by Jack Parker
"Hello, 911? I think my mother's dead! She's cold and still and I can't wake her up." Saying the words out loud made him start shaking again, and there'd been a definite quaver to his voice.
"Calm down, sir," the emergency operator counseled. "What's your name?"
"Jason Wheeler," he replied. "Uh, my mother's name is Robbie Redmond."
"You're in the house with your mother now?" she asked.
"Yes. I came to pick her up and she didn't answer the door, so I let myself in and found her in the bed. At first I thought…well, that she'd just overslept. But then I realized something was horribly wrong with her." He took another gulp of fortified coffee.
"What did you do to try to wake her?"
"First I shook her shoulder, and, um, then I felt for a pulse but I couldn't feel one," he told her. "Please, you need to send an ambulance."
"Give me the address where you are now Mr. Wheeler."
Any other time he could've rattled off mom's address without a second thought, but this morning he had to pause to remember it. The operator assured him an ambulance was on the way and inquired if she should stay on the line until it arrived. Jason looked at the empty liquor bottle on the table and realized it wouldn't look very good so he told her he'd be okay and hung up. He tossed the bottle in the trash and, to keep his thoughts occupied on anything else, began rinsing the dishes and dropping them into the dishwasher. He thought about the plate of cookies in the bedroom but couldn't bring himself to go in there again.
"Apparently Mom hasn't felt like cleaning up in several days," he muttered as he worked. "Guess I didn't notice when we were here last night. And she seemed so chipper and eager to go to the hearing this morning, even with that bad cold she had. When is that ambulance going to get here?"
As if on cue he heard a siren on the main road near the house. He shut off the water and ran out the front door to meet the emergency techs on the driveway. "Hurry!" he exhorted them. "She's in here, in the bedroom." One part of his brain realized that the other part was clinging to the hope that she was merely in a deep coma or something, that she wasn't really dead. The techs followed his pointing finger and entered the bedroom while Jason stood uncertainly in the hall listening to their terse medical remarks. He realized he was still holding the towel he'd grabbed to dry his hands and went to put it back in the kitchen. Besides, he needed another drink of coffee.
A serious-faced young man, Alan according to the name embroidered on the white coat, came down the hall and spotted him in the kitchen. "Sir, I'm sorry to have to tell you this but she's dead. She was your mother?"
Jason took another big gulp and stammered, "Yes, she is – was."
"I'm very sorry for your loss," Alan said, and he tried to sound like he meant it. "We'll take her to the morgue and you can notify the rest of the family."
"Uh, do you know what happened?" Jason asked uncertainly.
The tech shook his head and said, "We'll let the doctors determine that. Would you like a minute alone with her?"
Jason shuddered visibly. "No, thanks. I, uh, well, that's not really my mom in there. I saw her last night and told her I loved her and…" To cover his hesitation he drained the last of the coffee.
Alan smiled knowingly; he'd seen this kind of reaction before. Some people felt creeped out at the thought of being alone with a corpse. "Perhaps you should go sit in the living room, and one of us will let you know when we leave."
Jason nodded his head in agreement, and traded the empty cup for the full one on the table. But as soon as Alan disappeared down the hallway he began looking through the kitchen cabinets. He found the bottle he was looking for under the sink. After the ambulance left he began to systematically search the house for whatever valuables he could find.
* * * *
Meredith Rodgers sat down at the judge's gesture. It seemed odd to have Robbie's lawyer at the same table with hers but this time they were on the same side. Miles Allison was a tall sharp-featured man dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit; his thick dark hair was graying at the temples and he had a Van Dyke beard. He looks like a rat, she thought. Tom Dimsdale, her lawyer, was a short young man with an athletic build and blond hair that had seen a lot of sun; his suit was probably just as expensive, but it looked less stuffy. If the two lawyers managed to convince the judge of their case the next time she and Robbie would be on opposite sides again, hopefully not arguing over anything else. She wondered where Robbie was this morning; she'd gotten the impression the old woman would be here come Hell or high water.
