Dawn Stewardson - Wild Action

After that, he booked an obscenely early morning flight to Toronto—with an open return date. He had no idea how long transferring legal ownership would take. Plus, he’d need a day or two to get the business and property listed for sale.

Finally, charged with exhilaration, he left for head-quarters to turn in his badge.

AS THE ELEVATOR CARRIED him up to the law offices of Evans, Broderick and Rowan, Nick was still trying to shake the uneasy feeling that had been nagging him since yesterday.

An hour or two after he’d walked out of headquarters, he’d realized he should have asked Linda Weaver about Wild Action’s profits, as opposed to revenues, before he’d gone ahead and quit. After all, aside from his meager savings, those profits were all he’d have to live on until he got things sold.

But his brain hadn’t been firing on all cylinders during their conversation—partly because he’d been dead on his feet and partly because her revenue figure had pretty much stopped him cold.

The elevator slowed to a halt and its door slid open. Telling himself yet again that any company earning more than a million dollars a year had to be making substantial profits, he strode across the waiting area to the receptionist.

“Mr. Montgomery to see Mr. Brown.”

She gestured toward a hall. “Straight along there. It’s the last door on the left.”

“Would you mind if I left my suitcase out here?”

“Not at all.”

Parking it near her desk, he straightened his tie and headed down the hall.

To his surprise, when Brown’s secretary ushered him into the inner office, there were three people waiting for him—two middle-aged men and a great-looking woman who couldn’t be more than thirty.

“Mr. Montgomery, I’m Bill Brown.” The man behind the desk rose. “Okay if I call you Nick?”

“Sure.”

“I’d have known you anywhere,” Brown added as they shook hands. “You bear a strong resemblance to your uncle.”

Nick simply nodded. His parents had told him that years ago, and right now he was more interested in hearing who the two in the visitors’ chairs were. The man might be a lawyer, an associate of Brown’s, but the woman wasn’t.

She was wearing a casual dress, minimal makeup, and her dark hair was hanging loosely down her back. She definitely wasn’t a big-city professional. So who was she and why was she here?

When no logical answer came to mind, his anxiety level began edging upward.

“I’d like you to meet Carly Dumont and Roger Harris,” Brown said.

Nick nodded an acknowledgment, then looked at Brown once more.

“Please have a seat, Nick.”

Casually shifting the remaining visitor’s chair so he’d be able to keep an eye on everyone, he sat.

“We were just talking about your being a police detective,” Harris said. “It must be interesting work.”

“Some days yes, some days no.” Nick left it at that. There was no reason to update total strangers on his job status. Not when he’d rather find Out what was going on here.

“Carly worked for your uncle,” Brown offered. “She was his right hand at Wild Action. Roger is her lawyer.”

“And her friend, I like to think,” Roger Harris added. “Just as I was Gus’s.”

Ignoring Harris, Nick focused on Carly Dumont, anger starting to simmer inside him. His brain was working just fine today, and he didn’t need any more clues to figure out exactly what the story was. This woman intended to contest Gus’s will.

He glanced at Brown again, wondering if she had a legal leg to stand on. But he’d be damned if he’d ask with her sitting there listening.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Brown continued. “I only learned about it this morning, when Roger called me.”

“I see. And I assume it involves Ms. Dumont?”

“Yes, it does. It seems your Uncle Gus had Roger prepare a new will a year or so ago. A more recent one, I mean, than the one in my files. I’ve had a look at it, and there’s no doubt it’s valid. And under its terms, Gus’s estate is to be divided between you and Carly.”

Nick willed Brown to grin and say he was joking. Instead, Harris cleared his throat and said, “Bill, perhaps you’d better make clear precisely what the will states.”

“Yes, of course. I was just getting to that. Nick, the division isn’t fifty-fifty. Your uncle left forty-nine percent of his estate to you and fifty-one percent to Carly.”

Nick could feel himself starting to grow numb.

“I’m sorry this is coming as a shock to you,” Carly said quietly. “But until last night, I didn’t know about it myself.”

“You see,” Harris explained, “my practice is in Port Perry, which is the closest town to your uncle’s property. That’s how we knew each other. And when Gus had me draw up the will, he said he didn’t want Carly to know she was a beneficiary while he was alive.”

“But he died on July second,” Nick managed, his voice sounding more than a little strangled. “That was more than two weeks ago.”

“Yes. I only learned about his death last night, though. I’d been out of town.”

“And I’d called Bill right away, because he’s the company lawyer,” Carly put in. “Gus’s only lawyer, as far as I knew.”

“As far as I knew, too,” Brown said. “Which is why I didn’t hesitate about contacting Nick,” he added, glancing at Harris and looking darned put out that Gus had gotten himself a second lawyer.

“Any of us would have contacted the beneficiary right away,” Harris told him. “In any event,” he continued, focusing on Nick, “as soon as I got home and learned Gus had died, I advised Carly of the existence of the new will.”

“I tried to reach you this morning, Nick, after Roger phoned me,” Brown said. “But you must have already been on your way to Toronto.”

Their explanation complete, the other three sat watching him while he sat trying to think straight. But he couldn’t think past the fact that fifty-one percent of the estate belonged to Carly Dumont. And a controlling interest would give her the right to call the shots.

He looked at Brown. “You said this other will is definitely valid?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Then why didn’t Gus tell you about it?”

“There’s no law that says he had to. Or maybe he meant to and forgot. He tended to be absentminded.”

“But definitely of sound mind,” Harris said quickly. “No doubt about that. He was sharp as a tack, right Carly? And he seemed in good health, too.”

She nodded. “He was just fine on July first. We went to a Canada Day party and he was dancing up a storm. But…”

Pausing, she wiped away a tear. “I don’t know whether it was too much sun or all the exertion or what, but he wasn’t feeling well before he went to bed. And in the morning…When I tried to wake him, he was gone.”

“A heart attack in his sleep,” Brown elaborated.

“You tried to wake him?” Nick said. “You mean you lived with him?”

“Uh-huh. For twelve years.”

Nick gazed at her, wondering if his parents had known that Gus was into cradle robbing along with all his other sins. Then he forced his thoughts back to the problem at hand and tried to convince himself this wasn’t a total calamity.

After all, it was only half of his inheritance that had vanished overnight, whereas Gus’s new will might have left everything to Carly. Besides, with any luck, his forty-nine percent would be more than he needed.

Glancing at her again, he forced a smile.

When she tentatively smiled back, it made him feel a little better. She seemed like a reasonable woman, so how hard could it be to work things out?