“I gather he hasn’t had to sleep on the street in twenty-degree weather.”
“You’re right. I’ve bailed him out for the last time, and he knows it.” A thought occurred to him that he didn’t care for. “Are you judging me by my brother?” He turned and looked straight at her.
“Of course not. From what I’ve observed, his only likeness to you and Shirley is the color of his eyes.” As she spoke, she had been rubbing the back of his hand, unconsciously, he knew, and she did it rhythmically, heating him slowly but surely. It must have shown in his eyes, for suddenly she stopped and looked away as if embarrassed.
“Don’t,” he said. “It was an honest caress, and I loved it.”
“Yes,” she said beneath her breath, “it was honest.”
Fearing that she would become self-conscious with him, he poured cups of hot coffee and served her a slice of cheesecake. “I assume from this lunch that you like women to have a good deal of flesh on them. This stuff is loaded with calories, delicious though it definitely is.”
“If a woman is interesting; has an even temperament; is soft, feminine, and loyal; and everything else is in place, why would I care if she’s sporting a few extra pounds? If she complained about it and didn’t take steps to change it, I’d get tired of the griping, otherwise ...” He shrugged. His attraction to women didn’t depend on their body type. Indeed, he was damned if he knew what it depended on. On the few occasions when it happened, he’d look at the woman, and something about her would get to him. He spent several hours with Caroline the evening he met her, and though she didn’t hit him like an exploding hand grenade when he first saw her, by the time they separated that evening, her hooks were solidly in him. And they sank deeper into him each time he was with her.
“I like a man who prefers substance over tinsel,” she said, and held out her cup for more coffee. “I also love to eat.”
He wondered if he could risk hugging her. They finished the meal, but she seemed reluctant to leave the fire. “If we weren’t on our bikes, it would be fun to sit by this fire with a few bottles of beer,” she said, surprising him.
“I didn’t know you liked beer.”
She turned to face him, and he could see that she wanted him to understand precisely her words and her intent. “Gunther, I am not an elitist. I drink beer with my hot dogs at baseball games. When I’m watching football at home or in a stadium, I drink rum and Coke from a flask or from a glass as the venue warrants, and with my meals, I drink wine.”
“If I get tickets to the Ravens, will you go with me? I’ll furnish the rum and Coke.”
Her face creased into a smile that seemed to make her bloom.
I could get used to this woman,
he thought, but what he said was, “You do something to me. Let’s go. There’s something I want to show you.”
They cleaned up, put out the fire, and moved on. About a mile and a half down the trail, he stopped. “We have to be very quiet or we’ll disturb them,” he told her.
They approached a huge old redwood, its trunk more than three yards in diameter, but it had grown so that about three feet of its lower surface had a deep hollow. A large number of squirrels played in the hollow, scampering up, down, and around the tree. He took a bag of walnuts from the pocket of his jacket and gently emptied them on the ground at the base of the hollow.
Two squirrels came out to examine the nuts. Then they sniffed his shoes, looked up at him, and went back to the nuts. “You’ve done this before,” she said, “and the squirrels remember you.”
“I guess they do. This is my fourth time here this autumn. It’s about the only recreation I’ve been able to get.”
“And you came each of the other times alone?”
“You’re the only person I’ve ever come here with.”
She reached up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I’d give anything if I’d brought my camera.”
As they headed back home, he realized that he wanted to make love with Caroline. And not because he’d been celibate for several months, but because he wanted
her,
needed to be with her and to share himself with her. It had been a long time since he’d needed, really needed, a specific woman. The feeling that he needed Caroline unsettled him.
They pedaled back to Font Hill. He stored their bikes on top of his car and drove Caroline home. “It’s a quarter past three,” he said. “I’d like to come for you at six-thirty for dinner. I’ll be wearing a suit and tie.”
“I’ll be ready. And, Gunther, thanks for one of the most delightful days I’ve had in years. I enjoyed it, and I enjoyed being with you.”
