Ghosts of Philadelphia

Eight

After a week spent more or less relaxing in Mechanicsburg, Rob and Richie'd headed back to Philadelphia for a couple different reasons. First and foremost, the younger brunette's parents'd been released by the medical examiner, meaning he could collect their remains and have them prepped for burial. Secondly, they'd to eventually get back to work on the paranormal cases they'd been involved with before Georgine and Rich, Sr.'s untimely demise.

        Naturally, Dana tried to blame her younger brother for said Deaths, swearing that he'd killed them 'cuz he was a freak. She'd even tried to get the brother born between them, Dan, to side with her and bar him from both the planning and the funeral, itself. It'd taken the oldest brunette, the youngest one, and both blondesta break up the ensuing fight and get them to Honor their parents by working together.

        Things seemed to get even worse from there, though, 'cuz the next thing on the list was the reading of their parents' wills. Dan didn't seem to care about getting any kinda inheritance from the Kotzens–he considered that to be a plus since he'd have been just as good with not getting anything. However, their sister was pissed when she found out that everything–including their house–had been left to the younger son. She ranted and raved like a madwoman about how that'd only come about 'cuz he bore Junior at the End of his name, and that'd automatically entitled him to everything their parents had or some such bullshit. Finally reaching the End of his rope after everything he'd been going through lately, said younger son erupted like she'd never seen.

        Never really one to raise his voiceta anyone–especially if they were older than him–Richie startled even the attorney presiding over the reading into Silence when he snapped. Even the paranormal team–whom he'd insisted be allowed to sit in so they could help diffuse the tension–were shocked. Rikki actually looked like he wanted to run outta the room screaming for Fear that he was about to leap over the table at even him as his chest heaved like a smithy's bellows.

        "Shut the fuck up for more than two seconds, and I might decide to be nice," he growled, his teeth clenched hard enough to crack one or three.

        Even his older brother looked wary as he simply nodded.

        "Personally, I couldn't care any fuckin' less about getting Mom and Dad's money and house," the next-to-youngest brunette said. "Honestly, I think it was wrong of them to leave everything to me, whether I was their live-in caretaker or not."

        "Live-in caretaker, my left foot!" Dana shrilled. "Ya were living off them like a leech!"

        "Then what all medical problems did Dad have?" Richie retorted, glaring at her. "I betcha couldn't name a single one without looking at his medical records."

        Seemingly taken aback, the thirty-one-Year-old woman–who was acting more like a child than Zak did–sat there with her mouth hanging open.

        "Please, Mr. Slovenski–correct me if I'm wrong by actually reading said medical records in a minute," he said.

        "It'd be my pleasure," their parents' attorney dead-panned.

        "Emphysema and COPD from his decades of smoking, heart disease from a combination of that and family history, liver cirrhosis and failure from his decades of drinking, diabetes from his unhealthy Lifestyle choices," the youngest brunette told them, counting off each Health problem on his fingers as he went.

        "Jesus Christ," his brother breathed, his eyes widening more and more as he continued. "I never knew Dad had any of that shit wrong with him."

        "'Cuz he didn't want either of ya knowing," Richie sighed. "He loved every single one of us till his dying breath–or so he said–but he didn't want either of ya to see him at his weakest."