The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

“Oh, right.”

“Can we go inside and talk?”

“Sure.”

We went into my place and I offered him a seat at the kitchen table. “Beer?”

“Thank you, no.” Joel Barker was a short guy, bristly gray mustache, rumpled suit. He pulled out a worn briefcase and set it on the table. “I’m very sorry to hear of Nelson’s untimely passing. I’ve represented him for years. Can’t say he was a friend, but… My condolences.”

I sat down across from him as he unlatched the briefcase. “Did they find out what happened?”

“Pulmon

ary embolism,” Barker said, withdrawing some papers. “Fortunately, they don’t think he suffered.”

Maybe not, but he died alone. That’s the part I fucking hated.

“I am the executor of your late uncle’s will,” Barker was saying. “He made modifications to it back in March. You are his sole beneficiary.”

“Meaning, what?”

“Meaning, he left you everything.” Barker put on glasses and peered at the will. “I, Nelson Kenneth Wentz, being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath to my nephew, Ronan August Wentz, all of my earthly belongings to be disposed of, sold, or kept as he sees fit.”

I thought of the mountain of shit in his apartment that I’d now have to wade through.

“Also bequeathed to my nephew, the residential complexes, Bluffs and Cliffside—”

My head shot up. “Wait, hold on. He left me the buildings?”

“Indeed. May I continue?”

I sat back in the chair, my thoughts going a mile a minute.

“I also do hereby bequeath to him all liquid assets in my bank accounts, personal and business, in amounts totaling $63,976.”

I stared. “Dollars?”

He smiled. “Cold hard cash.”

I thought about the state of Nelson’s apartment, how miserly he was with the tenants and his own well-being.

“He has that much?”

“Had,” Barker said. “It’s yours now. Just sign here. The check will be issued to you within thirty business days. As for your uncle’s remains, he has requested to be cremated.”

“And then what?”

“He did not specify.” Barker adjusted his glasses. “Business with the apartment buildings is a bit more complicated. I’m in contact with the city and will help officiate the transfer of property deeds, permits, and so forth into your name.” He folded his hands. “That’s quite a big responsibility. I’m sure the city would be very eager—especially in the case of the Bluffs complex—to purchase the land from you.”

“And do what with it?”

“Knock the buildings down and turn them into condos, I’d imagine. The land is valuable. That would be another rather large windfall, young man, if I may say. Congratulations.”

I nodded vaguely, thinking the tenants who would have to move out wouldn’t see it that way. But holy shit.

I signed where Barker needed me to sign, and he shook my hand. “We’ll be in touch.”

I sat in the quiet of my kitchen for a long time—until the shadows started to creep across the floor—thinking about what Nelson had done. I replayed every conversation, every phone call. There weren’t many and few that had meant anything.