The Case of the Faithful Frenchie

by B R Snow

  “Why is Otto sad?” the young girl said.

  “He just lost his mommy,” Josie said.

  “What happened to her?”

  “She had to go away,” I said, glancing at Barb.

  “And she couldn’t take Otto with her?”

  “No, she couldn’t,” Josie said.

  “So, he needs a new mommy?” the girl said, staring up at us wide-eyed.

  “Yeah, but he’s going to stay with Josie and me until we’re sure we’ve found the right mommy for him.”

  “Can I say hi to Otto?” she said, glancing up her mother.

  “Sure, Sweetie,” here mother said.

  “Let’s go say hi,” Josie said.

  Josie took the young girl’s hand, and they headed off toward the condo area. Her mother and I stayed behind.

  “So, tell me about this French bulldog, Suzy,” Barb said, sitting down.

  “He’s adorable,” I said. “And he’s no more than three years old, so he and Gwen should have a long run together. He’s healthy, learns quickly, and loves being around people. He’s just had a tough go of things because his owner was pretty…troubled.”

  “The girlfriend of the guy who was killed during the bank robbery,” Barb said, nodding. “Yes, I heard.”

  “Up to this point, Otto has pretty much lived on the street. But if you give him a nice, safe home, I’m sure he’ll more than return the favor.”

  “What’s the downside with the breed?” Barb said.

  “Well, Otto, like some others in the breed, does tend to slobber a bit when he drinks.”

  “Typical male, huh?” she said, laughing.

  “Yeah,” I said. “And Otto’s not going to be much of a swimmer. In fact, if you do let him get in the water, I suggest you put a life jacket on him. The breed just isn’t cut out for it.”

  “Okay,” she said. “That shouldn’t be a problem. Anything else?”

  “Well, it’s a short-faced breed, and they’re known for gulping in lots of air when they eat and drink,” I said.

  “So?” she said, confused.

  “So all that air has to eventually go somewhere.”

  “Gas?” she said, frowning.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “And lots of it.”

  “Just what I need,” she said, shaking her head. “Another one of those around the house.”

  “But he’s a great dog, Barb,” I said. “I wouldn’t say that if he wasn’t.”

  “I know you wouldn’t, Suzy.”

  We caught up on some local gossip for the next fifteen minutes until Gwen strolled into reception walking Otto on a lead. Otto was trotting proudly, and the young girl was beaming. I looked at Josie who was following them. Josie gave me a small nod.

  “Mom,” Gwen said. “I changed my mind. Like Josie says, Tiny loves me, but Otto needs me.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” Barb said, rubbing Otto’s head. “He’s a good dog.”

  “He is,” the girl said. “And Josie says that we can still come over anytime we want to play with Tiny.”

  “That sounds great, Gwen,” she said. “So, you’re happy with Otto?”

  “I am. I love him,” the girl said, lifting Otto up off the floor to hug him. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You’re very welcome. Happy birthday, Sweetie.”

  It was their turn to hug, then Josie reviewed some things with the mother while I kept an eye on Otto and the young girl. Fifteen minutes later, Gwen was holding the new lead we’d picked out for her and being led out the front door by Otto.

  “Thanks, guys,” Barb said. “Well done.”

  “No problem, Barb,” I said. “But if you do hit any issues, just swing by, and we’ll help you get them sorted out.”

  She waved on her way out the door, and we watched and waved as they drove away.

  “They bonded pretty quick,” I said.

  “As soon as he snorted and started hopping around on his back legs, Gwen was all in,” Josie said. “Good job, Suzy.”

  “Yeah, we did good. Okay, only one more thing left on the Buggy Winters to-do list,” I said.

  “Just try and stay out of trouble today,” Josie said. “And don’t get in the middle of any family arguments.”

  “Got it. Anything else?” I said.

  “Actually, there is,” Josie said. “Swing by Patterson’s on the way home and pick up a box of brownies.”

