Classified As Murder

Pendergrast spoke again. “If I might reclaim your attention, ladies and gentlemen, there is the matter of James’s will, which I am about to read to you.”

At those words Daphne sighed in pitiable fashion a couple of times, but no one else spoke. Pendergrast continued, beginning with the standard phrases. “I, James Sullivan Delacorte, being of sound mind . . .”

I let my mind wander as I continued to take covert glances at the family. With the exception of Daphne, none of them seemed all that distressed at the death of James Delacorte. I did catch Truesdale dabbing at his face with a handkerchief, but I wasn’t sure whether he was crying or sweating. The room was a bit warm.

When I focused again on the lawyer’s words, he was reading out the bequests from the will.

“To Stewart Delacorte, the grandson of my brother Arthur, the sum of $250,000.”

At the mention of his name and a large sum of money, Stewart’s face lit up. He didn’t seem so happy, however, when Pendergrast continued.

“Stewart, I heartily suggest you use some of your inheritance to find your own place to live. Your days as a resident of Delacorte House are over. You are to be out of the house three months from the day of my death. And no, before you ask, you may not take with you any of the furnishings except for those things you brought with you when you moved in thirty-two years ago or have purchased since.”

Stewart’s face reddened to the point that I thought he might well have a stroke. He didn’t say anything, and that surprised me. He even stopped squirming in his chair, almost as if he were frozen in place.

If he had killed his great-uncle, he wasn’t getting a lot for his trouble. Although $250,000 was not a trifling sum, the fact that he was being kicked out of the house was obviously painful.

Pendergrast continued, “To Cynthia Delacorte, the granddaughter of my brother Thomas, the sum of $250,000.”

Cynthia at last tuned in. She blinked and actually shifted her position on her chair.

“Cynthia, you need to follow Stewart out of the house. It’s time you had your own place and got on with your life. You have three months to find somewhere else to live. Don’t waste any more time.”

I watched to see whether Cynthia would betray any real emotion. She laughed, startling me and some members of her family.

Daphne Morris started moaning again. “Cynthia, how can you laugh at a time like this? It’s terribly undignified. You were raised better than that.”

“Give it a rest, Aunt Daphne. That invalid belle routine may work on Hubert and Truesdale, but it doesn’t work here. We all know you too well.” The amused contempt in Cynthia’s low, well-modulated voice spurred Daphne into further, wordless sniveling.

Eloise glanced over at her mother-in-law, her expression blank. “When an animal is too wounded to live, it’s a kindness to put it out of its misery.”

Helen Louise had said this family was strange, but I don’t think she knew the half of it.

Before anyone could respond to Eloise’s odd statement, the lawyer spoke up. “Let’s continue, shall we?” Without waiting for consent, he went on with the reading.

“To my nephew, Hubert Morris, the son of my sister, Daphne, the sum of one million dollars in trust. The trust will be administered by Q. C. Pendergrast or his duly appointed representative and will remain in effect until your death. When that sad event occurs, the trust will be dissolved and the funds given to Athena College to establish a scholarship in my name.”

“That’s outrageous.” Hubert was on his feet, hopping up and down like an angry child. “Uncle James can’t do that to me. I should be inheriting everything. I’m his closest male kin. I was like a son to him. This is unbelievable.”

The longer he spoke, the higher his voice rose. I was becoming reasonably certain that Hubert was my threatening caller. Right then I wanted nothing more than to get out of this room and away from this peculiar family. It was not in the least pleasant to witness this kind of emotion from people I’d met only three days ago. I much preferred to be in the library, going through the rare books.

I also realized, belatedly, that Hubert wasn’t too worried about the fact that if Eloise outlived him, she’d apparently be out on the street with nothing.

“Oh, stuff a sock in it and sit down.” Stewart jumped from his chair and started around the sofa to confront his cousin. “I had more in common with Uncle James than you ever did. At least I have a job and earn my own living. When were you ever able to hold a job for more than a year? Just tell us that, Hubie.” Stewart pushed the older man back onto the sofa.

For a moment I thought things might turn violent, because Hubert drew back a fist. Evidently he thought better of it, because Stewart was younger and much more muscular. Instead, Hubert folded his arms across his chest and sulked.

Stewart plopped down on the sofa next to him and gestured airily for Pendergrast to continue.