Miss Julia Inherits a Mess (9 page)

“Julia?” Sam said, turning over toward me just as I was about to doze off.

“Hm-m?”

“Just thought of something. Jewelry. Did Mattie have any?”

My eyes popped open. “I don't know. I haven't thought about it.”

“You should make sure first thing in the morning. The funeral home will put the obituary in the paper, probably tomorrow. Thieves have been known to watch them for places to rob.”

I sat straight up in bed. “Oh, my goodness, and I'll be responsible. Should I go over now and look?”

“No, honey,” Sam said, pulling me back down. “It's unlikely anybody would try to break in tonight. Besides, Mr. Wheeler's around. I expect he'll be keeping an eye out.”

“Well,” I said, settling down in my warm place, “I wish you'd waited till morning to bring it up. I may not sleep a wink.”

Sam laughed. “I'm sorry. I should've waited, but I just thought of it and had to ask.”

“I'm glad you did. I guess.” I laughed a little, too. “But that's what frightens me about this job, that I'll forget something as obvious as jewelry. Although,” I murmured as my eyes began to close, “Mattie never wore anything anybody'd want to steal.” Then, “Nothing memorable, anyway.” And a few minutes later, “That I ever saw.” And began to fall asleep.

“Sam!”
I sat straight up in bed again.

“What! What?”

“I forgot to tell you who all Mattie named in her will. You won't believe it.”

“In the morning, honey. Now lie back down, and let Mattie rest in peace. Us, too.”

So I did and felt the better for it.

_______

“All right, Sam, listen to this.” We were in the library right after finishing breakfast. I was so eager to tell him how outlandish Mattie's will was that it had been all I could do to hold my tongue long enough to eat. Actually, I'd wanted to tell him in the kitchen with Lillian listening in as well, but, fearful that I wasn't supposed to tell anybody anything, I'd waited until we were alone.

Then I had a second thought. “Is it all right to tell you who's in the will?”

He smiled. “I won't tell anybody, and you're going to notify the ones involved fairly soon anyway, aren't you?”

“Well, that's the thing, isn't it? If there's not enough to go around, maybe I shouldn't tell anybody. Of course, by the time I sell Mattie's furniture and her jewelry, maybe there will be.”

I glanced down the list of the names of the beneficiaries again and sighed. “However, there's not a chance in the world for that. Listen, Sam. She's left five thousand dollars to each of ten people, some of whom I've never heard of. One is just ‘Carl at the Shell station for exemplary mechanical work.' Have you ever heard of such a thing? If he's the one who kept that Oldsmobile of hers running, I ought to disinherit him. And another five thousand to a Junior Haverty for carrying her groceries to the car. With just these ten names, she's distributed twice as much as she actually has. But that didn't stop her, because she's left ten thousand dollars to the PEO scholarship fund, ten thousand to the library, and ten thousand more to the Humane Society.” I stared at the page. “And I had no idea that she liked cats and dogs.

“How much is that, Sam?”

“Eighty thousand. How much did you say she has?”

“A little over twenty-three thousand in a money market account, and less than a thousand in her checking account.” I looked up at Sam in despair. “I'm getting a headache. Because you haven't heard the worst of it yet. In that first ten who're to get five thousand each, she's named LuAnne, Hazel Marie, Callie Armstrong, Sue Hargrove, Helen Stroud, Roberta Smith, and—good grief! Norma Cantrell and Mildred Allen! Sam, Norma is the most officious person I've ever known—I can't imagine she's ever done one gracious thing for Mattie. And Mildred? She needs another five thousand dollars like she needs another five pounds. I'm sorry to say that, but it's the truth.”

Sam's quizzical look matched my feelings. “It's an interesting lineup, all right. And she didn't mention you?”

“No, and if I weren't a committed Christian, I'd be highly embittered.”

“She probably intended the executor's fee to make up for leaving you out,” Sam said, probably to make me feel better. “If, that is,” he went on, “you want to go to the trouble of applying to the court for it.”

“I have enough trouble already. I don't need to go to court for a percentage of next to nothing.” Glaring at Mattie's improbable will, I said, “I've a good mind to turn this back to Mr. Sitton so he can hand it to LuAnne. Let them worry with it because here's almost the final straw. In a separate paragraph, she wants another five thousand dollars to go to the Lila Mae Harding Sunday school class for refreshments every Sunday morning—I'd vote against that right now.