  “Looks like someone’s on the mend,” I said, hoping I was right.

  “At least the bleeding has stopped.”

  Chapter 20

  I’d asked Rooster if he’d be willing to take a look at my SUV to see if the console that Claudine had pretty much destroyed could be saved. When I dropped it off at his place, he took one look at the vehicle then wondered out loud if I’d lost my mind. But I wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to it yet, so I urged him to do his best and left him standing next to the SUV scratching his head.

  Since Josie needed her car this afternoon, I took the boat and headed for town. The long dock that was crowded during the summer season was pretty much empty of boats and people, and I had my choice of parking spots. I hopped up onto the dock and glanced up at Walter Adams’s office that occupied the second floor of an old boathouse that had been converted into commercial space several years ago. I saw him through the picture window staring out at the River view he enjoyed on a daily basis. Then he saw me and returned my wave.

  Walter had made a small fortune helping people with money keep it away from the government after they passed and in the hands of their loved ones and favorite charities. I’d known him for several years, and he and my mother had once been close. I’d never gotten all the details out of her, but I knew they’d had a short-lived romance soon after they’d both lost their spouses. I assumed that most of the problems had been caused by my mother since, for several years after my dad died, she had a tendency to compare all the men she met with him. Inevitably, all the men came up short. But Walter had always been good to me, even during their breakup, and we still enjoyed each other’s company.

  As I made the short walk to his office, I noticed two unmarked police cars parked nearby. I recognized the drivers of both cars but refrained from waving as I casually strolled toward the front door. I stopped when I saw Caspian standing by herself on the verandah trying to catch her breath. The whiteface was back, and her hair was wrapped tight on top of her head. I couldn’t get much from the expression on her face, but she seemed troubled.

  “Hi, Caspian. Are you okay?”

  “Hi, Suzy,” she said, her chest heaving. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a little panic attack. All these people make me nervous, you know?”

  I glanced around the empty street, then nodded at her.

  “Sure, sure.”

  She took several deep breaths, then nodded, and pulled the glass door open.

  “Are you coming in?” she said.

  “I’ll be right in. I told Chief Abrams I’d meet him outside. I’ll see you in a couple of minutes.”

  She nodded and forced herself through the door and up the short flight of steps that led to the second floor. I enjoyed the view and the cool breeze for a few minutes until Chief Abrams, dressed in his uniform, came around the corner and waved at me.

  “Hey, Chief,” I said, giving him a quick hug.

  “You ready for this?” he said, then caught his reflection in the glass door and adjusted his hat. “Ever since I made detective with the state police, I haven’t worn a uniform. I’m still trying to get used to it.”

  “Well, you look great,” I said.

  “No, you look great,” he said, laughing. “I look like a cop. Let’s do this.”

  He held the door open for me, and we went inside and up the steps.

  “How do you want to play it?” I said.

  “I thought we’d sit at the back of the room and let Caspian handle the explanation of why we’re here. Hopefully, we’ll end up just listening, but if anything comes up that sounds completely out of bo
unds or doesn’t make any sense, feel free to jump in. But try to keep it in the form of a question.”

  “Something like, I’d like who killed Buggy Winters for a thousand, Alex?”

  “Exactly.”

  We headed inside and were greeted by the receptionist who escorted us to the conference room. We stood in the doorway and took a look around the room. The Winters were already seated around the large conference room table. Caspian sat fidgeting at one end of the table, seemingly unsure about what to do with her hands. On her left were Brock and Roxanne who were ignoring each other. On Caspian’s right, were Lucinda and Oliver. Oliver was doing his best to sneak glances at Caspian without Lucinda noticing but failing miserably. Bentley sat next to them studying a racing form, oblivious to the others in the room. Walter turned away from the picture window, then smiled and waved when he saw us.

  “There they are,” Walter said, sitting down at the other end of the table facing Caspian. “Okay, now we can get started.”