When he leaned toward her, she came to meet him, her mouth soft and warm beneath his, and the electrifying effect confirmed for him the direction in which he was headed.
When he walked into his apartment half an hour later, Mirna rushed to him and grabbed his arm, her face beaming with joy about whatever it was that she had to report.
“Mr. G, Frieda called and said she sitting in a chair while the movers wrap and pack her things and organize them just like she tell them. She say the cruise company paying for everything and gon’ put her up in a hotel till she find where she want to stay. She say she has to thank you and Miss Shirley for changing her life. I’m gon’ miss her, ’cause she my best friend, but she has had so much misery in her life, Mr. G. I think she finally being blessed.”
“I certainly hope so, Mirna. Did Shirley call?”
“No, sir. Didn’t she say she’d call tonight? Something tells me you enjoyed that picnic too much.”
He couldn’t help laughing. “Quit fishing, Mirna. And thanks for the food. You prepared exactly the right things.” He bounded up the stairs, whistling as he went.
Carson left the photocopy store and headed for his bank. He put one copy of Leon Farrell’s will in his safe-deposit box and another in his briefcase. The original was in an envelope in the inside pocket of his jacket. “If the original gets lost or stolen, it won’t matter too much,” he said, got into his car, and headed for Donald Riggs’s office.
Why should a will cause so many problems? He suspected that its unavailability had contributed to Edgar’s moral, if not mental, deterioration, and it had certainly damaged, perhaps irreparably, the relationships between Edgar and the two younger Farrell siblings. Surely Leon had had the intelligence to foresee that. Yet, the worst might be yet to come, for what he’d seen in that will could cast a permanent cloud over that family, unless Edgar, for one, was more mature than he’d previously given evidence of being.
Carson sat in his car, dreading to get out and go into Donald Riggs’s office, but he had no choice. He had promised Edgar that he would report to him before anyone else, but that was before he knew Edgar the man and before he saw the provisions of that will. With the weight of it all bearing down on him, Carson knocked on Riggs’s office door.
“Come in, Mr. Montgomery, and have a seat,” the secretary said. “Mr. Riggs will be with you shortly.”
Minutes later, Donald Riggs opened the door to his private office, looked at Carson, and grinned. “What a nice sur-pri—Say, what’s the matter? You look as if you’re on your way to your best friend’s funeral.”
Without a word, Carson stood, opened his jacket, and handed the envelope to Riggs.
“Is this ... I mean ... Did you actually find it? Come on in here. Something must be wrong. I’d think you’d be shouting for joy.”
Carson followed Riggs into his office and sat down. “Yes, I found it, and if I hadn’t hired an architect to examine the floor and walls for hiding places, I’d still be looking.”
“Where was it?”
Carson told him and added, “He meant to cause friction and maybe a lot of other problems, but I also think it’s possible that after he looked it over, he realized that he had exposed himself and hid it in the hope that it would never be found. Did you read it?”
“He never gave me a chance to read the entire document. I merely witnessed when he had it notarized.”
“I suggest you take a look at it. I’m supposed to notify Edgar first that I found it, but now that I know him, I realize that he would misuse that information. I’ll deal with him when I have to. Another thing, the way that will is written, I may never get paid for six months’ work.” He lifted his left shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “But what the hell! I’ve experienced worse.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that, Carson. If he doesn’t pay you, the estate will.” Riggs put on his glasses and began reading the bequests. “What the hell’s this?” He exploded when reading the first bequeathal. Good Lord!”
Carson stood, preparing to leave. “Like I said, it’s a real doozy. I have to tell Edgar that I found it and delivered it to you. He’ll raise hell, but I can deal with him. I leave it in your capable hands. When are you going to announce that it’s been recovered?”
“I’ll set this coming Monday as the date for the reading of the will and send all parties telegrams requesting their presence. You’re going to be in trouble with Shirley, but she’ll get over it.”
