Death of a Prince

by Susan P. Baker

  “Goddamnit, Sandy, what’d you do that for?”

  “I’m really confused here, Mom. Just a short few days ago you thought Kitty was a cold-blooded killer and today you make her bail. Am I getting mixed messages, or what?”

  “That poor girl couldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “That leaves Bubba, Lizzie, Stuart, and Raymond.”

  Erma nodded. “And the cop. You going to give me that bourbon or not?”

  “I think we can safely rule out the cop who was there for security. Remember what the doctor said? Are you supposed to drink so much?”

  “Fuck the doctor. And we can’t rule out the cop until we know something about him. Didn’t you tell me that Lieutenant Truman sent that cop to the station as soon as the lieutenant arrived on the scene and figured out that Phillip was dead?”

  “My, my, my. Such language for a woman of your age and delicate sensibilities. Don’t you remember the reading of the will is tomorrow? You want to look and feel your best, don’t you?”

  Erma held onto the counter and tried to pull herself and her barstool in the direction of the cabinet. Sandra tried to figure out why Erma didn’t just get down off the stool and climb up on the next one. Probably not thinking clearly—alcohol fuzz.

  “You didn’t answer me,” Erma said. “Did he or didn’t he send the cop to the station?”

  “He did. And do you or don’t you?” Sandra didn’t wait for Erma’s answer. “What say I get you one last drink and then we go to dinner and then we both go home so that we can be fresh for the reading of the will tomorrow? I know you know what is in the will, but I don’t. I’m quite excited about seeing what the old boy did with his money.”

  “What the shit,” Erma said. “If it’ll get me out of this delicate position, I’ll humor you.” Her knuckles had turned white from holding on to balance herself.

  Sandra got up and went to the other side of the counter. Erma’s stool stood on two legs. It wouldn’t take much to send it and Erma crashing to the floor. Sandra steadied the stool onto all four legs so that Erma could rest her weight back on it. She retrieved the bottle and poured two fingers into Erma’s empty glass. Recapping it, Sandra placed the bottle in the cabinet next to the refrigerator on the top shelf, out of Erma’s reach whether she was on a barstool or standing on the floor.

  “I’m glad you have such faith in Kitty now, Erma,” she said. “You were hesitant before, I know, but I’m happy you’ve had this change of heart.”

  Erma shrugged, downed the bourbon, and slid off the barstool. “Let’s go eat.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The following morning, Sandra phoned Kitty to arrange to pick her up. At dinner the night before, Erma told how she’d verified that Kitty was who she claimed to be and would need to be present at the reading.

  Erma amused Sandra by observing all the formalities, like in the movies. Usually in real life whoever found the will read it and took it to a lawyer’s office to see what to do with it. After it was probated, the executor had certain rules to follow under the lawyer’s supervision.

  Sandra recognized Raymond’s voice when he answered Kitty’s phone. “Hey, this is Sandra. What are you doing there?”

  “I came to take her to the office.”

  “I’ll accept that,” she said. “I was calling for the same reason. I’ll meet y’all there in fifteen minutes, at a quarter after.”

  As Sandra drove down the boulevard, gray clouds moved in from the Gulf. Choppy, olive drab waves splashed on the sand. A few surfers paddled in designated areas. Several kids wheeled around on rollerblades and pedaled fringed surreys dangerously close to the seawall. Wall-to-wall cars lined the parking zones. People lay on beach towels and sat in chairs in the middle of the sidewalk.

  At Phillip’s law office, it was standing room only. Lizzie sat in a leather armchair. She wore a green pantsuit and layers of gold chains. Her neatly coifed hair looked like it wouldn’t move even in gale-force winds. To see her was to believe that she was a wealthy woman, perhaps worth half a mil or more. Sandra imagined Lizzie hoped she’d receive enough money for it to be true.

  Bubba stood by himself to one side of the others. Sandra avoided his gaze. She didn’t know whether he knew she, or anyone, had been to his place but didn’t want to invite conversation.

  Raymond hovered over Kitty. He wore his normal nondescript blue pinstriped suit, pinstriped shirt, plain blue-and- gray tie, and black loafers. Sandra wondered whether Raymond had a closet of identical clothes. It also occurred to her that maybe, after the events of the last week, he’d break out and become more of his own man.

