Parnell Hall - The Underground Man

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Taylor said. “Only thing is, when you think about it it’s kind of like the argument you made for Jeremy Dawson. I mean, Jenson’s got to be the stupidest murderer ever lived, not thinking about fingerprints when he swiped the gun.”

Steve considered that. “Maybe not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if that’s true, it’s like I said in court. If Jenson knew the gun was there, it’s ’cause he searched the locker back when Jeremy was suspended from school. The irony is, he probably left the fingerprint back then.”

“Yeah, well either way, it fries his ass.”

Steve chuckled, shook his head. “Son of a bitch.” He jerked his thumb. “You tell Tracy?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d she take it?”

“What do you think? She was pretty surprised. Why?”

“She’s been giving me a hard time the past two weeks, ever since the verdict. She thinks I pulled a fast one getting Jeremy Dawson off. She thought I sold the jury a bill of goods.”

“Yeah, well frankly so did I,” Taylor said. He shrugged. “Only thing is, it don’t bother me none. Personally, I thought it was damn fine work. You’re telling me she’s bent out of shape?”

“Pissed as hell,” Steve said. “So this has got to be a bit of a jolt. I’m surprised she didn’t follow you in.”

“Mail came,” Taylor said. “I left her dealing with that.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. He indicated the law books. “Life goes on.”

“How’s it going?”

“The will contest? Not good. Frankly, I expect to lose.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m going through the motions, but I think it’s a lost hope. Not that I’m losing any sleep over it. It’s not like Jeremy’s losing everything. Even if the will doesn’t stand up, he still gets a fifth.”

“Yeah, but do you get a fee?”

Steve shook his head. “Not on the will contest. I can’t see taking a percentage for losing. But I’ll sure as hell take a fee for the murder rap.”

“Glad to hear it,” Taylor said. “I’m running a tab for you, but I hate to charge you when you haven’t been paid.”

“Don’t sweat it, Mark. Turn in your bills. The money will be there.”

“So tell me about Jenson. Is the fingerprint all they got?”

“It’s all I know they got. They probably got something else.”

Steve pursed his lips. “It’s interesting, when you think about it. Dirkson may have a bit of a problem.”

“What’s that?”

“On the question of identity. If you’ll recall, the only way they identified the body was on the testimony of Carl Jenson.”

“Say. That’s right.”

“But that may not matter.”

“Why not?”

Steve grinned. “Because when the relatives think it over and realize they can get a larger slice of the pie if Jenson’s convicted, plus they can’t inherit at all unless the body is Jack Walsh, whaddya want to bet at least one of them also happens to remember that old whiffleball accident when Uncle Jack hurt his leg?”

Taylor laughed. “No takers. I’m sure they will.”

“Still, Dirkson can’t be all that happy about it.”

“Yeah, well there’s one thing that’s gotta make him ecstatic.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re not Jenson’s lawyer.” Taylor chuckled. “Jesus Christ, I still can’t get over that summation. I mean, it was like you were tellin’ the jurors black was white and making it sound logical. I never seen a jury quite so dazed.

“And Dirkson. Hell, you see the look on Dirkson’s face when you sat down?”

“I did sneak a peek.”

“It was great. It was like a cartoon, you know, where the guy walks off the edge of the cliff, stands there and looks around, and suddenly realizes he’s standing in midair.” Taylor nodded. “Yeah, Dirkson’s gotta be glad.”

The door opened and Tracy Garvin came in holding a letter.

“Tracy,” Steve said. “I understand you heard?”

Tracy waved it away. “Yeah, yeah, they indicted Jenson. That’s nothing. Take a look at this.”

She held out the letter.

“What’s that?” Steve said.

Tracy opened her mouth as if to say something, then laughed and shook her head. She looked slightly overwhelmed. “I think you better read it.”

Steve took the envelope, pulled out the pages. He unfolded them and started reading. His eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Taylor said.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve said. “Listen to this. This is a letter dated February 26th.

“‘Dear Mr. Winslow:

“‘I regret that I did not have a chance to adequately express my appreciation for all the work that you have done in my behalf. I apologize if I have seemed ungrateful. What you did was of great help to me, and I hope that I, in turn, may be of some help to you.

“‘By now you are probably wrestling with the problem of a holographic will purportedly leaving all of my fortune to Jeremy Dawson. With regard to that, I hope the enclosed document may be of some help. I am entrusting that document and this letter to a close friend with instructions to mail them to you at the proper time. Since you are reading this letter, that proper time is now.

“‘I hope this document will clear up any confusion that may have arisen concerning my estate. I also hope my relatives will not be too disappointed when my estate is finally divided among them, and they realize just how much of my assets I was able to convert to cash in the past year. Still, there is plenty left to go around. And, what the hey, you can’t take it with you.

“‘Please excuse me if I am in a somewhat whimsical mood, but I must say I am extremely happy with the way everything has turned out.’”

Steve looked up from the letter. “‘Sincerely, Jack Walsh.’ Son of a bitch.”

“That’s nothing,” Tracy said. “Wait till you read the will.”

Steve set the letter aside, and looked at the other document. “O.K., here goes. This will is dated February 26th, 4:30 p.m.”

“‘I, Jack Walsh, being of sound mind and body, do hereby revoke all prior wills and make this my last will and testament. In revoking all prior wills, I specifically and especially revoke the unfinished and unsigned handwritten will begun by me on this same day, purportedly leaving my entire fortune to Jeremy Dawson. I revoke that will, and any and all other prior wills, and do make this my last will and testament.

“‘I hereby appoint the Chase Manhattan Bank to serve as executor of my estate, and to dispose of my property as follows:

“To Steve Winslow, who furnished me with such valuable legal advice, and fought so valiantly in my behalf, I leave the sum of one hundred thousand dollars.’”

Taylor whistled. “Jesus Christ.”

“You can stop sweating your fees now,” Steve said.

“I’ll say. Go on. What else?”

“‘To Carl Jenson I leave nothing because he’s a schmuck.’” Steve looked up. “That’s the very phrase I gave him.”

Tracy nodded. Her eyes were bright. “The man did have a sense of humor, didn’t he?”

“Go on,” Taylor said, impatiently. “What about the money?”

“‘All the rest, remainder, and residue of my property I leave to my relatives, Rose Tindel, Pat Grayson, Claire Chesterton, and Jeremy Dawson, in equal amounts, share and share alike.

“‘In the cases of Rose Tindel, Pat Grayson and Claire Chesterton I leave the money outright with no restrictions, though knowing them and the men they married, I would expect them to run through the money inside of a year.

“‘In the case of Jeremy Dawson, who is a minor, I leave the money in trust, and appoint the Chase Manhattan Bank sole trustee. It is my instructions that they manage the money for him and furnish him with living expenses, if and only if, he is attending school, in which case they shall pay for his education, and all the expenses attendant therewith. Said trust shall remain in effect and terminate only in the event Jeremy Dawson should receive a college degree from a four-year, accredited college, at which time the Chase Manhattan Bank shall turn over the entire amount of the trust to Jeremy Dawson absolutely and without restriction.’”