Inadvertent Disclosure Read Free Page A

all about?”
    Craybill nodded, “Yeah, those
rat bastards at Aging Services want to put me in a home.” He rapped his
knuckles on the Formica tabletop for emphasis.
    Sasha shrugged. He wasn’t far
off.
    “Well, the petition says you
live alone and have no known heirs. Is that right?”
    “Yup,” he nodded, as Marie
returned and placed a tall, hard plastic cup of orange juice on the table in
front of him. A saucer holding a chipped white mug of coffee, steam rising off
it, followed.
    Marie looked at Sasha. “You’re
not going to want to take that black, hon.” She set a pitcher of cream down
beside the mug. “I’ll be right back with your food.”
    Craybill took a long drink of
his juice. Sasha contemplated her coffee; it looked like coffee. She picked it
up and sniffed it cautiously. It smelled like coffee. She poured a liberal dose
of cream into the mug, just in case.
    “So, no kids, no nieces or
nephews, no one?” she said.
    “Right,” he confirmed. “My
wife, Marla, died last year. We never had children. My brother Abe, rest his
soul, he was, you know, queer. Marla has a sister, but they didn’t talk,
because of Abe. I don’t know if she’s alive or dead or had any children, but as
far as I’m concerned, she’s no one to me. No, it was just me and Marla.”
    He looked past her, out the
window and smiled to himself. Sasha scribbled a note.
    “What’s her name?”
    “Who?” He turned back to her
suddenly, like she’d startled him.
    She tried to keep the
impatience out of her voice. “Marla’s sister.”
    “I just told you. She’s no one
to me. If she’s even alive. Petty, small-minded witch that she was.”
    Sasha exhaled slowly. “Look, I
understand why you and your wife cut off contact with her sister if she had a
problem with your brother’s sexual orientation. But, the county’s required to
list any known adult presumptive heirs, and they haven’t listed her. Now, did
Marla cut her sister out of her will?”
    “Yup. That’s more or less an
open secret round these parts.”
    “I assume she’s not named in
your will?”
    “You got that right.”
    “Okay, then, I guess I don’t
need to know her name, strictly speaking, but it could be useful to know if
she’s out there somewhere.”
    She looked at him calmly,
willing him to just tell her his sister-in-law’s name.
    He stared back at her.
    She took a sip of her coffee.
It was hot and weak, like diner coffee usually was, but the cream hid anything
beyond that.
    He thumped his hand against the
table again. “Rebecca. Rebecca Plover.”
    She wrote it down.
    “Great. Thanks.”
    Marie was back, bearing a bowl
of oatmeal in one hand and the omelet, toast, and bacon in the other. Sasha
waited until the clatter of dishes had stopped then asked for some hot sauce.
    Marie pulled a small bottle out
of her apron pocket and handed it to her, and then she slapped the bill face
down in the table.
    “You all pay that whenever you
want, but I sure don’t want to make you late for court.”
    Sasha watched her walk away
while Craybill dug in to his oatmeal.
    She glanced back at the clock.
Twenty-five minutes left to interview her client, eat, and prepare some kind of
argument.
    Her stomach churned. There were
attorneys who practiced this way. She wasn’t one of them.
    Until just a few months ago,
she’d been practicing at Prescott & Talbott— one of the largest, oldest,
most prestigious law firms in the state. Her experience was in complex
litigation. Businesses suing each other over broken deals, companies being sued
by shareholders or customers. Big, messy, complicated cases that took years to
go to trial. She was good at that. Hell, she was great at that.
    In contrast, she had no idea
how to represent the alleged incapacitated person at a hearing in Orphan’s
Court. Truth be told, she’d rather go into the kitchen and sling out breakfast
orders. Which was saying something, considering she couldn’t scramble an egg.
    Fake it till you