Ghosted

Chapter Five

He slept late, woke at eight, and after sitting upright for a groggy few minutes, gave in and fell back into the sheets and pillows to sleep a little longer.

The next time Archie woke, it was after eleven, but he felt better.

Bird song floated through the open window, and a gentle breeze stirred the drapes. He felt genuinely rested, which was a novelty, and hungry enough to order room service, which arrived as he was on the phone to the administrative assistant at Oregon University’s philosophy department.

He opened the door to room service, saying into his cellphone, “Any idea when Professor Azizi will be back?”

“It’s difficult to be sure when it’s a family emergency,” the administrative assistant replied. “The professor said he was hoping he’d be back for Friday classes, but he’d have a better idea midweek.”

The dark-haired girl from the front desk silently wheeled the service trolley over to the small table by the window and efficiently transferred the cutlery, covered dishes, and juice and water glasses from the trolley to the table.

Archie watched her absently. He suspected she was listening to his side of the phone call; not that there was much to hear, and not that it mattered. “Right. And you said the professor left Saturday night?”

“I believe that’s what he said.”

“Thanks. You’ve been very helpful.” Archie disconnected the call, reached for his wallet, and pulled out a couple of bills.

When he glanced up again, the girl was staring at his chest, Well, more precisely, the bruises still visible on his shoulders and chest. Those were from getting shot in his vest. Had Kyle and Flowers been using armor-piercing rounds, that would have been it. Most of the bruising had faded to a Halloween-themed green and yellow, but the discoloration was probably startling to anyone who wasn’t prepared, and he wished he’d taken the time to do more than pull on his jeans. He had zero interest in giving the good folks of Twinkleton something else to talk about.

He watched her gaze move to the array of medications on the nightstand, and sighed inwardly.

“Here you go. Thanks for lugging all this upstairs.” He handed her the money, which she took automatically.

Something about that wide-eyed troubled blue gaze was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her.

“Do I know you?” he asked. Although the real question was probably do you know me?

Her gaze jerked up to his, and her expression returned to the haughty disapproval of the day before.

“ Do you?” she inquired.

She delivered the line perfectly, which amused him, given that she couldn’t be more than twenty-one or twenty-two. Granted, twenty-one could do a lot of damage. Kyle had been twenty-one.

His gaze dropped to her name badge.

SCARLETT

He knew that name. Why did he know that name?

Archie’s heart sank. “You’re Beau’s kid sister. One of the twins.”

Scarlett and Chase. That was it. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t spotted the strong family resemblance at once—especially the disapproving glare.

“And you’re Archie Crane.”

He was pretty sure there was a not very flattering characterization to follow; if so, she decided to keep it to herself.

He remembered little about either of Beau’s younger siblings. Just that they had often been underfoot and he and Beau regarded them as a nuisance to be dealt with in whatever way would not bring parental wrath crashing down upon them.

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

He wasn’t sure why he was trying to make conversation with a woman who clearly did not want to speak to him. He was still working through the implications of staying in a hotel where Beau’s kid sister had a front row view of everything he did.

“Better than you, I guess.” Scarlett glanced pointedly at his bruises.

Archie grinned. “Yeah, it’s tough getting a window seat on Southwest these days.”

Scarlett’s lip curled in derision. “Dr. Perry never flew Southwest Airlines in his life.”

That was true. John did not squander money, but he also didn’t hesitate to pay top dollar for the things he needed or wanted. He and Archie had flown back from Wyoming first class, which had gone a long way toward mitigating the misery of the trip for Archie. Uncle Sam rarely treated federal employees to first class air fare.

The real point was that Scarlett knew John and Archie had traveled from Wyoming together, and that was already more information about his personal business than Archie wanted people to know. But Twinkleton was a little town and keeping secrets here had always been difficult.

“How’s Chase?”

“He’s in the Marines.” She made it sound somehow like a threat, which struck him as funny, but Scarlett was already on her way out the door. Archie let her go without further comment.

He had to be at Madison Law by two o’clock, which allowed him plenty of time to eat, shower and dress. He wanted to be prepared, and currently, he did not do well rushing.

The breakfast, pancakes which appeared to have been made with coconut and key lime, was surprisingly good, as was the fresh coffee, and by the time he cautiously lowered himself into the whirlpool bath, he felt better than he had in weeks.

Granted, that wasn’t saying a lot.

As his muscles relaxed in the swirling heat of the water, he considered reasons why Judith might want to cut him out of the reading of John’s will. It hadn’t made sense last night and it still didn’t make sense in the light of day. Not that he was entirely surprised she didn’t want him there—and not that it would ever have occurred to him on his own that he should attend.

For the first time he gave Judith’s long-running antipathy his full attention.

