Conduct in Question

Chapter 22

Traffic crawled up the parkway in the early twilight. Frank sang along with the radio as he followed the string of red taillights. A perfect day. Time to celebrate.

Thinking of Jenkins and McCrea, he chuckled. They’d looked like they’d been kicked in the balls. He, Frank Sasso, had outsmarted them all.

The best part was getting back at that ballbuster Katharine. The frigid bitch was just like ice. Madder than hell about the will, too.

So what if dear Auntie called Jenkins about her will the day she died? She didn’t change it. Fact was, Suzannah promised to help her make an exit, if and when, she wanted. That ought to be worth a fucking house, he chuckled.

He fingered the buttons on his cell phone. With one quick call, he would settle the bitch down. He reached Katharine’s voice mail.

“This is just a friendly warning,” he said. The lights of the oncoming traffic made his face look pale and distorted. “Keep this crap up about lawyers and you’ll get what you’re really dying for. But next time, babe, you’re gonna get hurt real bad, if you don’t stop this shit.” Laughing, he hung up.

Auntie’s timing had been perfect. She’d just died real peaceful in her sleep. Making the new will upset her so much, she just croaked. There was nothing to show up in the autopsy.

“Dear sweet Marjorie,” Frank sang out. Smartest thing he’d ever done was to visit her the night after her birthday party. She was too sick to come down, so he just went right up to her room.

“What brings you here, Frank?” Marjorie had asked suspiciously when he drew a chair up to her bed. “Where is Suzannah tonight?”

“She’s been out looking at nursing homes.”

Marjorie struggled to sit up. “What? For whom?”

“For you, Auntie dear.” Frank laughed at his own mimicry of Suzannah.

“You’re lying, Frank.” Marjorie reached for the telephone, but he caught her wrist.

“Don’t bother calling. She ain’t home.”

“But why would she be looking for homes?” Marjorie asked uncertainly.

A sly smile crept over Frank’s face. “I know what you asked her to do, Auntie. We gotta keep you from popping all those pills.”

Marjorie was horrified. “She told you?”

“Yup.” Frank grinned. “Didn’t you know assisted suicide is a criminal offence? You want your favorite niece to go to jail?”

Marjorie slumped back on the pillows. If Suzannah had told Frank, he must have bullied it out of her, she reasoned. “Well, what do you want Frank?”

“Now that’s a good girl. I always said you was smart. Me and Suzannah don’t ask much. You want her to help you? Then you gotta give something in return. That’s fair, right?”

Marjorie remained silent.

“All Suzannah wants, Auntie, is the house. Not till you’re dead, of course.”

“That’s it?”

“So that it’s free and clear from Katharine and Gerry.”

“And if I refuse?”

Frank smiled and shook his head. “You don’t want to do that. Believe me. We’ll put you into a nursing home for the criminally insane. We’ll tell people this nice little old lady is off her rocker, dancing around and collecting little bottles of pills.” Frank opened the bedside drawer and whistled. “My, my! Look what we got here, Auntie.”