyone I know?"
"His name is Bryant. With a t."
The other girl burst out into raucous laughter.
"Shut up," said Allie, trying to suppress laughter that forced itself out through her whispers. "This is a library!"
"Cradle robber."
"It's just dinner."
"Cradle robber."
"He's a cutie."
"Whatever. Be sure he's back in time to finish his homework."
"Alright. This conversation's over. I have to go get ready."
"I'll call you later," said Del, walking toward the exit.
Allie called after her. "He's twenty-six, by the way."
Del held up a hand without looking back. And Allie smiled.
"Let's talk motive."
"Go on." Del took a spoonful of Ben & Jerry's Salted Caramel Core and handed the tub over to Allie, who took a spoonful of her own and teased it with her lips thoughtfully.
"We have Tori insulting the war widows. Then we have Jill and her fighting over it. This causes a scene, blah blah."
"Check. So far, so good." Del was digging at the solid core of caramel that didn't seem to want to dislodge for anyone.
"We have Jill as the estate administrator for Tori Cardinal. And we know she benefitted from Tori's death."
Del held up her hand. "Wait, hold on, back it up a sec. What? How'd you find that out?"
Allie couldn’t suppress the smile.
"You didn’t."
"It slipped out."
"That poor little boy."
"He's twenty-six. And all I said was, 'I forgot what you said. The estate administrator received how much from the estate?' It was a Hail Mary moment, but it worked. He said, 'That's confidential.' And I said, 'I thought you said she received a stipend from the estate.' And he said, 'She did, but I can't tell you how much.' And that was that. And we went out on our date and had a wonderful time and he gave me a peck on the cheek and that was it."
"How adorable. His folks probably gave him a curfew, right?"
"That's enough. Now, where was I? Ah yes. Jill had to have benefitted somewhat from Tori's death in that a substantial amount was given to charity. Jill and her sister are the only professional fundraisers in Verdenier. And, as you are probably well aware, they do get performance-based compensation."
"I was not aware."
"Well they do. I'd say getting a very rich woman to leave your non-profit organization a healthy sum in her will counts as a pretty good job performance."
She stood up with her spoon of ice cream and nibbled at it while she paced her bedroom.
"Now, hatred is enough to motivate someone to kill, as are the forces that bury the hatred until it builds and builds and explodes as a result of insult. But what about this estate administration business?"
"What about it?"
"She knew she would indirectly benefit from Tori's death. So why expedite it?"
Del shrugged, still digging at the core. "Impatience?"
"Yes, but why so impatient?"
Del withdrew the empty spoon and pointed it at her friend. "She was skimming off the charities and needed the money to cover it."
Allie shook her head. "Too risky. I mean, money is the first lead anyone follows. But she has to submit records to the state, which forbids taking a portion of donations as compensation. There are too many checks and balances." She turned, and her half-melted spoonful of ice cream plopped onto the carpet. "Damn it all! Napkin, please." She bent down to clean it. "I'm going to get ants..."
She stopped cleaning and looked at Del.
"What?" Del asked.
"Ants!"
"Yeah, you’ll probably get 'em."
"No! Dead ants in my living room! We have to check my carpet for traces of cyanide."
Del smiled. "Very good, Holmes."
"Ok then, we'll have one more clue that points to Jill. Now where was I?"
"Motive, money, checks and balances..."
"Right. And she didn’t need the money right away. I mean, they aren’t exactly poor." Allie bit her lip. "Unless she
did
need it."
"In what way?"
"Tell me. When do you want something the most?"
"When it's taken away."
"When it's
about
to be taken away. What if that fight provoked something? A threat. Like Tori saying she'd cut the charity out of the will. By most accounts, she was vindictive enough to do something like that."
"But would Jill kill her on the basis of a threat?"
"Probably not. She'd have to have some evidence that another will was being prepared."
"Her lawyer would have it."
"Then we’d have it. He would have turned it over the moment he heard of her death. No, she was—Del!"
"Oh my God! What?" her friend mocked.
"What did you just ask me?"
"Uh...uh, I don’t know!"
"You just asked me if Jill would kill on the basis of a threat!"
"Ok! So what!"
She took her friend by the shoulders. "Tori had a lawyer at her beck and call twenty-four seven. There was no such thing as an idle threat in that case. Why else would she have been in the town for the weekend instead of in New York City? To see her lawyer! To deliver an amended will!"
"Then why wasn't she with
him
instead of at your stupid book club?"
"I'll club
you
! I don’t know. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he had the flu. Maybe he had appointments in the morning and was booked until the afternoon and Tori needed time to kill, pardon the phrase. Point is, she was here. And she was here because she had to change her will."
"I think I'm buying this."
"Of course you are. It's obvious she didn’t have a copy of the will on hand. Maybe she was going to work on it. We have to find it."
"Maybe it's in the croquet mallets."
"What croquet mallets? Wait. Are you making fun of me?"
"Yes. But I do believe you about the threat of changing the will. All we gotta do is find it. Shouldn’t be too hard. Somewhere in the town of Verdenier is a legally binding piece of paper that only one, possibly two people knew about. It's probably hidden somewhere. Maybe a safe-deposit box. No worries, it oughta stick out like a sore thumb. Piece o' cake. Oh, and don’t forget, our friend Jill Metzger had to have access to a lethal quantity of cyanide. You'll have to find that source as well."
Allie's shoulders dropped, and the energy drained out of her. She went over to retrieve the ice cream. It was melted. The solid caramel core was still solid, Del's spoon sticking out of it like a garden stake.
She looked at her friend. "You really know how to deflate a girl, you know that?"