for his painful bluntness and lack of verbal filters, remains thankfully quiet and continues to just stand there making moon eyes at me.
Junior, who is a bit more tactful, finally breaks the silence and says, “Oh, I’m sure you can, Steve. But to be honest, we want to be in on whatever’s going down. One of those crazy-assed Heinrich women nailed me in the cojones the other day during that melee at the hospital. And from what Izzy told us, the Heinriches aren’t going to be very happy with what he has to tell them. So personally, I’d like to be here. I can’t wait to see their hopes get crushed into tiny little pieces.”
Hurley ponders Junior’s request for a moment, and then says, “Okay, after you.” He gestures toward the door to the back part of the office and Junior and Larry head that way. I fall in behind them with Hurley bringing up the rear. As soon as the two cops are through the door, I pause, turn over my shoulder, and whisper to Hurley.
“Is it safe to let you walk behind me?”
He grins and arches his left eyebrow at me. “Absolutely not.”
Chapter 37
The “conference room” is actually the library since it’s the only space other than the morgue fridge big enough to hold this many people, and Hurley and I already have dibs on that other room. As we enter the library, a cacophony of noise greets us. Everyone is talking to everyone else and most of the voices are a mere gnat’s ass away from shouting. Hurley’s little pup tent is safe, assuming it’s still up, because our entry into the room goes unnoticed by everyone other than Izzy.
Larry and Junior hang out by the door, leaning against the wall. Hurley and I make our way to the head of the table and take the two empty chairs, me next to Izzy and Hurley between me and Grace Heinrich. I take a moment to observe the rest of the group. Grace and Katrina are seated to our left and Easton is seated at the opposite end of the table. On the other side are Sarah and Tom Conklin, with Aaron at the end near his brother.
Grace is leaning across the table lecturing Sarah about the importance of family heritage. Sarah is lecturing right back at her about the ills of greediness and how righteous it is to share. Katrina is mostly listening to this exchange, though she punctuates her sister’s comments periodically with “Damn right!” and “You know it’s true!”
Farther down, Easton is leaning in front of his brother and shaking a finger in Tom’s face, ordering him to “just give it up, put your tail between your legs, and go the hell home.”
Aaron, once again the cool, detached observer in the group, is smiling past his brother’s arm at me. I hear Hurley mutter, “Asshole,” under his breath and know he hasn’t missed the focus of Aaron’s attention.
Izzy makes a couple of attempts to get the attention of everyone, but his efforts are wasted. It’s not until Hurley cuts loose with a shrill whistle that the conversations cease and everyone’s attention shifts to the head of the table.
“Thank you all for coming,” Izzy says.
“Cut the crap and just get on with it,” Easton snaps. Judging from the red roadmap I can see running over his eyeballs, I guess his blood is somewhere around ninety proof about now. “Which one of them died first?”
Izzy nervously shuffles the folder of papers in front of him. I know the others in the room probably think he has autopsy results in there, but I know otherwise.
“We aren’t one hundred percent sure,” Izzy begins, “but—”
“What the hell!” Grace yells. “If you don’t have any answers for us, why are we here?” The rest of the group chimes in with their own grumbles but another whistle from Hurley silences them.
“I do have an answer for you,” Izzy says. “Just not the one you think.”
I expect more grumbling, but to my surprise, they all remain quiet, waiting.
Izzy opens the folder in front of him and takes out a stack of stapled papers. He doles out one of the stapled packets to each family member in the room, sliding them across the sleek surface of the table.
“As you can see,” Izzy begins, “the papers in front of you are copies of two wills and testaments. The originals are currently tagged as evidence and in the hands of an attorney. We found these wills inside a briefcase that was in your parents’ car.”
Aaron and the women start reading, flipping the pages as they go, their faces taking on disbelieving expressions. Easton, however, tries in vain to focus on the first page and then tosses his packet aside.
“We don’t need to read any goddamned wills,” Easton slurs. “We all have copies already.”
“Not of this one,” Izzy says. “If you’ll look at the last page, you’ll see that they were drafted, signed, and witnessed the day before your parents disappeared.”
Aaron flips a page and starts to chuckle.
Grace flips a page and mutters, “What the fuck?”
Katrina stares at her packet and says, “How could they do this?”
Tom remains silent and keeps reading; Sarah looks up at Izzy and says, “Are you sure this is for real?”
Izzy nods. “We found the lawyer who drafted the wills as well as the witnesses who signed them. They verified both documents.”
Easton, clearly curious now that he’s seen his siblings’ reactions, snatches his packet back and tries once again to bring the words into focus. He doesn’t appear to be having much luck so Izzy summarizes for him.
“So, as I’m sure you can all see, it doesn’t matter which of your parents died first because the outcome is the same either way. All of their money is going to a select group of charities.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Easton screams. “No fucking way.”
Aaron tries to placate his brother by placing a hand on his arm. “I’m afraid it’s true, bro,” he says calmly. “They’ve cut us all out.”
“Fucking sonofabitch!” Easton yells, pounding a fist on the table.
Grace sets her packet of papers down, glares across the table at Sarah, and in a scarily calm and quiet voice, says, “This is all your fault, you fucking bitch.”
“My fault?” Sarah comes back. “If you and your siblings hadn’t been so goddamned lazy and greedy, maybe our folks wouldn’t have felt the need to do this.”
“Greedy?” Grace shrieks. “I’ll give you greedy, bitch!” With that, Grace flings herself across the table and smashes into Sarah head first. Sarah yelps, grabs a chunk of Grace’s hair, and screams, “Get off me, you crazy bitch!” Grace manages to grab Sarah by the throat and at that point Tom joins in and starts trying to pry Grace’s hands loose. That sets Katrina off, who mimics her sister’s maneuver by flying across the table and trying to gouge Tom’s eyes out. Easton, who I’m now convinced is not only a lush but several Froot Loops shy of a full bowl, stands up, rips his shirt open, and dives across the table into Tom.
Seconds later, the room is utter chaos, with Hurley, Junior, and Larry joining the fray. Izzy and I hop out of our chairs and pin our backs to the wall behind us, huddling in the corner farthest from the melee. Across the room I see Aaron slide along his wall and then slip out of the room altogether.
I hear fabric ripping, people screeching, and the sickening sounds of flesh and bone crunching together. At one point blood flies and hits the side wall but I can’t tell whose it is. One of the chairs gets broken and the table is slowly pushed all the way to the other side of the room.
“Well, that went well, wouldn’t you say?” Izzy says to me as we stand watching. He grabs a nearby chair and positions it in front of us like a barricade.
“Thank goodness you had Junior and Larry here.”
Izzy nods. “Think we can get past them to the door?” he says as somebody’s purse flies across the room and hits the wall beside us.
I shake my head and watch as Tom Conklin takes a swing at Easton, who either ducks or falls, allowing Tom’s fist to connect with Junior’s face instead. “Too risky,” I say, grimacing as Junior staggers sideways.
Oddly enough, the Heinrich and Conklin clans seem to be pulling together for a change, ganging up on Hurley and the other two cops. It’s not looking too good for our side when the door to the library crashes open and an unbelievable sight appears.
