Free The Recycled Citizen by Charlotte MacLeod

of Uncle Jem’s lectures on the perils of teetotalism; and let them all chat until Max finished fixing the drinks. Then she called the meeting to order.
    “Max, why don’t you fill everybody in on what’s been happening?”
    “God, you sound like your Aunt Caroline at the Beacon Hill Uplift Society,” Jem cackled.
    Dolph said, “Shut up, you old reprobate,” and Max began his report.
    “Most of you know about Chet Arthur’s will already, so I’ll be quick about that.” He was. “So Dolph and I took the papers over to Redfern this afternoon. He says the circumstances are somewhat unusual—”
    “Old poop,” Jem growled.
    “But that the will itself appears to be perfectly legal and should be filed for probate according to the usual procedure. He believes that unless some relative comes out of the woodwork and tries to contest it, Mary should get her forty thousand without a hitch.”
    “Less expenses,” Dolph modified.
    “But what if it does get contested?” asked Jem. “Would those two witnesses hold up in court?”
    “I don’t see why they shouldn’t,” said Sarah. “They struck me as responsible women. Don’t you think so, Mary?”
    “Absolutely. Their work records at the center are excellent and we’ve got Osmond Loveday’s cute little file cards to prove it. Don’t you fret yourselves about Joan and Annie.”
    “What’s their story on the signing of the will?” Jem insisted.
    Sarah repeated the women’s words pretty much verbatim, with a few assists from Mary.
    “So you see, there can’t be any question of Chet Arthur’s intent. He knew what he was doing and he was anxious to do it right. He was wrong about its being illegal for the witnesses to read the will, of course, but I expect he only said that to discourage Joan and Annie without hurting their feelings. Don’t you, Mary?”
    “Oh yes. He wouldn’t want them to know he had money for fear they’d spread the word and somebody would try to rob him. Gosh, do you think it did get around and some skunk took the notion he carried his savings with him? Anyway, I don’t see that it matters if Joan and Annie didn’t see the whole will.”
    “Not a bit,” Dolph assured her. “They only had to testify that Chet signed the will in their presence, which he did. Redfern’s going to file right away. He did natter a bit about telling the police but I told him we would when we were damn good and ready.”
    “You’re taking an awful risk, though, you and Max.”
    “And we’re all accessories,” said Jem cheerfully. “Not that I personally give a hoot.”
    Theonia said she didn’t give one, either. Dolph snorted.
    “What risk? Be sensible, Mary. We can’t even guarantee that bag belonged to Chet. I got a thousand of them, all alike, and at least half are gone already, God knows where. The police had the bag before they turned it over to us. They didn’t find any heroin in it, so why should they think we did? If it was in fact Chet’s bag, did he know the dope was in it? And what if he did? Suppose he bought a dose from some street peddler just to see what it was like? What are the police supposed to do about that, haul his body out of the coffin and ship it off to a methadone clinic? You didn’t tell that chemist where you found the heroin, Max?”
    “No, I only said I’d run across it in a case I’m working on and wanted to find out what it was.”
    Dolph gave his wife a satisfied nod. “There you are, dear, nothing to worry about. Hell, I’ve run risks a darn sight more hazardous than this one.”
    Jem sneered. “Like what, for instance?”
    “Like the time Uncle Fred took a notion to reform the girls at Madame Jolene’s Palais de Joie. Osmond Loveday damn near had a heart attack over that one. Jolene took umbrage in a big way, and Jolene had connections. Before she was through, she’d come within a hair of getting both Uncle Fred and me jailed on a charge of moral turpitude. I beat that rap, and I’ll beat this