Too Many Cooks

Chapter 3

Terry sat up and regretted the move instantly. A large boulder rolled from the back of his head and smashed against the back of his eyes. Squinting, he sagged back against a soft cushion and concentrated on the fuzzy shape in front of him.

"Feeling better?" The voice was familiarly sultry.

"No."

"Ooh, poor Terry. Here sit up and have a sip of this." A soft hand curled around the back of his head, drawing it forward.

"I don't want—"

"There's a good boy. Swallow it down, don't dribble on that nice shirt now."

The warm liquid seemed to shock his system and his vision cleared as he coughed himself into a sitting position. "What was that? It tasted awful."

"Just one of Miss Twilly's mystery potions, Terry. No point asking; deep dark family secrets and the like. Nevertheless, quite amazing isn't it?"

Terry cleared his throat and sat straighter, eyeing the amused smile on the face of the woman opposite him. "It is indeed. You are Miss Twilly I take it." Jeantrine fluttered a slow lash and tilted her head in acknowledgement. "So, now that I seem to be able to think again, would someone please explain what's going on?"

Wilfred shoved a large footstool in front of Terry and sat down facing him while Jeantrine slipped onto the sofa beside him. "Twenty-eight years ago a young woman named Marlene South had a brief fling with an extremely wealthy man named Carleton Trasker. The liaison produced a surprise and, for the gentleman, an unwanted offspring, which suddenly became the sole heir to the gentleman's estate. Of course long and fierce legal battles ensued and Miss South, shrewdly and not a little fearfully, situated the baby with a foster family, keeping their location and identity secret from everyone involved while she continued the legal battle."

Jeantrine shifted on the sofa, her leg resting lightly against Terry's knee. "In a bizarre twist of fate, about five years ago, within a few years of one another, both the principals died, Trasker by a massive stroke or heart attack, and Marlene South in an automobile accident." Terry shifted his leg, drawing a slow smirk from Jeantrine. "Both sides had to fall back and regroup but without the actual, physical heir, the thrust went out of Marlene's case. They did manage to get a judgment, putting the claim on indefinite hold until all possible sources had been exhausted. This meant that the trust was locked until the judge ruled otherwise. Wide awareness of Carelton Trasker's reputation allowed the judge to make his ruling with a clear conscience."

Terry stared at Wilfred totally confused. "Why are you telling me this? What the hell do I care about some estate claim?"

A slender finger slid up behind his ear and twiddled his hair. "This is the best part, Terry, pay close attention." He flushed and brushed her hand away, although not harshly.

"We," Wilfred waggled a finger between Jeantrine and himself, "and a few other associates have done our own thorough investigation of this case and have put together very convincing, if not perfect, plan to gain control of the Trasker estate."

"This is the best part?"

"It's coming, Terry." The finger returned.

"I won't bore you with all the details, but we have managed to introduce credible evidence of the existence of Marlene South's baby into the midst of Trasker's legal department, which in turn has reawakened the claim and, if you'll pardon the French, scared the shit out of them."

"I couldn't be happier for you, I guess. But I still don't see—"

Wilfred leaned closer, eyes shining brightly. "You, Terry my boy, are that new evidence." Jeantrine snuggled closer and Terry felt his pores open in a sweat of panic.