And Thereby Hangs a Tale

“I see that this will was originally drawn up by Haskins, Haskins and Purbright,” said Kullick.

“That is correct, Mr. Kullick,” Lynn said just before she reached the door. She turned back and smiled sweetly. “Mr. Sommerfield felt that Mr. Haskins’s charges had become . . . exorbitant, I think was the word he used.” She opened the door. “I do hope you don’t make the same mistake, Mr. Kullick, as we may be in need of your services at some time in the future.” She closed the door quietly behind her.

By four o’clock the following Thursday, Lynn felt confident that she had addressed all the problems posed by Mr. Kullick’s demands and that everything was in place. She knew if she made the slightest mistake she would have wasted almost a year of her life, and all she would have to show for it would be a cane with a silver handle and a photograph of a young man at Princeton whom she didn’t particularly like.

As she and Arthur sat and watched yet another episode in the life of Sergeant Bilko, Lynn went over the timing in her mind, trying to think of anything that might crop up at the last moment and derail her. Mr. Kullick would need to be on time if her plan was to work. She checked her watch every few minutes.

When the show finally came to an end, with Bilko somehow managing to outsmart Colonel John T. Hall once again, Lynn turned off the television, poured Arthur a generous measure of whiskey, and handed him a Havana cigar.

“What have I done to deserve this?” he asked, patting her on the bottom.

“Someone’s coming to see you, Arthur, so you mustn’t fall asleep.”

“Who?” demanded Arthur, but not before he’d taken a sip of his whiskey.

“A Mr. Kullick. He’s one of Mr. Haskins’s associates.”

“What does he want?” he asked as Lynn lit a match and held it up to the cigar.

“He’s bringing over the latest version of your will, so you can sign it. Then you won’t have to bother about it again.”

“Has he included my bequests to you this time?”

“He assured me that your wishes would be carried out to the letter, but he needed them confirmed in person,” said Lynn as the doorbell rang.

“Good,” said Arthur, taking another swig of whiskey before Lynn plumped up his pillows and helped him to sit up.

Moments later there was a gentle knock on the bedroom door and a maid entered, accompanied by Mr. Kullick. Arthur peered intently at the intruder through a cloud of smoke.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sommerfield,” said the lawyer as he walked toward the bed. He had intended to shake hands with the old man, but when he saw the look of disdain on his face, he decided against it. “My name is Kullick, sir,” he said, remaining at the foot of the bed.

“I know,” said Arthur. “And you’ve come about my will.”

“Yes, sir, I have, and—”

“And have you remembered to include the bequests for my nurse this time?”

“Yes, he has, Arthur,” interrupted Lynn. “I told you all about it after I’d returned from visiting Mr. Kullick last week.”

“Ah, yes, I remember,” said Arthur, draining his glass.

“You’ve given me everything—” she paused “—that I asked for.”

“Everything?” said Arthur.

“Yes,” she said, “which is so much more than I deserve. But if you want to change your mind . . .” she added as she refilled his glass.

“No, no, you’ve more than earned it.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” she said, taking him by the hand.

“Let’s get on with it,” said the old man wearily, turning his attention back to Kullick.

“Would you like me to take you through the will clause by clause, sir?”

“Certainly not. Haskins took long enough doing that last time.”

“As you wish, sir. Then all that remains to be done is for you to sign the document. But, as I explained to Ms. Beattie, that will require a witness.”