“I sure as hell hope so.” To himself, he said,
It’ll be the perfect time for me to go to Dallas and finish up that job for Rodney Falls.
Chapter Thirteen
Donald Riggs put the index finger of his left hand at the end of the third mind-blowing sentence, not that he’d lose his place in
that
document. He then stood and shook hands with Carson. “You did your job, man. If I ever need a detective, I’ll definitely ring your phone. Am I going to get any more surprises past this third sentence?”
“As sure as my name is Carson Montgomery.”
“Where’d you find it?”
“Hidden in a wooden robot, in a closet behind a false wall where Leon kept his treasures, including a wad of money that I didn’t count. If I hadn’t gotten an architect to examine his den, I would never have found it. There are a lot of valuables in that closet. I don’t think he intended the will to be found any time soon, unless he planned to tell one of his children about that panel and died without remembering to do that. Run your hand up and down the wooden panel at the side near the door until you feel the button that opens the closet. See you soon.”
Donald sat down, took off his glasses, and rubbed the spot where the frame had pressed his nose. In spite of twenty years of talking with the man on a regular basis, he’d never known Leon Farrell. Half an hour later, having read each line at least three times, he made some notes, got out the telephone directory, and realized that he faced a dilemma. He phoned Carson, and within an hour, he had the information that he needed.
So Carson hadn’t reached Edgar when he called him and had decided that he wouldn’t inform Shirley. “I wouldn’t care to be in his shoes,” Donald said to himself.
Two days later, Gunther dialed Shirley’s cell phone. “Did you get an invitation from Riggs to come to his office about the matter of the will?”
“Yes, I did. The mail arrived a few minutes ago. It couldn’t mean that Carson found the will, could it, because he hasn’t mentioned it to me. Our relationship has been a problem for him, probably because I was a recipient of a bequest in the will. He dragged his feet about us for the longest time. Still, he should have told me if he found it.”
“Yeah. Then he would have had to tell you about the terms of the will, and that would have been unethical and unfair to Edgar and me.”
“The whole thing has been a royal pain. Heard from Edgar?”
“No, but I expect he’s already quit his job and is roaring somewhere between Philadelphia and Baltimore.”
“Yeah. Poor Donald.”
“Who do you think Edgar will take it out on? I doubt he’ll be willing to tie up with Carson,” Gunther said, certain that he was in for a set-to with his brother.
“Maybe Carson informed Edgar.”
“Sure he did. And the Washington Monument sits in the middle of St. Louis, Missouri. Excuse me a minute. Someone’s ringing the doorbell and banging on the door simultaneously. Looks as if Edgar has arrived.” Gunther hung up, strolled down the stairs, secured the door chain, opened the door, and looked out.
“Where the hell is that son-of-a-bitch Carson? He was supposed to give that will to me. Where is it? Did he give it to you?”
“Cool off and clean up your mouth. I’ve never seen the will, and I have no idea where it is, or if he in fact found it. Maybe Carson decided he spent enough time on Father’s nonsensical behavior, making a will and then either destroying it or hiding it.”
Edgar’s entire demeanor seemed to fall like cold molasses dropping out of a jar. “Man, I quit my job and came back here to get my share. This is a bitch.”
“You quit your job?” Gunther asked, his face the picture of incredulity. “Did Riggs tell you he had the will?”
“No, but—”
“The problem is that you couldn’t wait to quit work. Why do you have all this skill and musical knowledge if you’d rather not use it? Nobody learns to play an instrument as well as you play that guitar without putting in a lot of long and hard hours of study and practice. Why did you do it?”
“Why did I do what, study and practice?” He shrugged. “I love the sound of a great guitarist at work, and I couldn’t stand lousy playing, especially if I was the player. I love to hear myself play. If I miss a note, I can be mad at myself for a week. Nothing pisses me off worse than having to play with guys who don’t care how they sound, or if they do care but they don’t try to improve. I haven’t been in the house for almost two months. I’d better be getting over there. You think Mirna would give me a couple of baking potatoes and a steak or a couple of chops?”
