She nodded to him, and he swung the door open. She refilled my glass. “You paying for the Noble Savage?”
“Yep, he’s working undercover.”
He stood on the snow-laden sidewalk and raised his arms to the brief strands of sunshine cascading down on Main. His arms stayed stretched out, the duster splayed like wings, and the dark hair dropped across the black leather to the small of his back. He looked like a six-and-a-half-foot raven, gleaning what warmth he could from the available light in a full Technicolor moment.
“He looks it.”
The war cry rattled the glass in the closed door.
Jarrard and Straub was the premier law office in the county, having been started by Jim Jarrard and Larry Straub back before Lexis-Nexis and an hourly rate above two hundred dollars. I was more comfortable in the old place with its partners’ desks and tortoise shell lamps and quiet-voiced men. There used to be a remarkable mount of a bugling elk that Larry had taken up near Rock Creek before it became unfashionable to sport such things on the wall of a law office. The elk, of course, was gone, and all I saw were walnut-paneled walls with tasteful watercolors of the area carefully illuminated by recessed lighting.
“Good to see you, Walt.”
“Hello, Kyle. Thanks for letting me sit in.”
“No problem.”
Sarcasm was lost on the man. “Where is everybody?”
“They’re in the conference room upstairs. I just wanted to check a few things with you before we went in.” He stood there for a moment, nodded and looked at the wall-to-wall carpeting. “If I were to give you a copy of the Will now, would you still feel compelled to participate in the reading?”
This was an unexpected turn. “Why would you do that?”
He crossed his arms and sat on the corner of his desk. “I have been in communication with both Kay and Carol.” He hugged himself a little tighter and continued, “With the Will being what it is, I think it might be best for all concerned if you were not present at the time of the reading.”
I gave Kyle my undivided attention. “And why is that?”
“I think they may become agitated.” He handed me a closed manila envelope with the firm’s address neatly affixed in the upper left-hand corner. His eyes came up to mine. “You might tell Lana that I’ll be by later with a copy for her.”
I nodded but, as I opened the door leading from Kyle’s office to the hallway from the reception area, what looked to be the entire Baroja-Lofton-Calloway clan was headed our way. Since Kyle had not appeared on time, they had decided to go looking for him en masse. Kay was in the lead, sweeping and clattering jewelry as she came, husband in tow. A blowzier version of Kay, with a few more pounds of bosom, was bringing up the rear in a full-length mink coat and what looked like a full-body tan.
I rolled up the envelope and stuffed it in my coat pocket. “Hello.”
Kay pulled up a stride away and looked past me. “Is this the reason we’ve been cooling our heels in your conference room?”
I leaned over and blocked her view. “I had some official business with Mr. Straub. I’m sorry for any inconvenience.”
She stared directly at the manila tube sticking from my coat pocket. “Is that the Will?”
I turned to look at Kyle, figuring it was his play, but Kay actually started to snag the envelope from my pocket. I suppose if I’d had time to think about it, I wouldn’t have grabbed her hand with so much force. She yanked back, and about twelve hundred dollars worth of silver, coral, and turquoise came off in my hand.
“You son of a bitch!”
I tried to give her her jewelry back, but she stepped away. I tried to hand it to her husband, but he backed away, too. I was getting ready to hang the Baroja-Lofton Collection on the doorknob when Carol, at least I assumed she was Carol, extended her hand, so I deposited the bracelets with her. “I’m sorry, I…”
“You son of a bitch!”
Tears were welling in Kay’s eyes, and she clutched her hand as if she had just pulled it from a #16 bear trap; I had to admit it was a pretty good performance. I looked up and became aware of Henry standing with a young woman behind the Barojas in the overcrowded hallway. The young woman pushed her way through the lawyers and held up a piece of paper in a freshly manicured hand. “Division of criminal investigation. I’m looking for Sheriff Walter Longmire?” She was a tall redhead, long-legged, with an athletic figure and frighteningly direct gray eyes.
“Uh, that would be me.”
She turned to regard me as the very red, full lips kicked to one side in painful annoyance. “I just flew through a blizzard to get up here at your request, Mr. Longmire. The least you could have done was to meet me at the airport.” I looked up at the stone-faced Indian behind her as she stared at the ceiling and expulsed a strong gust of dissatisfaction. “Do you mind if we head back to your office to get me up to speed on things?”
If the Barojas had looked a little closer, they might have seen that the paper she was holding was an airline itinerary. When we got to the steps leading to the parking lot, she paused and cut loose with a toothsome grin. “Hello, Daddy.”
9
“You identified yourself as division of criminal investigation.”
She sat in the chair opposite my desk with her expensive Italian boots curled around its front legs, something she had done with her feet since first grade. “No, I didn’t. I simply stated division of criminal investigation, period, and then said I was looking for you.” She smiled and sipped the coffee Ruby had given her as she studied the Will.
I looked over at Henry who was sitting in the other chair and at Ruby, hovering in the doorway; neither of them was going to be of any help.
She glanced up but not at me. “Ruby, can you believe he hasn’t said a word to me about how good I look?”
Ruby shook her head. “Shameful. Honey, you look great.”
“Thank you.” She flicked her eyes at me before returning to the document.
The phone rang, and Ruby disappeared after giving me a warning look. I glanced back at my daughter. “You can get into a lot of trouble…”
“You can get into a lot of trouble manhandling lawyers, but you don’t see me dressing you down, do you?” She took another sip of her coffee, careful not to muss her lipstick. “Can you believe that woman was actually going to grab the Will out of Dad’s pocket?” She turned. “For a professional, that seems like suspicious behavior, if you ask me.”
I sighed and looked at my nameplate on the door, desperately trying to convince myself that I was there, even though no one seemed to be hearing me. “Does that Will say what I think it does?”
She cocked her head to one side and placed the Denver Broncos coffee cup on my desk. “The Testatrix, Mari Baroja, has bequeathed specifically a very large portion of tangible personal wealth and property to the beneficiary hereafter known as Lana Baroja.” The lips pursed again. “Your little baker with the broken head is now a multimillionaire.”
“What about the twins?”
Her mouth kicked to the side again. “Well, they didn’t get chicken feed, but in comparison…” She looked up. “They got chicken feed.”
“They’ll contest it.”
“They can try. It’s not my field of expertise, but it looks like a good Will, a Revocable Living Trust with Mari as the Trustee and all properties placed in the Trust. Lana is the appointed Successor Trustee with very specific duties in how the inheritance should be divided. I guess with this amount of money, Ms. Baroja was trying to avoid probate.” She flipped through the pages. “It’s been transposed from the handwritten original, but that’s included.” She turned the pages around and showed me. “Mari Baroja had beautiful handwriting.”
“Who attested it?”
“Two people, which is pretty much standard.” She searched through the signing portions of the document. “Kyle… I can’t make this out.”