  Kitty, however, looked stunning all in white, from the toes of her spiked-heel sandals to her pearl jewelry. Her carefully made-up face hid everything except the black circles that looked like they had been brushed on under her eyes.

  Stuart stepped through one of the side doors into the reception area where they waited. He wore a double-breasted tan silk suit, snakeskin boots, mauve shirt, and matching tie and handkerchief. Sandra thought he looked distinguished and handsome, though from the smoky color of his eyes, she had the feeling that he was angry with her. He nodded in her direction.

  “About time you got here,” Erma said in a loud voice. All eyes turned to Erma, and from Erma to Sandra. She stood between the reception area and the hallway that led to individual law offices.

  “Were you speaking to me, ma’am?” Sandra asked.

  As hot as it was in the summertime in Galveston, her foolish mother had worn a long-sleeved, two-piece black wool suit and a gray long-sleeved blouse. Sandra recognized the outfit because she had helped Erma pick it out to wear to the funeral of a revered judge three years earlier. Erma had worn it to every funeral since, except for Phillip’s memorial service. Sandra figured that with the characteristically hot weather, Erma would have thought better of it. She wondered if it was a sign that her mother’s thinking was muddled and, if so, whether she should do something about it. She’d been giving her a lot of leeway lately. Maybe that wasn’t the best course of action.

  Even in Phillip’s air-conditioned office, perspiration dampened Erma’s hair. She looked extremely uncomfortable. Sandra could just imagine that Erma was dying for a drink and anxious to get it all over and done with.

  Erma gave Sandra a hard look and said, “Y’all come on back to the conference room,” and led the way just like she belonged there. They followed. In addition to the aforementioned individuals, two distinguished-looking gentlemen in business suits accompanied them.

  The girth of the conference room, which Sandra had seen before but which never failed to impress her, exceeded that of the county law library. There were rows upon rows of shelves filled with law books of every kind, by several different legal publishing companies. In the center of the whole thing stood a huge black marble table surrounded by black leather Queen Anne chairs. Erma seated herself at one end. The rest of them sat in no particular order. After everyone quieted down, Erma began.

  “Good morning. As y’all know, I am the executrix of Phillip Parker’s last will and testament. I have invited each of you to be present not necessarily because you are a beneficiary under the will, but because you are somehow connected to Phillip or someone who is a beneficiary. Phillip Parker gave me specific instructions on how he wanted his estate handled. I don’t think it is necessary for me to go into that here; that is mostly for the heir or heirs to know.” She paused and breathed deeply.

  Lizzie glanced around the table. Her smile looked forced. “Could we just get on with it . . . please?”

  Raymond sat beside Kitty. His hand covered hers. Stuart sat next to Sandra, on her right. Erma sat on Sandra’s left. Sandra could not see Stuart’s face without turning, though she could feel the pressure of his hand on her arm. Bubba was across from Sandra. The two gentlemen Sandra didn’t know were next to one another, a vacant chair between them and Bubba. Sandra wondered whether it was because they were uncomfortable and out of place or because of Bubba’
s usual aroma. The table separated them by enough distance that she couldn’t smell anything.

  “Okay,” Erma said, “does anyone have any questions?”

  When no one replied, Erma placed her glasses on the end of her nose and picked up a thick document in one of their firm’s blue-backs.

  “Last Will and Testament of Phillip I. Parker. Paragraph one—”

  Lizzie broke in. “Erma, really, could you dispense with the formalities and just get to the part where he says who gets what?”

  “That’s not customary, Elizabeth,” Erma said.

  The lawyers in the group who had ever handled a probate case knew differently, but hadn’t the nerve to contradict her. Besides, as far as Sandra knew, none of the lawyers in the group were going to get a nickel, so none of them cared. She was just there as Kitty’s attorney. Raymond was there as Kitty’s intended. Stuart' was there because he had been Phillip’s partner. Sandra didn’t know whether the two men down the way were lawyers or what, so she wasn’t including them in her thoughts. She also wasn’t going to piss off Erma, so she kept quiet and let Lizzie act like a greedy little bitch.

