The Night's Legacy (21 page)

“No, the nurse didn’t say.”

Other than a local phone number there was a name written on the piece of paper:  Brian Brendel.  She didn’t know anyone by that name.  Maybe it was an alias her father used.  Or maybe it was someone working for the mob or Set.  Either way, she supposed she might as well find out.  “Do you have fifty cents?”

“Sure.”  Tony reached into his pocket and then brought it back out with two quarters that he dropped into her hand.  “Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks.  I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She found a pay phone and dropped the quarters in.  The voice that came on the other end belonged to a woman.  “Brendel and Associates, how can I help you?”

Brendel and Associates?  Associates in what?  “Hi, my name is Lois Locke.  Mr. Brendel called me at the hospital.”

“Oh yes, Miss Locke.  Mr. Brendel would like to see you in his office as soon as you can manage it.  He has something very important to discuss with you.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not at liberty to say over the phone.  I can have a car pick you upif that would be all right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Are you still at the hospital?”

“Yes,” Lois said, wondering how they knew that.  Did this Mr. Brendel have someone keeping tabs on her?

“Very good.  They should be there in a half hour.”

Lois hung up the phone and then went over to her co-workers.  “What did they want?” Tony asked.

“I’m not sure.  They’re sending a car for me.”

Melanie’s good humor returned as she squealed at this.  “A car!  That’s so fancy.  Maybe he’s a rich prince or something, you know?”

“I guess we’ll find out,”
Lois said.

* * *

The car was a Lincoln sedan driven by a burly man who looked as if he could be a mob enforcer.  He said little to her along the way to Brendel’s office, which was fine with her.  She didn’t feel especially chatty at the moment, not with so much to think about.  There was her mother’s condition, her father’s emergence, and her new career on top of wondering who this Brendel was and what he wanted with her.

The driver took them downtown, to the heart of the financial district. 
Lois had rarely visited this area, not having much use for the stockbrokers, lawyers, and insurance salesmen who took up most of the buildings.  She couldn’t help craning her neck up though to see the tall buildings.  What would it be like to try climbing one of those with the armor?  She might get a chance to find out if Set kept trying to rob banks.

The car stopped in front of the Rangell Building, a skyscraper made of smoky glass so that the whole thing looked like a big piece of obsidian.  The driver opened the door for her, but she refused any help in getting out of the car.  She wasn’t an invalid, not like Mom might be after she left the hospital.

A middle-aged blond woman in a sharp black suit hurried up to her with a hand extended.  “Miss Locke, I’m Cathy Sarasate, Mr. Brendel’s personal secretary.  We spoke on the phone?”

“Oh, yes.  Nice to meet you.”

“Did you have a nice ride over?”

“Yes, very nice.”

“Good.  How’s your mother doing?  It was so terrible to read about what happened to her.  I met her a couple of times at charity functions.  She always seemed like such a nice lady.”

“She’s getting better.”

“Wonderful.  Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you upstairs.”  Ms. Sarasate took Lois’s arm, guiding her through a door, into the lobby.  Lois tried not to gawk at the three-story fountain in the center.  She didn’t have time to look anyway as Ms. Sarasate was already rushing her towards a bank of elevators.  Along the way, Lois noticed a list of building occupants; Brendel & Associates was on the thirtieth floor.

While they waited for the elevator, Ms. Sarasate said, “I hope this isn’t too much of an inconvenience for you.”

“No, not at all.”  Lois would have liked some more notice so that she could have found something better to wear than a faded T-shirt and torn jeans; people probably thought Ms. Sarasate was taking her upstairs for Take Your Daughter to Work Day or something.

“It’s been a very busy day for us to say the least.”

The elevator arrived and they jammed into it along with a dozen other people.  Lois had to duck to avoid being elbowed by a man reaching for his cell phone.  She flattened herself against the rear of the elevator, willing it to hurry before she wound up with a bloody nose—or had to give someone one.

The elevator made ten stops along the way, each time letting off one or two people and adding more to the mix. 
Lois was starting to think it would have been easier to take the stairs when they finally reached their floor.  Ms. Sarasate cleared a path and planted herself in the doorway to keep the doors from closing before Lois squirted out.