“And, oh, my goodness, Sam. Listen to this. She wants thirty thousand dollars to go to the church to buy pew cushions for the ease and comfort of the congregation and aisle carpeting in the same color as the cushions.
And
she wants paperback hymnals to replace the hardcovers because they're too heavy to hold. Then she wants new robes for the choir—blue being the preferred color to match the carpet and pew cushions. And here's the kicker, Sam. In a codicil, she added another five thousand to go to the Shriners
children's hospital, and I didn't know she even
liked
children. But get this,” I went on, “the
remainder
of her estate is to go to the church—can you imagine! There'll be no remainder. There's not even enough to begin with, much less having anything left over.”

“Maybe,” Sam said, frowning, “she has an investment account somewhere—some stocks and bonds, an IRA—funds that she knew would be available.”

“No,” I said with a deep sigh, “not according to Mr. Sitton. What I've seen is what I have to work with.”

I leaned my head back against the sofa, just overcome with who and what Mattie had considered important enough to underwrite with money she didn't have.

“This is unreal, Sam,” I said. “Can we make a case to the court that she was of unsound mind so they'll release me from this?”

Sam smiled and patted my hand. “Hard to prove at this point, honey. But I concede that she has some unusual bequests. Still, a will is where a testator can pretty much do as she wants, unless there're relatives who decide to challenge it. No mention by Mattie of any family, though—right?”

“Well,” I said, sifting through the pages, “I think there's something here about having no living relatives known to her. Yes, here it is.” I handed the page to him.

“Uh-huh,” Sam said, scanning the page. “Of course, that doesn't forestall any relatives who were
un
known to her. But let's not worry about that unless somebody pops up somewhere along the line. Your job is to follow the will as closely as possible and let Sitton handle the rest, which will include making the proper notifications.”

“I'll try,” I said, tired before even starting. “Jewelry is first on my list today. What will you be doing?”

“Oh, I have an appointment to interview old Judge McCormick again, which will probably be as unproductive as the last time. But I have to try to get a straight story out of him, so I can finish a chapter.” Sam had been involved with writing a legal history of Abbot County for some years now. I had my doubts that he'd ever finish it, but it gave him something creative to do and
he enjoyed the interviews he conducted. The thing about it was, though, he'd get a story from a defense lawyer about a particular case from years ago, then get an entirely different one from the prosecutor—which I guess was par for the course in any case.

“And,” Sam went on, “I'm going to stop by the drugstore and get a plentiful supply of sunblock. We'll be off on our fishing trip in about a week.”

“Well, thank goodness you won't be leaving until after the funeral. LuAnne is probably expecting you to be a pallbearer.”

_______

“Lillian,” I said, walking into the kitchen, “do we have any of those little ziplock plastic bags?”

“Yessum, they's a whole box full in the pantry.” She quickly found the box and handed it to me. “You want some snacks to put in 'em?”

“No, no snacks today. I'm going to Mattie's apartment to look through her jewelry. I'm going to put each piece in a separate bag so they're not all jumbled together. And that way, I can take the good pieces to a jewelry store for appraisals. See, Lillian, Mattie named me as the executor of her estate, and it looks as if her estate is in a mess.”

“Law, Miss Julia, that sound jus' like what Mr. Robert Mobley done to the Reverend Abernathy. Yes, ma'am, look like you both got your hands full.”

Lillian nodded to affirm what she'd said, then jerked around toward the door. “
Listen!
You hear that? Law, Miss Julia, somebody yellin' they head off.”

I heard it, too, and we both ran for the back door just as Ida Lee, Mildred's composed and highly capable housekeeper, broke through the boundary plantings.

“Miss Julia! Miss Julia! Come quick, hurry!” Then she bounded back through the rhododendron bushes and disappeared toward Mildred's house.

“Oh, my word,” I said, dashing out the door and across the yard. “Something's happened. Come on, Lillian, hurry!”

