“That can’t be good,” Traci said.
“Corbett went to a decent law school, but most of his experience is in real estate, which explains a lot. He knows about as much about trusts and estates as I know about criminal law.”
“Do you think Ric is rewriting Fred’s will? How will that affect me? Honestly, Andy, with the way things are going at the Saint, I just don’t think I can take one more worry.”
“I’m sorry this is causing you such anxiety, Traci dear,” Andy said, his deep, courtly Southern voice already soothing her jangled nerves. “We can’t know what might or might not be in Fred’s new will, but I can tell you that as I understand Hoke’s will, and his intentions, it would be impossible for Ric to outright strip you of your ownership rights in the Saint.”
“Thank God,” she said fervently.
“However…”
“Ughhhhh. I don’t want to hear ‘however.’”
“Nobody ever does. I can’t ethically discuss the terms of the will our firm drew up for Fred, but there are other tangible assets, the disposition of which could be affected by any new will. And that’s all I can say about that.”
“I don’t understand a word of what you just said. But it doesn’t sound good.”
Plankenhorn cleared his throat. “The good news here is that your brother-in-law and this Reeves Corbett appear to have bungled whatever it is they are attempting to do. Having a videographer there to film with Ric—who would most certainly be a beneficiary of any new will—present, and assisting his father in signing a new document, would probably be proof of undue influence. And, ofcourse, if Fred is not fully mentally cognizant, well, that would raise further questions at probate.”
“Is this your way of telling me it’s not all bad news?” she asked.
“Well, er…”
“Never mind. Thank you, Andy. I think.”
CHAPTER 22
KJ and Garrett strolled into the staff dorm together shortly after nine o’clock on Thursday night. “Hey, y’all,” Garrett called loudly. “Who’s ready to party down?”
They found their dormmates, Parrish, Olivia, and Felice, sitting in the lounge area, watching their favorite true-crime show and sharing a plate of messy nachos.
“Shhh!” Livvy said. She was dressed in gym shorts and a ratty tee, with her wet hair wrapped in a towel. “Datelineis on. ‘Mystery of the Missing Mom.’”
“I’ve seen this one,” Garrett said. “The husband did it. It’s always the husband.”
Felice glared at him. “I’m fixin’ to bitch slap you if you don’t hush up your mouth.” She pointed the remote control at the television and turned up the volume.
“Come on, y’all,” Garrett pleaded. “You don’t really wanna sit around here all night, do you? The night is young, and so are we. Let’s get wrecked and go have some fun.”
Livvy fluffed her damp hair. “The only party I’m having is in my pj’s.” She gave Garrett the side-eye. “You worked the same hours as me. How do you have the energy to go out?”
He patted the pocket of his shorts. “I got a little friend here that helps me out when I need a little sumthin’ sumthin’.”
Felice set her mug of herbal tea down on the coffee table. “Boy, you keep up that shit and you’re gonna wind up dead. Or fired, or in jail, or all of the above.”
Garrett took a swallow of beer with whatever was in his hand. He belched forcefully. “Come on, Felice. You telling me you never need a little pick-me-up? I been working in restaurants since I was fifteen. I never met a chef anywhere who didn’t do coke. Or something.”
She smiled her Cheshire cat smile. “Didn’t say Ineverdid coke. These days I don’t mess with stuff I can’t afford. That includes men, drugs, booze, and any combination of the above.”
“Well, hell, dude. If you’re handing out the good stuff…” KJ winked and extended his palm. “Count me in.”
Garrett placed a pill in his hand and KJ dry-swallowed.
“Say, Kaje,” Garrett said. “Let’s ride into town and see what’s shakin’ at Pour Willy’s. I waited on a table of fine young ladies today, and they were talking about checking out the local scene. I told ’em me and my buddy would meet them there.”
“Better not. My supervisor at the pro shop stays on my ass. I can’t be rolling in there with a hangover tomorrow.”
“Well, damn,” Garrett said, his shoulders sagging. “Talk about a bunch of wet blankets.”
