“What are we waiting on?” asked Steve.
Heather responded with, "I hope everyone has all the documents they told us to bring.”
"You sound like my mother," said Bella. "No matter how many countries I travel to, she always makes me show my passport, tickets, and everything else required before I leave home."
It didn't take as long as Steve thought to go through security, complete the process, and walk across a long gangway. "I'm surprised at the size of the terminal. We must have walked half a mile already."
Jack spoke from behind him. "Add another mile for me. The parking lot is massive."
"How big is the ship?" asked Steve.
"Pretty darn big," said Bella.
"Can you be a little more exact?"
Heather took over. "Fifteen stories tall, plus everything below the water line."
"How many passengers?"
"Almost four thousand if she's sold out, and a crew of over a thousand."
"How long?"
Bella put her hand on his shoulder. "It goes all the way from the bow to the stern."
Steve pulled Heather to a stop. "Is Bella performing tonight at the comedy show?"
They started walking again to the sound of Bella's laugh and Christmas carols drifting overhead. "I couldn't help it. It's what my dad told me when I asked him about a cruise ship that docked in St. Martin."
"A dad joke. I should have known."
"Watch your step," said Heather. "We are officially on board."
Bella gave Steve a quick kiss on the cheek. "Adam's waiting for me with Anna and Chad at the buffet. I'll catch up with you later, Heather."
"Don't wait too long. We lose cell service once we're several miles from shore. Remember to put your phone on airplane mode or you’ll owe roaming charges."
Bella didn't respond.
"Ms. McBlythe?" The voice had an accent Steve couldn't identify. The man gave his name, which sounded like a mixed salad of consonants and vowels, heavy on the consonants. "I'm the senior security officer on board, and I have instructions to take you to the captain."
Heather slid her hand down Steve's arm. "You boys behave yourselves. I'll send you a text when Father and I are in his cabin."
Jack placed Steve's hand on his arm. "Are you ready to take a ride on the elevator?"
"I sure don't want to walk up to deck ten. I’ll save that for when I need to walk off a steak."
Seasonal music changed from a stringed quartet to recordings coming from speakers in the elevator’s ceiling. As they ascended, Jack described the view from the glass-enclosed elevator. The cruise line had apparently spared no expense in giving the ship a holly-jolly face lift.
"Here we are," said Jack. "I studied the deck plans and various rooms last night. They call Sid's room a junior suite, but it's bigger than it sounds. It's over-sized because it's wheelchair accessible. His room connects to a standard balcony cabin for Butch."
The elevator settled as the sound of doors opening overpowered the music. "Where are our cabins?" asked Steve.
"On this same floor. They’re smaller interior cabins."
Jack took off at a good clip. Steve counted his steps before they came to a stop approximately seventy-five yards from the elevator. "This is a big ship."
"There's still plenty of rooms toward the bow. The elevator dropped us off near midship."
"Bella was right," said Steve. "The ship goes all the way from the bow to the stern."
"At least it isn't as far from starboard to port." Jack knocked on the door which cracked open enough for Butch to verify the visitors.
"Come in,” said Sid in an unusually strong voice.
Butch stepped into the hallway. Steve heard the door click behind the bodyguard/medic. "Mr. Sid wants me to wait out here until you're finished. You'll find a copy of his current will on the desk. That's where he wants you to sit, Mr. Blackstock. Mr. Smiley, there's a couch for you. Call if Mr. Sid needs anything, and please, make your visit as short as possible. It's already been a full day for him and it’s barely noon."
Steve whispered to Jack, "We'll need to wait to order that steak."
Jack kept his words at a low volume. "I'll make notes of the changes, take the current will, and Heather and I can knock out the new one before we leave port."
"That's acceptable," said Butch.
The door clicked open and Steve followed the sound of Jack's soft footsteps into the cabin. With minimal help from Jack, he located the couch with his cane.
"There’s no time to dilly dally," said Sid. "Steve, have a seat. Jack, open the door to the balcony and let me smell something besides stale air conditioning. You don't realize how much you miss fresh air until you’re cooped up inside all day for months.”
As Steve settled on the couch and folded his collapsible cane, a loud click sounded and a door slid open on its tracks. The wheelchair moved toward the door and Sid took in a large breath. "That's more like it."
The motor of the electric wheelchair whirled as Sid came away from the door. "Jack, there's a copy of the current will, a fresh legal pad, and a pen on the desk. I'll tell you what I want in the new will."
"I'm ready when you are, sir.”
"The first change has to do with my sleazy son, Howard. I've done some bad things in my life, but nothing compared to the embarrassment he caused the family at Lucy's funeral. It’s bad enough watching him be a terrible father, a crooked businessman, and a cheating husband, but I draw the line with disrespecting the memory of someone wearing the Green family name. I'm cutting him out of the will altogether."