  Lizzie looked pleadingly around the room, but found no supporters. She sighed, crossed her arms, and scooted back in her chair.

  Erma continued reading each of the first three paragraphs, which were filled with Phillip’s intentions and acknowledgments. She glanced at Lizzie. “I was married to Mary Edwards Parker in Tennessee. To the best of my knowledge and belief, I am still married at the time of this writing.”

  “What?” Lizzie shrieked. “So it’s true.”

  Erma stopped. Lizzie had jumped up from her chair, run over to Erma, and grabbed the will before anyone had time to stop her. Lizzie read for a moment and screamed, “That son of a bitch. It’s really true.” Stuart had rounded the table and stood ready to restrain her. Erma waited a few moments. The rest of them were silent. Lizzie traced the words with her finger. She reached the bottom of the page and threw the will down on the table in front of Erma. “That sorry son of a bitch,” she said again and sat back down.

  Sandra doodled on a legal pad. Would Phillip have married Lizzie if he had known his wife had died? Had he really been planning on dumping Lizzie and finding someone younger? She glanced back at Erma, who had reached the part where he acknowledged his only child, Kathryn Parker, a female born to him and his wife in Tennessee.

  Finally, Erma turned a page and began with the bequests. “Mr. Morgan, listen up.” It was the first time that Erma had paid any attention to either of the men near the back of the room. “I give, devise, and bequeath to the Children’s Home of Galveston County the sum of one million dollars, to be invested and the interest to be used to set up a program for homeless adolescents.”

  Morgan laughed aloud and turned to the gentleman next to him. They shook hands. “That’s wonderful, Missus Townley. The answer to our prayers.” He got up and hurried to the end of the table where he vigorously massaged Erma’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Morgan. But remember, I didn’t give it to you. Phillip Parker did. Now you go sit down and we’ll talk about the distribution later.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. He nodded at each of them and, chuckling, walked back to his chair.

  Erma ran the back of her hand across her mouth as if to wipe her smile away. “All right. Mr. Franklin, your turn.” She paused. “I give, devise, and bequeath the sum of one million dollars to the Gulf Coast Coalition Against Child Abuse in hopes that young men such as I once was can be rehabilitated through education, counseling, and treatment programs.”

  Kitty uttered a cry. Tears filled her eyes. Mr. Franklin clasped his hands together and bowed his head as if in prayer. When he opened them, Sandra could see that he was tearful also. Lizzie’s jaw flexed as she gritted her teeth. Bubba crossed his arms, his elbows resting on the table.

  Mr. Franklin, after a few moments, turned and shook Mr. Morgan’s hand and then, like Mr. Morgan, got up and went down to Erma and pumped her hand. She grinned like someone who had just won the lottery and told him to go sit down.

  It occurred to Sandra then that Erma had known for years that Phillip had abused his one and only daughter. No wonder Kitty’s revelation had not shocked her. Sandra wished that she could keep a secret like that. The only secrets she could keep were her clients’. But perhaps that was how Erma viewed it, rather than that of a friend. Whichever it was, Sandra was pretty astonished to learn that Erma had known and accepted the man as one of her dearest friends. She’d have to mull that over.

  “To the following charities, a lump sum of ten thousand dollars each,” Erma continued after Mr. Franklin took his seat. She read off a list of fifteen of the best-known organizations in Galveston County.

  “Now we come to you, Lizzie,” Erma said.

  Lizzie took a deep breath and didn’t seem one bit embarrassed to cross the fingers of each hand and hold them up. Closing her eyes, she said, “All right, go ahead.”

  Erma shook her head slowly, pityingly, Sandra thought. “To my friend and companion, Elizabeth Haynes, I give a lump sum of one hundred thousand dollars and the Mercedes Benz she has been driving for the last two years.”

  The room grew utterly still. Lizzie’s eyes flew open. “Is that it?” she demanded as her fist slammed down on the table. “I’m afraid so,” Erma said.

  “I don’t believe it,” Lizzie screamed. “Give me that thing.” She grabbed for the will again.

