by Carol Culver
“Am I the youngest person to ever have him write up my will?”
“I couldn’t say,” she said stiffly. “That’s confidential information.”
“I understand.”
The minutes ticked by. Then it happened. Lurline came in wearing a short skirt, a tight pink T-shirt, a cardboard box in her hand, and a big smile on her face that faded when she saw me.
“You again,” she hissed.
I gave her my sweetest smile and said nothing.
She set the box on Marjorie’s desk and handed her a bill. “Four chocolate coconut, three chocolate caramel, six chocolate cherry Casablanca, and four chocolate marshmallow.”
My mouth watered. I hated myself for it but I was dying to taste that chocolate marshmallow, for research purposes only, of course. I wanted to know how it compared to my S’Mores Pie. I wanted to know how this cupcake woman got all this business. Where was she from? Now was not the time to ask, so I just sat there silently fuming while Marjorie paid her and she left.
After a long moment I finally spoke. “Those look good,” I said, just to show I had nothing against cupcakes, just against their baker.
She looked up as if she’d forgotten I was there. At least she was trying to forget I was there. “I wouldn’t know,” she said. Honestly, did the woman have a normal reaction to anything? “The clients ordered the cupcakes. No one asked me.”
The clients? Who in the family ordered the cupcakes? Was it Blake? I stood up and went to the window and looked out at the town square. It was a bucolic scene. People were walking their dogs. Children ran through the sprinklers to keep cool on this warm summer day. The grass was like green velvet. I wished I was out there running through a sprinkler instead of dressed up playing a role in this stuffy office. I wondered how many pies Kate had sold. What was I doing here?
I thought about canceling my appointment. I watched Lurline get into her silver and hot pink converted van with Lurline’s Luscious Cupcakes painted on the side. Okay, cupcakes were more portable than a piece of pie, not requiring a plate and fork, but still, I could make portable pies like apple squares and lemon tarts.
Marjorie set the box of cupcakes on top of a bookcase that was full of books like Torts, General Edition; Constitutional Law; and Civil Procedure. How Marjorie resisted the temptation to sample a cupcake, I don’t know. If I worked there, I would have succumbed immediately. But that’s me. I had no self-control.
After an eternity, Marjorie finally got up and went to the water cooler in the corner of the room. Not far enough for me to rush to the door and start listening or look at the cupcakes to see how they were decorated. But Seymour finally did open the door to his office just a crack. I craned my neck to see who was inside.
Marjorie flushed bright red as if she’d been caught playing computer Solitaire. She stood at attention like a soldier waiting for orders.
“I need the Brandt family transfer of ownership papers,” he said.
She nodded and walked across the room to a huge file cabinet. Was this old small-town lawyer and his secretary who’d been here for ages still storing documents in a file cabinet? At least she had a computer on her desk. I heard voices from inside the office. Just a low murmur, no shouts, no screams. Had they gotten to the good part yet? Would someone faint? Would there be a fist fight? I prayed for some excitement. I wanted a breakthrough. Or I wanted assurance not one of them had a motive for killing Mary. That’s why I was there. Seymour stood at the open door ignoring me. That was happening to me a lot.
Marjorie found what she was looking for and handed it to him.
“The cupcakes have arrived,” she said with a nod at the box.
He put the file under his arm and took the box in his hands while I watched, fascinated. He closed the door behind him. Silence descended on the outer office.
“Quite a shock, Mrs. Brandt dying so unexpectedly,” I said.
“I didn’t know her,” the secretary said.
“I didn’t either. I hear she was quite a mover and shaker around here. Charities. Bridge.” I waited. She said nothing.
“In fact that’s why I’m here,” I said. “To find out who hated her enough to wish she was dead.”
Marjorie’s eyes popped. She dropped her pen on the floor. Finally, I had her attention.
When Marjorie finally looked at me, it was as if I might possibly be someone worth noticing.
