"Hello, Qwill," said a voice he had known all his life. "How's everything up there?" "Fine, Arch. Did you get my letters?" "I got two. How's the weather?" "You didn't call to ask about the weather, Arch. What's on your mind?" "Great news, Qwill' You'll be getting a letter from Percy, but I thought I'd tip you off. That assignment I told you about — investigative reporting — Percy wants you to come back and start right away. If the Rampage gets someone first, Percy will have a heart attack. You know how he is." "Hmmm," Qwilleran said.
"Double your salary and an unlimited expense account. Also a company car for your own use-a new one. How's that for perks?" "I wonder what the Rampage is offering?" "Don't be funny. You'll get Percy's letter in a couple of days, but I wanted to be the first…" "Thanks, Arch. I appreciate it. You're a good guy. Too bad you're an editor." "And something else, Qwill. I know you'll need a new apartment, and Fran Unger is giving up hers and getting married. It's close to the office, and the rent is reasonable." "And the walls are papered with pink roses and galloping giraffes." "Keep it in mind anyway. Be seeing you soon. Say hello to that spooky cat." Qwilleran was dizzy with shock and elation, but Tom was starting to leave and he had to thank him once more. He picked up the antique brass inkwell from the top of the bar.
"Here is something I'd like you to have, Tom. It needs polishing, but I know you like brass. It's an inkwell that traveled around the world on sailing ships a hundred years ago." "That's very pretty. I never had anything like that. I'll polish it every day." The handyman measured the broken window and drove into Mooseville to buy glass, while Qwilleran sat down to contemplate the offer from the Fluxion. Now that he was leaving this beautiful place he was filled with regret. He should have spent more time enjoying the verdure, the moods of the lake, the dew glistening on a spider web. Now he could look forward to the daily irritations of the office: the pink memos from Percy; electric pencil sharpeners always out-of-order; six elevators going up when a person wanted to go down; VDTs that made the job harder instead of easier. Suddenly he realized how much his knee was paining him.
He propped his leg on a chaise. From the back of a nearby chair, where a hawk had once perched, he was being watched intently by a pair of blue eyes in a brown mask.
"Well, Koko," QwilIeran said, "our vacation didn't turn out the way we expected, did it? But the time hasn't been wasted. We've cracked a one-man crime operation. Too bad we couldn't have stopped him before he got Buck Dunfield… Too bad no one around here will ever know you deserve all the credit. Even if we told them, they wouldn't believe it." Howling wind and crashing surf drowned out the sound of the Goodwinter car as it pulled into the clearing. Qwilleran hobbled out to greet them — Alexander looking impeccably well-groomed and Penelope looking radiant and a trifle flushed. When they shook hands she added an extra squeeze, and in addition to her perfume there was a hint of mint breath-freshener.
"You're limping," she said.
"I tripped over a toadstool… Come in out of the wind. I think we're going to have a tornado." Alexander went directly to his previous seat on Yum Yum's sofa. Penelope went to the windows overlooking the turbulent lake and rhapsodized about the view and the cabin's desirable location.
Qwilleran thought: The rent just went up to twelve hundred. Won't they be surprised when I break the news!
"It is regrettable," Alexander was saying, "that I was in Washington when this unfortunate incident occurred. My sister tells me you were of great assistance, making many trips back and forth and spending long hours searching through the Klingenschoen archives. It cannot have been a pleasant task." "There was a lot of material to sift through," Qwilleran said. "Luckily I had a houseguest from Down Below who was willing to help." He refrained from mentioning Koko's contribution; he doubted whether the Goodwinters were ready for the idea of a psychic cat.
"I regret I could not get a return flight in time to attend the memorial service, but it appears that Penelope organized it efficiently and tastefully, and it was well attended." His sister had wandered over to the table that presented such a convincing picture of authorial industry, and now she dropped onto the other sofa. "Alex, why don't you get to the point? You're keeping Mr. Qwilleran from his writing." "Ah, yes. The will. A problem has arisen in connection with the will." "I don't envision any problem," Penelope retorted. "You're inventing one before it arises." The senior partner threw a remonstrative glance in her direction, cleared his throat, and opened his briefcase. "As you know, Mr. Qwilleran, Fanny left three wills in the safe, written in her own hand. She had written many wills during the years, changing her mind frequently. Only the last three wills were saved (this on our recommendation). They were dated, of course, and only the most recent is valid. Having the three wills gives us an enlightening overview of the lady's feelings in the last few years." Qwilleran's gaze dropped from the attorney's face to his shoe; the little brown triangle of a face was appearing under the skirt of the sofa. Koko, on the other hand, was perched on the moose head with the authority of a presiding judge.
"The oldest will, which is invalid, bequeathed Fanny's entire estate to a foundation in Atlantic City, for the purpose of rehabilitating a certain section of the city which apparently had nostalgic significance for her. although it would be considered by most of us to be — ah — unsavory." Yum Yum's paw was reaching out from her hiding place with stealth. Penelope had noticed the maneuver, and her face reflected a heroic effort to control mirth.
Goodwinter went on. "The second will, which is also invalid, I am mentioning merely to acquaint you with the change in Fanny's sympathies. This document bequeathed half her estate to the Atlantic City foundation and the other half to the schools, churches, cultural and charitable organizations, health care facilities, and civic causes in Pickax City. Considering the extent of her holdings there was plenty to distribute equitably, and she had promised sizable sums to all of the aforementioned." Qwilleran checked Yum Yum's progress and glanced at Penelope, who returned his glance and exploded with laughter.
"Penelope!" her brother said in consternation. "Please allow me to conclude… The most recent will leaves the sum of one dollar to each of the beneficiaries heretofore named — a wise precaution in our estimation, inasmuch as…" "Alex, why don't you come to the point of this discussion," said Penelope, waving a hand gaily, "and tell Mr. Qwilleran that he gets the whole damned thing." "YOW!" came a howl from the vicinity of the moose head.
Goodwinter cast a quick disapproving eye at Penelope and then at Koko. "Excepting only the token bequests I have indicated, Mr. Qwilleran, you are indeed the sole heir to the estate of Fanny Klingenschoen." Qwilleran was stunned. "That," the attorney said, "sums up the intent and purpose of the most recent will, dated April first of this year, thus revoking all prior documents. The formal reading of the will is scheduled to take place Wednesday afternoon in our office." Qwilleran shook his head like a wet dog. He could think of nothing to say. He looked at Penelope for help, but she merely grinned in an idiotic way.