Miles Burton held a thick document in his hands. “I regret deeply the occasion that has brought all of us together. Godfrey Priest was my client for many years, and I wish he could have been with all of us for many more.” He glanced down at the papers he held. “But it is now my duty to share with his beneficiaries the terms of his will. Godfrey changed his will recently because of the knowledge that he had a son.
“He was thrilled with the knowledge, and I also deeply regret that he had such a short time with this young man. I know how excited Godfrey was to meet him for the first time.” He smiled at Justin, who ducked his head. Diesel rubbed his head against the boy’s cheek.
“I will spare you all the unnecessary details of a testament such as this. You must realize that, in the case of such a large estate, there are many details that have to be considered. Those, however, are of little concern to you at the moment.
“There are a number of relatively small bequests to which I will return in a few minutes. The important point is that Godfrey stipulated that these small requests should be paid first, and the remainder of the estate would be divided as follows:
“‘To my biological son, known as Justin Henry Wardlaw, I leave two-thirds of my estate;
“‘To my half brother, Richard Horace Tackett Jr., I leave the remaining third of my estate.’”
Burton paused, as if to gauge the impact of his words. In front of me, I could see Rick Tackett’s shoulders relax and his head go down. I thought I could hear him muttering a prayer of thanks.
Julia’s eyes glittered with triumph, and her smile was wide. Justin stared at the lawyer, as if he found it difficult to understand what the man had said.
“What are we talking about, in real terms?” Julia surprised me by the obvious note of greed in her voice.
Miles Burton eyed her with what I presumed to be slight distaste. “A conservative estimate of your son’s share, Mrs. Wardlaw, would be something in the range of seventy million dollars.”
Justin’s mouth dropped open, and even Julia appeared thunderstruck. She had obviously never realized how rich Godfrey was.
Burton turned to Rick Tackett. “And that means Mr. Tackett’s share would approach thirty-five million.”
“I can’t believe it,” Rick said. “After all these years of ignoring me, why now?” He kept shaking his head.
“Godfrey made no explanation,” Burton said.
“It was his way of saying he was sorry, probably,” Andrea Ferris said. “He was like that. He always thought money could excuse anything.”
“What about me?” Willie Clark startled everyone. “What did he say about me?”
Burton frowned as he consulted Godfrey’s will.
“To my high school friend, William Ebenezer Clark, I leave the sum of one million dollars and my grateful thanks for his friendship over the years.”
I waited for the eruption, and it came almost immediately.
“That’s all? That’s all he had to say?” Willie was screaming. He leaped out of his chair and tried to snatch the will from Burton.
Kanesha stepped forward and put herself between Willie and the lawyer. “Sit down, Mr. Clark. Now.”
Willie backed away, but he was still furious. His face was so red, he looked like he was going to have a stroke any moment now.
“That cheating bastard, I can’t believe he did this to me. Even dead he’s screwing me.”
“What are you talking about?” Andrea Ferris glared at Willie. “I don’t think a million bucks is anything to feel bad about.”
“You stupid cow,” Willie said. “I wrote the freaking books, not Godfrey.”
THIRTY-TWO
There was dead silence for a moment. Andrea Ferris jumped up from the sofa, the outrage plain in her face.
“You are totally nuts, you little creep.” For a moment I thought she was going to crawl over the coffee table to get to Willie. “I was Godfrey’s agent, and I know damn well he wrote those books.”
“Shows how much you know, you ignorant bitch,” Willie said, not in the least cowed by Andrea’s response. “I have proof that I wrote the books. Godfrey always said you knew, but I guess he didn’t trust you enough to tell you the truth.”
“What kind of proof?” Andrea sounded a little less certain now. “You’re damn well going to have to prove it.”
“Well, for one thing,” Willie said in a smug tone, “I can give you a copy of the manuscript for the book that’s coming out next September. How do you think I’d have a copy of it if I didn’t write it?”
“Godfrey could have asked you to read it for some reason,” Andrea said. “It’s set here in Mississippi again, and he could have asked you to do some fact-checking for him.”