“I mean someone dying unexpectedly like that, it reminded me that all deaths are not accidental so it’s important to have a will. None of us knows when we’ll be taken away,” I said. “By natural causes or otherwise.” I was careful not to use the M word. “So I decided to write my will now, just in case. I don’t suppose you have many other clients my age.” It didn’t do any good to reword the question I’d asked earlier. She still “couldn’t say.”
“Of course I don’t have much to leave anyone,” I continued. As if she cared. “Just my grandmother’s pie shop. She lives up at Heavenly Acres.”
“How nice.” Marjorie reached into her drawer, took out a snap-top vial and shook a few pills into her hand. Then she tossed them into her mouth and washed them down with her coffee. Being interested in medication these days, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was. I could only hope they were mood enhancers so she’d cheer up and start gossiping.
If I was a run-of-the-mill client of Seymour’s, I never would have sat there chatting up the secretary, but her reticence was a challenge and an obstacle I was determined to overcome. As a legal secretary she must know a lot. As a legal secretary she was obviously sworn to secrecy. But couldn’t she just share a tiny crumb of information with me that might save me and my grandmother from imprisonment? Or was I wasting my whole morning sitting here in this airless office listening to the rumble of voices that told me nothing? There was no possibility of my wasting time with Sam this close to arresting Grannie, especially after the video of her in the card room and her lie detector tests. I had to find the real murderer and I only had one more day to do it.
I wondered if Sam’s job was really at stake, considering his casual attitude about closing the station. Why did he disapprove of my going out sleuthing for him? What harm could I do? Instead, he was always cautioning me to butt out of his investigation the way all the other policemen did with the amateurs who offered to help the local cops.
That story about running for mayor, which paid one hundred a month? I didn’t believe that for a minute. Police chiefs make plenty. Even in small towns. If he didn’t need the money, if he’d really made a bundle in the time between high school and now, why hadn’t he told me how he’d done it? Instead of returning to a town he couldn’t wait to escape from, why didn’t he take his fortune, if he had one, and hit the road? He could buy a yacht and sail to the Mediterranean and thumb his nose at the town that kicked him out. That’s what I’d do.
“It is nice,” I said, trying to keep the conversation going. “They’ve got activities up the wazoo, like water aerobics and Bridge. Mary Brandt was a champion.”
“That’s not what I heard,” she said.
I inched forward in my chair, trying not to look too eager.
“Her partner’s cousin is a friend of my dentist.”
“Dr. Klein, is he your dentist?”
“Dr. Klein retired years ago. His nephew Denny took over his practice. He took out my wisdom tooth on Saturday. I shouldn’t even be here today, but Seymour had the big meeting so I had to come. I’m on Sodium Pentothal.”
I nodded. Truth serum. If I couldn’t get something out of her now, I never would. “What did you hear about Mary?”
“She cheated at cards.”
Duh. I already knew that. I waited impatiently for her to tell me something I didn’t know when the door to the office finally opened wide and Mary’s relatives began drifting into the waiting area. I held my breath and tried to look invisible. I didn’t have to worry. They didn’t notice me. They were talking loudly to each other. Just what I’d hoped would ha
ppen.
“Can’t believe it.”
“All that money.”
“What a waste.”
“Gone to the dogs.”
What did it mean? Had she really left it all to the pit bulls?
I recognized her son-in-law, Sam’s nemesis, who muttered “Linda deserves better from her own mother” to a young man I’d never seen before.
When I spotted Blake’s mother, Linda, standing in the doorway, she was actually smiling. Maybe she’d gotten more than she imagined. Or she was just glad she didn’t have to deal with her mother anymore. I caught a glimpse of Blake looking gorgeous as usual in an Aloha shirt that showed off his East Coast tan and wrinkled khaki shorts showing the world that this was no big deal. I liked his attitude. I admired his legs too. He looked surprised to see me, but he came over to where I was waiting.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” he said.