  Except for Caspian, everyone at the table frowned when they saw us. I gave them a small wave and rocked back and forth on my feet. I hadn’t expected to be nervous, but I felt my stomach do a backflip and I looked at Walter. He gestured at the empty chairs on either side of him, and I sat down next to Bentley who was still staring at me with a very confused look on his face.

  “What the hell are they doing here?” Brock said, glaring at Walter.

  “I invited them,” Caspian said, softly.

  “Why on earth would you do that?” Lucinda said.

  “I just wanted to have a few friendly faces in the room,” Caspian said, shrugging.

  “Hi, Suzy,” Roxanne said, smiling.

  “Hey, Roxanne. How are you doing?”

  “You know the drill,” she said, nodding her head slightly in Brock’s direction.

  “There is no reason these people need to be here,” Brock said, focusing his glare on Caspian. “I’d like them to leave.”

  “Shut it, Brock,” Caspian said, without emotion. “If I want them here, they can stay.”

  “Walter,” Brock said, turning back to the lawyer. “This is highly irregular.”

  “Yeah, maybe a little,” Walter said, toying with his pen. “But I wouldn’t worry about it, Brock. It’s just something that Caspian thinks will help her get through the meeting. I’m sure you understand your sister’s aversion to situations that are different from what she’s used to.”

  “Oh, poor Caspian,” Brock said. “Afraid to go outside the house. Afraid of her own shadow. What a crock.”

  “Knock it off, Brock,” Oliver said.

  “Stay out of it, Oliver,” Lucinda snapped.

  Oliver exhaled and shook his head as he ignored the death stare his wife was giving him.

  “Okay, now that we have the pleasantries out of the way,” Walter deadpanned. “Let’s get started.”

  Brock, Bentley, and Lucinda all reached into their bags and placed an identical document in front of them on the table. I glanced at Caspian who watched them, and I thought I picked up a trace of a smile.

  “We are here for the reading of your father’s last will and testament,” Walter said, glancing at the documents in front of the three siblings.

  “Before you get started,” Bentley said. “Father was always pretty secretive about what he was actually worth. How much money are we talking about?”

  “Based on the most recent financial statements, around seventy-five million,” Walter said.

  “Twenty-five million each,” Brock said, then whistled softly.

  “This shouldn’t take too long,” Walter said, glancing around the table. “It’s a relatively straightforward document.”

  “Straightforward?” Brock said. “What are you talking about, Walter? This thing is eighty pages long.”

  “And I have a ton of questions,” Bentley said.

  “And I need to say right up front that I’m contesting it,” Lucinda said.

  “Why would you do that?” Roxanne said.

  “Because I’m not in it,” Lucinda snapped.

  Brock and Bentley laughed and winked at each other.

  “How could you not be in your father’s will?” Roxanne said, frowning. “You were the one who took care of them all those years.”

  “Yes, I was, wasn’t I?” Lucinda said.

  “Given the circumstances, Lucinda, it shouldn’t be that surprising,” Brock said. “Technically, you didn’t really come straight from the family tree.”

  Lucinda started to climb across the table to get at her brother, but Oliver managed to get her back in her seat. I glanced at Chief Abrams who mouthed a silent Wow back at me.

  “Folks, please,” Walter said. “If you’re going to come to blows, please save it until you’re outside in the parking lot, okay?”

  “That was a cheap shot, Brock,” Lucinda said.

  “What can I say, Lucinda? Sometimes the truth hurts.”

  “Can we get started?” Bentley said. “I’d like to make it to Saratoga in time for the first race tonight.”

  “Yes, let’s do that,” Walter said. “It appears that the three of you have all read the will your father had me draft several years ago. I have no idea where you got copies of it, but that’s a matter for others to deal with.”

  Walter glanced at Chief Abrams, and a long silence followed.

  “Go ahead, Walter,” Caspian said, eventually.

