“Is that so?” I said, wondering if she was talking about the crystal-loving Althea.
“You’ll see.” She tossed her arm over my shoulder. “But you, I can tell you have a solid head on your shoulders, even if you did team up with a vicious little dog.”
“She’s not exactly—”
“I suspect we’re going to be the best of friends.”
“Because of magic?” came my knee-jerk response. I hadn’t forgotten how Althea had said just about the same thing when I first met her—that we’d be close friends while claiming that all sorts of mystical energies were at work on this island.
“Magic? Heavens, no. I already said I wasn’t flaky,” Jody said with a nervous laugh. “I think we’ll be friends because I’m Harley’s ex, and I distrust him as much as you seem to.” She frowned as she looked warily up and down the street before whispering, “I know you’ve been asking around town about Skinny McGee’s death.” Her hot breath tickled my ear. “Did you know that Harley was seen arguing with him right before his death? It terrifies me to think this, but I think he killed your friend.”
Chapter 7
Did I dare go in? My hand rested on the tarnished brass handle. I stood motionless outside Harley’s law office.
With very little prodding, Jody had offered disturbing details of her ex-husband’s violent streak. According to her, he’d fly into a rage with the slightest provocation. He was dangerous and most likely capable of murder.
Her warning to stay away from him repeated like a steady drumbeat in my head as I wondered what I should do. She’d cautioned me to never, under any circumstance, let myself be alone with her unstable ex.
“Sure, he might seem charming in public,” she’d said.
“I didn’t find him charming,” I’d quickly replied. A lie. But then again, I had questionable taste in men. The Cheese King—need I say more?
“Just wait,” Jody had told me. “Just you wait. If he takes the least bit of interest in you, he’ll turn on the charm.”
Charming men—I’d been learning the hard way—were slippery snakes lying in wait in the tall grasses to take advantage of women.
“Don’t worry about me being attracted to him.” His unwillingness to talk to me honestly about Skinny’s murder was a major turnoff as well as a huge guilty red flag.
Except you’d practically melted into his hug, and what was with that giddy teen foolishness you’d experienced the first time you met him? a voice in my head chided.
I quickly dismissed those reproving thoughts. My emotions might run wild sometimes, but they never (okay, rarely) got the better of me.
So if I didn’t have to worry about falling under the surfing lawyer’s spell, why didn’t I simply walk into his office?
Because of Skinny.
If Harley had killed my friend, it’d be beyond foolish to find myself alone with him. I didn’t even know if the letter he’d given me about the will reading was true. Yes, everyone I’d talked with in the town had heard about Mabel’s death. So I supposed he hadn’t lied about that. But gathering the heirs together to read the will so soon after her death seemed wrong.
This had to be some kind of set up.
I took my hand off the doorknob and turned to leave, but my exit was blocked by Althea coming up the stairs, her brass mandala necklaces clanging with each step. She’d draped herself in flowing black silks. The only spot of color was the pale-pink ribbon tying back her long, curly black hair.
“Penn”—she took both my hands in her slender grasp when she reached the landing—“I’m so glad you came. Mama feared you wouldn’t.”
“I’m not sure why I’m here,” I said. I quickly added, “I’m so sorry about Mabel.”
She kept a firm grip on my hands as if she thought I might run away as she blinked back tears. “Thank you. We all knew this day was coming but . . .” She sucked in a deep breath. “Mama is taking it the hardest. It will be a comfort to her to see you here.”
She draped her arm around me much like Jody had earlier that morning. As it had with Jody, my entire body tensed.
“I still don’t know why I’m here,” I said as I deftly slipped out of her embrace.
“Miss Mabel wanted you here.”
“But why? Why me?”
“I don’t know. She saw something in you she liked?”
“She didn’t even know—” I started to say as Althea pushed open the door to the law office.
Stepping into the space located on the second floor directly above Althea’s crystal shop was like stepping back in time. The lobby, if the tiny room could be called that, sported lime-green wallpaper with a spiraling design that made my stomach sort of queasy.
Behind a metal desk sat a woman who had to be in her eighties. A tall beehive—silver with a light-blue tint—wound around the top of her head. The area surrounding her smelled of AquaNet. When she spotted us approaching, she clicked her tongue and jumped from her chair with the bounce of a teenager.
“Althea,” she crooned, “such a sad reason to see you today. The town has lost one of the great ones.”
“Yes, it has,” Althea answered, her voice cracking with every word. “It surely has.”
“And you must be Charity Penn,” the woman said after she and Althea released each other.
“Just Penn,” I corrected.
Her silvery-blue beehive bounced on top of her head as she nodded. “Yes, yes. Harleston said to keep an eye out for you. I’m Miss Bunny. Follow me. They’re waiting for you in the conference room.”
“Harleston?” I asked.
“That’s Harley’s real name,” Althea said. “Has my mother arrived?” she asked Miss Bunny. “I’m here to provide support. I hope it’s not a problem.”
“I can’t see how it would be. Bertie must be devastated. The two of them have been bosom friends for as long as I’ve known them.”
Before Miss Bunny could open the door, Harley emerged from the conference room. He smiled when he saw us. “I’m glad you came, Penn. I was worried you wouldn’t.” Althea had said about the same thing.