“Sure. Didn’t you get paid?”
“Yeah, but nothing’s set about the will, and who knows when I’ll get another gig?”
“You’re never going to learn, brother. I hope for your sake that Carson found that will and delivered it to Riggs. But I’d bet my right arm that if Father left you a hundred grand, you’d be flat broke in three months. Now’s the time to decide that you’re going to get counseling for that gambling habit. You gamble away money, and you take other serious risks, like quitting your job on the chance that Riggs has the will.”
Gunther called to Mirna. “Would you please see what you have in the kitchen that Edgar can take with him to the house—some potatoes, a steak, a couple boxes of frozen vegetables?”
“Sure,” she said. “Won’t take me but a minute.” She walked off after barely sparing Edgar a glance. “Same old, same old,” he heard her mutter. But as promised, she was back within a few minutes with a large, heavy bag. “That ought to keep you for a couple of days.” She headed back to the kitchen without waiting to hear of Edgar’s gratitude.
“What’s with her?” Edgar asked Gunther.
Gunther flexed his shoulder in a quick shrug. “Edgar, the Lord promised to pull you up as many times as you fall down, but Mirna’s like the rest of us humans. After a while, we don’t give a damn.”
“Well, thanks, old man. See you Monday at Riggs’s office. I gotta look for a gig.”
Shirley hung up the phone after her conversation with Gunther and gazed into the distance. Could Carson possibly have found that will, talked with her almost daily, and not said one word to her about it? When he told her that he’d be in Atlanta on a job for about a week, she should have known that he’d either found the will or quit trying. She dialed his number and hung up at the first ring. Damned if she’d ask him about it. He wouldn’t be in Ellicott City when she got home Sunday night. Well, she’d find out along with Gunther and Edgar, and it would be a late day in the thirteenth month of the year before she forgave Carson.
She switched her phone to the operator and took the elevator up to the top deck. The feeling of being confined, of needing fresh air and open spaces, closed in on her as if she were claustrophobic. She rushed out of the elevator and sat on a deck chair beside the pool. But immediately a man dressed only in a five-inch bathing suit climbed out of the pool, sauntered over to her, and sat on the edge of her chair. She got up, walked toward the rear of the boat where she knew she’d be alone, and sat at an empty table, watching the vast ocean.
“I can live without him, and I will. Just because he can love me out of my senses doesn’t mean I have to let him mistreat me.” She blinked rapidly, turned her cell phone on, and went back to her office. He’d been everything to her, but he was just a man.
“You mean Carson still hasn’t told you anything about this?” Gunther asked her as the two of them ate breakfast together before going to Riggs’s office that Monday morning.
“Not a friggin’ word,” she said, “and as far as I’m concerned, he’s history.”
“Don’t be foolish. The fact that the two of you are in a relationship is not a reason for him to behave unprofessionally. How could you expect that of him?”
“You don’t understand. We’re ... we’re really close, or we were. He could have told me and asked for my confidence.”
“Oh, yeah! That would have been even worse, because you have a stake in this will. If he’d told Mirna and asked her to keep it to herself, I could accept that, but confiding in you would have been a mean thing to do. My respect for him mounts continually. Let’s go, or we’ll be late.”
“What the ... what the hell?” Gunther and Shirley heard Edgar exclaim as they followed him into Donald Riggs’s office. Gunther’s gaze landed on Frieda Davis and a woman who had to be her mother. He didn’t speak to Riggs but walked over to Frieda.
“I’m surprised to see you here. How’s the job going?” He could see that she was nervous and as mystified as he was. He’d added the question about her new job because he wanted to sound casual.