“Just getting some legal advice,” I said. “Seymour is the only game in town.”
“He seems to know what he’s doing.”
“Good to know,” I said. “So you’re happy with his work?”
“Oh, yes,” he said with a big smile.
I waited, hoping he’d go on and elaborate, but his mother called him over and he gave me a half wave and a wink and said he’d see me later.
My big surprise was seeing Donna, Mary’s former partner, walk past me by herself. She looked a little dazed but well turned out in a white linen blazer over a frilly silk blouse, matching slacks, and Kate Spade black flats just made for a ceremony like this one. I only hoped that someday I’d have the cash for a wardrobe like Grannie’s friends had. Because at that age, I’d need all the help I could get to look halfway decent. Had Donna known all along that Mary had left her something, or was she surprised to be invited as the only non-family member there? What had Mary left her? I couldn’t tell by her expression. She didn’t look happy or sad, just blah. Maybe she was still in shock from losing her Bridge partner. Maybe she was actually sadder than any family members. Losing Mary might mean losing her chance to move ahead to the big tournament.
I caught her eye before she left and gave her a little wave of recognition.
“Hanna, what are you doing here?” she asked, her blue eyes wide with surprise.
“I have an appointment with the lawyer,” I said. “How did it go in there?” I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear her say it was none of my business, but she didn’t.
“No surprises,” she said. She looked over her shoulder. The family had all left. “I told you how she felt about them,” she said in a half whisper. “But they got what they deserved.”
“What about you?” I asked.
She pressed her fingers to her lips, then she shook her head as the lawyer walked toward us carrying a stack of file folders.
“Mrs. Linton? I have a few papers for you to sign. Come into my office.”
I watched as Donna followed Seymour into his office and closed the door behind them. Papers to sign? That must mean she got something. I’d find out one way or another.
The door to the large meeting room was wide open. I very casually stood in the doorway surveying the scene. Then I boldly walked into the empty room and looked around at the empty chairs, wishing the walls could talk. Coffee cups, cupcake crumbs, and a few leftover cupcakes were still in the box in the middle of the table.
Marjorie was talking on the phone in the waiting room, saying something about dying without a will wasn’t a good idea. I was glad to hear her giving good advice and trying to bring in business. I assumed Mary Brandt’s will and the division of her estate ought to be plenty lucrative for Crystal Cove’s only estate lawyer. And only criminal lawyer and only family law lawyer.
I stood there at the end of the long oval cherry wood conference table trying to imagine what had gone on in this room. The veneer on the surface of the table was so shiny I could almost see my reflection.
I leaned over, curious as to which cupcakes were left. I wanted to know what flavors were most popular for the purposes of culinary research, of course. Without thinking I reached for one with a towering peak of coconut-dusted butter cream frosting. I held it up to my nose and inhaled the rich scent of vanilla. Then I couldn’t resist. I bit into the cupcake. I closed my eyes to savor the taste and analyze the ingredients. Which is why I didn’t notice Seymour had come into the conference room until he cleared his throat.
“Ms. Denton?” he said.
I whirled around and almost choked on my cupcake.
“Come into my office.”
“Thank you,” I said after I’d stuffed the rest of the cupcake into my purse and regained my composure.
“Have a seat,” he said, pointing to the adjoining room. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Just what I wanted. A moment alone in his book-lined office with time to snoop around. There on his huge glass-topped desk was the stack of file folders Marjorie had given him. I sidled up to the desk and read upside down just in case I had no warning as to his return. Each folder had a different name on it. Most names were Wilson, for Mary’s heirs, and there was one marked Brandt. Right on top was the one with Linda Wilson’s name neatly typed on the tab.
The absolute top of my wish list was to find out what Mary had left her daughter, Linda. I assumed she’d left nothing to Linda’s husband if she really disapproved of him so strongly. I would love to find a motive for her to kill her mother. Very slowly and carefully I slid the folder toward me across the smooth glass surface of the desk. I flipped it open, and there in bold type was a list of items on the first page. At the bottom of the sheet was a sum of money that left me breathless. Could it be the amount of money Mary had left her daughter? Or a total of all the items?
