by Rachel Ford
Donna snorted. “That’s ridiculous. She’s dead. The money should go to the kids. That’s what Rick wanted.”
“It’s a matter of timing,” Lowe said. “The money hadn’t changed accounts yet, but it was legally hers at the time of her death. Now, it’s legally her heirs.”
“Well who the hell are her heirs?”
Marguerite threw a contemptuous look Donna’s way and muttered something under her breath. Halverson didn’t hear what, but Donna did – that was evident in the angry flush that came into her cheeks.
Lowe, meanwhile, smiled patiently. “We’re getting there. First, we should look at Marsha’s life insurance.”
There were no surprises here. Like her husband, she had a handful of supplementary policies. She’d signed some over to her sister Marguerite, and some to her own three children. A fifty-thousand-dollar policy benefited the local animal shelter.
Then they got to her million-dollar policy. It was as unsurprising as the rest, but it still drew an outcry. She’d named Rick as her primary beneficiary, and Brittany, Rose and Robert as her secondaries. Since Rick predeceased her, the children would inherit.
This drew an outcry from Donna, who declared it preposterous that Marsha’s children should inherit but Rick’s wouldn’t. “If her secondary beneficiaries can benefit, why can’t his?”
The answer was straightforward, of course, but Donna seemed in no mood to be reasonable. Elizabeth and Josh exchanged glances while their mother argued with the lawyer. They didn’t look happy.
Neither was anyone else. “For God’s sakes,” Marguerite snapped, “he’s dead, Donna. The gravy train is over. Have some dignity.”
Carl snorted. “Dignity? She doesn’t know the word.”
This set the elder Wynder kids arguing with their uncle, and Donna calling Marguerite a whole host of slurs, and Brittany crying. The Cassidy’s seemed sensitive to their half-sister’s situation, because they focused on her rather than Donna or the other Wynder children.
But Halverson could see the anger in their faces. Scratch that. Hatred. That’s what it was. Robert in particular regarded Donna and her children with an expression that was almost lethal – the if looks could kill look.
Lowe quieted them finally with the threat to send them all away and resume the business another day if they didn’t settle down. That shut them up – all but Brittany, who went on crying quietly, now into her aunt’s arms.
Lowe reached the first will: Rick Wynder’s. It was straightforward enough. He had a few specific bequeathments. His son got a classic muscle car he owned. His eldest daughter got a Northwoods lake cabin, and his youngest got a property just outside of town. Carl got their father’s service memorabilia.
But the residuary estate – everything else – went to his wife, Marsha. In the case that she predeceased him, it would be split equally between his three children, Elizabeth, Joshua and Brittany.
Silence filled the room – a pregnant silence. The kind of silence that precedes a ship hitting an iceberg, or an airplane dropping out of the sky. The quiet before the storm.
Lowe picked up Marsha’s will and started to read. It was a standard document. It revoked all other wills and amendments to wills. It listed the names of Marsha’s husband, sister, and children, and her relationship to each of them. Then, it set out her wishes for the disposal of her property.
Rose and Robert were to inherit their father’s belongings. They were to get the old Cassidy family property, and all the Cassidy family mementos she still had.
Marguerite would inherit half of Marsha’s retirement account, and a few Miller family mementos.
Brittany would get the other half of her retirement account. The rest – all other monies and properties belonging to her at the time of her death – would be shared equally by her three children, Brittany Wynder, and Rose and Robert Cassidy.
Halverson had never really understood the phrase so quiet you could have heard a pin drop before. He’d experienced silence, of course. That deep, endless silence you get out in the middle of nowhere in a rural area, with forest and nothing else all around you. True silence.
This wasn’t that kind of silence. This was the about-to-hit-an-iceberg silence, like everyone in the room was holding their breath. Waiting.
Then, it happened. Josh got up abruptly and called bullshit, shoving his chair back with a scraping sound. They’d all be hearing from his lawyer, he said. There was no way he was going to let thieving, grasping bastards like the Cassidy’s wind up with his dad’s estate. Not if he could help it.