He had always accepted it, even taken it for granted, but now he wondered. He’d assumed that she resented him on John’s behalf, that Judith felt John had been cornered into taking on an obligation that should have been largely ceremonial. John was Archie’s godfather, but Archie had never met him, never even heard his name mentioned in any other context until after his parents were gone.

His parents were thoughtful and responsible, but the fact that they’d considered so far ahead as to designate a legal guardian had surprised him. It wasn’t like either of them had been in poor health. And the fact that that guardian was Doctor John Perry in Oregon was more puzzling. He’d reasoned that his parents and John had drifted apart in the way that friends, who move long distances from each other, do. But that when called upon to honor that long ago commitment, John had stepped up.

It made sense then. It still sort of made sense.

What didn’t make sense was Judith’s continuing resentment. It had been years since Archie had required anything from John—nothing he had recognized needing, anyway. It had been years since they’d even seen each other. And yet, if anything, Judith seemed more hostile than she had when Archie lived under John’s roof.

Why?

He thought of that portrait of himself hanging in John’s study.

He had been surprised to see it, yes, and touched. He knew John was fond of him, but he had never dreamed John cared as much as a framed oil painting seemed to imply. But then, John had no children of his own. Looking back, Archie realized that John probably regretted that. He had been a very good surrogate father, though Archie had been too grief-stricken and bitter to appreciate it for most of the time he was under John’s roof. Very likely John would have loved being dad to a pack of cute and undoubtedly precocious kids.

Nor had John ever failed to be there for Desi whenever she needed a father figure to step in. He had continued to provide financial and emotional support for both Judith and her daughter.

Maybe Judith was afraid John had done something like leave part of his estate to Archie?

That might explain at least some of her attitude. But she had to know how unlikely that scenario was. John loved his sister and niece very much. He wasn’t going to shortchange them financially now. Plus, John was a traditionalist. If he had planned to leave Archie something, it would be more on the lines of that painting in his study.

(Archie spared a fleeting thought for how ridiculous a formal portrait of his teenaged self would look hanging in his spartan apartment.)

No, it seemed more likely that Judith didn’t want him present at the reading of the will because she feared certain information might be disclosed which she didn’t want him to know. Because she found it personally embarrassing—Judith was definitely a snob—or because she imagined it might encourage Archie to lay claim to a share of John’s estate?

She could rest easy on both accounts. Archie had zero interest in Judith’s embarrassing family secrets—or even John’s. And he would no more contemplate suing John’s family for a share of their inheritance than he would declare himself a sovereign citizen.

In fact, the only reason he was making time for this meeting was Ms. Madison’s insistence he be there. Well, okay, and maybe a little bit because he knew it would piss Judith off no end. He’d never pretended to be a saint, and once in a while Judith’s rudeness got under his skin.

He didn’t seriously suspect Judith of having any part in John’s death, though he had been surprised by her lack of emotion the previous night. But that stony exterior could have been shock. He had probably not seemed as shaken as he’d felt either. Granted, he was trained to conceal his emotions.

Archie’s cellphone timer went off, and he climbed very carefully and slowly out of the tub and dried off.

In the end, and despite his best efforts, he was about ten minutes late for the reading of the will.

Partly, that was because the office building which housed Madison Law was a longer walk than he—or his cellphone’s GPS—realized. Partly, it was due to being hit with an unexpected wave of dizziness that forced him to wait it out on a bus stop bench, where no fewer than three good citizens stopped to inform Archie he’d just missed the bus.

It was frustrating and a little depressing. Every time he felt like he was getting back to normal, something happened to remind him that he was still not recovered.

By the time he was shown into Ms. Madison’s inner office, he was taken aback to find the room crowded with people. He took a seat in the rear, trying to be unobtrusive.

Judith was there, of course, with Desi and her fiancé, Arlo.

Archie had barely registered Arlo on Saturday, beyond noting that he looked older than expected. That was weight. Arlo had packed on the pounds and his mop of wild red hair was cut short and thinning fast. He exuded an air of successful middle-age, but that was more about attitude and mindset than physical appearance. He was the same age as Desi.

Mila Monig was accompanied by her son, who Archie barely remembered. Jon Monig was tall, thin, and pallid. He had a prominent nose, a pencil mustache, and wore thick glasses—the kind of specs that looked more like a disguise than a prescription. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, yet still managed to look like a character actor straight out of a silent movie.

Had he been a drama major or something? Was he still a drama major or something?

Mrs. Simms, looking composed but ever so slightly uncomfortable, was also present. Archie had always liked Simmy, and he was glad to see her there.

Ms. Madison, tall, trim, and wearing funky red spectacles, greeted Archie warmly from the front of the room. “Archie, very good. Now we can get started.”

Apparently, the lawyer had warned the others he was planning to attend because, though heads turned, no one seemed surprised to see him. With the exception of Mrs. Simms, who looked relieved at his arrival, no one seemed thrilled to see him either. Which he could understand. From their perspective, he was an outsider. From his own perspective, he was an outsider.

