Chapter 21 - The Second Will
I had attended Daniel’s funeral.
I had sorted his clothes.
I had canceled his cell phone.
I had sat in an attorney’s office while his will was read and his estate was opened.
I had never heard of a second will.
Ruth received a scanned copy that afternoon.
The document was dated eight months after Daniel’s valid will.
It contained Daniel’s signature.
Or something that looked like it.
It specifically left his interest in the Dalton land to Cedric.
The rest went to me.
At first glance, the document looked plausible.
That frightened me.
Cedric came directly from work.
“I don’t want it.”
“That is not the first question.”
“It’s my answer.”
“Cedric.”
“I mean it.”
I studied him.
He looked offended.
Not by me.
By the document.
“If Dad really left it to me, then legally—”
“No,” he interrupted. “If Dad really left it to me, we figure out what that means. But I am not letting Grant wave a piece of paper around and turn us against each other.”
I sat down slowly.
There are moments when you see the child your adult child used to be.
There are others when you finally see the adult.
This was the second kind.
Ruth arranged immediate forensic review.
The paper was old.
The ink required more analysis.
The witnesses were Raymond and Pamela Keene.
Both dead.
Convenient again.
The will had supposedly been kept in Raymond’s personal files.
Grant’s attorney claimed it was discovered during the search of his office and therefore could not have been fabricated recently.
“That sounds bad,” I said.
“It sounds complicated,” Ruth corrected.
“I’m allowed to say bad.”
“Fine. It sounds bad.”
The probate court would have to determine whether the document was valid.
The land closing was delayed.
Again.
Grant had found one final way to keep everyone trapped.
Except this time, Cedric refused to play.
His attorney prepared an affidavit.
In it, Cedric stated he had never heard his father mention a later will or promise him the Dalton land.
He also disclosed Grant’s attempt to pay him to pressure me.
Grant’s lawyer responded by suggesting Cedric supported me because I had promised to leave him my estate.
That made Cedric laugh.
Actually laugh.
Ruth did not find it as funny.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”
“Sorry.”
“Do you have an inheritance agreement with your mother?”
“No.”
“Has she promised you the sale proceeds?”
“No.”
“Do you know what her current will says?”
“No.”
I interrupted.
“He knows there are education funds for the children.”
Ruth pointed at me.
“Don’t help.”
I closed my mouth.
Cedric grinned.
“Now I understand my childhood.”
“You were never this obedient.”
The humor helped.
Until we got home.
Then Cedric became quiet.
“What if it’s real?”
I looked at him.
“What if Dad did leave me the land?”
“Then we deal with that.”
“I don’t want you thinking I’m taking from you.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
He stared at me.
“You once believed my house belonged to you before I died,” I said. “You learned.”
He flinched.
“I know.”
“If this document is genuine, accepting something actually left to you would not be the same thing.”
“What would you want me to do?”
“There’s the old Cedric.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Handing me the decision.”
He sat back.
I smiled gently.
“You’d decide.”
He stared at the floor.
“I hate that answer.”
“I know.”
At home that evening, I opened Daniel’s letter again.
The one saying I decided what happened to his share.
The letter was dated three months after the supposed second will.
That mattered.
Why would Daniel sign a will leaving the property to Cedric, then later tell Raymond that I controlled it?
Maybe he forgot.
Maybe he changed his mind but never executed another will.
Maybe the second document was false.
We needed evidence.
We found it in the least dramatic place imaginable.
My old tax box.
Daniel had been in the hospital on the date the second will was supposedly signed.
Not just briefly.
He had undergone emergency gallbladder surgery seventy miles away.
I remembered because Cedric had flown in the following morning.
The hospital still had archived records.
Daniel could not have signed a document in Raymond’s office at 2:30 p.m.
At 2:30 p.m., according to his medical chart, he was under anesthesia.
Ruth called the next morning.
Her voice was almost cheerful.
“The will is dead.”
“That sounds terrible when discussing a dead man.”
“You know what I mean.”
But Grant’s situation had become much worse.
A forged deed was one thing.
A forged will submitted to a court was another.
Cedric looked at me after the call.
“He really thought this would break us.”
“Yes.”
“Would it have?”
Two years earlier?
Maybe.
I did not lie.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“And now?”
May you like
I smiled.
“Now it’s just paperwork.”