Donna declared the whole business to be a farce, loudly and repeatedly.
Elizabeth started to cry and say it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t the money – it was the unfairness – that bothered her the most.
Marguerite laughed out loud, and Robert invited Josh to eat a bag of dicks.
Brittany resumed her earlier bout of crying, and Rose tried to comfort her. Carl urged everyone to calm down. If there were legal options, they could explore them, but there was no reason for family to get at each other’s throats.
Roger Lowe agreed, but he offered a caveat about legal options. “You’re welcome to pursue your own interests, of course. But I can guarantee you that the wills – both of them – are solid.”
“Bullshit,” Josh declared. His face was red and angry, and the veins in his neck pulsed. “Dad never would have left everything to that bitch if he realized she was going to cut us out like that.”
“Dad had no idea what was coming,” Elizabeth said.
“He didn’t realize the circumstances of his death, no. But your father was very cognizant of the fact that he would predecease your stepmother. We discussed it on multiple occasions. He was her senior by about twenty years, and fully expected she would outlive him. He believed the property would be hers to do with as she saw fit at that point.”
“Bullshit,” Josh said again.
“Well, you are of course entitled to your opinion –”
“You’re damned right I am,” he interrupted.
“This is robbery,” Donna said, standing to round on Brittany and the Cassidy’s. “You – you and that whore of a mother of yours. You did this. You worked Rick against his own family, just like she did.”
Robert and Carl got to their feet now. So did Marguerite and Halverson, though for different reasons.
Halverson started to move toward the center of the room, urging reason and calm.
Marguerite stepped between her nieces and nephew and laid into Donna. She was a psycho who had made poor Marsha’s life a living hell. She belonged in an asylum. No, scratch that, she belonged in prison for what she’d done.
Carl, meanwhile, moved to put himself between Donna and the kids. She needed to leave, he said. There was no place for any of this. She was only making matters worse, like she always did.
Donna rounded on him, jabbing a finger into his chest. He was taking Marsha’s side, like he always did. She wanted to know why. Rick was dead. “You can stop kissing his ass, Carl.”
Roger Lowe raised his voice, demanding that everyone either retake their seats or leave. No one moved to comply. Instead, they moved at each other.
Robert urged Josh to “get that crazy bitch out of here.”
Josh responded by taking a step toward him, demanding to know, “What the hell did you say?”
Robert repeated himself. “Why? You want to do something about it?”
“Maybe I will,” Josh said.
“Please do,” Robert said. “I just inherited your house. Give me a reason to beat your ass in the same day.”
Josh’s eyes flashed. He jumped Robert Cassidy, and the two men careened backward, trading blows, knocking aside chairs and shoving into people as they went.
Carl reached them a step before Halverson and tried to pull Josh away. He earned a punch for his efforts. It sent him reeling. Josh went back to Robert.
Halverson didn’t make the same mistake. He wasn’t gentle and he wasn’t careful. He seized Jos
h Wynder by the neck and shirt and took a rapid step backward, tossing the other man as he went.
He’d broken up a dog fight that way once: grabbed the aggressor by the collar and thrown him into a pool. It had distracted the canine until animal control arrived.
There were no pools here, but there was a small sea of chairs, and that’s where Josh landed. Not ideal. A lot could go wrong when you threw someone into a chair. Broken bones – a broken neck – were all possible.
But the room didn’t have any other space. It was either the chairs or people. So he chose the chairs. And Josh went down hard, but he didn’t break anything.
Halverson rounded on Robert, who, though not the instigator, had been enjoying his role too much. He figured there were twenty years of pent-up rage there. He didn’t even blame Robert. If anyone deserved an ass-kicking, it’d be Josh Wynder.
But people could get hurt if this kept up, and maintaining order was Halverson’s job. “You,” he barked, “out of the room, now. In the lobby.”
“But he –”
“Now, or you leave in cuffs.”
