W Is for Wasted

by Sue Grafton

  Mamie gave Evelyn a warning look.

  “Well, I don’t see why we should shilly-shally around,” Evelyn said, bristling.

  “And I don’t see why I should sit by while you turn this into a big stinking fight,” Mamie snapped back.

  “If you like I can go through the chain of events,” I said.

  Mamie’s gaze flicked to mine. “Please.”

  “First of all, you know who Rebecca Dace was?”

  Evelyn spoke up. “She was Terrence’s aunt. Her brother Randall was Terrence’s father. She had another brother named Sterling, but he died some years ago.”

  “Rebecca Dace married my grandfather Quillen Millhone. He and Rebecca had one child, my father, Randall Terrence Millhone. From what I’ve been able to piece together, he was Terrence’s favorite uncle.”

  “Which doesn’t answer my question,” Evelyn said. “Why did you inherit all that money with such a flimsy blood tie? You’re barely related to us at all. It just doesn’t seem right.”

  “I’ll tell you as much as I know,” I said, and repeated my account, which I rendered in excruciating detail, hoping to dispense with any questions she might pose.

  When I finished, both women stared at me.

  Mamie shook her head slightly, checking the last page of the will to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. “What about these witnesses? We don’t recognize the names.”

  “Those were friends of his.”

  Evelyn said, “Well, I’m happy he had friends. That wasn’t always the case. I’m sure you understand why we’d be skeptical.”

  “You want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

  Evelyn reached for the will and checked the pages as Mamie had. “Well, who is this Mr. Singer? Have you any idea?”

  “He and Terrence met at a homeless shelter. I didn’t make the man’s acquaintance until last week.”

  “What about Ms. White and Mr. Beider?”

  “I met them at the same time,” I said. “Dan Singer told me the three of them witnessed the will at Terrence’s request. It was all straightforward and aboveboard.”

  “They’re homeless?” Mamie asked. Her tone put them in the same low company as pedophiles.

  “Yes.”

  She blinked. “Do they have mental health issues?”

  “Not that I observed.”

  “What about problems with substance abuse?”

  I thought, Oops. “I’ve only known them a week,” I said, as though that ruled out my opinion.

  Evelyn’s turn. “But you can see why we’d question the signatures if these three misfits were drunk or mentally impaired.”

  “Actually, I think only two witnesses are required, so I’m willing to concede one of them.”

  Mamie stared at me. “Is that a joke?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be flip. If you want to challenge their competence, you’ll have to hire an attorney and take them into court. There’s no point in our discussing the issue since none of us are qualified mental health professionals. As far as I know,” I added, having eliminated our law degrees in the earlier conversation.

  A little knot appeared between Mamie’s brows but her tone remained mild. “All this talk about attorneys. Is that really what you want?”

  “All I want is to avoid turning this into a personal debate.”

  Evelyn said, “But why bring attorneys into it? We’ll end up paying them the lion’s share and how will any of us benefit?”

  “This is not something we can settle among the three of us. This is awkward—”

  “It’s not a matter of awkwardness. It’s a question of what’s right. Terrence was angry,” Evelyn said.

  “Okay, fine. That’s true as far as it goes.”

  Sounding slightly more conciliatory, she went on. “I’m not blaming him, I’m only pointing out that if he’d had a chance to calm down, he might have reversed himself.”

  “But he didn’t. In point of fact, what we’re left with is what’s spelled out in that document,” I said.

  “Here’s what you don’t seem to grasp,” Mamie said. “Terrence loved his children. You’ve been drawn into a drama that goes back many years. I don’t think you appreciate the hardships they endured. I don’t know how Evelyn managed to hold her head up.” Mamie glanced at Evelyn as she said this and Evelyn managed to look especially stricken.

  “Look, I can understand how difficult it must have been. That doesn’t change anything.”

  Evelyn said, “You know he offered them the money. Are you aware of that?”

  “I’m assuming that’s why he came to Bakersfield,” I said.

  “That’s exactly right. The minute he had the settlement in hand, he called Ethan, saying he wanted to make amends. He talked about dividing the money equally among the three children to compensate them for their suffering.”

  “You keep referring to them as children when they’re fully grown adults,” I said.

  She dropped her gaze. “I suppose I’ll always think of them as children. Do you have any of your own?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then it might be hard for you to fathom how a mother feels.”

  “Off topic,” Mamie warned.

  Evelyn gave her a hard look and turned back to me. “What I’m getting at is I may not know how the law works, but in my mind, and Terrence’s as well, his talking to them about splitting the money was the same as a verbal contract.”

  Mamie said, “Evelyn, I’m not sure you’re helping matters. I’m guessing Kinsey’s already spoken to an attorney since she’s brought it up so many times.”

  “I’m just telling her how I see the problem. Terrence wanted to do right by them, which is why he came back.”

  Mamie flicked a look at me. “She might have a point.”

  “Thank you,” Evelyn said tartly, and then turned to me. “Surely, you don’t believe the terms are fair. After what they went through? Terrence felt rejected and he rejected them in response, but it’s not unreasonable to imagine him regretting his haste. It’s unfortunate he died before he had a chance to undo the harm. Doesn’t that seem reasonable to you?”

