“Like …?”
“All along,” David said, “he’s held a double threat over my head: He will either make me sole heir of his considerable fortune or he will cut me off without a penny.”
“And?”
“And upon my passing the bar, I will be pressed into involuntary servitude. I’ll be Daddy’s lawyer. And that almost certainly would preclude any other practice, and make my life more miserable than even I could imagine.”
“He couldn’t do that to you,” Bill protested.
“Don’t underestimate Pop,” David warned. “When he wants something, he gets it.
“Anyway, he assured me that he was about to make a binding will, in perpetuity, that I inherit the bundle. And he promised that I would be free to act in his behalf, legally, on a case-by-case basis. And, if I chose to represent him, I could charge a competitive fee … sound pretty good?”
“Great,” Bill said. “But how much of that can you swallow?”
“I’ll admit, I have trouble getting any of it down.”
“So where does this leave us?”
The waitress returned and filled cups. She looked longingly at the money. “Would you like me to take that for you?”
“Just leave it, dearie,” Judith said. “Trust us. It’s yours. When we leave.”
It was evident from her manner that she’d believe all this only as she put the money in her pocket. She walked away, making a face to herself.
“I’ll tell you where this leaves us,” Judith said. “It leaves us with a string of promises. And knowing Daddy, they’re empty promises, every one of them.”
“That puts us back at square one, doesn’t it?” Bill commented. “We’re right where we were before Monday: Each of us is up the creek and Moses Green has the paddle.”
“Then it may be up to us to take the paddle in our own hands.” Judith played the ingenue for a moment.
“What do you mean?” David asked.
She reverted to Lady Macbeth. “We’ve got to return Dear Old Daddy to last Monday night. But this time, no miracles.”
The other two looked at her blankly for a few moments. “You’ve got to be kidding,” David said finally.
She turned to him. “But this time you can’t botch it.”
“Botch it? Me?! What do you mean, me?!”
“Whatever you did-drugged him, overdosed him, I don’t know- but whatever you did, you botched it and he regained consciousness. This time we’ve got to make sure he’s dead.”
“What do you mean, me?!” David repeated. “I didn’t do anything! Look to your bridegroom-or yourself! You- one of you, both of you, I don’t know-you’re the ones who bungled it!”
“Wait a minute-” Bill began.
“There’s nothing to be gained in pointing the finger at each other,” Judith said dismissively. “Maybe we can all learn something from that fiasco last Monday. This time we’ve got to make certain Daddy doesn’t cheat death.”
“Are you serious!?” Bill was incredulous. “You’re talking about
“You want to marry me?”
“Of course I do.”
“You want to see your career end up in the toilet?”
“Of course not.”
“You got any other way out of this fine dilemma?”
Bill pondered.
“No … but …”
“Then we have to plan.”
“I say we take out a contract on him,” David offered.
“A contract!” Bill was still fumbling with the fact that he had suddenly become part of a homicidal conspiracy.
“Well …” David’s train of thought quickly ran out of steam.
“I can’t believe this!” Bill said.
Judith ignored him completely. “No! We do not hire anybody.”
“We don’t hire …?”
“You heard me. Now, with three, this shouldn’t be so difficult. We have to get Mother out of the way.”
“We have to kill Mother?!” David was truly horrified.
“No, idiot! We get her out of the apartment. That should be easy for you, Bill; she likes you.”
“I don’t know ….” Bill demurred.
“I do! And that will give David and me a chance to get into the apartment.”
“I haven’t got a key. Have you?”
“No. We don’t need one. Don’t you remember, Davie: There’s only one lock and no dead bolt. We can trip the lock with a simple strip of hard plastic.”
“Good God!” David exclaimed. “So we can get in. You make it seem so simple. What the hell would we do? I mean, you’re actually talking about murder. What do you want me to do, strangle my own father?!” He paused. “Up till now, this sounded like one of those crazy daydreams. This is the first time I’ve gotten serious about this. I really don’t think I’m able to … I mean, I can’t kill
“Don’t be so emotional, David. It won’t be anything gross like strangling him. We can just give him some pills. The only thing we’ve got to be careful about is that he gets enough to do the job. This time he’s gotta be dead-really dead.”
“This is insane,” Bill said.
“Fine!” Judith threw up her hands in disgust. “Davie, you can find out what it’s like to start a professional career with no money for even a diploma to hang up. And you can be a lackey for your father for the foreseeable future-that’s all Daddy’s promises are worth.
“And Bill, you can marry me and watch your future become part of your past.
“Both of you can crumble before Daddy. But I’m not going to.”
Silence fell as all three sat, thinking their own thoughts.
Judith knew this had to be done, even if she had to do it herself.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The hardest part of the night shift at a gas station was fighting boredom. Especially was this true for Stan Lacki.
The job was as easy as rolling off a log. And as interesting as watching paint dry or grass grow.
All he had to do was sit in the cashier’s booth, take money and make change. Ultrastrong Plexiglas surrounded him. Theoretically, it was bullet-proof.
Stan knew bullet-proof meant that certain bullets couldn’t penetrate the enclosure. He also knew certain other bullets could penetrate just about anything. Every time someone came up with an impervious substance, someone else would be challenged to invent a projectile that would do the job.
But the manager of this service station had a healthy policy aimed at protecting the employees first and foremost: If someone points a gun, give the money. Don’t rely on the glass. Don’t rely on anything-a passing police car, an involved citizen, nothing.
The bullet-proof pane? A deterrent only to the easily discouraged robber.