Robert didn’t like it but he complied. Not without adding over his shoulder, “He lays a finger on my sisters, and I’ll break his neck.”
Josh, meanwhile, had managed to push himself onto his feet. He’d got the worst of his tussle with Robert. That was clear. He had a welt on his left cheek, and a split lip. He spit out a glob of blood and headed for the doorway. “I’ll kill you, you son-of-a-bitch.”
Halverson intervened. “Like hell you will. You’re going to sit your ass down, right now.”
Donna and Elizabeth cut in here, each demanding to know if he intended to arrest Robert Cassidy. “He attacked my son, Sheriff.”
Carl suggested that everyone take a breath. “Tempers got heated. But let’s not pretend Josh was without fault here.”
“That little shit attacked Robert,” Marguerite said. “I wish he got more than a bloody lip.”
“That’s not helpful,” Halverson said.
“Please, everyone,” Lowe said, “let’s take our seats and –”
No one seemed to hear. Donna had stopped listening at Carl’s comment. She was too busy calling him a failure of an uncle, and suggesting with quite a few colorful turns of phrases that he was the loser Wynder brother. The suck up who hadn’t figured out that there was no one left to suck up to yet.
Elizabeth was screaming at Halverson and Marguerite. He’d damned well better do his job, she said. And as for Marguerite, well, she could now say what she’d always wanted to say. “I hated that bitch, and I’m so glad she’s dead. I’m just sorry it was instantaneous.”
This last bit brought Brittany and Rose into the fray. They were both on their feet, the former shocked and the latter furious.
How, Brittany wanted to know, could her half-sister even say such a thing? How could she think it? “Mom was such a good person. She tried so hard to make sure we got along. What the hell is wrong with you, Liz?”
Rose got right to the heart of the matter. There were a lot of b-word and c-word drops, with colorful suggestions as to what her stepsister could do with and to herself. It all culminated with, “Rot in hell. Just like that piece of shit father of yours.”
Elizabeth followed her brother’s example and lunged for Rose Cassidy. She never reached her stepsister, though. Marguerite intervened, with a balled fist that knocked the young woman onto her backside.
Donna shrieked. Carl threw up his hands, declaring, “Jesus Christ.”
“Alright, meeting’s over,” Halverson decided. It was either that, or arrest the lot of them and let them consider their options in lockup.
No one heard him. Donna went on screaming. Carl started talking to Rose and Brittany, checking on them. Elizabeth pushed to her feet and set her sights on Marguerite.
Halverson pushed into the center of them, raising his voice. “Meeting’s over. All of you, go home. Now.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
They didn’t go home. Donna wanted arrests. Elizabeth still wanted to fight. So did Josh. All the same, things looked like they might be improving.
Carl ushered Marguerite, Rose and Brittany toward the door. Josh and Elizabeth moved out of their way. The two sets of kids traded barbs as they passed each other, but only barbs. Not fists.
The tension in Roger Lowe’s forehead began to let up.
Donna went on screaming, but that was okay. She did that a lot. “You’re not going to arrest them? You’re going to let them attack my children, and sit there and do nothing?”
“Your kids hit first, Donna.”
“Like hell they did. I saw the whole thing.”
“So did I…”
Her nostrils flared. “You’re really going to let them walk away after they took everything Rick built and saved for all those years? You’re going to let them get away with attacking my kids?”
“Donna, they didn’t –”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You’re going to sit back and pretend you didn’t see a thing?”
“I saw everything. I saw Josh hit Robert. I saw Elizabeth try to hit Rose.”
She shook her head. “I should have known. Money always talked in this godforsaken town. Good to see nothing’s changed. Good to see you’re the same spineless sack of shit you always were, Trey.”
He was going to let that slide. What choice did he have? It was just words, after all. But then she followed it up with a big glob of spit. It hit him square in the face, right between the eyes.
Halverson had had enough. He informed Donna Wynder that she was under arrest. She didn’t seem to believe him until he hauled out his cuffs, at which point she started to sob violently. She shrieked when he took her hand and turned her around, bowing over like she was in some kind of agony.
