She shrugged. “Sure, the cops are through with it finally. It’s a mess. The cleaning woman is sick and hasn’t gotten to it yet.” She went to the desk, picked up a key and handed it to him. She didn’t offer to go along and he was grateful.
He peeled the yellow police tape off the doorjamb and pushed the door open slowly.
The odorous taint of a thousand cigarettes permeated the room. The apartment had been ransacked pretty thoroughly. No drawer or cupboard was left unopened. The covers had been pulled off the bed and stuffing was coming out of the mattress where someone had slashed it with a knife. He turned away and walked over to the kitchen. Glancing around, his eye was suddenly caught by something on a shelf, an open package of Oreo cookies. He reached up slowly and took the package down. Only a couple of broken cookies remained.
Mommy, can I have an Oreo? In his mind, the vague form of a woman reached out a hand for the box. He couldn’t even remember what she looked like. A sob rose up in his throat and he choked it down. Stumbling into the bedroom, he sank down on the ruined mattress and wiped his eyes with a corner of the sheet. Then he noticed something lying on the floor just under the night table. He picked it up and turned the cardboard square over. It was a cheap photo from a carnival booth. A woman was holding a small boy and smiling into the camera. He recognized himself and knew the woman was his mother. He stared at it a long time and then took out his wallet and carefully put it away.
He picked up the manila envelope Dora had given him and opened it. The first item was a faded clipping of a little league baseball team which he scrutinized for a moment then frowned and tossed it aside. Next was a photo in a cardboard frame of a man, woman and a little boy. As he looked closely, he recognized a younger version of the grizzled face on his father’s ID card, and then studied the woman. It wasn’t his mother. He rubbed his chin. They look like a family. Who are the woman and the kid?
He shook the envelope and a piece of yellow legal paper slid out and fluttered to the floor along with two other newspaper clippings. Some numbers were scrawled on the yellow paper. He was about to toss it aside, then reasoned, it was in the envelope so it meant something and his father wanted him to have it. He studied the numbers and realized it was a combination of some kind, but to what? He tucked the yellow paper in his shirt pocket.
Then he unfolded one faded clipping,
Bank money disappears. Nine hundred thousand dollars in bank notes taken from a local bank remains lost. One thief was cut down by police in a shootout and the other thief was arrested when police closed in on the house where the thieves had been hiding. A hundred thousand was found on one of the thieves but the rest of the money was not found. The surviving bank robber alleges that his partner hid it and he doesn’t know where it is. Witnesses identified the dead thief as the man who fired the gun wounding the bank guard. Well, that verified what the goons in Peavy’s office told him.
He put it back in the manila envelope and unfolded the second clipping. It was an obituary notice for a kid who’d been hit by a car. It was the same boy in the photograph with his father.
Tommy DuPont, son of Ray and Estelle DuPont of Big Bear Lake, died of complications after being struck by a hit and run driver…
Who the blazes is Estelle DuPont? He counted back from the date on the clipping. The little boy died five years before Deke was born. Maybe his father was divorced from this Estelle. But my name on my birth certificate shows me as Deke Brucker, my mother’s name. Ray DuPont never married his mother. Had he still been married to this other woman? The truth struck like a hot iron in the pit of his stomach. If his old man wasn’t divorced from his first wife, there was another family somewhere. I’m not only an orphan, I’m illegitimate as well.
He flung a hand up in the air. Given the rest of his stinking life, it figured.
He put the clippings and the picture back in the folder. Maybe he could find this Estelle DuPont if she was still living and get some answers. Big Bear Lake was in the San Bernardino Mountains. It wasn’t that far away from LA.
Just as he got up to leave, a thought occurred to him and his eyes widened. He pulled the yellow paper out of his pocket. His old man had a reason for leaving him the manila envelope. Was he trying to make up for what he’d done to Deke and his mother? Could it be? He folded the paper and kissed it.
“Looks like the old man left me something after all, if I can just find it.”
He returned the key to Dora.
As he started towards the door with the envelope in his hand, she stopped him. “You weren’t followed were you? You know what I mean.”
He shook his head. “I know a tail when I see one.”
“You don’t always see them, Deke. Be careful.”
He thought a moment and then folded the envelope carefully so not to damage the photograph and placed it inside his suit jacket pocket. He patted it and was satisfied that it didn’t bulge enough to show.
She stood in the apartment doorway and smiled for the first time. “You have your mother’s eyes, Deke.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Take care of yourself, kid”. She slowly shut the apartment door.
Over the years Deke became skilled at many forms of deception. If someone tailed him and was watching, he didn’t want to appear excited about something. He put on a long face, hunched his shoulders with his hands in his pockets and walked slowly down the stairs to his car, the picture of dejection.
“I should have been an actor,” Deke told himself gleefully after he had driven far enough to stop frowning.
Chapter Seven
The sunshine streamed across the bed from the skylight, but what woke Laura was a bird chirping loudly outside her window. Nature’s alarm clock, she thought sleepily and stretched like a cat. For a moment her brain only registered that she was in Aunt Estelle’s house, then she remembered why she’d come. She reluctantly eased herself out of the warm covers and went into the kitchen to flip the switch on the coffeemaker. Soon the tantalizing smell of fresh coffee began to waft through the house. She found some oatmeal in the pantry but settled for a piece of toast.
