“A top-secret government document?”
He shakes his head.
“A million bucks?”
“No, but you’re definitely getting warmer.”
I shrug. “I give up.”
He pulls the papers from behind his back and tosses them onto the table in front of me. “These are copies of the real ones,” he says.
I turn the papers around and see that they are the wills for Gerald and Bitsy Heinrich. I scan what follows but it seems to be pretty routine legalese. I shrug again, failing to see why Arnie is so excited.
“Look at the last page,” he says.
I do so and see a page full of signatures and what looks like a notary stamp at the bottom.
“Check out the date,” he says.
I do so, noting that the signatures were made on October twentieth of this year. The meaning starts to dawn on me and I quickly flip through the rest of the pages, scanning the text.
Arnie is shifting from one foot to the other, his face alight with delight, his excitement barely contained.
“Oh, my,” I say when I’ve read enough. I look up at Arnie. “Is this for real?”
“The original papers seem to be in order. And I contacted the notary. She verified everything.”
“Wow,” I say, smiling and sliding the pages back to Arnie. “This certainly changes things.”
“I know. I can’t wait to see the reactions.”
My cell phone rings and as I grab it, Arnie takes the papers and says, “I’m going to show this to Izzy. Catch ya later.”
“Don’t do anything with them until I’m there to watch,” I tell him. “I wouldn’t want to miss this for anything.”
He nods and heads out as I answer my phone. “Hello?”
“Mattie? This is Carla Andrusson, returning your call.”
“Hi, Carla. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”
“Well, you said it was urgent. Are you having some kind of dental emergency? Because if you are, you’re better off just calling the office. I don’t have—”
“No, this is about you,” I tell her, interrupting her spiel. “I need to talk to you about something personal and I wondered if we could meet somewhere?”
She hesitates, then says, “Well I’m trying to get ready for a dinner party I’m having tonight. Can this wait for a few days?”
“Not really.”
She lets out a sigh to let me know she’s perturbed and I decide I’ll need to be more forthright if I’m going to get her to cooperate. “I don’t know if you heard or not but I’m working for the medical examiner’s office now.”
“No,” she says, sounding genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know that.”
“I need to ask you about something related to a murder investigation and time is of the essence here.”
There’s another pause before she caves. “Okay, but you’ll need to come over here. I have too much to do to afford any time away from home.”
“Not a problem. Can I come over now?”
“Fine,” she says, sounding as if it’s anything but. And then she hangs up without so much as a good- bye.
I head for Izzy’s office to let him know I’m leaving and find him talking on the phone. Arnie is pacing outside the door, waiting for Izzy to hang up so he can share his latest news. Though I’m dying to see Izzy’s face when he hears about the wills, I don’t want to keep Carla waiting. So I tell Arnie where I’m headed and make him promise to give me a blow-by-blow description of Izzy’s reaction later.
Belatedly I realize that pulling up in front of Carla’s house in a hearse isn’t likely to help my cause any. Apparently she was watching for me because she is at the front door wearing a panicked expression before I can turn the engine off. She is a cute, petite, redhead with exquisite porcelain skin that is quite pale under normal circumstances. Right now, standing in her doorway, she looks like a ghost. But as soon as I climb out of the car, her face relaxes and a bit of color returns to her cheeks.
“You scared the life out of me,” she says as I approach. Then she seems to realize the irony of her statement because she slaps a hand over her chest, giggles, and says, “Oh, my.”
“I know,” I say, nodding and smiling. “It’s not the most inconspicuous ride, is it?”
“Hardly. Do you have to drive that thing as part of your new job?”
“No, that
She looks confused for a second, then dawning hits her face. “I see. Things with David aren’t going well then, I take it?”
“You could say that.”
“Well, come on in. I have some great coffee and some fresh-baked muffins that might cheer you up.”
I follow Carla inside, realizing that the hearse might not be the curse I originally thought it was. It has helped to break the ice and lighten her mood, rather than darken it. She leads me into her kitchen, points to a chair, and then goes about setting up her coffeemaker. While her back is to me, I take a moment to examine my surroundings. The kitchen looks brand-spanking new and judging from the travertine floor tiles, granite countertops, cherry wood cabinets, and high-end, stainless appliances, her husband’s practice must be doing well.
“I was sorry to hear about you and David,” she says over her shoulder, measuring coffee into a basket. “You two always seemed like the perfect couple.”
“Yes, well appearances can be deceiving,” I say. “I imagine most marriages look good on the outside, but what goes on behind closed operating room doors is another matter.”
The statement is a test to see if Carla has heard the sordid details behind my breakup with David. Her next statement tells me she has because she knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Yes, an unfortunate choice for David,” she says, shaking her head. “You have to wonder what the hell he was thinking doing something like that at the hospital.”
“Thinking with the wrong head, I imagine,” I say. She lets forth with a warm, throaty chuckle and I decide to take advantage of her relaxed mood. “How are things going with you and Brian?”
She hesitates for a beat longer than necessary, and even though she still has her back to me, I know whatever she says next will only be a part of the truth.
“We’re doing okay.” She shrugs. “I wish his practice didn’t take up so much of his time, but I’ve learned to adjust.”
She has finished setting up the coffee, and after turning on the machine, she grabs a plate of muffins from the counter and sets them on the table in front of me. I note that even though her mobility appears fine, she does very little lifting with her right hand, making me suspect she still has some residual weakness on that side.
“How are the kids?” I ask.
“They’re doing great.” I can tell from the change in her tone that this is a huge source of pride and joy for her. “They’re both attending the U of Dub down in Madison. Carrie is a freshman majoring in business and Tom is one year away from finishing medical school.”
“You must be very proud,” I say, taking one of the muffins from the plate—raspberry with a crumb topping— and picking a chunk off the top. I pop it in my mouth and relish the flavors.
“I am,” She beams for several seconds, and due to her lingering facial paralysis, the smile is slightly lopsided. She takes a muffin for herself but she doesn’t eat any of it. She peels the paper cup from around it and then sets it on the table. Her smile fades and her expression turns sad. “I miss them.” Her gaze wanders about the room. “The house feels kind of big and empty these days.”
“Is that why you’re seeing Luke Nelson?”
It’s an abrupt segue and Carla’s slight flinch reflects that. She shoots me a wary glance and then quickly looks away. “Something like that,” she says vaguely. “I’ve been a bit depressed lately. You know . . . the kids being gone, Brian working so much, being alone all the time, getting older, losing my looks . . .” She lets out a mirthless laugh and makes a dismissive wave with her hand. “All the usual midlife crap I suppose.”
I sense her shutting down and scramble to find a way to reconnect. “Tell me about it,” I say over a mouthful
