Heather's gaze lifted from the mound of documents on her desk. "I hope you brought us a nice juicy murder to solve."
"How did you know?" asked Steve with a hint of mischief in his voice. "It just hasn't happened yet."
She watched as Steve swept his white cane before him until he reached her. He extended a hand holding a registered letter.
"I received a phone call Monday morning from a rancher I haven't spoken to in fifteen years. He bent my ear for half an hour. I didn’t know Charley could string that many words together in one conversation. He asked me to be the executor of his will and said he'd mail me the original. I assume that's what I signed for this morning."
"Why didn't you tell me about this? It's Thursday afternoon."
Steve settled in a chair in front of her desk, hooked an ankle over a knee and leaned back. "Monday you jetted off to Florida. Tuesday you were in Raleigh buying a pharmaceutical testing company, and last night you sounded preoccupied. From the volume coming through the cat door between our dining rooms, I surmised you and Jack needed to hash things out. Besides, I was busy."
A snicker escaped before she could stop it. What he said wouldn’t make sense to someone not familiar with their unique living situation and the fact they share a Maine Coon cat named Max. Hence, the cat door between their separate condos. "Sorry you had to experience the domestic disturbance." Heather turned to look out the window. Nothing blocked early June's afternoon sun, but all she could see was a cloudy future. "We had a spat."
"Is that what you call it? Maggie and I used to call those knock-down, drag-outs."
Her gaze shot back to her business partner. "It was nothing more than two attorneys defending their positions." Even to her, the words had a hollow, tinny ring to them.
Steve unhooked his foot. "I've heard worse, but not without someone going to the hospital."
With chin cupped in her hands, she sighed. "Jack's a great guy, but he's smothering me. He said we need to spend more time together and I work too much."
"He only spoke the truth. A week off is what you need."
Heather stuck her tongue out at the man who couldn't see her.
Steve blocked the tacky response she'd planned by getting back to his purpose in coming to the office. "Open the letter. I'm interested in knowing how big of a mess I got myself into."
"We'll get to that later. You mentioned a murder that hasn't happened yet. What did you mean?"
Steve flicked his hand as if shooing away a fly. "Only an old man's ramblings. He rattled on about what a poor job he'd done raising his children and how they couldn't wait until he died so they could sell the ranch. He didn't hold back on how they hated him."
"Enough to kill him?"
"Killing a parent is rare." Steve tilted his head as he reminisced. “Although I once worked a case where a daughter killed her father by adding minced oysters to his bowl of soup. Anaphylactic shock closed his airway."
"And the motive? It must have been something awful."
Steve answered with a straight face. "He refused to shell out for a destination wedding to Hawaii."
He chuckled as she groaned. "That pun deserves the electric chair."
"I'm shocked you said that."
"Enough!" said Heather as she tried to choke back a giggle. "I'll read the will if it will keep you quiet."
She reached in her desk drawer for a silver letter opener while Steve's phone, equipped with an app for the blind, announced in a mechanical voice, "Call from Marvin Goodnight."
Steve told the phone to disconnect the call. "I don't know anyone by that name. He can leave a message if it's legit. Open the letter."
Heather pulled out a single page of hand-printed scrawl, dated May 20.
This is my last will and testament. I name Steve Smiley the executor of my estate.
I want that lawyer you work with to read this to the children I list below.
It's done rite and legal—dated, signed by two witnesses and notarized.
I give Ester Mae, Leroy, Sue Ann and Rance five days to come up with a plan on how to divvy up everything. They have to be 100% in agreement on what to do with every head of cattle, every acre of land, the houses, barns, life insurance money and anything else I might have missed.
If they can't agree, there's a second part of the will that you'll get five days after the reading of this one.
One more thing. Steve Smiley is to run the meetings as he sees fit.
Heather puffed out her cheeks and let a breath escape. "This is the strangest will I've ever seen."
Steve's frozen expression reminded her of a bronze statue until he reanimated and asked, "Is it legal?"
"Do you want the long answer or the short one?"
"Short."
"It satisfies all legal requirements."
Steve shifted in his chair. "Well, unless he’s terminally ill, which he didn’t mention in our phone conversation, it may be a while before I have to worry about this. I don’t think he’s old enough to have one foot in the grave. On the other hand, maybe he has suspicions that one of his kids is tired of waiting on their inheritance.”
“You just said a child murdering a parent was rare.”
Steve shrugged. “Rare, yes, but not unheard of. All joking aside, I have seen cases where the child killed the parent. And almost anything is possible in Llano County. There’s still a little of the wild, wild west down there.”
"Llano County?" With two-hundred and fifty-four counties in Texas, Heather hadn't committed their names to memory. "Where is it?"
Steve curled his fingers inward but left his thumb sticking out. "Take a road map of Texas and put your fist square in the middle. Your thumbnail should be over Llano County."
"Sounds desolate."
Steve didn't have time to respond as his phone announced, "Call from Sheriff Stony Blake."
Heather listened to the one-sided conversation.
"This is Steve Smiley... Yes, Sheriff, I remember you... Oh, sorry. I didn't know Marvin Goodnight was your chief deputy... You don't say. Hold on, I'm putting you on speaker."
"Like I was sayin', we found Charley Voss by his barn this morning. He's been dead for several days."
The voice reminded Heather of a weathered barn, seasoned by sun and wind, and capable of standing up to harsh weather. She sat upright and turned her head, ensuring she wouldn't miss a word.
"Charley called me Monday and asked me to be executor of his estate. I received his will by registered mail today. My partner and I were reading over it when you called. I'm guessing he left a message or told someone to call me if something happened to him. Was he terminally ill?"
Steve paused. "Or was it murder?"
The voice on the phone hesitated. "Why would you ask a question like that?"
“Just a hunch. From what Charley said Monday, his relationships with his children were strained, to say the least.”
"Let’s just say, I have some strong suspicions. He's on his way to Austin for an autopsy."
The meaning of the sheriff's last statement told Heather homicide was not out of the question.
"Who found the body?" asked Steve.
"The ranch foreman, Hector DeLeon."
"He's still working at the Rocking V? Is he a suspect?"
"I've got him in an interview room and he's cooperating. If his alibi checks out, I'll cut him loose."
"Any idea when the funeral might be?"
"Not yet, but it’ll be a closed casket. Buzzards and coyotes had at least two days with him."
Steve grimaced.
Heather's mind turned to consider the killer. The trail was days old, plenty of time for the murderer to get away or establish an alibi.
Steve continued, "I’ll need to give you a formal statement. If you call the Montgomery County Sheriff's office, I can take care of it before I come. They'll e-mail it to you."
The sheriff issued a raspy cough and spoke in short bursts. "Thanks. I'll keep you informed concerning the funeral." He paused. "I remember you were a bright kid. Too bad you can't tell a goat from a deer."
Laughter broke out on both ends of the phone. "Thanks for reminding me. I guess I'll never live that down," said Steve.
He signed off and Heather didn't wait. "I want to hear about the goat."
Steve pushed up from his chair. "What happens at a deer lease, stays there. Besides, I was thirteen and the statute of limitations ran out years ago." He made for his desk. "It will be at least five days before the funeral and another day or two before reading the will. Can you arrange your schedule to take a week off or do I need to find someone else?"
Heather's gaze took in the stacks of documents and yellow legal pads ready to waterfall off her desk. Despite the mounds, Steve was right about her needing time off. "The other attorneys in the office can take up my slack. Are we driving?"
"We don't have to. That jet you got for Christmas will do nicely, and there's an airport big enough to handle it." A smile that relayed secret knowledge crossed Steve's face. "Leave the arrangements to me."