Rex Stout: Where There's a Will

“Yes. But as my right, not as largess from her. I would prefer to compel—”

“You would prefer to fight for it. But there’s the possibility you would lose, and besides, if persuasion doesn’t get satisfactory results, you can still fight. You came to see me because you don’t trust these people. Is that right?”

“Yes. My husband was their brother. Glenn Prescott was his lawyer and friend. They have tried to cheat and defraud me.”

“And you suspect that they came to get my assistance in further chicanery?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let’s dispose of that. I wish you’d sit down.” Wolfe turned to me. “Archie, take this down and type it. One carbon. ‘I hereby affirm that in any negotiations I may undertake regarding the will of Noel Hawthorne, deceased, I shall consider Mrs. Noel Hawthorne as one of my clients and shall in good faith safeguard her interests, and shall notify her in advance of any change in my commitments, semicolon, it being understood that a bill for her share of my fee shall be paid by her. A line for a witness.’”

I swiveled and got the machine up and rattled it off, and handed the original to Wolfe. He read it and signed it and handed it back, and I signed as witness. Then I folded it and put it in an envelope and offered it to Daisy Hawthorne. The hand that took it was dead-white, with veins showing on the back, and long thin fingers.

Wolfe asked her politely, “Will that do, madam?”

She didn’t answer. She took the sheet from the envelope, unfolded it, and read it with her head turned to one side, using, apparently, the left eye only from behind the veil. Then she stuffed it in her bag, turned, and started for the door. I got up and went to open it, but young Dunn was ahead of me, and anyway we were both premature. She altered her course abruptly, and was confronting April Hawthorne, close enough to touch her; but when she lifted her hand it was to take hold of the bottom edge of the veil.

“Look, April!” she demanded. “I wouldn’t care to have the others see — but just for you — as a favor, you know, in memory of Leo—”

“Don’t!” April screamed. “Don’t let her!”

There was commotion. Most of them were out of their chairs. The one who got there first was Celia Fleet, living up to her name. I didn’t know a blonde’s eyes could blaze the way hers did as she faced the veil. “You do that again,” she said furiously, “and I’ll pull that thing off of you! I swear I will! Try it!”

A masculine voice horned in. “Get away from here! Get out!” It was Mr. Stauffer, the chap who kept his face arranged. It was now fierce with indignation, as he shouldered Celia Fleet aside to stand protectively in front of April, who had shrunk back in her seat and covered her face with her hands. The same terrible little laugh came from behind the veil, then Noel Hawthorne’s widow turned and started again for the door. But again, halfway there, she halted to speak, this time to Mrs. Dunn.

“Don’t send the brats to guard me, June. I’ll keep my word. I’ll give you till Monday.”

Then she went. Fritz was there in the hall, looking concerned on account of the scream he had heard, and I was glad to leave it to him to escort her out the front door. That damn veil got on my nerves. As I rejoined the scene, April’s shoulders were having spasms and Mr. Stauffer was patting one of them and Celia Fleet the other. May and June were quietly observing the operation. Prescott was mopping his face with his handkerchief. I asked if I should get some brandy or something.

“No, thank you.” May smiled at me. “My sister is always teetering on the edge of things, more or less. I doubt if she could be a good actress if she weren’t. It seems that artists have to. It used to be attributed to the flames of genius, but now they say it’s glands.”

April’s face, pale with revulsion, came into view and she blurted, “Stop it!”

“Yes,” June put in, “I don’t think that’s necessary, May.” She looked at Wolfe. “I imagine you’ll agree I was correct when I said our sister-in-law is implacable.”

Wolfe nodded. “I do. Badly as I need money, I wouldn’t attempt to persuade her to relinquish anything. Speaking of money, I have an exaggerated opinion of the value of my services.”

“I know you have. Your bill, if it is short of outrageous, will be paid.”

“Good — Archie, your notebook — Now. You want a signed agreement with Miss Karn. Half of the residuary estate, more if possible, to Mrs. Hawthorne. In addition to the half million she gets?”

“I don’t know — whatever you can.”

“And nine hundred thousand to the Varney College Science Fund?”

“Yes,” May said positively.

“If you can get it, of course,” said June. “Don’t let my sister give you the idea that she’ll smash the settlement if that isn’t in it. She’s bluffing.”

May said quietly, “You’ve been wrong about me before, June.”

“Maybe I have, but not now. Let’s jump that fence when we get to it, Mr. Wolfe.”

“Very well. If we can get it, we will. What about you and your sister? What do you want for yourselves?”

“Nothing. We have our fruit.”

“Indeed.” Wolfe looked at May. “Is that correct, Miss Hawthorne?”

“Certainly. I want nothing for myself.”

Wolfe looked at the youngest. “And you?”

“What?” asked April vaguely.

“I am asking, do you demand a share of your brother’s estate?”

“Good heavens, no.”

“Not that we couldn’t use it,” said June. “April lives at least a year ahead of her income and is in debt to her ears. May washes her own stockings. She never has anything because she gives half her salary to Varney girls who would have to leave college if she didn’t. As for me, I have trouble paying the grocery bills. My husband had a good income from his private practice, but the salary of a secretary of state is pretty skimpy.”

“Then I think we should be able to persuade Miss Karn—”

“No. Don’t try it. If my brother had left us something we could certainly have used it — and I suppose we’re all surprised that he didn’t. But no — no haggling for it. From him direct, yes, but not by way of that woman.”

“If I get it, will you take it?”

“Don’t try. Don’t tempt us. You know how it is. You’re in need of money yourself.”

“We’ll see. What about your children?”

“They get a hundred thousand apiece.”

“Is that satisfactory?”

“Of course. My Lord, they’re rich.”

“Is anything else wanted from Miss Karn for anyone at all?”

“No.”

Wolfe looked at the lawyer. “What about it, Mr. Prescott? Have you any comments?”

Prescott shook his head. “None. I’m happy to stay as well out of it as I can. I drew the will.”

“So you did.” Wolfe frowned at him, then transferred the frown to June. “So much for that. We’ll get all we can. Now what about Miss Karn?”

“What about her?”

“Who is she, what is she, where is she?”

“I don’t know much about her.” June turned to the lawyer. “You tell him, Glenn.”

“Well...” Prescott rubbed his nose. “She’s a young woman, a year or two short of thirty I should say—”

“Wait a minute!” The interruption came from Sara Dunn, the professional fiend, as she glided up to Wolfe’s desk with something in her hand. “Here, Mr. Wolfe, look at this. I brought it along because I thought it might be needed. That’s her laughing, and the man with her is Uncle Noel. You can borrow it if you want to, but I’ll want it back.”

“Where in the name of heaven,” Mrs. Dunn demanded, “did you get that thing?”

“Oh, I took it one day last spring when I happened to see Uncle in front of Hartlespoon’s, and I knew who it must be with him. They didn’t see me snap it. It’s a good shot, so I had it enlarged.”