She looked around the small courtroom. She'd been there just a few months before when the judge had declared that John had died intestate and appointed Ashley Personal Representative. Without a Will the widow was usually the first choice for the job but Robbie had sat right up there on the witness stand and declared in a pathetic voice that she was just not up to the task, asking the judge to appoint her step-daughter instead. Personally Meredith thought that alone should prove neither she nor Ashley should be appointed, but Mr. Dimsdale had told her she would lose that battle so she kept her mouth shut.
This courtroom was obviously used for smaller cases, with only two rows of gallery seating, no room for a jury, and no bailiff. Accordingly the judge allowed himself to act in a somewhat informal manner. Instead of intoning the identifying case information he merely asked Connie Canardi to present her brief and argue its merits.
"Your Honor," Canardi said, "I should inform the court that I am acting as my own attorney."
"Why is that?" Judge Dixon inquired.
"I have let my law license expire, having decided to pursue work in oil and gas leases instead," she explained. "That was shortly after I took Mr. Redmond on as a client, but I still feel qualified to represent myself in this matter."
"I'm sure you're aware of the risks involved, but that is your choice. Very well, please continue."
Meredith turned her head to whisper into Tom Dimsdale's ear. "Can she do that?"
"She doesn't have to be an attorney to be the Trustee," he whispered back.
Canardi nodded in response and picked up a stack of papers from the pile spread on the table before her. When Meredith had first seen the name she'd misread it as "canary". This was the first time she had actually seen the woman, and she wanted to giggle at her now obviously apt misinterpretation. Connie Canardi was a tall stick-thin woman with long gawky arms and legs; she had a long pointy nose and carrot-red hair that at the moment was sticking straight up as if she'd run her hand through it in agitation.
But Miles Allison jumped up instead. "Your Honor, if I may interrupt I have some important news."
Judge Dixon nodded his head to indicate acceptance, though there was a dubious look on his face as if to say that this had better not be some kind of questionable tactic on the lawyer's part.
"I am very sorry to report that I have just learned Mrs. Redmond was found dead this morning," Allison said in a somber tone.
"What?" Meredith gasped. She realized she shouldn't have spoken aloud but the judge didn't seem to think her outburst out of line and was in fact still focusing on Allison.
"What do you know about this report?" Judge Dixon asked.
"Mrs. Redmond's son, Jason Wheeler, called me about 15 minutes ago to say he'd gone to pick his mother up for the hearing and found her apparently dead in bed. He called 911 and the EMTs officially pronounced her dead, and took the body to the morgue. That's all I know at present, Your Honor." He sat back down.
Judge Dixon mulled this information quietly for a minute. He turned to look at Meredith, who still appeared to be shocked at the news. "Miss Rodgers, the Court would be willing to grant a continuance if you need time to cope with your aunt's death."
Meredith stood to address the judge. "Thank you, Your Honor. I am stunned to hear it but I am quite able to carry on. I am here today not to testify but only as an interested party, since the outcome of this hearing will affect me. I am always saddened to hear of the death of another
human being. But with all due respect Your Honor, she was my brother's third wife and not my aunt. And quite frankly I doubt her family would welcome my intrusion on their grief."
She sat back down and Dimsdale leaned over to whisper "human being?" in her ear.
"Technically," she whispered back, suppressing a smile.
"Ms. Canardi, if you had planned to call Mrs. Redmond to testify the Court offers to grant you a continuance so that you may decide how to handle the change to your case," the judge said.
Canardi rose and spoke in a reedy voice that furthered the birdlike image. "Thank you, Your Honor, but that won't be necessary." With a nod to Meredith she continued. "As with Miss Rodgers, Mrs. Redmond was to be here only as another interested party. Though her family has more important things to think about this morning, I suggest that we go ahead with the hearing as the decision made today will also affect them. The court can settle this matter and I can relay what I hope will be good news to them."
"Very well, Ms. Canardi, you may present your brief," the judge said.