  I indicated the papers. “The will is dated July 8, 1988. He and Ethan quarreled in September, ten months before. That’s hardly acting in haste. He had time to think about what he was doing both before and afterward.”

  Evelyn went on as though I hadn’t said a word. “You have no idea how much that money would mean to them. This could be a life-changing event,” she said. There was a small tremor in her voice that I thought was entirely manufactured.

  “I’m not here to negotiate. I made that clear to Mamie on the phone.”

  “Hear me out . . . as a courtesy if nothing else.” She kept her eyes on me as though waiting for my permission to continue.

  I gestured her on.

  “As executor of the estate, you’re in a position to tip the balance, don’t you think?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you see your role?”

  “It’s not a role. As executor, it’s my job.”

  “Your job, then.”

  “I’m responsible for seeing that his assets are distributed according to the provisions in the will. I can’t just make these things up. I have to answer to the court.”

  “But once this is settled, you do have a say in what happens from that point on.”

  “If the judge decides the will’s in order, I’ll see that Terrence’s wishes are carried out. That’s the only power I have.”

  “But isn’t this a conflict of interest? You admit you had no relationship with Terrence and yet you’ve managed to insert yourself between the man and his own offspring. Why can’t you give them a chance to accomplish something in life?”

  “Let’s not go on with this. Please believe me when I tell you it’s not up to me.”

  “That’s not true,” Evelyn said. “All that money’s going to end up in your pocket, isn’t it?”

  “In theory, I suppose.”


  “What I’m suggesting is that once the money’s yours, you can do anything you want with it. Isn’t that correct?”

  I raised a hand. “I want to talk about something else.”

  Evelyn said, “I haven’t finished making my point. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have a share, but think about this. If you divided it four ways, you’d each come out with about a hundred and fifty thousand apiece, which seems equitable.”

  I was shaking my head, irritated that she was pressing the point.

  Mamie interceded. “Would you let Kinsey have a turn? You’ve talked long enough.” She turned to me. “What were you going to say?”

  I loved how cranky she was. I said, “I’d like to back up a bit if you don’t mind. Here’s what I don’t get. All this posturing aside, why weren’t Ethan and Anna more charitable when Terrence was exonerated? I know Ellen was out of town when he arrived, but Ethan and Anna both still believe he killed Karen Coffey. Even with all the evidence that came to light. Why weren’t they happy? Why didn’t they rejoice? That’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it? Not that they believed he was guilty, but that they refused to believe he was innocent.”

  “You’d have to ask them. I wouldn’t presume to speak for them. After all, they’re adults—as you so aptly pointed out.”

  I said, “Can we stick to the point? Terrence cut them out of the will because they mistreated him, yes?”

  “I grant you their behavior was unfortunate, but let’s not make matters worse,” she said.

  “That’s not where I’m going with this. Do you know why they quarreled?”

  “Because Terrence was drunk,” she said.

  “No. They quarreled because you insinuated he’d actually had a hand in that girl’s death.”

  Mamie waved that aside. “That’s ridiculous. Evelyn did no such thing.”

  “Yes, she did.” I looked at Evelyn. “If you hadn’t poisoned the well, your ‘children’ might have been receptive to their father’s overtures. They might have accepted the fact that he was cleared of wrongdoing. If the visit had been a good one, he’d have left them everything, so this is really more about you than it is about me.”

  Evelyn lowered her gaze. Color was creeping up her neck, which I considered a thrilling sight. She said, “I don’t think you understand the relationship they had. They worshiped him. He was a hero to them. When this hideous crime came to light, they were devastated. I wanted them to realize that he wasn’t quite the innocent victim he portrayed himself.”

  “You think he killed her?”

  “I think he had the means, the motive, and the opportunity.”

  “What are you talking about? This isn’t a television drama.”

  “Karen was Ethan’s friend. She’d been to the house more than once.”

  “So what?”

  “I could see Terrence took a shine to her. I never had any proof, but I wasn’t at all shocked when the police came to the door and asked to speak to him. He looked terrible. His skin was gray. He was sweating and his hands shook. That’s not the demeanor of an innocent man.”

  Mamie looked at her mother-in-law with disbelief. “Are you serious? He shook and turned gray anytime a drink was overdue.”

  Evelyn was still focused on me. “I don’t know where in the world you got the idea I turned the children against him. I’d never do such a thing,” she said.

  “I heard it from Anna. She told me last night.”

  “Told you what?” Mamie asked, annoyed at being out of the loop.

  “Nothing,” Evelyn said.

  This was beginning to feel like politics, consisting as it did almost entirely of finger-pointing and accusations.

  I turned to Mamie. “Anna told me the day her father called to say he’d been released, Evelyn confessed that she lied on the witness stand. She said he went out that night and was gone until the wee hours.”

  Mamie looked at Evelyn with dismay. “You did that?”

  I said, “Oh, yes, indeed. She also told the three of them not to mention it to anyone for fear she’d be charged with perjury, which is a criminal act. Ask Ethan. He’ll tell you the same thing. Ellen, too.”

