W is for Wasted (Kinsey Millhone 23)

I was shaking my head in despair. “I can’t do it. Truly. They’re bound to react badly. It’s like begging to be abused. First they find out he died and then they find out he’s screwed ’em over in death the way he screwed ’em in life.”

“You don’t know that for a fact.”

“What, that he screwed ’em over in life? Look at it from their perspective. God knows what they went through during his arrest, trial, and sentencing. They must have been mortified. After that, Mom divorces him and he goes to prison, presumably for life. He put them through the wringer.”

“But he didn’t commit a crime. He was falsely accused. The legal system was at fault. The judge, the lawyers, and police made a terrible mistake. You’d think his kids would be thrilled to find out he was telling the truth.”

“Not so. From what Dandy tells me, the visit was a bust.”

“Do you think he told his kids how much money he had?”

“Beats me. Dandy and Pearl suspected he had money, but apparently he never revealed how much. I don’t want to be the one who drops that bomb on them. Once the kids find out I’m sole beneficiary, no telling what they’ll do.”

Henry shook his head. “You’re just trying to save your own skin.”

“Of course I am! Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“That’s neither here nor there. Tell them what happened. Lay the whole story out the same way you told me. It’s not your fault they severed the relationship. It’s not your fault he named you in his will.”

“You think they’ll take such a charitable view?”

“Well, no, not likely, but it’s better if you take the high road and handle this one-on-one.”

I put my head down on the table and groaned.

“Kinsey, the money isn’t theirs. It was never theirs. Their father had the right to do anything he wanted with it.”

“What if they feel entitled to it? They’re his natural heirs. Why wouldn’t they feel they had a right to it?”

“In that case, it becomes a legal issue and they’ll have to hire an attorney.”

I thought about it briefly. “I guess if they raise a huge stink, I could offer to divide the money among the three of them.”

“In no way! Absolutely not. If he’d wanted them to have the money, he’d have set it up that way. He named you executor because he trusted you to carry out his wishes, which are plainly stated.”

I reached out and grabbed his arm. “I just had a great idea! You can come with me. You’re good at things like this. You’re diplomatic and I’m not. I’ll make a botch of it. If you’re with me, I’ll have an ally.”

“Nope. No can do. I’ve got William to contend with. Someone has to get him to his physical therapy appointments.”

“He can take a cab. He’s already said he would.”

“You’re forgetting Ed. I can’t very well go off and leave the little guy. We’re in the bonding process. He’d feel betrayed.”

“You think a cat can feel betrayed?”

“Of course. Why would he not? He might not understand the concept as such, but he’d certainly be crushed if I abandoned him after finally winning his trust.”

“William could look after him, couldn’t he? He’s just as much a part of Ed’s life as you are.”

“He most certainly is not!”

“Well, nearly. I mean, Ed knows William. It’s not like you’d be leaving a stranger in charge.”

“Why don’t you look at it another way? There’s a big chunk of your history buried in Bakersfield. You’re actually related to these people. I’m not sure how, but that’s a question worth pursuing. Think of yourself as a diplomat. You’re a delegate from your branch of the family reaching out to theirs. I grant you the introductions might be awkward, but as long as you’re going, you can fill in some gaps in your family tree. Actually, Dace did you a good turn. This is a rare opportunity, a chance to integrate. Forget the emotional content and play it straight.”

I stared at the floor. “I wish I had your confidence.”

“You’ll be fine.”

•   •   •

I left Henry’s at 9:00 that night and made a quick trip to the nearest service station to put gas in the car. On the way home, I stopped by the bank and pulled cash from an ATM. I was in bed by ten. I didn’t sleep well, but then I didn’t expect to sleep well. I woke at 2:30 and again at 4:00. The next time I opened my eyes it was 5:15 and I decided to call it quits. I got up, made the bed, and pulled on my sweats. I started a load of laundry and left it to churn while I did my three-mile jog. The run was the last thing in the world I wanted to do, but I knew it was the right stress-busting move. When I returned thirty minutes later, I shifted the damp clothes into the dryer and then took my shower.