Connie Canardi deliberately laid the papers back on the table and turned to face the judge again. "Your Honor, due to this most unexpected development I submit that this hearing is no longer necessary. The Trust agreement clearly states that upon Mrs. Redmond's death any remaining funds are to be equally divided among Mr. Wheeler, Mr. Stubblefield, Ms. Logan, Ms. Kamp, and Ms. Rodgers. As Trustee, I am sure that can be arranged once the proper papers are filed."
Tom Dimsdale yelled "Objection!" He pushed his chair back and started to rise but the judge motioned for him to remain seated.
"Sustained," the judge said firmly. "Ms. Canardi, the issue before the Court is to determine if counsels for Mrs. Redmond and Ms. Rodgers have the right to review all documentation relevant to the Trust in order to see if the Trust is or is not legally funded. Mrs. Redmond's untimely demise has no bearing on the current case, which is part of the probate of John Redmond's Estate. Do I make myself clear?" The look on his face was mild, yet he held the gavel ready as if he hoped for the chance to bang it whilst declaring the Trustee in contempt of Court.
Canardi bowed her head slightly and said, "Yes, Your Honor." She picked up the papers from the table and approached the bench to hand the judge a copy of her brief. Then she turned and walked to the table where the opposing side sat and, with an oily smile, gave copies to Allison and Dimsdale.
Meredith noticed that the smile didn't extend to Ms. Canardi's eyes, and she thought she saw a glimmer of fear in them. Serves her right," she thought. She's afraid she'll lose and we'll find out exactly what she's done with the Trust.
CHAPTER 63
Friday
Gracie bounded down the school steps and ran to meet her friends Shawna and Cheryl. "Hi, guys!"
"Hey, Gracie," Shawna called as Gracie approached. "Imagine this! Cheryl wants to go shopping before we do homework." Her tone implied this development was something totally unheard of, though in reality it happened quite frequently.
"But there's this new top…" Cheryl began. The end of her sentence was drowned out by the good-natured laughter of her friends.
"I need to drop by Mrs. Rodgers' room for a few minutes. Why don't you two go on, and I'll give you a call when I'm done. I can meet you at the mall, or you can come to my place when you're done."
"I'm sure we'll still be at the mall," Shawna said drolly.
"Okay, I know you can't really tell us a whole lot about this Estate thing of Mrs. Rodgers'," Cheryl said. "But have you heard what happened at the hearing today?"
"You know I'd tell you if I could, but I promised I wouldn't discuss the details," Gracie told them.
"They're private," Shawna agreed.
"But you told us she had to go to court so you could at least let us know if it turned out the way she wanted," Cheryl pleaded.
Gracie laughed. "The truth is, I was almost late to her class this afternoon and haven't had a chance to talk to her yet. She did wink at me though, so I'm hoping that means good news. I'll tell you when we catch up later."
Kelly walked up and joined the group. "Hello, ladies."
"Hi, Kelly," they all chorused.
He studied Cheryl's face for a moment and remarked, "From the gleam in Cheryl's eye I predict another shopping trip. Am I right?"
Cheryl stuck her tongue out at him, and then giggled.
"Oh, but I'm not going with them," Gracie told him. "So no need to make up an excuse for not coming with us."
Kelly attempted to look injured, but all concerned were well aware of his aversion to the mall. "You're not? How come?"
"I need to talk with Mrs. Rodgers," she replied. "About the hearing; you remember, I told you about it at lunch."
"We're going on to the mall," Cheryl said. "See you in a bit!" She and Shawna walked off toward the parking lot.
"Oh, yeah, I remember now," Kelly said. "You want me to wait for you?"
"I'd like that Kelly, but I'm not sure how long it will take. She's really worked up over this, and talked a long time last night. I'd hate to think of you sitting out here all alone."
"And it's none of my business so I can't come with you," he said. "Gracie, I want to apologize for not returning your call last night. I didn't want to say anything at lunch because we weren't alone, but Chris and I just got to talking and before I realized it was dinner time and, well, I'd gotten your text about doing a favor for a friend and I just forgot."