Two squirrels chased each other up and down the pine trees outside the window. The rain had stopped and the trees and bushes glistened in the crispness of the morning. As she settled in the faded rose-colored overstuffed chair by the window and sipped her coffee, she enjoyed the wooded scene. Just sipping coffee felt soothing in this house. The thought crossed her mind that it would be a shame to sell it.
With her second cup of coffee, she wandered into her aunt’s room again and looked at the old-fashioned maple bed. She could picture Aunt Estelle creaming her face as she always did. Laura wondered if her aunt felt extra tired that evening. Her glasses were by the side of the bed on top of her Bible. Aunt Estelle had always read a passage from the Bible before retiring. In her mind’s eye, Laura saw her aunt get into bed, settle down under the covers and close her eyes. She never opened them again.
Dressed in a professional looking gray wool pantsuit, she followed the directions to Mr. Devers’ office to review her aunt’s will. Though necessary, part of her dreaded having to dispose of her aunt’s things. She just hoped there would be enough in her aunt’s account to pay the current bills.
“Mr. Devers will be with you in just a moment.” The secretary, dressed in jeans and a light peach sweater, gave her a warm smile and continued typing a document on the computer. Laura suddenly felt over-dressed.
“Ms. Kingsley?” The attorney held out a hand as he stood in the office doorway. “Please come in.”
The office smelled of old leather. Shelves were filled with books. Stacks of papers and documents occupied every available flat surface. The attorney heaved his bulky frame into a large leather chair behind the desk, adjusted his glasses and pulled a large folder from a stack on the desk.
“I’m very sorry about your aunt. She was an unusual woman, one of the best.” He paused and eyed her curiously from under bushy white eyebrows. “You h
aven’t been to see your aunt in quite a while.”
She hung her head. “The time just slipped by. I was busy with college and then my job.”
“Well, just one of those things” He paused. “She thought a lot of you, Ms. Kingsley.”
Laura leaned forward. “I was surprised that she made me her executor, especially since I haven’t seen her in so long.” She got herself together mentally and squared her shoulders. “What do I need to do for Aunt Estelle?”
Mr. Devers pulled a few papers out of the folder. “We’ll start by reading the will.”
As the attorney began reading the short will and testament, Laura’s eyes got wider. “She left everything to me?”
“She didn’t have any other relatives, besides your mother, Ms. Kingsley. Her husband left years ago. The house and contents are yours, as well as her car, though I’m not sure what condition it’s in. She hasn’t driven in quite a few months, but I think her neighbor used it to take her to the store and such.”
“I’ll have someone look at it.”
He continued, “Then there are her CD accounts,”
“Accounts? Plural? I thought my aunt lived rather frugally.”
“She may have lived frugally, but she wasn’t poor.”
“Where did she get her income? Didn’t she live on Social Security?”
He chuckled at that. “She had a reasonably steady but fluctuating income from her father’s oil interests in Oklahoma. It was enough to live on.”
“Oil interests, you mean royalties?”
“Yes.”
“Your aunt’s royalties have been transferred to you. You should be receiving paperwork from the individual oil companies to sign shortly.”
Laura digested that a moment. “So I’ll have enough money to take care of my aunt’s funeral plans and fix up the house?”
Mr. Devers leaned forward over the desk and looked her in the eye. “The checks were ample and your aunt spent wisely. Her estate is worth over a million dollars.”
The purse that Laura had been holding in her lap slid to the floor. She stared at the attorney. Did she hear him correctly?
Her voice came out in a squeak. “A million dollars?’
He leaned back in his chair. “I thought you might be a bit surprised. She didn’t talk much about what she had but did a lot of good things for the community. She allowed me the privilege of handling some of her contributions. She made them anonymously.”
Laura gave Mr. Devers a wry smile. “Do you have any other surprises for me? I don’t know what to say.” She thought a moment. “Did my aunt leave anything to my mother?”
“Your mother has had the benefit of that same share of royalties from your grandfather. I believe your aunt felt you would be more, shall we say, responsible, with her estate.”
“A million dollars is a lot of responsibility, Mr. Devers.”
“That’s true but she believed you would be able to handle it. I will say that she intended you to keep the house so you’d have a place of your own, instead of an apartment.”
“How big a mortgage is on the house, I mean, are there payments to be made?”
“No mortgage, the house is free and clear. She has no debts, save her funeral expenses and she’s taken care of most of those, picked out her plot, headstone and all. You can talk to Berry’s Funeral Parlor about those arrangements.”
“I see them this afternoon.”
He handed a document across the desk. “Here are copies of the trust, naming you as successor trustee. You should be able to access the funds immediately.
Laura gave him a searching look. “Do you believe in prayer, Mr. Devers?”
“I remember a radio program I listened to years ago. They used to say, “more things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of”. Yes, I do. That’s why your aunt left you her estate. She felt it was what God wanted her to do.”
“I wish she’d also told me what she wanted me to do with it.”