The secretary opened a smoked glass door for her and
Lois stepped into a lobby made almost entirely of green marble, including the desk.  Gold letters spelled out, “Brendel & Associates.”  She still didn’t have any idea what they did as Ms. Sarasate ushered her through yet another door, into a hallway.  They passed a series of glass doors, each with someone’s name on it.  Lois didn’t have time to read these as Ms. Sarasate led her to the end of the hallway, to Mr. Brendel’s outer office.

The outer office was done in a traditional wood motif, including Ms. Sarasate’s desk.  She didn’t stop at the desk, instead knocking on the door to Brendel’s office.  A voice inside boomed, “Come in, Cathy.”

At last Lois met the famous Mr. Brendel.  He was a heavyset man with a mostly bald head and a blond mustache that made him look like a walrus.  He had his suit jacket off, but still wore a vest that couldn’t conceal his paunch.  His handshake was firm and dry and enough to almost crack a few bones in Lois’s hand.  “Hello, Miss Locke.  I’m glad you could make it on such short notice.  How is your mother?”

“She’s coming along.”

“That’s wonderful,” Brendel said, echoing his secretary.  “Would you like anything to drink?  Water?  Coffee?  Soda?”

“I’m fine.”

“I could use a cappuccino, Cathy, if you don’t mind.”

“Right away, Mr. Brendel.”

Once the secretary had gone, Brendel motioned to a leather chair opposite his desk.  Lois sat down, wondering if he would finally spring a trap.  He didn’t do anything yet other than sit behind his desk and pick up a manila folder.  After scanning it for a few seconds, he looked up at Lois and smiled.  “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here, aren’t you?”

“The thought occurred to me.”

“Brendel & Associates isn’t a very large law firm, but our list of clients is very exclusive.  One of them was Dr. Richard Johnson.”  Brendel stopped and shook his head.  “It was a terrible tragedy what happened to him, and so soon after what happened to your mother.  How have you been holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

Ms. Sarasate returned with a cup of cappuccino, which she set on the desk and then bustled away.  Lois wished she could go too, already sensing what Brendel wanted.  The lawyer took a sip of the coffee and nodded.  “Are you sure you don’t want anything?  Ms. Sarasate makes an excellent cappuccino.”

“No thanks.”

“Well then, let’s get on to business.  As I’m sure you’re aware, Dr. Johnson’s estate is quite valuable.  His net worth at the present is six hundred twelve million dollars.”

Lois
stared back at the lawyer with disbelief.  She knew Dr. Johnson had been rich—the money inherited from his family—but she’d never thought he was
that
rich.  She managed to stammer, “I did not realize that.”

“You might not also have been aware that after his wife’s passing, Dr. Johnson rewrote his will.  He left the bulk of his estate to you, Miss Locke.”

“Me?  Why me?”

“From what I gather, Dr. Johnson didn’t have any close blood relatives and he seemed to be quite fond of you and your mother.”

“Yes, he was.  He was like my uncle.”  Her very rich uncle, but she had never considered that he would leave his estate to a screw-up like her.  Why not leave it to Mom?  Or donate it to the Thorne Museum?  Six hundred million could fund an entire new wing, if not an entire new museum.

Brendel shuffled some papers in the folder.  “There’s a complete disbursement of his assets in here, but the short version is that you would receive his house, his airplane, and a sizable chunk of his liquid assets.  The rest goes to various charities and the museum.”

“I see,” she said, unable to think of anything else.  The plane she had ridden back to Ren City on from Texas would soon be hers, as would Dr. Johnson’s thirty-bedroom mansion in the Heights.  She began to wish she had asked Ms. Sarasate for a glass of water. 

Brendel held up a finger.  “There is one catch.  Dr. Johnson asked us to write in a provision to the will; it was notarized the day of his death.  This provision states that everything you inherit will be forfeit if you haven’t completed your PhD within two years of the date of his death.”

“What?”

The lawyer shrugged.  “I know, it does seem like an odd request.  Dr. Johnson stressed how important your education was to him.  He wanted to make sure you would complete your schooling.”

Lois stared at Brendel in shock.  Why would Dr. Johnson write that into his will?  “What if I don’t want to go back to school?”

