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"B. D." Suzanna paused, casting Clarissa a glance of quiet sympathy. "Would you like me to stop for a few moments?"
"No." Jaw set, mouth grim, he kept his arm firmly around his wife and stared straight ahead. "Please, let's finish."
"All right. To my brother and partner, B. Donald Branson." Suzanna took a breath. "The disposition of my share of the business we ran together is set down in a separate document. I acknowledge here that all my interest in Branson Toys and Tools is to be transferred into his name upon my death should he survive me. If he should predecease me, that interest is to be transferred to his spouse or any children of that union. In addition, I hereby bequeath to my brother the emerald ring and diamond cufflinks that were our father's, my disc library including but not exclusive to all family images, my boat the T and T, and my air cycle in the hopes he'll finally try it out. Unless, of course, he was right, and my crashing it is the reason this will is being read."
Branson made a sound, something that might have been a short, strained laugh, then closed his eyes.
"To Lisbeth Cooke." Suzanna's voice chilled several degrees as she spared Mantz one glimmering stare of dislike. "I leave all the rest of my personal possessions, including all cash, bank and credit accounts, real estate, financial holdings, furnishings, art, and personal property. Lissy my love," Suzanne continued, biting off the words, "don't grieve too long."
"Millions." Branson got slowly to his feet. His face was deathly pale, his eyes brilliant. "She murders him and stands to gain millions. I'll fight this." Hands clenched, he turned on Mantz. "I'll fight this with everything I have."
"I understand your distress." Mantz rose as well. "However, your brother's wishes were clearly and legally outlined. Ms. Cooke has not been charged with murder but with second-degree manslaughter. There are legal precedents that protect her inheritance."
Branson bared his teeth. Even as he lunged. Eve sprang up to block
him. Before she could, Roarke was doing so.
"B. D." Roarke spoke calmly, but he had Branson's arms pinned firmly to his sides. "This won't help you. Let your lawyer handle it. Your wife's very distraught," he continued as Clarissa curled into a ball and wept wildly. "She should lie down. Why don't you take her upstairs, give her a soother."
The bones in Branson's face stood out in sharp relief, so keen it seemed they might cut right through the flesh. "Get out of my house," he ordered Mantz. "Get the hell out of my house."
"I'll see him out," Roarke said. "Take care of your wife."
For one long moment, Branson strained against Roarke's hold; then he nodded, turned. He gathered his wife up, cradling her as he would a child, and carried her from the room.
"You're done here, Mantz." Eve faced him. "Unless you want to see if the Bransons have a dog you could kick."
He acknowledged this, picked up his own briefcase. "We all do our jobs, Lieutenant."
"Right, and yours is to run to a murderer and tell her she just got rich."
His eyes never wavered. "Life is very rarely black and white." He nodded to Suzanna. "Good evening, Counselor," he murmured and left.
"He's right." Suzanna sighed and sat again. "He's only doing his job."
"Will she inherit?" Eve demanded.
Suzanna pinched the bridge of her nose. "As things stand, yes. With charges of second-degree manslaughter, it can be argued she killed J. C. in a moment of jealous passion. His will was a sealed document. We can't prove she had prior knowledge of its contents or that those contents in any way influenced her. Under current law, she can gain by his death."
"If the charges are bumped up?"
Suzanna dropped her hand into her lap, regarding Eve thoughtfully. "Then things change. Is there a chance of that? I was under the impression the case was closed."
"Closed doesn't mean locked."
"I hope you'll keep me updated," Suzanna said as she rose and walked out with them to where the maid waited with their coats.
"I'll let you know what I can when I can." When they stepped outside, Eve slid her hands into her pockets. The limo was waiting. She struggled not to be embarrassed by it.
"Can we give you a lift home, Ms. Day?" Roarke asked.
"No, thanks. I could use a walk." She paused a moment and her sigh puffed out a thin stream of white. "As an estate lawyer, I deal with this sort of thing all the time. Grief and greed. But it's rare it hits this close to home. I really liked J. C. Some people you think will live forever." Shaking her head, she walked away.
"Well, that was fun." Eve started toward the car. "Wonder if Lissy my love will shed half as many tears over this guy as Clarissa. You know her very well?"
"Hmm, no." Roarke slid into the car beside her. "In that false intimacy of social acquaintances, I run into the Branson brothers at events occasionally. Clarissa and Lisbeth were usually with them."
"I'd've reversed it."