“Well now, maybe that’s something between you and the Lord.” He stood up and she rose also, reaching out her hand. He clasped it between his two large ones and smiled benignly. “I’m not sure when you’ll be able to schedule your aunt’s services, but we’d love to have you join us for church on Sunday. Services are at ten.”
“I’d like that. Thank you, Mr. Devers, for all you’ve done for my aunt.”
“If you need anything else, Ms. Kingsley, you just feel free to give me a call. And let me know when the services are planned. My wife and I would like to attend.”
“Thank you, Mr. Devers, I’ll do that.”
Back out in her car, Laura sat staring at the pine trees on the side of the parking lot. She’d become an heiress with a net worth of over a million dollars. To add to that, she’d have some sort of an income from the oil royalties. It seemed so unreal, just numbers on a piece of paper. Well, there was one way to make it more real. She put the car in gear and slowly drove to the First Mountain Bank of Big Bear Lake.
Chapter Eight
The bank manager was effusive. “I’m Mr. Jacobs, Ms. Kingsley, happy to be of service to you. We counted your aunt one of our best customers.”
The thought came instantly. A million dollars should make her a very good customer. She brushed it away.
Mr. Jacobs looked over her paperwork and smiled at her over his glasses.
“Everything seems to be here that we need.” He hesitated and then asked, “Will you be withdrawing the funds at this time?”
“No, I have matters to attend to. Can I use my aunt’s checkbook or do I need to have you set up an account for me?”
“We can order immediate printing of some checks for you, however, it may save time to transfer some funds into your own account since those checks have your name and address on them.”
“I didn’t think of that aspect. Yes, I’ll do that.”
They settled on an amount she felt would be adequate for now and Mr. Jacobs arranged for a wire transfer to her bank. She marveled. At the touch of a few computer keys, her checking account was richer by several thousand dollars.
She found her aunt not only had three CD accounts totaling around six hundred thousand dollars, but a portfolio of over five hundred thousand dollars with an investment company. All this was in addition to the house and car, a sizable estate. She contemplated the assets and realized she’d better do a lot of praying. There would be a lot of decisions to make.
Laura thanked Mr. Jacobs for his help and drove to the funeral parlor.
Mrs. Bremerton smiled and picked up a file from her desk.
“Yes, here it is. Mrs. DuPont has paid for her space at Gold Mountain Memorial Park and has arranged for a marker with a bronze vase.
Laura went over her aunt’s folder to make sure she did what was requested and agreed to the burial on Thursday at 2 pm.
Finally Laura asked the question that had been at the back of her mind.
“Mrs. Bremerton, what did they do with my aunt, I mean, where is she right now?”
“We have a holding room, similar to a morgue. Sometimes, as in this case, we have to keep the deceased until such time as family is available to make arrangements. Do you wish to see her? You are welcome to do that since you are her family.”
Laura hesitated. “I think I would like to remember her the last time I saw her, if that’s all right.” She thought of the graveside burial. I don’t want to be there alone. Would Ginny and George Morgan come? She was almost sure they would do that for her, being Aunt Estelle’s closest friends.
Mrs. Bremerton went on gently. “Now as to flowers, she requested that they be sent to the local hospital in her name. Any donations can be made in her name to the hospital building fund”.
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“Fine, that can be stated in the obituary notice. You’ll want to stop by the local paper, The Grizzly, and make sure the notice goes in as soon as possible.” Mrs. Bremerton studied her notes. “That looks like all we need to g
o over here. We will see you at two on Thursday. Will there be a memorial service?
“Yes, she wanted it at the Community Church.”
“Fine. Let me call to see when the church is available.”
Laura waited patiently as Mrs. Bremerton spoke with the pastor’s secretary and determined that the church was available Saturday morning at ten for the service.
“Here’s the number for Pastor Bridges,” Mrs. Bremerton murmured as she hung up, “but his secretary, Ann Meeks, said that if you wish to come over right now, you can complete the arrangements.”
She returned to her car shaking her head. Thank you, Lord, for taking care of all this and going before me
Pastor Bridges was a man in his early forties with red hair and freckles. His warm smile put her at ease right away.
“We’ll miss Estelle. She was a wonderful member of the church and helped in so many ways. Let’s see what we can do to make the arrangements easy for you.”
“Thank you, Pastor Bridges, I’ve never done this before.”
He smiled again and looked at some notes he’d made. “Now, did your aunt have any favorite songs or hymns?”
“There are two hymns she specifically requested in her file at the funeral home, “In the Garden” and “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” She was quite firm on that.”
“Wonderful. We’ll use those then. How about if the congregation sings “Great is Thy Faithfulness” and then our soloist, Reva Morris, sings “In the Garden”? Reva has a beautiful voice so I think you’ll be pleased with her contribution.
“I’m sure I will. Thank you.”
Everything just fell into place and Laura again thanked the unseen hand that had paved the way for her in every area she encountered.
“What about notifying people of the service?”
Pastor Bridges gave her a warm smile. “Your aunt was well known to the congregation and an announcement will be sent out through the prayer chain. With the notice in The Grizzly, our local newspaper, I think that will cover notifying everyone that would like to come. I believe you were the only person from out of town.”
House of the Forest Page 4
