Free Chill Factor by Chris Rogers

about to pee his pants? What bothered you about the changes Edna made?”
    “Niente!
Nothing, I tell you.”
    “You smarmy sonofabitch, if you let Edna write Marty out and give the money to a stranger—”
    “Did I say that? And what makes this
your
business?”
    “Hey, you two!” Belle slapped her pencil on the desktop. “Flannigan, calm down. And, Ralph, Dixie’s right about one thing—we
were
concerned about Mrs. Pine’s decision. A dollar retainer puts Dixie on our payroll—as a consultant. Now tell her what you told me.”
    The lawyer shot Belle a disgruntled look, but then he sighed and turned a thin smile at Dixie. Belle’s name came first on the law firm’s letterhead for a reason.
    “In late February, Mrs. Pine bequeathed a significant portion of her estate to a church—which is
not
particularly unusual. When a person gets on in years, losing one family member after another, it’s not uncommon to worry about the afterlife, to try and … pave a path, so to speak.”
    “What church?” Dixie didn’t recall the Pines ever being especially religious. Bill was Methodist. When Marty was young, Edna usually took him to the Unitarian Church.
    “I’d have to refresh my memory,” Ralph replied. “Not a church I’d heard of. And that’s all I’ll say until probate.”
    “Ralph, Edna was a generous woman,” Dixie explained reasonably. “But her family always came first. She wouldn’t willingly deprive Marty, her only son, of his inheritance.”
    “
Basta!
Enough.” On his way out the door, Ralph directedhis response to Belle. “I’m not answering any more questions until the heirs are notified.”
    Dixie made a face at the door as it clicked shut behind Ralph Mule-headed Drake.
Heirs.
Plural.
    “When do you think your pseudo-Italian partner will change his name to something with too many vowels?”
    Belle picked up her well-chewed yellow pencil and tapped the point on a notepad.
    “Dixie, I saw Mrs. Pine that day. Spoke to her. Ralph called me in to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. Trust me, your friend seemed completely reasonable and happy with her decision.”
    “So, why were you concerned?”
    “Anytime an elderly client makes abrupt money decisions, my loony-alarm goes off.”
    Dixie nodded, reluctantly. Giving a few bucks to a church didn’t qualify as a big reason for concern. As Ralph said, Edna could parcel out her money any way she wanted. But if Aunt Edna didn’t need the money she stole, and if she didn’t steal it for Marty, then her actions pointed more and more toward suicide. That was the thought that saddened Dixie.
    “Ric …” She deliberately used her nickname for Belle to underscore that loyalty came before business. “A reasonable, happy woman—with money—doesn’t rob a bank at gunpoint.”
    “
Flannigan
… what do you want me to say? When she came here in February, Edna Pine looked a thousand percent more together than she did the previous time I saw her—”
    “Was that right after her husband died? Or after her only sister died? She was
grieving
, Ric.”
    “She wasn’t grieving this past February. If anything, I’d say she was in love.”
    “
Love?!
Edna was old enough to remember Rudolph Valentino, the Charleston, and penny bread loaves.”
    “Not quite, but since when does love have an age limit?”
    “Bill’s only been dead a year. If Barney had died first, Kathleen would
never
have fallen in love with another man.”
    “How did your parents get into this?”
    “Barney and Kathleen, Edna and Bill—they were the same. Same age, same lifestyle, same values. Marriage to them wasspecial, dammit. A very close, very
special
partnership. After Kathleen died, Barney mourned himself to death.”
    “The woman I saw in this office three months ago was not ready to stop the world and get off. She looked calm, happy. She’d turned back the clock a few years.”
    “I’d say ‘stop the world and get off’ describes precisely what Edna did