Just as I reached Mildred's columned porch, gasping for breath as I struggled up the low steps, I heard the wail of sirens coming closer. I had never in all the years I'd known Ida Lee seen her in an agitated state. But there'd been nothing composed or regal about her as she'd bounded back across Mildred's lawn like a deer, Lillian and me struggling along behind her. Even so, the blaring sirens announced that she'd kept her head long enough to call 911.

Lord, what had happened?
I hurried inside, Lillian panting right behind me.

“Ida Lee? Where are you?” I called. “What's happened?”

“In here, Mrs. Murdoch.” Ida Lee's voice, reverting to its usual professional tone, came from Mildred's wicker-and-chintz sunroom.

I ran across the foyer to the sunroom and found Mildred sprawled on the floor. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, and she was as white as a sheet.

“Oh, Mildred, what happened?” I knelt beside her and felt her forehead. I don't know why, just that it was what people seemed to do.

“She fell,” Ida Lee said. “I was in the kitchen and I felt the thump when she hit the floor. I can't get her up, and I'm afraid to try. She might've broken something.”

“Mildred? Mildred, do you hurt anywhere?” I patted her face,
but she didn't answer. Then, as the blare of the sirens died away, I looked up at Ida Lee. “Run meet them, Ida Lee. Get them in here. She's not responding. No telling where she's hurt.”

As professional men and women, loaded down with cases and tanks and I-don't-know-what-all hurried in and set up shop all around Mildred's fallen body, Lillian, Ida Lee, and I moved aside. Even though there were five emergency workers milling around, I wondered how they would get Mildred on a stretcher. She was a large woman, so I knew lifting her would be a problem. I didn't get to see how they managed it, though, because they ran us out to wait in the foyer.

Ida Lee, wringing her hands, stood trembling beside me, her lovely, caramel-colored face drawn with anxiety. “Oh, I hope she's all right. I should've watched her better. I try to, I really do.”

“Ida Lee, nobody could do better than you. Mildred's lucky to have you. But let's don't fall apart until we know what's going on.” Although in the back of my mind, the memory of another friend who'd so recently suffered a fall kept popping up, and look what had happened to her. I began to tremble a little myself.

Leaving Lillian to close up Mildred's house, I drove Ida Lee to the hospital, where we waited and waited in the waiting room of the emergency room. Finally a doctor who wasn't old enough to shave or to wear a decent pair of shoes came out to talk to Mildred's family. There were only the two of us.

“How is she?” I asked, jumping up from my chair. “Mrs. Allen, how is she?” He kept looking around, apparently for a family member.

“Is she married?” he asked. “I should speak with her husband.”

“Obviously,” I said, waving my hand at the empty room, “he's not available. Ida Lee, do you know where Mr. Allen is?”

“Yes, ma'am, Mr. Horace is sailing on the Mediterranean. I think you can reach him by ship to shore or maybe shore to ship.”

The young doctor looked taken aback—not many people from Abbotsville sailed anywhere, much less on the Mediterranean. “What about children? Does she have any children?”

“Ida Lee?” I asked again. “Do you know how to reach Tonya?”

“Miss Tonya is somewhere in Provence.”

“That's in France,” I said, in case he'd missed geography in grade school. “Now, look, Doctor, we're all she has at the moment, so you can tell us how she is. Ida Lee here is as close to kinfolk as you're going to get.”

His eyebrows went up at that, but he had enough savoir faire not to comment on the relationship.

He cleared his throat. “Well, the X-rays show that nothing's broken, but she had a hard fall. She'll be bruised and sore for a few days. The thing is, though, we don't know why she got dizzy and fell, which is what she says happened. I want to admit her for a few days and do a battery of tests. Someone will have to speak with the admitting office. Does she have insurance?”

Has it come to this?
I thought.
What would he do if she didn't? Call Washington and report her?

“Doctor,” I said, “Mrs. Allen underwrote this fancy emergency room you're working in, so you don't need to worry about insurance, be it term or whole life, home owner's, health, or final expenses.”

_______

Well, somebody finally recognized Mildred's value to the hospital, for when Ida Lee and I were directed to the third floor, we found Mildred in a private room with not one but two windows. She was lying in bed hooked up to some kind of intravenous apparatus, and, I declare, she looked mountainous under the covers.

