Conduct in Question

Chapter 21

 The Deighton Beneficiaries meet.

For thirty-five years, Mrs. Beatrice Clough had presided over the main reception hall of Gideon Trust. She was a pleasant, powdery person whose disposition mirrored the quiet elegance of her surroundings.

Mrs. Clough sat behind a huge cherrywood desk, the surface of which glowed in the reflected lighting of the brass lamps. According to her, quiet courtesy was the hallmark of refined and well-bred people. Trouble was usually announced with loud and boorish manners.

She checked the agenda for the afternoon. Mr. McCrea had hastily scrawled a two-o’clock appointment for the Deighton estate in the calendar, but had not listed the names of the expected visitors. The Deighton family were old clients. Lovely people. She anticipated with pleasure the arrival of the next generation.

A loud braying voice from the elevators interrupted her typing.

“I told you, Gerry, this estate’s gonna be wound up real fast. No dicking around. Just wait and see.” Mrs. Clough stiffened. The glass doors banged open. Here was a troublemaker.

The red-faced man approaching her desk was bursting out of his jacket. A man and two women raced to keep up with him. Wielding his briefcase like a weapon, he slammed it down on the cherrywood surface of her desk, almost knocking the brass lamp to the floor. Mrs. Clough reached for the red emergency button underneath the desk, but hesitated.

“We got an appointment with a Cameron McCrea on the Deighton estate. Tell him Frank Sasso’s here.”

Mrs. Clough nodded mutely and reached for the intercom. She’d buzz security if Mr. McCrea said so. Mr. Sasso removed his troop to the farthest sofa.

“Listen, Gerry, I got a surprise for this trust company. They’ve been nothing but a goddamned pain in the ass with Suzannah’s trust.” Leaning forward, Frank continued confidentially, “Them and that lawyer Jenkins are gonna be out of the picture in about five minutes.”

“What the hell have you done, Frank?” Katharine sat in rigid fury next to him on the sofa. Gerry and Suzannah occupied the armchairs.

Frank smiled and grasped her wrist. “Listen, sweetie, I’m only doing what Auntie really wanted. Just watch.”

Tearing her arm from his grasp, Katharine said, “If you’ve done something to her will, Frank, by God, we’ll fight you to the end.”

“Me?” Frank spread his hands out, as if to placate her. “You’ll see. Auntie’s only done what’s fair to everybody.”

McCrea bustled out of a side door of the reception. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.” He ushered them swiftly down a hallway to the boardroom. Mrs. Clough sighed in relief.

The trust officer swung the door open and stepped back. Frank barged in ahead, then suddenly stopped. Expecting to see only Jenkins, he was surprised when a tall, balding man rose to introduce himself as Peter Thompson, vice-president of personal trust. Harry Jenkins nodded, but remained seated. At the far end of the room, a gray and weary man rose. Instinct made Frank stiffen and step back. Fuck! Must be a cop, he thought.

When all were seated, Peter Thompson began. “We’ve invited Sergeant Welkom here today because he has some important documents relating to your aunt and her estate.” Thompson hated being dragged into these messy affairs. The police and trust companies were not natural allies.

“This is about Marjorie’s will, Mr. Thompson?” Katharine wanted to get right to business. Frank snapped open his briefcase.

“Yes. Mr. Jenkins is going to take it from here.” Thompson nodded to Harry.