“Mr. Farrell, this is my mother, Coreen Treadwell. I don’t know why I’m here, and from the way Coreen reacted to seeing Edgar when he walked in here, I’m scared I’m gon’ hear somethin’ I don’t want to hear.”
He shook Coreen’s hand. “How do you do?” he said, and took a seat beside Shirley, who sat near the door. He wouldn’t say he was glad to meet Coreen until he found out why she was there.
“Man, do you have the will, or don’t you?” Edgar asked, his tone belligerent.
Donald Riggs draped his right ankle over his left knee and made himself comfortable. “Mr. Farrell, Edgar, I mean. If you disrupt me once or behave in the least disorderly fashion, I will have you arrested.” He reached over to his desk and pressed the intercom.
“Yes, Mr. Riggs.”
“Get a security officer up here and post him at my office door.”
Gunther’s head snapped up. That meant Riggs was about to read the will and that Edgar wouldn’t like what he heard. But what did Frieda and her mother have to do with the will?
“Now, if I may have your attention, please. As executor of Leon Farrell’s estate ...” Gunther jerked around at the gasp he heard. It had come from either Frieda or her mother, and his curiosity about their presence escalated.
“I have the responsibility of disposing of his worldly goods with the aid of his last will and testament, which I have before me.” Gunther didn’t look at Shirley but reached over and held her hand.
“ ‘I, Leon Edgar Farrell, declare that this is my will, and I revoke all prior wills and codicils.
“ ‘I bequeath one hundred thousand dollars to the Severn Sanctum for Injured Pets and one hundred thousand dollars to Coreen Holmes Treadwell.’ ”
Edgar’s oath did not escape anyone present. Neither did Coreen’s loud gasp.
“ ‘I divide the remainder of my property and monies equally among my children, Edgar, Gunther, and Shirley, plus the firstborn child of Coreen Holmes Treadwell, provided that the child passes a DNA test with matches to Gunther or Edgar.’ ”
Edgar was standing now with his fist balled as if to strike.
“ ‘
And a birth certificate showing that the child was born not more than nine months after Coreen’s high school graduation. Edgar is to receive his share, that is his total inheritance, after he has held the same full-time job for one solid year and not before. If he has not accomplished this within fifteen months from the reading of this will, his share is to be divided among my three other children.’ ”
The door slammed, and Gunther didn’t look toward it; he knew that Edgar had left.
“There’s more,” Riggs said, wiping his brow and continuing to read
.
“ ‘All of the estate’s expenses are to be paid before the distribution of inheritances. The child born to Coreen Holmes is the product of a rape, which I perpetrated upon Coreen, a virgin, at a time and place when she was defenseless and when she trusted me. I’ve regretted it ever since, and I have prayed that I did not ruin her life and that she has found happiness with her husband and stepsons. Yes, Coreen, I have known your whereabouts for years.
“ ‘I direct my attorney, Donald Riggs, to effectuate this will to the letter of my stipulations. Leon Edgar Farrell.’
“That’s it. As soon as I have all claims against the estate, including the cost of locating the will, I will contact Frieda, who is the eldest, and Edgar, Gunther, and Shirley as to the disposition of the family home. Within a week or two, my accountant will advise me as to your other entitlements. I suggest that the house and its contents should be sold and the proceeds divided equally among you. Any questions?” Hearing none, Riggs stood. “That’s all.”
Gunther couldn’t move. His hand gripped his sister’s hand so tightly that she attempted to remove it. Realizing that he’d hurt her, he turned to Shirley and stroked her hand. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but this was not it.”
“No,” Shirley said, “but we’d better go over and talk to Frieda. Do you realize she’s our sister?”
“Damn. You’re right. Come on.” Still holding Shirley’s hand, he walked over to Riggs and thanked him.
“I’ll have an estimate of the total value of the estate in a few days. My accountant is working on it.”
“That’s no problem,” Gunther said. “I’ve just learned that I have another sister. Let me go over there and speak with her.”