Before I could ask either of them what they’d expected from me, he ushered the both of us into a conference room that, like the lobby, apparently hadn’t been refurbished since the seventies. Cheap wood paneling covered the walls. Many of the thin panels had buckled. A few of them had sprung loose from the nails holding them in place. They rattled as I walked past them, making me wonder if they might crash to the floor at any moment.
The laminate top of the long conference table had also buckled and warped. The room served as just another testament to how much this town needed a sudden and steep influx of money. In all my life, I’d never seen a lawyer’s office furnished like this—with less than the best.
As soon as we entered the room, five pairs of eyes turned toward us. Several of the conference table’s burnt-orange chairs squealed as their occupants shifted to look at me.
“It’s four o’clock. You’d said we’d start at four,” complained a woman who resembled a washed-out version of Mabel—sharp chin, high forehead, and all.
Harley checked his watch. “We’re waiting on Bertie. She said she’ll be here in about five minutes. We’ll get started then.”
“And who in Hades is this woman?” A man in his late fifties with thinning blond hair wagged his finger in my direction.
The man seated next to him tugged on the vest of his dark three-piece suit and shifted impatiently in a squeaky chair. “Yes, who is she?”
Harley moved a bit closer to me and stood a little taller as he faced the unhappy crowd in his conference room. “I’ll make introductions while we wait.”
A collective grumble arose from the five people at the conference table. Apparently, they all felt as if they’d waited long enough already.
Harley cleared his throat. “Let me introduce Charity Penn.”
“Just Penn,” I said automatically.
“She answers to Penn,” he added. “And I believe you
all know Bertie’s daughter, Althea.”
Harley then began to introduce the five people seated at the conference table. The washed-out version of Mabel was Florence Corners, Mabel’s youngest daughter. Peach, her older sister, sat next to her. She was dressed in a deep-purple tailored suit. Her strawberry-blonde hair had been styled in a sophisticated French twist that suited her sharp features.
Sitting next to Peach was the man with the thinning blond hair. Harley said his name was Derek and that he was Mabel’s youngest son. Next to Derek was the unhappy man dressed in a natty three-piece suit. He was Edward, Mabel’s oldest son.
I silently repeated the names of Mabel’s children: Florence, Peach, Derek, and Edward. None of them looked at all happy to be there. Edward looked downright furious. I reminded myself that anger was a stage of grief.
Finally, Harley introduced his brother, Calhoun Dalton (the one who reminded me of a swashbuckling action hero) at the far end of the room. His hair was slightly disheveled. His red-streaked eyes met mine. A corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
I nodded.
“Harley, I think it’s crass that you demanded we all come here for the will reading less than a few hours after Mother’s passing,” Derek said, breaking the silence. “Your father wouldn’t have—”
“This is how she instructed me to handle her affairs,” Harley said tightly.
Edward barked a loud laugh. “Just like Mother to drag us all out to this damned place with no warning. Had to cancel six meetings just to make time to get out here.”
“I hope you would have cleared your day anyhow,” Peach said quietly. “Mother died last night.”
“Yes, well.” He coughed. “Unlike some of you, I have a business to run. Don’t know why she didn’t ask me to act as executor of her estate. Would have made things so much simpler. We could have all met at my office in downtown Charleston instead of driving all the way out here.”
“Excuse Miss Mabel’s family, Penn. They’re not always like this,” Cal said.
“We’re never at our best during stressful times,” I said.
“I still don’t understand who you are, young lady, and what you’re doing here.” It’d been quite a while since anyone had called me a young lady. I didn’t know if I should be offended or thank Edward for the compliment.
“Ms. Penn was a friend of your mother’s and is named in the will,” Harley answered before I had a chance to decide what to say.
Edward grumbled something that made Cal’s cheeks turn red. The older man crossed his arms over his chest just as Bertie rushed into the room. She was breathing hard. Her gaze bounced from person to person, not staying long on anyone.
“Sorry,” she huffed.
“Any luck?” Harley asked.
She shook her head. “None. Sorry.”
“I hadn’t expected . . . Oh, well, it was worth a try.” He helped Bertie, who was dressed in a stylish black frock, into a chair next to where he’d set up all his paperwork.
Harley then held out a chair for me on the other side of Bertie. I took one look at it and then crossed the room to sit beside Cal. The ancient desk chair with burnt-orange upholstery had broken springs that protested loudly when I sat. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said to Cal. “I could tell she was a dear friend.”
He squeezed my hand. “Thank you.”
Unlike the four Maybanks seated at the table, he looked genuinely upset over Mabel’s death.
That’s when it suddenly hit me. Mabel had died. She wouldn’t be in the shop waiting for me. She wouldn’t be giving me any more intrusive hugs. And she wouldn’t be around to fleece me out of my fortune.
Althea gave me and then Cal an odd look before taking a seat next to her mother. The newer chairs must have been at the head of the table, since hers didn’t make a sound when she sat. Bertie stared at the linen handkerchief balled up in her hands.
“Now that we’re all here . . .” Harley started to say after he’d settled into the chair at the head of the table.