  Erma held on tight and pushed back her chair. “Stop that or I’ll have you removed from the room.”

  “It can’t be true.” Tears streamed down Lizzie’s face, black mascara running down her cheeks in vertical stripes. “After all we’ve been to each other. I gave him my youth.”

  Erma said, “If you don’t believe me, you can examine the will after it’s filed for probate.”

  Lizzie bounded out her chair and started screaming. “It can’t be true! It can’t be true!” She turned to Kitty. “You little bitch! You don’t have to remove me, Erma, I’m leaving.” Grabbing her purse, Lizzie ran out of the room.

  Stuart hurried after Lizzie and closed the door behind him. Kitty, who had already had a good cry after she heard the bequest to the child abuse people, started weeping again. The whole scene had grown tiresome.

  “Tsk, tsk.” Erma shook her head as if to say she’d expected as much. She glanced at the will and the faces of the remaining people.

  “The rest and remainder of my estate, I do hereby give, devise, and bequeath to my daughter, Kathryn Parker, to keep or dispose of as she sees fit.” Erma put down the document and stared at Kitty.

  Kitty released a long sigh. “I don’t think I want it,” she said.

  “Oh, don’t be silly, girl,” Erma said. “It’s a huge amount of money. Of course you shall have it. We’ll not discuss that idiotic idea any further.”

  “What about me?” Bubba asked.

  “What?” Erma appeared to have forgotten he was there. “Oh, you. Of course. There’s a recent codicil. That means an addition or change, Bubba. It’s a generic gift to whoever took care of the house. Mr. Parker left you the car—that would be the BMW—and a gift of five thousand dollars.”

  “All right!” Bubba said. “When do I get it? The money, Missus Townley. When do I get it?”

  “Well, if you’re in that big a hurry, as soon as you vacate the house and I can inspect it, I’ll get your money to you. Will that do?”

  “All right!” he said again. “Can I come and get it on Monday?”

  “That’ll be just fine. I’ll pay you your last wages at the same time, and you’ll bring me your keys. Not that the keys matter much; I’m sure Miss Kitty will be changing the locks.”

  Bubba, nodding to some kind of rhythm heard only in his head, got up from his chair and shook Erma’s hand like he’d seen the others do, one hand covering the other. “Can I go now?”

  “You’re excused,” Erma said. “In fact, you all may
be excused now. I have a few things I’d like to discuss with Miss Fulton. I’ll contact you again when I’m prepared for the distribution.”

  It took all of two minutes for the room to clear. Sandra asked Kitty to wait outside for a few minutes. She wanted a word with her mother before the two of them got into a lengthy discussion about the estate. Sandra just had one thing on her mind and she needed to ask Erma. She closed the door behind them, and then went back to the table after checking the stacks to be sure they were alone.

  “Just tell me one thing,” Sandra said. “Is there any way at all that anyone could have known the contents of Phillip’s will? Anyone at all?”

  “Absolutely not,” Erma said. “Unless he told them himself.”

  If there was no question in her mother’s mind, then there was none in Sandra’s. Kitty’s ignorance of her inheritance was her best protection against a motive for murder. It was just too bad that there was no way Lizzie could have known about hers. Judging by Lizzie’s behavior, the comparatively small bequest would have been all the motive she would have needed to bump Phillip off out of anger, if nothing else. And Sandra doubted that Phillip would have told her.

  Stuart waylaid Sandra as she started to leave Parker and Associates. Stuart’s office, the second largest after Phillip’s, was long and half-again as wide. Navy and green plaid drapes covered the windows. Navy deep pile carpet, dark green leather sofas and chairs, and mahogany tables gave it a masculine Scotch/Irish flavor.

  Stuart closed the door behind her and took her into his arms. When they came up for air, Stuart rubbed at the smudged lipstick around her lips and led her to a chair. Sitting beside her, he said, “I’ve missed you.”

  “Me, too,” she said and squeezed his hand. “How’d you like what happened in there? Lizzie sure didn’t take it very well. Did you follow her out to her car?”

  “She stood screaming and raving in the middle of the sidewalk. You should have seen her. I thought she would bust a gusset.”