Holly put a hand to her breast. "My God, I had no idea about any of this."
"I don't know if you know this, Holly, but Jackson took that piece of land your house is on in lieu of a fee from a client years ago, then he bought an old Florida farmhouse inland somewhere for a dollar, sawed it in half and had it moved to the lot and reassembled."
"Jackson told me about that."
"So, after a lot of renovations and additions, and in the current real estate market, which is spectacular, that little old farmhouse on the beach is probably worth two million dollars, should you want to sell."
"I don't. Jackson still lives there, as far as I'm concerned."
"As you wish, it's yours to do with as you like. Jackson has a brokerage account and some T-bills, and about forty thousand dollars in cash in the bank. It's going to take a few weeks to get this probated, but you'll have the insurance money in a week or two, so you'd better start thinking about what you're going to do with it. You don't want that kind of money sitting around in a checking account."
"I know Jackson's broker. I'll talk to him."
"Good idea. If you need any immediate funds, I can advance them to you."
"Thanks, Fred, but no."
"That's about it, then. Do you have any questions?"
"No, I don't think so."
They stood up, and he hugged her again. "You call me when you have questions of any kind. Have you made any arrangements for burial?"
"Ham's taking care of that. Jackson wanted to be cremated and scattered without ceremony."
"He told me the same thing."
"Thank you, Fred. I appreciate your help."
She kissed him on the cheek and left.
Holly drove up AIA with Daisy sticking her nose out the window, and across the north bridge, then took a left down a dirt road and arrived on Ham's little island. He had inherited the land and a small house from his old army buddy, who had been Holly's chief until he was murdered.
Ham walked out of the house and gave her a big hug, then held her at arm's length. "You look a little funny," he said, "kind of stunned."
"Stunned is right," she said. She told him about the meeting with Fred Ames.
"Well, I guess you and I are lucky in the people we choose to be close to. I've got my house, and now you've got yours."
"I guess so."
They went into the house and to the kitchen, where Ham had been cleaning fish.
"Fresh out of the Indian River," he said, gutting a sea trout. "The sun is over the yardarm; why don't you pour us a drink?"
Holly went to a kitchen cabinet and found a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. She got ice from the fridge and poured them both a stiff one. They clinked glasses.
Ham raised his glass. "Better times than these."
"I'll drink to that," she replied, sipping the whiskey. This had been their evening ritual since she had been old enough to drink, especially when they were serving on the same post. The bourbon tasted like comfort and friendship.
"You given any thought to what you're going to do?" Ham asked.
"Just what I'm doing," she said. "I'm going to find the people who killed Jackson, and put them in jail and see them tried and convicted, unless they find a way to make it necessary for me to shoot them, which I'd do with pleasure."
"Me, too," Ham said. "As a matter of fact, I was going to offer to do it for you, if you'd look the other way for a minute."
"Tell the truth, I'd rather see them rot in jail."