  Mamie was staring at her mother-in-law. “I don’t believe it. You said he was there at the house when he wasn’t?”

  I wagged a finger, correcting her. “It was the other way around. She told the truth on the witness stand and lied about it later.”

  “But why would she do that? She’d have to be nuts.”

  Evelyn leaned toward me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Were you there?”

  “Of course I wasn’t, but I’ll tell you who was. An hour ago I talked to Lolly Brandle.”

  Mamie wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Who?”

  “The woman who lived next door to Evelyn and Terrence back then. She was at the Daces’ house the night Karen Coffey disappeared. She says Terrence was home the entire evening except for a brief trip to the store to pick up ice cream.”

  Evelyn’s tone was prim. “You can hardly credit her account. She has dementia.”

  “She may not remember what happened yesterday, but she remembers that night, right down to the flavor of the ice cream he went out to buy. Here’s a question for you, Evelyn. Who was the president of the United States at that time?”

  “I have no idea. How is that relevant?”

  “Because Lolly knows. I asked her the same thing and her memory is as clear as a bell. Richard Nixon.”

  “I can see you’re determined to take her word over mine,” she said. “I’ve been to visit her twice. She has no idea who I am and I’ve known her twenty-five years. Besides which, how do you know she isn’t lying for reasons of her own?”

  “Because the pastor of your church was also there with his wife. I’d be happy to track them down, and I’ll bet you they’ll back Lolly Brandle. Are you going to call them liars as well?”

  “I did not commit a crime.”

  “I know you didn’t. You told Ethan and Ellen and Anna you lied on the stand when you actually told the truth in court. Later, you insinuated that Terrence went out that night and had a hand in that girl’s death. You didn’t accuse him outright. You undercut his credibility and you did such a fine job of it that Ethan and Anna were completely alienated from their dad. And still are, for that matter.”

  “Accuse me of anything you like. You have no proof and there’s nothing you can do about it even if you did.”

  “You got me on that one. At least Mamie knows now and we’ll see what she does with it.”

  22

  The meeting faltered to a close and we parted company. Verbal clashes seldom come to a satisfying end. They peter out in weak retorts that leave you wishing you’d been as clever in the moment as you are in reviewing the conversation later. I hadn’t scored even one decisive point and none of us had altered our positions in the slightest. I was glad I’d met Evelyn because I had a better sense now of who she was and how she operated.

  Poor Dace. I’d formed a ragged picture of his life, joining fragments like a reel of film spliced together with all the big scenes missing. The storyline was there but the point was lost. The meaning of life (assuming there is one . . .) is the glue we use to join events, trying to fill the cracks in hopes the whole of it will make sense. Beginning, middle, and end don’t always add up to much, and, in his case, only an odd note of melancholia remained.

  I went up to my room and packed. I took the elevator down and presented myself at the front desk with my duffel in hand. I signed the credit card receipt and returned my key. It wasn’t until I was crossing the parking lot that I saw Ethan Dace appear on the far side of the Mustang. He’d parked his banged-up white Toyota in the slot to the left of mine. At first I thought he’d crouched between the two cars to keep himself out of view, but maybe he’d only bent to tie his shoelace. I was on the verge of asking how he’d figured out where I was, but we all knew by then that my Grabber Blue Mustang was better than a flashing neon sign.


  Casually, he turned and opened his passenger-side door. He tossed something onto the front seat before he slammed the door again and turned to face me. He tilted his head in the direction of the hotel entrance. “What was that about?”

  “What was what about?”

  “I saw my wife and mom leave just now. You call a meeting?”

  “That was Mamie’s idea. She had questions about the will. It was a waste of time in my opinion, but I wanted to show what a good sport I am.”

  “What else did you talk about?”

  “That was it,” I said. Then the light dawned. “Oh, now I’m getting it. You think I summoned Mamie and your mom so I could tattle on you.”

  “Nothing to tattle. I was talking to a friend.”

  “My mistake. It looked like you were flirting with that redheaded hottie. Anna’s friend, isn’t she? I didn’t catch her name.”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Fear not, good sir. My lips are sealed. Now if you’ll step away from my car door, I’d like to get in.”

  For some reason, that set him off. He rose up on the balls of his feet, leaning toward me while he jabbed a finger in my face. The fact that he didn’t raise his voice made the underlying anger more sinister than the threat that followed. “You want to make trouble? I’ll make trouble for you and don’t think I won’t.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I’ll sue. Me and my sisters will sue your ass, you get that?”

  “I do. Thanks so much. Is there anything else?”

  “You better lawyer up. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I have an attorney.”

  “I’ll bet you do. I bet you hired one the second you found out about the money because you knew what kind of hole you’d dug for yourself. My dad was a drunk, which you seem to know all about. So maybe you talked him into cutting us off so you could step into the breach.”

  “Let’s not talk about this, okay? You want to hire an attorney, you can go right ahead. I told you to do that the first time we spoke. You have a copy of the will. You have the hearing date, and you can do anything you like.”