Still, this was what John had wanted, so that settled it for Archie.

Ms. Madison took her place behind her desk. She did not waste any more time. “As you all know each other, we’ll get down to it. I should tell you that John originally filmed a video for this eventuality, however a few weeks ago he changed his mind. He decided to rerecord his final messages. Sadly, he never had the chance.”

Judith asked, “Does that mean he also changed his will?”

“No. There have been no codicils—modifications—to John’s will in nearly a decade.”

That did not seem to offer the reassurance Archie assumed it would.

“Can the will be challenged?” Judith questioned.

That received several startled looks. Mila stared across the room at Judith. “Maybe we should wait to hear the will before you worry about contesting anything, Judith.”

Ms. Madison said, “I’m not going to tell you that you can’t challenge the will. I will tell you that you won’t succeed in breaking it.”

“That remains to be seen,” Arlo said ominously.

Right. In addition to be Desi’s fiancé, Arlo was a lawyer. He was also Priscilla Beckham’s son—and a member of her legal firm. Archie studied him consideringly. Back in the day, Arlo had had as little time for him as Archie had for Beau’s siblings. In the teens and early twenties, a gap of a few years makes more of a difference than it does later on, and Desi and Arlo had alternated between pretending Archie didn’t exist to doing their level best to put him in his place.

Was it significant that John had chosen to leave his legal affairs in the hands of a stranger rather than Priscilla, his childhood friend? Was there a little bit of unconscious sexism at work there? After all, Leo, John’s other closest childhood friend, acted as his financial advisor. As far as Archie could remember, that was the way it had always been, so none of it had to do with Arlo being a member of Priscilla’s law firm.

Ms. Madison looked disdainful. “You’ll have to proceed as you think best, Mr. Beckham. Are there any other questions before we get to the provisions of John’s will?”

She waited politely, but even Judith seemed to have resigned herself to at least hearing out John’s intentions.

Ms. Madison began to read.

Archie listened absently, unobtrusively studying the others from his vantage point in the rear of the room, as the lawyer went briskly through the various provisions of funeral and burial arrangements, small bequests of art or other items to friends, and financial bequests to several charities and the Duke Parapsychology Laboratory.

“Article Two: Specific Bequests.” A hush seemed to fall as Ms. Madison continued more slowly, “To my dearest niece, Desiree Winslow, I bequeath fifty thousand dollars as a lump sum payment, to be paid from my estate promptly following the settlement of any outstanding debts and expenses.”

Desi lowered her head on Arlo’s shoulder and began to cry.

“To my cherished sister, Judith Winslow, I bequeath ten thousand dollars per month for the remainder of her life. These payments shall commence within thirty days following my demise and shall be disbursed monthly thereafter.”

Judith gasped.

Archie assumed that was relief—ten thousand dollars sounded awfully generous—but Judith’s expression didn’t seem as delighted as he’d have expected.

“To my very dear friend and housekeeper, Mrs. Elspeth Simms, I bequeath ten thousand dollars per month for the remainder of her life. These payments shall commence within thirty days following my demise and shall be disbursed monthly thereafter.”

Judith gasped again—as did pretty much everyone else, including Simmy. It was a lot of money, for sure, but Archie knew that John considered Mrs. Simms something closer to a family member than an employee.

Simmy put her hand across her eyes and then sat up very straight.

“To my dear friend, frequent companion, and longtime business partner Mila Monig, I bequeath my entire interest in our medical practice, including all assets and liabilities associated therewith.”

“Oh, my God, John ,” Mila said, and burst into tears.

Her son put his arm around her shoulders.

Ms. Madison paused, as though giving everyone a moment to compose themselves.

The room went absolutely silent. So silent, they could hear the tick-tock of the clock on Ms. Madison’s desk. Archie could feel the rising tension, feel it taking shape like a specter materializing in the corner of the room.

Judith stared at the lawyer, and then, as if reading something in Ms. Madison’s perfectly blank face, threw Archie a look of glittering disbelief. She turned back to Ms. Madison.

“No,” she said fiercely. “Absolutely not.”

“Mother,” Desi said in alarm.

Arlo said, “Judith...”

“This is not right!”

There was a cold, sinking sensation in Archie’s gut. Finally, belatedly, he understood why Ms. Madison insisted he needed to be present for the reading. Understood why Judith did not want him there, why, despite his long absence, her hostility toward him had only continued to grow.

As if completely unaware of the emotions roiling through the room, Ms. Madison read in a firm, calm tone, “Article Three. Residue of Estate. All the rest, residue, and remainder of my estate, real and personal, wherever situated, including my yacht named the El fantasma blanco , McCabe House and all its contents, and all other monies and properties owned by me at the time of my death, I give, devise, and bequeath to Archer Everett Crane, who I have long considered my beloved son, to be his absolutely and in perpetuity.”