“Then you’d forfeit your inheritance and the state would dispose of his assets however it saw fit.”

“Oh.”  That meant they would give Dr. Johnson’s house to the highest bidder, a house that had been in his family for almost three centuries.  “I guess I can give it a try.”

“That’s wonderful.  I’ll have some things for you to sign.  We’ll have to have them notarized to make it nice and legal.”  Brendel let this hang in the air for a moment, but didn’t make any attempt to get up.  Was she supposed to leave now?  Then he picked up another folder and said, “There is another issue, a complication brought on by your mother’s…incapacitation.”

“What kind of complication?”

“Dr. Johnson initially requested your mother as executor of his estate.  Since her injury, he asked that you be named as the executor of his estate.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest or something?”

“Not really.  Mostly what the executor of the estate does is plan the funeral arrangements.”

Lois shivered at this.  She had to plan Dr. Johnson’s funeral?  As much as she wanted to say no, she knew there was no one else.  Not with Betty dead and Mom crippled.  Lois was the only one left of their little family who could do it.  “What do I have to do?”

Chapter 19

Lois didn’t remember the ride back to the hospital.  She couldn’t focus on what was happening outside the window with so much turmoil in her mind.  First there was the disbelief that just the previous night she had been sleeping in an alley and now she would own a mansion worth millions and have a net worth of half-a-billion dollars.  While she should have been happy about that, she couldn’t shake her gloom over how it had happened.

Then there was the idea of planning Dr. Johnson’s funeral.  She hadn’t gone to a funeral before, not having any close relatives except for Aunt
Betty, whose funeral she had missed.  All she knew about funerals came from movies and TV, which usually involved people standing in the rain beside a grave.  Was that what she was supposed to do for Dr. Johnson?  Did he even want to be buried?

These thoughts swirled around her head until the driver opened the door and she realized she was back at the hospital.  She thanked him and wondered if she were supposed to give him a tip.  She would have to start figuring out those protocols since she would be a millionaire once all the paperwork went through.  The driver had already gone before she could make up her mind on what to do.

Still in a haze she found her way via autopilot to Mom’s room.  She wasn’t sure how long after she sat down that Mom woke up again.  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Mom asked right away.

She told Mom about her visit to Brendel’s office, about the will and having to plan Dr. Johnson’s funeral.  “I don’t know what to do, Mom.  What would he want?”

Mom thought about this for so long that Lois thought she had fallen asleep with her eyes open.  Finally Mom said, “Richard was never much for ceremonies.  You’re probably too young to remember when he and Betty got married, but they held the wedding in the museum, in the Kings of Egypt exhibit.”

“That sounds like what he would do.  Aunt
Betty was OK with that?”

“She didn’t mind.  She didn’t want another church wedding.”

“Another?  There was someone before Dr. Johnson?”

“Oh yes.  His name was Steve.  They met in college.  He was a really nice boy.  His father had some heavy gambling debts, though, so the day of the wedding an assassin shot Steve just before he could kiss
Betty to seal their nuptials.”

“Oh my God.  That’s terrible.” 
Lois shook her head.  “I don’t remember her ever mentioning him.”

“I think it hurt her too much to talk about him.  He was her first love.”

“Did you catch the guy who did it?”

“Yes.  That was one of the first times your father and I worked together.  He knew a lot more about organized crime than I did.  We cornered the killer in an airport hangar before he could escape.”  She stopped and looked away from
Lois.  “Your father put five bullets into him before I could arrest the killer.”

“Jesus.”

Mom turned back to Glare at her, a silent warning about her language.  “What you should remember is that killing the assassin didn’t make Betty any happier.  It certainly didn’t bring Steve back to life.”

“But at least he wasn’t free to kill again.”

“That’s what your father said.”

“So I guess I really do take after him.”

“That’s up to you.”  Mom sighed and Lois thought she would go back to sleep, but she didn’t.  “I wish I could get out of this bed and help you through all of this.  It’s too much and you’re too young to go it alone.”

“I’m not alone.  You’re still here.  And there’s
Melanie and Dr. Pavelski and Sam.”

“These are my responsibilities.  They weren’t supposed to be yours.”