Jack cleared his throat. "That might not be a good idea. Sir."
"Why not?"
"It's my understanding Howard is currently in charge of making many of the everyday decisions for your company. Is that true?"
"What of it?"
“If you allow him to continue to run the company until you die, but you cut him out completely, he’s likely to challenge the will. His lawyer will parade a team of psychiatrists into the courtroom who will testify your actions were not those of a rational man, given you placed him in charge of the company while you were alive. If you want to control his inheritance, I recommend you take steps now to get him out of the decision-making role as soon as possible. If you do that, we can talk about a modest inheritance for him."
Sid waited several long seconds as he moved his wheelchair forward and back. Steve realized this was the mobility-impaired version of pacing the floor.
"I see what you mean, and it makes sense," said Sid. "That weasel has siphoned the cream off the top of my companies for years, and I turned a blind eye. The first thing I need to do is tell Howard and his new wife they need to go somewhere on their honeymoon and stay gone for at least two weeks. I'll make it my wedding and Christmas presents to them. While they're gone, I'll have one of those forensic audits done on the company. Believe me, there'll be so much dirt on him whatever I do will be justified."
Jack cleared his throat. "You're on the right track, but throw him a bone of some sort to prove you aren't vindictive because of some sort of mental imbalance."
The advance and retreat of the wheelchair continued. Steve wondered if Jack might have overstepped, but then again, it sounded like shrewd legal advice.
On the third return to his original place, Sid came to a stop. "I've got it. I'll give all of them the same amount, even though they don't deserve a thin dime. That will show I'm not throwing them out in the cold, but giving them an opportunity to become self-reliant. It's high time they learned to pull their own weight. Does a million dollars each to Howard, Tim, and Carol sound like enough?"
Steve piped up. "If I was on a jury in a trial of this nature, and the petitioner complained about receiving a million dollars, I wouldn't have much sympathy."
The sound of Jack's pen scratching paper preceded him saying, "That's one million dollars to Howard, Tim, and Carol."
Steve asked, "What about Tammy, Tim's wife?"
"Give her a million for putting up with that idiot she married," said Sid.
More scratching on paper. "What's next?" asked Jack.
"The bulk of the estate, except for the house, is to be divided equally into thirds with one portion going to Chad Green. A second chunk goes to Karl Webber, and a third goes to Adam Webber."
Jack lowered his voice. "Are you sure? You want two-thirds of your oil wells, stocks, bonds, cash—everything you worked for all your life for to go to the Webbers?"
"It's called making amends. I cheated Peter Webber out of a good portion of his wealth. Howard almost ruined them when he followed my lead and swindled Karl out of almost all his wells. I'll sleep better knowing I’m doing what I can to make things right. Have the will read right after my burial. My chances of making it through the pearly gates aren’t too good; I’d like to hedge my chances the best I can."
Sid paused. "By the way, I told Karl what I was doing. Only Butch, Karl, and you two know about it. You can tell Heather, too, but that’s all."
Steve asked, "Why are you giving a third to Adam Webber?"
"He's good, like his sister Anna. There's not a dishonest bone in his body, and believe me, I tried my best to find it. He used to come over when he was a boy. I taught him the difference between investing and day trading. He said he liked day trading better because he could get in, make money, and get out before someone manipulated the price. He wanted nothing to do with the schemes I tempted him with."
"You mentioned your home," said Jack. "Who gets it and all the furnishings?"
Sid grinned. "I hear Ms. McBlythe is looking for real estate in River Oaks to fix up and sell. I'll give the house to her with a provision she gives half the profit to Mr. Smiley."
"That's not necessary to include me, Sid," said Steve.
"I know it isn’t, but that's the way it's going to be," snapped Sid. "Those vultures living there now won't want to move, but they'll tear each other apart if they stay under the same roof. It's time for them to get out and see what the real world is like. I know neither you nor Heather need the money, but you’re both people of integrity. You'll put it to good use."
Steve immediately thought of the meager college fund for Leo’s children. "Thank you, Sid. I promise we'll do right by you."
"Any special bequests?" asked Jack.
"No. I've already settled with Butch. He has my collection of gold bars and coins. He took them out of the house one at a time in his backpack right under everyone's nose. He's like me, not a big fan of paying taxes. We make up our minds on what a fair amount to pay is, and then find ways to make it look legal."
Jack said, "I didn't hear that."
Sid chuckled. "I think that's all, unless you two can think of something else."
"Who do you want to name as executor of the will?" asked Jack.
"You'll do."
"I was afraid you'd say that."
Papers shuffled and Steve rose to his feet as Sid asked, "How close are you to finding Lucy's killer?"
Steve unfurled his cane. "If all goes to plan, we should know who killed Lucy by the time we return from the wedding."
"What about Howard? Are you any closer to finding who shot him?"
"I believe it's the same person."