  “Yes, of course,” Walter said, rubbing his forehead. “The will in front of you, while somewhat complicated in the section dealing with the family’s real estate holdings, basically divided your parents’ estate into three equal shares among the three children that were sired by your father. And it was also quite clear that the two other children, Lucinda and the recently deceased Wilbur, were to be completely excluded.”

  Walter looked down the table and gave Lucinda a look of sympathy.

  “I’m sorry, Lucinda,” Walter said. “When your father first mentioned what his plans were, I did my best to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Lucinda snapped. “Like I said, I plan on contesting it and have already started talking to some lawyers.”

  “I understand,” Walter said. “And if I were in your situation, I’d probably be doing the exact same thing.”

  “Anybody would,” Lucinda said.

  “Yes,” Walter said, taking a deep breath before continuing. “But you might want to put those discussions on hold until I read the new version of your father’s will.”

  The air seemed to get sucked out of the room, and a deathly silence ensued. The only audible sound was the soft tick-tick-tick of Walter’s wall clock as the seconds passed.

  “I beg your pardon,” Bentley said, setting his racing form down.

  “There’s a new will?” Lucinda said, wide-eyed.

  “That’s impossible,” Brock said. “We didn’t find…”

  “Find what, Brock?” Bentley said, staring across the table at his brother.

  “Nothing, forget I said anything. I’m just confused. Actually, I’m stunned,” Brock said, backpedaling as fast as his brain would allow. “What were you saying about a new will, Walter?”

  Brock poured himself a glass of water, took a sip, and frowned at the taste.

  “I’ve got a pint of bourbon in my bag if you’d prefer that, Brock,” Bentley said.

  “Shut up, Bentley. Walter, please explain yourself.”

  “Four months ago, your father called me and said that he’d had a change of heart and wanted to make some changes to his will. Some rather substantial changes.”

  “Four months ago?” Brock said. “That won’t stand up in court. He was feeble near the end.”

  “Physically, yes, I agree,” Walter said. “But mentally he was still sharp as a tack.”

  “Yes, he was,” Lucinda said, nodding.

  “Stay out of this, Lucinda,” Brock said.

  “So, your father came to my office, and
he dictated a new will. My paralegal typed it up, and he signed it. I still have the recording in case you’d like to hear it.”

  “Who witnessed it?” Brock said, then turned to glare at Lucinda. “Is this something you cooked up?”

  “Not me,” Lucinda said, shaking her head. “I’m as stunned as you are.”

  “Who were the witnesses, Walter?” Brock said.

  “Well, obviously I was here,” Walter said. “My paralegal and another member of my staff. Along with the family member who served as the primary witness.”

  “Family member?” Brock said, glancing around the table. “Our mother?”

  “No,” Walter said, shaking his head.

  “Then who was it?” Brock said.

  “Me,” Caspian whispered.

  All eyes turned to her, and she blinked several times in rapid succession.

  “Geez, will you stop with the blinking?” Bentley said. “You witnessed our father drafting a new will and never said anything about it?”

  “Those were his instructions,” Caspian said. “And he was quite adamant about it.”

  “He was indeed,” Walter said.

  “Why on earth would the old man draft a new will?” Bentley said to no one in particular.

  “You’ll see,” Caspian said, then reached into her bag and removed a document. She kept the original and slid a copy the length of the desk. It came to a stop in front of the lawyer, and she nodded at Walter.

  “You had it the whole time?” Brock said.

  “The whole time, Brock?” Caspian said, giving him a small smile.

  “It’s just a figure of speech,” Brock said.

  “There were rumors,” Bentley said.

  “Shut up, Bentley,” Brock snapped.

  I glanced at Chief Abrams who gave me a small smile.

  “And I assume those rumors were the reason you broke into my office last week,” Walter said, staring at Brock.

  “What are you talking about?” Brock said, going for a throaty chuckle, but ending up in a coughing fit.

  “You did a good job disabling my surveillance system,” Walter said. “But you forgot about the cameras I have in my file room.”

  Brock sunk further into his chair and stared up at the ceiling.