“Except for Carolina,” the elegant Peach said.
“You thought that ungrateful girl would turn up just because Mother died?” her sister Florence snapped.
“She’s been missing for nearly half a century,” Edward practically wailed, showing his first sign of grief since I’d entered the room.
“Yes, um, well, let us get started.” Harley shuffled through the stack of papers until he produced a handwritten document. He then slipped on a pair of narrow glasses and started reading. The first part of the will consisted of a bunch of legalese, which I pretty much ignored.
The next part concerned Mabel’s children. “I provided you with love and everything I had to give. You had an abundance of everything growing up. I hope over the years you have learned that the important things in life have never been about money. And yet sadly, I’m sure some of you are sitting here thinking about nothing but money. Edward, I had already gifted you the house in Charleston. Florence, Peach, and Derek, my dear children, you received your share of the family fortune when you each turned twenty-five. Only my dear eldest child, Carolina, didn’t receive—”
“Because she ran away,” Florence interrupted. “Ungrateful, selfish—”
“Not now,” Edward snapped.
Harley cleared his throat yet again. “Anyhow, it says that because Carolina didn’t receive her share of the money on her twenty-fifth birthday, Miss Mabel and your father had invested it. The money in that account will go to either Carolina or her heirs. If she or her heirs cannot be found within two years from this date, the money will be split equally between Florence, Peach, Derek, and Edward.”
“How much are we talking about here?” Derek asked.
Harley dug through his papers and then quoted a number that made even my jaded eyes widen.
“That’s a total amount?” Florence asked.
“No,” Harley said. “That’s what each of you will receive if Carolina or her heirs cannot be located.”
Cal whistled. I shook my head with disbelief. If Mabel had that kind of money, why hadn’t she used it to fix up her shop?
The old woman had also bequeathed to each of her children specific pieces of jewelry and antique furniture. Harley read through the list. Mabel’s children seemed somewhat indifferent to the gifts. Edward actually groaned when he heard he’d inherited Mabel’s kitchen table.
The next part of the will concerned Bertie. Mabel wrote quite eloquently of the great love she had for her longtime friend and how she was indebted to her for serving as a trusted nursemaid in the past decade. She left Bertie several pieces of jewelry and a small amount of money.
She also left specific pieces of furniture to both Harley and Cal. Cal chuckled when he heard he’d inherited a corner curio cabinet.
“You didn’t mention anything about the shop,” Edward pointed out when Harley had finished that section.
“No. Not yet. That’s coming up.” Harley turned the page and looked suddenly uncomfortable, like he’d been dreading reading this part of the will.
Mabel’s family members, who seemed bored with the entire proceeding, leaned forward with anticipation.
“As you know,” Harley read, “the chocolate shop has been in the family for three generations. As much as it pains me, none of my children are the least bit interested in continuing the tradition. Because of that, I have decided to place the shop in the hands of someone I trust will take good care of the building and keep the shop open. To that end, I leave the building and the shop along with a small stipend to Charity Penn.”
What?
She left it to me?
No.
I shifted. The chair’s springs protested. That’s when I noticed everyone had turned to stare. At me.
Harley then read the amount of the stipend. And yes, it was small, especially when compared with what I’d noticed, just on the surface, the building needed in repairs alone. Why in the world, if Mabel apparently had a large fortune at her disposal, would sh
e not give more for the repair and upkeep of her supposedly beloved shop?
“Charity? You mean to tell us Mother gave her shop to a stranger?” Edward’s voice boomed.
My cheeks heated with embarrassment. By all rights, Bertie should be inheriting the shop, not me. After all, she was Mabel’s business partner. How could Mabel cut her out like that?
My gaze flew to Bertie.
I expected to find her looking as angry and shocked as I felt. Instead, she was sitting back. Her hands were folded calmly in her lap as she watched the explosion of emotions taking place at the conference table. Her eyes locked on mine.
And she smiled.
Harley held up a hand to try to quiet Mabel’s angry children. “Miss Mabel anticipated that some of you would be upset by her decision. But I assure you she was of sound mind when she wrote her will.”
“Coerced to write it, more like. Who are you?” Florence demanded of me. “What did you do to con my mother out of her fortune?”
That wreck of a shop hardly constituted a fortune. But I decided not to say that, since Mabel’s children seemed to think they’d lost out on a great deal of money. And besides, the idea that I’d con someone out of his or her money was laughable.
“I don’t want—” I started to say only to have Harley say loudly, “Ms. Penn had nothing to do with the decision. I assure you she is as surprised as you must be to learn of the inheritance. Your mother wrote each of you a letter.”
He rifled through the papers in front of him and produced a stack of envelopes that matched the one that had contained the fake prize vacation. He handed one to each of Mabel’s four children, one to Cal, and one to Bertie.
He then stood and swung open the conference room’s pressed-wood door. “If you have any questions or wish to discuss what was spelled out in the will further, please don’t hesitate to make an appointment on your way out.”
“Oh, we’ll contest this all right,” Edward announced as he left. “There’s no way I’m going to let some outsider steal what is rightfully ours.”
Asking for Truffle: A Southern Chocolate Shop Mystery Page 8