Lois took her mother’s hand and smiled.  “I can handle it, Mom.  I’ll take care of everything.”

Mom sighed again and from the way her eyes fluttered,
Lois knew she was tiring.  “I hope so, sweetheart.  About the funeral:  Richard wouldn’t want a big deal made about it.  The only religion he cared about was the ancient Egyptian one.  Just ask his friends to say a few words at the museum about the good times they had.  That’s what he would want.”

That sounded right to
Lois.  She leaned over to kiss her mother’s cheek.  “Thanks, Mom.  I’ll see you later.”

Mom nodded, too tired to even say anything before she fell asleep.

* * *

Lois
found Melanie waiting outside.  She didn’t crush Lois in a hug like the last time.  Instead she whispered, “How is she?”

“About the same as before.” 
Lois looked down at her watch.  It was only two in the afternoon, which still gave her time before tonight.  “I have sort of a big favor to ask.”

“Oh my God, you aren’t going to ask me to smother her with a pillow or anything, are you?  Because I don’t think I could do that, not to someone as sweet as your mom.”

“What?  No.  Nothing like that.  I have to go to a funeral home and I thought maybe you could come along for moral support, you know?”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!  I didn’t mean anything by that.  It’s just I saw this movie on Lifetime the other day where a woman’s mom was in a coma or something and she asked her friend to…you know.” 
Melanie’s face turned red and her lower lip trembled as if she were about to cry.  “You must think I’m such a total idiot.”

Lois
patted her shoulder.  “No I don’t.  I really need someone to come with me.  I don’t think I could do it on my own.”

“Sure, I’d love to come.” 
Melanie blushed even redder.  “I don’t mean love like I love going to funeral homes or anything—”

“I know what you mean.  Let’s go.”

Since she was about to be flush with cash, Lois splurged on a cab to take them to the funeral home.  She passed the business card Brendel had given her at the office to the driver, who insisted in Spanish that he knew how to get them there.  Along the way, Lois explained some of her visit to the lawyer’s office to Melanie, leaving out the part about inheriting most of Dr. Johnson’s estate.  That she didn’t want spread around too loudly or else she’d become a magnet for every con artist on the East Coast.

“I remember my Aunt Katie’s funeral when I was seven.  There was a lot of fat old ladies
gossiping and a lot of singing and stuff.  This boy behind me kept pulling on my hair until I finally turned around and smacked him a good one.  Mom took me to the bathroom and yelled at me for like ten minutes.  Everyone in the place could hear her too, which was even more embarrassing, you know?”

Lois
nodded, although she didn’t really know.  Mom would never have screamed at her in public; she would have taken Lois into the bathroom and Glared at her until Lois apologized.  “I don’t think we’ll have much singing.”

“And probably no boys pulling on my hair either.”

They both giggled at this, which for Lois was a welcome release after the last few days.  Everything had become so dark and gloomy that she had forgotten what it was like to laugh with a friend about a stupid joke.  Maybe Mom was right that she was too young to handle all of this.

When the cab pulled up in front of a plain two-story brick building,
Lois thought for sure the driver had the wrong address.  But then she saw sign on the door for Stratton Brothers Funeral Home.  That was where Dr. Johnson’s body had been taken after the police autopsy.

She was glad for
Melanie’s presence or else she probably would have told the cabbie to keep driving.  She forced herself to keep a brave face on as she mounted the concrete steps and then knocked on the door.  The man who answered the door looked more like a used car salesman than a mortician with slick blond hair and a bright white smile.  “You must be Lois.  Brian’s office said you were coming out today.  And who’s this?”

“This is my friend
Melanie.”

“Hi,”
Melanie whispered.  She stood back by the door, as if preparing to bolt at any second.  Maybe bringing her hadn’t been such a great idea after all.

Lois
wanted to drift back and comfort Melanie, but the salesman already had a hold of her hand.  “My name’s Bill Stratton.  I’m the general manager here.  From what Brian said, your Uncle Richard passed on?”

“Surrogate uncle,” she said.  She took an instant dislike to Stratton, who felt so casual about referring to Dr. Johnson by his first name.

“I see.  Well, Lois, have you given any thought to Richard’s arrangements?”

“Not much.”