During this exchange I had been trying to get Kanesha’s attention, but she steadfastly ignored me. She was intent on the argument between Willie and Andrea.
Willie laughed. “You can argue all you like, woman. It’s not going to change anything. I wrote those books, and I have proof. I have a contract with Godfrey.”
“You can produce this contract?” Miles Burton frowned. “This is a serious allegation, you understand. I’m not certain what the ramifications will be, because Godfrey assigned his copyrights to his son.”
Willie howled in rage and made a move toward the lawyer. Kanesha, who was still standing between Willie and Burton, held a hand up in front of Willie’s face. “Calm down. Now. Or I will have you taken out of here. You understand?”
Faced with Kanesha’s commanding tone and stance, Willie backed down. He resumed his seat, and I could feel the tension in the room drop a little.
“I can and will produce the contract,” Willie said. “We will discuss it later, you can be damn sure.”
Kanesha stepped to one side of the lawyer, but her gaze remained fixed on Willie.
For a moment there was silence, and in that brief interval I heard a car pull up in front of my house. I got up and went to the window. The curtains were open, but I had to pull aside the sheers in order to see clearly.
There were two sheriff’s department cars in front of my house. I glanced toward Kanesha, and she was watching me. She inclined her head a fraction, and I went back to my chair, thinking hard. She was going to arrest someone in my house. My heart started beating faster. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea.
Burton resumed announcing the contents of Godfrey’s will. “There is a bequest of five million dollars to Athena College, and of that amount two hundred and fifty-thousand dollars is to be used for the processing and preservation of the papers he is donating to the school.” Burton glanced at me.
“I’m sure our president and trustees will be delighted,” I said. Godfrey had obviously made his plans for the archive before he ever consulted me. He came to me simply to talk about Justin, and I could understand that.
“There are bequests to a few charities,” Burton said. “And that is it.”
“How soon will my son actually be able to receive his bequest?” Julia leaned forward on the sofa, watching Burton like a proverbial hawk.
“The will must go through probate, naturally. There is also the investigation into Godfrey’s death,” Burton said. “Until that is concluded, nothing much can happen. And now there is an additional issue to consider, the true authorship of the novels that bear my client’s name. I really cannot say how that will affect the disposition of Godfrey’s estate.”
“What does the investigation have to do with it?” Rick Tackett asked. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“In Mississippi,” Kanesha said, “murderers are not allowed to profit from their crimes. If one of the beneficiaries in the will is found guilty of Mr. Priest’s murder, he or she will not inherit.”
“Is this true?” Julia looked right at Miles Burton.
“I’m sure Deputy Berry knows this particular statute better than I,” Burton said. “Since the crime occurred here, that law would obviously be in effect.”
Julia now directed her gaze at Willie Clark. I had been watching her in fascination, seeing a side of her that I hadn’t expected to see. She was far more avaricious than I would have guessed, judging by her behavior these last few minutes.
Julia pointed across the coffee table to Willie. “I think you have a pretty darn good motive. Plus, I know you were in the hotel that afternoon.”
“Me? You’re nuts, Julia.” Willie’s voice came out in a squeak.
“I saw you,” Julia said. “In the revolving door as I was leaving.” She sat back and crossed her arms across her chest. Her smile was grim.
Willie laughed, startling us all. “Yes, I was there. I went to see Godfrey to talk about the new book. Not the one that’s coming out next year, the one after that.”
“And you got into a fight and bashed him over the head.” Julia nodded. “I can see it now.”
I looked to Kanesha to intervene, but she didn’t. She simply stood there and watched.
“Well, I saw you too, Julia.” Willie did not appear in the least perturbed by Julia’s accusation. “But you’ve got it backward. I was in the revolving door with you, but I was the one leaving, not you. I saw Godfrey around two-thirty, after waiting for him almost twenty minutes. He was upset about something when I finally did get in to see him, and he said we’d have to talk later. By then I couldn’t really hang around any longer either. I was due back on the reference desk at three. One of my staff called in sick that morning, and I had to take his stint at the desk.”
“The reference desk?” Julia had paled.