Gracie reached out to squeeze his hand. "Thanks, Kelly. It's okay. This thing with Mrs. Rodgers came up out of the blue and besides, you haven't spent a lot of time with Chris for a while. He's your best friend, after me, so you should hang out with him more often. No harm done!"
"Well, if you think you'll be awhile – and you don't mind – I'll go over to his house until you're through."
Gracie laughed gaily. "And you mean through with shopping as well, I know you! Sure, go ahead. See you later!"
Kelly headed for his car and Gracie turned to walk back up the steps and re-enter the school building. She really hoped this wouldn't take too long; ideally just long enough to cover Cheryl's shopping trip so she could meet up with her three friends at her house. It always surprised her how empty the halls were after school; everyone seemed to disappear after one last trip to their lockers. The football team was on the practice field and various staff members were still there, but the halls felt like a ghost town.
She knocked on the doorframe of Mrs. Rodgers' classroom. "Hi, Mrs. Rodgers. You wanted to see me?" She thought it best to pretend this was an official visit, just in case there was anyone around to overhear.
"Hi, Gracie, come on in," Meredith responded, making a hand motion indicating Gracie should close the door behind her.
Gracie did so and walked to the teacher's desk, perching on one corner. "Well? How did it go?"
"Motion to Quash denied!" Meredith said happily. "The subpoena is upheld and Connie Canardi must hand over the Trust papers 'in a reasonable time'."
"Hey, that's great! What's a reasonable time?"
Meredith shrugged. "Who knows? But if she takes too long I'm sure the judge will charge her with contempt of Court. Oh, and I was right that she isn't a lawyer anymore, she let her license lapse and is doing something else now. But my lawyer says it's okay because you don't have to be a lawyer to be the Trustee."
"So you got what you wanted, and you'll be able to determine if the money belongs in the Trust or the Estate. Knowing lawyers, I hope it doesn't take too long for them to figure it out," Gracie said.
"There's just one little problem." Meredith's demeanor darkened. "The widow upped and died sometime in the night."
"What?" Gracie squeaked in surprise. "You're kidding!"
"Nope, I'm not. Her lawyer informed us at the start of the hearing this morning. Apparently Jason went to fetch her for the hearing and found her dead in bed."
Gracie opened her mouth to respond and then shut it again as a thought struck her. "Um, how exactly did
she die?"
Meredith's expression went blank for a second, and then she smiled slyly. "You mean was she smothered by a pillow? Or maybe took too many pills?"
Gracie nodded. "I didn't think to mention it last night, but when I went to the kitchen with Loretta she poured liquor in Robbie's coffee; said Robbie liked a little something extra in hers."
Meredith considered this for a moment. "And everyone knows liquor and pills don't mix. Could it have been an accident, or accidentally on purpose?"
"That could be really hard to prove, either way," Gracie said. "But surely there hasn't been enough time for the coroner to determine cause of death, and it could be from entirely natural causes."
"Since she was under a doctor's care there won't be an autopsy, and don't call me Shirley," Meredith quipped.
Gracie looked blank.
Meredith smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I guess you didn't see the movie. 'S-u-r-e-l-y' and 'S-h-i-r-l-e-y', get it?"
"Oh." Gracie's tone was flat.
Meredith waved away the un-funny joke. "She had that cold, remember the way she kept sneezing? Some junior doctor at the morgue will contact her doctor for details and they'll decide she was an old lady with a bad cold and probably call it natural causes. Heart, or congested lungs, or something like that. No need to make a fuss over her death because that would only mean more paperwork."
"You're cynical," Gracie accused. "Unfortunately you're also probably right. I know a homicide detective, Lieutenant Ken Freeman. I'd be happy to give him a call and ask him to check into it."
"I'm not so much cynical as pragmatic," Meredith responded. "Thanks for the offer, Gracie, but it doesn't matter to me how she died. I know that sounds cold, but I didn't wish her dead and I damn sure didn't bump her off. And the shit would really hit the fan if I falsely accused her kids of murder!"