“Mildred?” I whispered as I tiptoed to the bed. “How're you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

“You can get me out of here,” she said, but with only a smidgen of her usual commanding tone. “What happened?”

“You don't remember?”

“No, I couldn't find the swatch I'd decided on for my new curtains, so I got up to look for it . . . and the next thing I knew some doctor was feeling me up.” She managed a weak smile. “Where's Ida Lee?”

“Right here, Mrs. Allen.” Ida Lee moved in closer as I stepped back from the bed. “You've given us a real fright. Are you sure you're feeling all right?”

Mildred clasped her hand. “Don't leave me, Ida Lee. I feel better when you're around.”

“You don't need to worry about that.” Ida Lee began to straighten Mildred's bedcovers and smooth her pillow. “I'm right here.”

“Tonight, too? I don't want to be left alone at night.” Mildred looked up at her, and I realized how dependent Mildred was on Ida Lee. And also realized that Mildred may've been thinking, as I had, of what had happened to someone else who'd fallen, gotten better, then, alone in the hospital, died in the night.

Glancing at my watch, I saw that I would soon need to leave to meet Helen at Mattie's apartment. Before I could say anything, the door opened and a technician came in to draw some of Mildred's blood—a process I'd just as soon not witness.

“Let's walk out to the hall,” I whispered to Ida Lee, then, standing outside Mildred's door, I asked, “Are you planning to stay?”

“Oh, yes, ma'am, I can't leave her. I'll stay until she can go home.”

“Not day and night, Ida Lee. That's too much. I have to leave now to meet Mrs. Stroud, but I'll relieve you after supper tonight. That way, you can go home and get some rest.”

“Oh, Mrs. Murdoch, you can't do that. I don't mind staying. I can nap in a chair.”

“So can I. No, Ida Lee, you're not going to stay around the clock. She's going to need you in good health when she goes home, so you must take care of yourself. I'm going now, but I'll see you later this evening.”

_______

On my way to Mattie's apartment, I went from worrying about leaving Mildred to fretting about being late for Helen. And on top
of that, I had no time for even a bite of lunch, and, as I'd forgotten my cell phone, I couldn't call Lillian. So as soon as I got inside the apartment, I used Mattie's phone to give her an update on Mildred's condition and also to tell her where I was.

“Let Sam know what happened,” I told her. “He should be home anytime now. And tell him where I am, and, Lillian, please help me remember not to ever leave home again without my cell phone.”

“Yessum, but you got to 'member to plug it in to keep it workin'. Won't do no good if it die on you.”

“I know, and I will. Oh, I think Helen's here.” I hurried to the door to let her in. “And, Lillian, you might mention to Sam that I'll be spending the night in Mildred's room tonight.”

“Why I got to mention it? Seem like that be 'tween you and him.”

“I want to give him time to get used to it.” I opened the door, smiled in welcome to Helen, and motioned her in. “I have to go, Lillian. I'll be home before supper.

“How are you, Helen? Come in and look at this mess.” I waved my hand at the jumble of furniture in Mattie's living room. “I'm so happy to have you help make sense of it all.”

Helen, a small, slim woman who always looked put together from the stylish cut of her hair to the tip of her wedge-heeled shoes, looked around in astonishment. “I had no idea,” she said in wonder. “Where did all this furniture come from? I don't remember it being so crowded when we visited her.”

“I don't, either. But I think maybe she had some of it in the bedrooms. Why she had it all moved in here, I couldn't tell you. Anyway, I have to go through her dresser drawers and collect her jewelry, so I'll let you wander around and see what you think should be done with it.

“Oh, by the way, Helen,” I went on, “we had to take Mildred to the hospital this morning.” And after Helen's proper expression of dismay, I went on to tell her what I knew about Mildred's condition. Which wasn't much, but I knew I couldn't avoid reporting on our mutual friend's hospitalization.

Leaving Helen to examine the undersides of the furniture, I went to Mattie's bedroom and began opening drawers. Her jewelry drawer was crammed full of gold chains, pearl necklaces, and silver links of one kind or another. And under all of that were several small boxes whose appearance was pregnant with the promise of a sizable increase in Mattie's estate.

Maybe
,
I thought as I removed the drawer and sat on the bed with it,
her beneficiaries won't go begging after all.