Carl and Marsha’s family paused at the door, drawn by the hysteria behind them. Josh and Elizabeth descended on him.
“Oh my God,” Elizabeth said. “You can’t be serious. You’re hurting her.”
Josh had apparently recovered from his earlier defeat. He was in fighting mode again. “Get your goddamned hands off her, Trey.”
“Back off, both of you,” Halverson said. “Or I’ll put you in cuffs too, for interfering.”
Donna went on screaming bloody murder.
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. She visibly wavered for a second between striking and not. She opted for not, though she had plenty to say about it. Most of it of the four-lettered variety.
Josh was another matter. He was amped up and ready to go. Maybe trying to save face; maybe too pissed to care. He took a step toward Halverson. “You’re hurting her,” he said.
“Back off, Josh. I’m not going to tell you again.”
“This is police brutality,” Elizabeth said. She fumbled for her phone. “Smile. You’re about to go viral, Sheriff.”
Lowe stepped up now, trying to pull the younger Wynder’s away from their mother. “Please, Josh, Elizabeth: this will go better if we all step back and calm down.”
Elizabeth ignored him and started narrating. She was good, and quick. There was emotion but not hysteria in her voice. She knew the right notes to hit in her narration, too.
Her mother was a grieving senior who had just lost the man she loved for the second time. Halverson was a good old boy who got off on wielding power over the locals. He was a bully.
The irony of it all was that the more she said, the angrier he got. Which he supposed was the point. She wanted him to look angry, violent; unhinged. She wanted to capture an isolated moment out of time that would frame him as the aggressor.
He wasn’t going to give her one. He kept his voice neutral as he read Donna her rights. The older woman went on screaming that he was hurting her. He was going to break her arm. Elizabeth went on narrating.
Josh watched while this transpired. But seeing his sister’s method achieving no results – Halverson didn’t back down in fear at the sight of a camera – he let into the sheriff again. “You�
��re hurting her, you son-of-a-bitch. Let her go.”
Lowe put a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Come on, Josh. You need to leave. Now.”
Josh shrugged him off and took another step toward Halverson. “Let her go.”
“You’re going to break her arm,” Elizabeth said. “Oh my God, he’s going to break her arm.”
“Joshua, you need to go,” Lowe said again. “If you don’t leave now, you’re going to be trespassing. Do you understand me? And you too, Elizabeth.”
He reached again for Josh, but this time the younger man didn’t shrug him off. He raised an elbow, hard and fast.
Halverson didn’t see it connect. But he did hear the lawyer’s cry of pain and saw the spray of blood droplets fly from his nose.
Lowe crumpled backward, covering his face. Josh pressed forward, a bloody fist half-cocked. Elizabeth followed him with her camera. “Oh my God, Mom? Mom, are you okay? Mom?”
Halverson didn’t wait for Josh to hit him. He clocked the young man hard and fast – so hard he staggered backward. “Joshua Wynder, you’re under arrest for assaulting an officer of the law.”
A county over, while Sheriff Halverson was arresting half the remaining Wynder family, Sean Abbot glanced out his window to see a dark SUV pulling up his front drive.
He felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. A literal and physical sensation, and not just a figure of speech: it skipped one beat, and the next crashed like thunder.
Then he took a breath, and the oxygen reached his brain. The synapses all started firing at once, fueled by adrenaline and fear, but tempered by reason and a good, deep breath.
This wasn’t the FBI, of the Justice Department, come to haul him off. This wasn’t anyone come to haul him off. This was just someone in a dark SUV.
Two someone’s, neither of whom he recognized. One was young and might have meant trouble. He had a vaguely military look to him: a little thin and a little reedy, but all business, with that focus military guys get.
The other, though, looked like a grandpa: old and feeble, with a slow, stiff walk. They both dressed neatly, or as neatly as he could see outside of the coats, anyway.