“That’s all right.  A lot of people don’t.  That’s where we come in.  Stratton Brothers has been around for one hundred thirty years.  It was started by my great-grandfather and his brother in this very same building.  So you can be sure that we can handle all of your needs in this trying time.”

She had to admit he was good enough that the sales pitch didn’t sound like a sales pitch.  Then again he probably had a lot of experience in this field, with generations training him since he was born.  She tried to imagine what that was like, but couldn’t.  Dr. Johnson and Aunt
Betty had been the closest she had to an extended family.

She flinched when Stratton put an arm around her and had to resist the urge to break the arm and a few other bones.  “Now,
Lois, the most important decision you have to make is whether you want Richard buried or cremated.”  He led her into a room with coffins propped up like cars in a showroom.  “As you can see, we have a wide variety of caskets, from this very nice walnut finish to our elite titanium casket.”

He stopped her in front of a silver casket that reminded her of the magic armor’s silver trunk, only with no swan on the lid.  Stratton tapped one hand against the silver finish.  “This here is the same kind of material they use on nuclear submarines.  It’s hermetically sealed so that nothing can get inside.  You don’t have to worry about any nasty little critters getting in there until the second coming.”

Lois didn’t realize Melanie had followed them into the showroom until she heard her coworker retching.  Turning, Lois saw Melanie throwing up into the walnut finish casket.  She hurried over to pat Melanie on the back.  “It’s all right,” Lois said. 

“I’m so sorry,”
Melanie said, tears in her eyes.  “It’s just all these caskets and thinking about creepy crawlers and all that it just made me sick, you know?”

“I know.  I’m sorry I asked you to come.  This isn’t really a lot of fun, you know?”

Melanie nodded.  She got a hold of herself enough to stand up straight.  Stratton didn’t miss a beat in putting a hand on her back.  “That’s all right, Melanie.  It happens a lot.  Why don’t you just go into the bathroom and freshen up, OK?”

“Sure.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Lois asked.

“I’ll be fine,”
Melanie said, though she certainly didn’t look fine with her face pale and eyes red.  Lois thought about going in with her anyway, but decided it would be best to give Melanie a few minutes to collect herself.

She turned to Stratton and said, “I’m sorry about that.  I’ll pay for it.”

“Not a problem.  It’s just the liner.  We can have it changed and cleaned in no time.”  He patted the interior of the casket.  “As you can see, the lining on these is as soft and as thick as the mattress you sleep on—”

While Stratton continued to rattle on,
Lois tried to imagine Dr. Johnson lying in any of these caskets.  She had never considered the possibility that he might need one, let alone that she would have to decide which one.  When she closed her eyes, she imagined him lying in a gold-and-black sarcophagus, like one of the pharaohs at the museum.  She wondered if she could get anyone to mummify him as they had back then.  She doubted anyone still did that, at least not in the ancient way.  That was what he would want, since had always wanted to be a part of Egypt—

“I think I’m going to have him cremated,” she announced, breaking into Stratton’s pitch.

“Of course, if that’s what you want.  You can rent one of these coffins to display him in for the service—”

“We’re not having a formal service or anything.  How soon can you cremate him?”

“We can do it tomorrow if that’s soon enough.  We have our own cremation oven right here on site.  It just takes a few hours to fire it up and get it hot enough for the process.”

Melanie
had picked that moment to come out of the bathroom.  Lois heard her gag and then hurry back into the restroom.  Lois cleared her throat and said, “That should be fine.”

“Now if you’ll follow me, I can show you our lovely variety of urns—”

“I don’t need an urn.  I already have a container in mind.”  She knew exactly where it was in Dr. Johnson’s house; he had shown it to her when she was two years old.  She had insisted on walking herself since she was a big girl now, but after crossing the ballroom, she gratefully accepted his offer to carry her. 

The jar had been in a glass case, made mostly of clay, with a gold lid shaped like a jackal’s head.  He explained that the head belonged to Anubis, the god of funerals and the afterlife.  “He looks scary,”
Lois said and pressed her face against Dr. Johnson’s shoulder.

He patted her back and said, “He’s not that scary.  He’s like a big old dog.  I bet if he met you he’d lick you on the face.”