When the door opened, I had time to slide the folder back in place and assume what I hoped was an innocent expression before Seymour told me to sit down in the chair facing his desk.
He sat behind the desk, straightened the folders several times in an obsessive manner, then set them aside. When he looked up at me, his eyes narrowed. I thought right away he knew I’d been snooping. Delving into matters that I had no right to. First the cupcake, then his file folders. In my opinion it was his own fault. He’d left the cupcakes on the table and he’d left the folders on his desk. He had to assume any normal person would first, eat a cupcake and second, look to see what was in the folders.
“Busy day,” I said, licking my lips to remove any telltale cupcake crumbs.
“Yes indeed. Seeing as I’m the only lawyer in town I am always busy. Now, what can I do for you?”
“I want to make out a will. I know it might seem a little premature …”
“Not at all. It’s never too early to think about the distribution of your estate. And you can always update your will when you marry and have children.”
I frowned. “I’m not sure I’ll get married or have children or that I have an estate. All I have is a pie shop and my grandmother’s old car.”
“You may think you don’t have many assets, but you likely have more than you think.” He took a yellow pad of legal-sized paper from a shelf and wrote something on it. I strained my eyes. It looked like he just wrote my name. Or maybe it was my name followed by “no assets” or “deadbeat.” “What is required of someone making a will is that they be of sound mind,” he added, tilting his head to one side as if he wasn’t sure about me.
I smiled politely, hoping he wasn’t going to insist I have some kind of psychiatric exam to prove my mind was sound.
“All we really need for a will is a list of your bequests and the name of your executor,” he said.
“Ah,” I said. “Then I’d like to leave my pie shop to my friend Kate Blaine.”
“Take your time and think about it,” he said, as if I’d suggested leaving everything to Lady Gaga. “You may want to also leave small items like jewelry or clothing to friends or family along with special messages. For example, Wear them in good health, or Enjoy thes
e and think of me.”
“Is that the custom?” I asked. I wanted to ask, Is that what Mary Brandt did?
“Some people take the opportunity to send a negative message with the bequest to someone they wish to hurt in some way, knowing they won’t have to face the recipient or their friends and family again. Something they’ve always wanted to say but never did. It’s a last chance sort of thing.”
“I see. I never would have thought of that.” Unlike Mary Brandt, I didn’t have any enemies that I knew of. Except for Lurline. But after this murder was solved, I intended to make peace with her. Who wouldn’t love a pie lady? I asked myself. Which is partly why I became a pie baker. Not just for the money. It was for the love.
He nodded. “That’s why I’m here, to help you sort things out.”
I took a deep breath. No harm in pushing the envelope. After all, I was paying him for his time. “I imagine someone like Mary Brandt had quite a lot more than myself to dispose of.”
“Most old people do. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be writing your will now. You can always update it later after any significant life event.” He wrote something on his yellow pad. “So. Jewelry?” He glanced at me, probably disappointed I wasn’t wearing a diamond necklace or earrings. “Property such as a house or a business? What else?”
I didn’t have anything else. It made me feel poor and out of place making a will when I had so little to leave behind. I sighed.
“You might want to go home and take an inventory of your valuables, then come back another day with a list of them and the beneficiaries.”
“And the special messages,” I said. “I suppose if one were the type to send a negative message, what would it be? Not that I would have any reason to do such a thing. I just wondered …”
“That would leave your heirs a bad impression of you, the departed,” he said sternly.
“Yes, but you said it was a chance to say something you always wanted to say but never could.”
“Whatever you wish,” he said with a glance at the vintage walnut clock on the wall.
“Or I could leave nothing at all to certain parties I feel didn’t deserve anything or who had wronged me. Has anyone ever done that?” I asked pointedly.