“Is she really? What a nerve!” replied Lucy, finding it only too easy to join this gossip fest.
“The way he left things, everything was to go to his children—poor Alison and the one Mireille’s expecting. In the case of only one child surviving, that child would scoop the loot. No children, then it’s a crap shoot. The executors have to distribute the estate equably, whatever that means.”
“But what about the older son, Taggart?”
“Taggart wasn’t actually his child. Ed adopted him when he married Eudora. Tag was from Eudora’s first marriage, and Ed said in the will that he had previously made generous settlements to him.”
“So Eudora doesn’t think it’s fair that Ed’s wealth all goes to Mireille’s baby?” asked Lucy. “That she and Tag don’t get anything?”
“You said it! She seems all fragile and sensitive and artistic but believe me, that woman is really a crazy bitch. The things she’s said to my Mireille! Vicious, nasty stuff. I’m not kidding. A mind like that, she really oughta be committed. Scary stuff.”
“You don’t say.”
“I do say! And here she’s gone and decided to drag Mireille into court and poor Ed’s hardly cold. He’s only been dead for three days. The papers were delivered to her this morning.”
“That’s too bad,” said Lucy, well aware she could never use this material in a news story without inviting a libel uit, and she already knew that Eudora wasn’t averse to legal challenges. “What about the funeral? Do you know what’s being planned?”
“Haven’t got a clue. Poor Mireille, she got up her courage and called Eudora thinking it was only proper to include her in the planning. And you know, what? Eudora told her not to bother, that Ed’s lawyer was taking care of the details. Can you imagine? That’s what these folks are like. It’s all about the money. They don’t care if he gets a decent funeral or not.” Mimsy paused. “I guess you could give Munn a call. That’s Howard Munn. He’s Ed’s lawyer. He’s got an office in Boston.”
“Thanks,” said Lucy, wishing every interviewee was as forthcoming as Mimsy. “Please let Mireille know how sorry I am for her loss, and if there’s anything she wants to add, she can reach me here at the paper.”
“Will do. It’s been real nice talking to you, Lucy.”
Lucy shook her head after hanging up, thinking that things just kept getting stranger and stranger as suspects kept popping out of the woodwork. Matt Rodriguez was the prime suspect, of course, named by a witness. Then there was Ruth, a self-declared and extremely unlikely suspect, but there was the troubling matter of the Glock. Who knew what other weapons she might be hiding under all those hand-crocheted afghans? And now it turned out that Mireille had a very strong motive for killing her much older husband, since her baby would inherit his entire fortune. As the mother of this tiny billionaire, she would certainly have access to the estate and might actually control it. Come to think of it, thought Lucy, Mireille might also have figured out a way to kill Alison, clearing the way for her baby to inherit every last penny. And then there was Mimsy herself. It wouldn’t be the first time that a coldhearted killer used charm and an apparent willingness to help to distract investigators. It was certainly something to think about, Lucy decided as she googled Howard Munn.
CHAPTER 11
The lawyer’s number was easily obtained and Lucy got right on the phone to his Boston office where, much to her surprise, the man himself answered the phone. Caught off guard, she blurted out her thoughts.
“I didn’t actually expect to get through to you,” she confessed before identifying herself. “Sorry, I’m Lucy Stone from the Tinker’s Cove Pennysaver newspaper.”
Munn chuckled. “Well, I’ve got a small office, just me and a couple associates. We find that it’s best to keep things simple and direct, and our clients seem to appreciate our approach. I detest those recorded messages and why should I have a girl to answer the phone when I can do it myself?”
“Absolutely. I couldn’t agree more. Believe me, I spend a lot of time trying to negotiate phone systems that I suspect are designed to make callers give up in frustration. They say every call is important to them but they sure don’t act like it.”
Munn seemed to appreciate that and gave a little laugh.
“I won’t take up much time,” said Lucy, addressing the reason for her call. “I just need the details for Ed Franklin’s funeral for his obituary.”
“Of course. The service is at eleven o’clock Saturday at Trinity Church in Boston, followed by a reception at the Copley Plaza Hotel. Unfortunately for your readers, it’s by invitation only.”
“Of course. He was a very important person and I suppose a lot of other very important people will be attending.”
“Yes,” said Munn. “We know there’s a lot of interest, however, and I do have a limited number of press passes. Shall I reserve one for you?”
Lucy was floored. In her years as a part-time reporter for a small town weekly she knew only too well that she was at the bottom of the media food chain. “That would be great. Thank you.”
“No problem. I know how much Ed loved Tinker’s Cove and how active he was in local affairs. He’d want to include his neighbors, but given the situation it’s not practical to invite the whole town.”
Lucy found this reaction encouraging and decided to press for more information. “I’ve been told that Ed Franklin’s first wife is challenging his will. Is that true?”
There was a pause before Munn answered. “No comment,
