Merry, Merry Ghost

I’d thought I’d be off on the Rescue Express after the meeting at the lawyer’s office established Keith as Susan’s heir. However, that left unfinished the matter of Susan’s murder. I’d believed my duty done once I’d set the stage for an investigation. Clearly the matter was not so simply resolved.

Would Wiggins let me assist Chief Cobb in catching Susan’s murderer?

Wiggins had been outraged at her untimely demise. Wiggins had encouraged me to bring Susan’s murderer to justice. Obviously I’d not finished my task. I had to do what I had to do.

I moved to the blackboard, picked up the chalk, wrote in a stylish hand:

Officer M. Loy reporting for duty.

Chief Cobb stood at the window, staring out. He would find my message.

Wade Farrell’s conference room was shabby but reassuring, an old oak table that had seen years of use, sturdy straight chairs, faded red velvet drapes, and over the fireplace an oil portrait of a man in a judge’s robe, his face both stern and thoughtful. Though Wade’s face was more rounded and his hairline receding, there was a marked resemblance to the man in the portrait.

Wade waited until everyone was seated, then took his place in a chair at one end.

A dark gray folder rested at each occupied place.

Wade’s face was somber. “I regret the circumstances of our gathering.” He frowned and avoided looking directly at any of the heirs. He cleared his throat. “I will briefly acquaint you—”

Obviously Wade Farrell wanted to avoid any discussion of the cause of Susan’s death.

“—with the provisions of the will.”

Jake touched a handkerchief to reddened eyes. Tears trickled down Peg’s cheeks. Tucker leaned back in the leather chair, his expression intent. Once again he was clean-shaven. Gina fingered a jade necklace that was startling in its beauty against her white silk blouse. Charlotte Hammond gazed unseeingly at the portrait of the judge. Harrison took an impatient breath.

“In the folder in front of you, you will find a copy of Susan’s last will and testament. The provisions are simple. The estate is to be divided equally among Jacqueline Flynn, Peg Flynn, Tucker Satterlee, Gina Satterlee, and Harrison Hammond.”

If a bucket of ice water had been upended over me, I could not have been more stunned. I leaned over Harrison’s shoulder. He flipped through the pages. I recognized the document I’d found when I had explored Wade’s files.

“…would like to point out that Susan specifically indicated that Pritchard House was to be included in Mrs. Jacqueline Flynn’s share and Burnt Creek in the share allotted Tucker Satterlee. Of course…”

I zoomed back and forth above the table, feeling frantic and helpless. Where was Susan’s new will?

“…until there is a final accounting, the amount of each bequest can only be estimated, but I feel safe in saying that the estate’s current value is approximately twelve million dollars.”

Jake took a quick little breath. Harrison looked like a man with a last-minute reprieve from the guillotine. He lifted a shaking hand to pull at his collar. Tucker slouched back in the leather chair. Gina clasped her hands tightly together.

Peg closed the folder with a slap, looked at Wade in dismay. “Susan wanted her estate to go to Keith. She told you to draw up a new will.”

It was as if a cold wind swept the room.

Jake pressed both hands against her cheeks. Harrison folded his arms and stared down at the table. Tucker gave a slight head shake. Gina clutched at the jade beads, her face stiff. Charlotte shook her head.

Peg looked at each in turn. “You know that’s true. So what are we going to do?”

Wade looked troubled. “You are correct, Peg. That was Susan’s intent. The fact remains that she didn’t live long enough to execute a new will. The will that exists controls disposition of her estate.”

Peg’s look at her fellow heirs was imploring. “We can assign our portions to Keith. All of us. That’s what we should do.”

Wade held up a cautioning hand. “Each of you may give your inheritance to whomever you wish. However, there will be gift taxes to consider. Or, in the event an heir elects not to receive an inheritance, that portion of the estate would then be divided among the remaining heirs, and”—he tapped the gray folder—“those heirs are Mrs. Flynn, Tucker Satterlee, Gina Satterlee, and Harrison Hammond.”

“Keith is Susan’s grandson.” Peg’s cry was impassioned.

Her mother looked away, crushing a wisp of sodden handkerchief in one hand.

Tucker shrugged. “Peg, honey, you can do what you want with what you get. Susan promised the ranch to me a long time ago. I didn’t stay here to work for somebody else.” His face was abruptly hard and determined. “Burnt Creek is mine.”

Jake turned toward her daughter. Her eyes begged for understanding. “We’ll make a wonderful home for Keith and see him through school and everything, but I don’t see why Mitch’s son should be dropped on us after Mitch ran away and broke his parents’ hearts. Susan didn’t even know about Keith until this weekend and I’ve spent years taking care of her and the house. Susan wanted me to have the house.”

Gina said nothing, but she avoided looking toward Peg.

Harrison spoke loudly. “I agree with Jake. The boy is a latecomer and I still have doubts as to his legitimacy. Even if he is legitimate, Mitch was nothing but trouble for his parents and he killed his sister—”

Peg stood so quickly the chair tipped and crashed to the floor behind her. “That’s mean, Harrison. Mitch made a terrible mistake. No one suffered more than he did. He loved Ellen. That’s why he ran away. He couldn’t bear what he had done.”