Free Thirteen Diamonds by Alan Cook Page A

and this seemed to be a good opportunity, while everything was sweetness and light. “You mentioned that Gerald's will left most of his money to charity. Do you know which ones?”
    “I only know one,” Carol said, smiling. “He left some of his money to Silver Acres. After all, we are a nonprofit organization and since we pledged never to evict a resident for financial reasons we can always use donations.”
    But apparently they could evict residents for unruly behavior. I had better reread the rules and regulations.
    “It wasn't meant to be a nonprofit organization,” Albert said. “It just turned out that way.”
    I snorted. I had heard that old joke before. I asked, “How much did Gerald leave to Silver Acres?”
    “I'm not sure, but I think it's about $100,000.”
    “That's better than catching the plague,” Albert said. “I wish I could find a few donors like that for the UNC History Department. We need to endow a chair for me so I don't have to worry about where the money to pay my salary is coming from.”
    Gerald was a generous man. I wondered what organizations or persons were the beneficiaries of the rest of his estate.

CHAPTER 11
     
    One of the names I had copied from Gerald's file was that of an attorney. A hand-written note next to the name had stated that he was the executor of Gerald's will. I had also copied a phone number.
    I called the attorney’s number on Monday morning and after convincing his secretary to connect me with him because I was considering redoing my will I asked him about the contents of Gerald's will.
    When he told me he couldn't give me that information, I said, in my best bluffing manner, “I believe all probate records are public information so you won't be breaking any laws. I am particularly interested in the bequest to Silver Acres because, as a resident I am concerned about its long term solvency since I intend to live here the rest of my life.”
    He told me to wait a minute and put me on hold. Silence. No stirring music played to entertain me, such as you get when you call an airline. Of course the airlines are trying to keep you from hanging up and humming to the music of a competitor. After a minute he came back on the line and said, “Silver Acres will get $500,000.”
    “ Five hundred thousand?” I asked. “I heard it was $100,000.”
    “It was, originally, but I found a codicil with Gerald's effects raising it to $500,000. I didn't have anything to do with it, but it looks legitimate. It was signed by two witnesses and dated several weeks ago. I will check with the witnesses, of course, to make sure these are their valid signatures.”
    “Uh, what other bequests did he make?”
    The attorney rattled off several bequests to nonprofit organizations and then ended by citing an amount of $100,000 to a Ms. April Snow, a grandniece living in San Diego, California. When I casually asked for it he even gave me her address and telephone number.
    “Is that the only money going to a person?” I asked.
    “As far as cash payout, yes. But there was another typed codicil with the will, dated about two weeks ago. It says that a loan of $25,000 Gerald made will be forgiven if he dies before it is paid off.”
    “Does it say who the loan was to?”
    “A Mrs. Dora Flymore. But I couldn't find any loan agreement in his files, saying that she owed him this money.”
    I gulped. “So this note is also a legal part of the will?”
    “If it's legitimate. It has also been signed by two witnesses. If I can validate their signatures then I would say it is legally part of the will.”
    “Can you tell me who the witnesses are?”
    The attorney read two names. I recognized one as a resident of Silver Acres. I had no doubt that the signatures were valid. I thanked him and hung up. I sat there, my head spinning. So Gerald had lent money to Dora. They had had a closer relationship than she claimed. Twenty five thousand dollars. Was that sufficient to kill for? Of course people had