“That’s why I’m here,” Stone reminded him.
“It’s like this,” Wainwright said. “James left bequests to Eton College, Magdelan College at Oxford, to Oxfam—that’s a large charity over here—and to his club, the Athenaeum. The total of those was three hundred thousand pounds.” He paused, seeming to have a hard time reading the neatly typed document before him.
“Go on,” Stone said.
“The remainder of his estate, James left to Sarah Buckminster.” He took a deep breath and sighed.
“You seem in some way unhappy about this,” Stone said.
“I must tell you, I counseled James against it. He came in to make a will which would take effect on his marriage to Sarah. We went over everything very carefully, the full list of his assets. I was quite all right with it all, but when he came back to sign the will, after it had been typed, he noted that the will would take effect on their marriage, and, rather offhandedly, he asked that it be changed to have immediate effect. When I questioned this, he said, ‘Oh, hell, I’m marrying the girl in a few months’ time, just do as I ask.’ So I had the page retyped, and he signed it.”
“Was the will properly attested to and witnessed?”
“Of course,” Wainwright replied, sounding offended.
“Are you satisfied that the will represents his true intentions at the time he made it?”
“As unwise as his intentions may have been, yes.”
“Then I don’t see any problem.”
“You’ve read this morning’s papers?”
“The Times and the Independent.”
“Not the tabloids?”
“They don’t have the tabloids at the Connaught.”
“Well, they’ve as much as accused Sarah of murdering James for his money.”
“Then I should think she’d have a very good libel suit against the tabloids,” Stone said.
“Quite,” Wainwright replied.
“Tell me,” Stone said, “when James made this sudden decision to have his will take effect immediately, did he in any way intimate that Sarah was aware of this decision?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“And his decision seemed to you to be made on the spur of the moment?”
“Yes.”
“Are you aware that Sarah was unaware of the will until I told her about it this morning?”
Wainwright’s considerable eyebrows shot up. “No, I was not. And, may I ask, how did you become aware of the contents of the will?”
“I was told by Sir Bernard Pickering,” Stone replied, watching for a reaction, and he got it.
Wainwright gulped but seemed unable to speak.
“Are you and Sir Bernard acquainted?” Stone asked.
“We are next-door neighbors in the country,” Wainwright replied.
“And when did you convey the intent of the will to Sir Bernard?”
Wainwright was perspiring now. “I was having dinner at his home on Saturday evening, when he got the call from Lord Wight, requesting his services. I thought it my duty to make him aware of the circumstances.”