In Susan’s room, the clock on the mantel chimed, twelve soft bells announcing midnight. She sat in her chair in front of the gas fire. The china cup held a little cocoa, the remnants of her evening drink. In her lap was the manila envelope Keith had brought. She held the papers in her hand, a smile on her face.
All was well at Pritchard House. I felt free to depart.
I checked the telephone book and jotted down addresses. I knew the location of Burnt Creek, one of Pontotoc County’s largest and most prosperous ranches in my day. I had no reason to doubt that Burnt Creek was still a prime piece of property.
I took a last look at the electronic files and noted one entitled
Two metal filing cabinets sat behind Kim’s desk. Obviously, neither would be Cabinet 3. In Wade’s office, I turned on the light. I checked and the drapes were drawn. Built into the wall behind the desk were several walnut cabinets. Cabinet 3 revealed shelves with small plastic containers with what appeared to be small records. Apparently, they were called CDs. How interesting. Possibly they didn’t work too differently from the old 33 rpm record players.
I spotted a device on a marble-topped table with spindly-legged chairs. The chairs didn’t look especially comfortable. I snagged a squashy red cushion from the sofa and placed it on a chair. After some punching of buttons, I popped up the lid. Yes, that looked like a turntable. I placed the little record on it, experimented further, and watched with a sense of accomplishment as it began to whir.
There was a moment of silence, then a murmur. “I think that’s got it. I’m all thumbs with recorders. Okay, here we go.” He cleared his throat. “Wade Farrell and Susan Flynn Re: Disposition of the Susan Flynn estate.” Wade’s cheerful voice announced the date.
“My, aren’t we formal.” Susan Flynn’s aristocratic voice sounded amused. “Is this necessary, Wade?”
“This is for your protection.” Wade spoke with dignity. “Since your heirs have no blood ties to you, I feel that it is wise to make a record of your wishes so that there can be no doubt about the instrument reflecting your decisions. Please explain in your own words the circumstances.”
“Very well. I have no family.” There was a pause.
The tape whirred.
After a moment, Susan continued in a brittle tone. “It is my wish that the following persons, who are not related to me, shall share in my estate: my sister-in-law Jake Flynn, her daughter Peg Flynn, Jake’s nephew and niece, Tucker and Gina Satterlee, and my late husband’s cousin Harrison Hammond. I have chosen them to be my legatees because of close association over a number of years. After Jake’s husband died, Jake and Peg came to live with us. At that time our family consisted of my husband Tom, our son Mitchell, and our daughter Ellen. Peg and Ellen became close friends. A few years later, Jake’s sister and her husband were killed in a car wreck. Tom and I offered a home to their children, Tucker and Gina, because Jake was her sister’s only relative. Harrison Hammond was my husband’s first cousin. Tom was very fond of Harrison.” Susan sighed. “Will that do, Wade?”
“That’s perfect, Susan.” Wade sounded satisfied.
“Do you know what?” She sounded distant, weary. “I don’t care what happens to any of it. They might as well inherit as anyone. They’ve been a part of my life. If Mitch and Ellen…But they’re gone. Mitch loved the ranch. Ellen would have created such a happy life, such a good life.” Another pause. “My time is running out. I’ll see them soon. And now, I’m tired. If that’s all, Wade, please go.” The last few words were scarcely audible.
I pictured Susan Flynn in her bed, weak and ill, turning away from the careful lawyer, her eyes seeking the photographs on her wall and the children who would never reach out again to her in this world but awaited her in the next.
I returned the CD to its container and the cushion to the sofa. Now I knew the ins and outs of Susan’s estate. I felt chilled. When Susan changed her will, the current heirs would lose the prospect of certain wealth.
Could I keep Keith safe until Susan signed her new will?
Leaning on her cane, Susan walked slowly to a tufted gold seat in front of a French provincial dresser. “Stop fussing, Jake. I feel wonderful this morning. Now, come and help me choose a necklace.” Susan was elegant in a high-collared silk-blend jacket and matching slacks in a lovely shade of antique rose. Her makeup was perfectly applied and her narrow face with its fine features echoed past beauty. How lovely she must have been as a young and vibrant woman.
Jake’s pudgy hand hovered over the open silver jewel case. Necklaces lay in a heap. “How about the beaded glass necklace, the one with the green and white strands? The colors are such a good contrast to the rose jacket.”
“Let me see.” Susan held out her hand.
Jake stepped behind Susan. “I’ll fasten the clasp.”
In the mirror, Susan appeared distinguished in the silk jacket and trousers, Jake frumpy in a too-tight brown angora sweater and dark brown tweed slacks.
I cautiously edged a necklace of beaten silver coins to the top of the case.
Susan’s pale face had an unaccustomed blush. Her eyes sparkled. She shook her head in rejection. “The white strand disappears.” She glanced again at the case. “My silver coin necklace! That will look best. Tom bought that for me in Santa Fe. Let’s try that one.”
I nodded in satisfaction as the loop of silver coins glittered against the rose jacket. “That’s perfect.” I clapped a hand to my mouth.