“Yep,” Willie said. “At three, and in full view of plenty of people for two hours, because I manned the desk until five. Then I had a meeting with the chair of the history department, and I was with him until nearly six.”
It appeared that Willie had a pretty good alibi for Godfrey’s murder. Based on what Julia had told me, it was nearly three when she left Godfrey. That statement lent credence to Willie’s assertion.
But if she had lied about when she saw Willie, had she lied about anything else?
Kanesha broke the tense silence that had fallen. “I have to ask you, Mrs. Wardlaw, if you would like to revise what you told me earlier. Is Mr. Clark correct? Did you see him as you were
entering
the hotel?”
“Perhaps I got it wrong, and I did see Willie as I was entering,” Julia said. “But he could have come back later and killed Godfrey.”
“I most certainly did not,” Willie said. “After I finished the meeting with the head of the history department, I walked over to the patisserie for something to eat, and then I went to the bookstore for a poetry reading. I didn’t have time to go to the hotel and kill anybody.”
All eyes appeared to be on Julia now. Except for Justin’s. He had his head against Diesel, hugging the cat closely to him.
“Mrs. Wardlaw, refresh my memory. What was it you did after you left the hotel and your interview with Mr. Priest?” Kanesha took a step closer to the sofa.
Julia watched Kanesha, the unease evident in her face. “I went to the bank to deposit a check Godfrey had given me. Then I went to the hospital. I got there in time for the shift change, a little after three.”
“Were you given a receipt for your deposit, Mrs. Wardlaw?”
What was going on here? From Kanesha’s demeanor I began to wonder if she had decided Julia was the murderer. My stomach began to knot up in distress.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Julia said, shrugging. “Don’t they always give you one?”
“They’re supposed to,” Kanesha said. “And generally those receipts record the time of the deposit. Were you aware of that, Mrs. Wardlaw?”
The relentless use of
Mrs. Wardlaw
was like a nail being slowly hammered into a coffin.
Julia stared at the deputy but didn’t respond. It was clear that she had never given a second thought to the time stamp on her bank receipt.
“I believe also that the bank is open until six P.M. during the week,” Kanesha said. “I can of course check with the bank, and I will, to determine at what time you made your deposit, Mrs. Wardlaw. I have already spoken with hospital personnel in order to verify your whereabouts.”
Kanesha paused, but there was only the sound of hard breathing. Julia was afraid, and the fear was almost palpable in the room.
“Do you have anything you wish to say about the time you made your bank deposit, Mrs. Wardlaw? It’s only a matter of time before I know the truth.”
Julia took a deep breath. “It was a few minutes before six.”
Justin raised his head and looked at his mother. “Mama, what’s going on? Why did you lie about the stupid bank deposit?”
“I guess I was just mixed up,” Julia said, but even Justin didn’t believe her. The pain in his eyes as he looked at his mother was heartrending.
“Mr. Priest wanted to take Justin back to California, didn’t he? You were afraid you might lose your son, weren’t you? And you weren’t going to let that happen.”
“No, that’s not right. Godfrey wasn’t going to do that. I talked to him and he promised he wouldn’t, at least not until Justin finished college.” Julia sounded desperate, but at this point I didn’t think anyone believed her.
“Can I ask a question?” Rick Tackett spoke, his voice low and hesitant.
“Yes, Mr. Tackett, what is it?” Kanesha appeared surprised at the interruption, but she nodded encouragement when Rick failed to speak right away.
“Justin, when is your birthday?” Rick watched Justin, his hands on his knees. I saw that his knuckles were white.
“August fourth,” Justin said after clearing his throat. Then he added the year.
“Thank you,” Rick said. “He wasn’t premature, was he, Julia?”
Tears welled in Julia’s eyes. “No, he wasn’t.” We could barely hear her.
Rick nodded. He took a deep breath as he looked straight at Justin.
“He’s not Godfrey’s son,” he said. “He’s mine.”
THIRTY-THREE
I wasn’t the only one in the room who was stunned. I sneaked a quick look at Kanesha’s face, and I could have laughed at her expression. The English have a term for it:
gobsmacked
. Translated roughly, it means
utterly astounded
.