A Will to Murder

This is a story I wrote years ago. It needs some cleaning up, but I still like it.


Jimmy Tagett leaned his squat body back in his seat and combed his hair for the third time that afternoon. His rumpled appearance stood in sharp contrast to the cleanliness of his office. As the lawyer lavished attention on himself, the author of the cleanliness entered the room.

"Mr. Tagett," said Jeannie, "Mr. Monroe is here to see you."

Jimmy sighed. "Alright, send him in."

Seconds later, Edgar Monroe, a gaunt, elderly gentleman, walked into the room. Jimmy didn't like Edgar and felt his visits were getting to be a nuisance. This was the third time in six months that Mr. Monroe had come by to update his will. What irritated Jimmy most was that Mr. Monroe wouldn't let him see these updates as they occurred. Instead, the old gentleman worked on the will by himself with quiet determination. Jimmy sighed. The old man was a lawyer, so he couldn't really complain.

On this day the story was much the same, Mr. Monroe came into the office, and Jimmy handed him his will from the safe. After working on it for nearly an hour, Mr. Monroe handed the document back in a second envelope.

"I've written several letters to people in the community this time," said Edgar. "I want them handed out to the people immediately after I die. You can't read my will until two weeks after that date."

Jimmy's eyebrows rose in surprise. Mr. Monroe was an odd bird, but he hadn't expected this from him.

"Did I hear you correctly?"

"Yes, you did, and it's all in your letter to be sure you don't forget it," Edgar said sharply. "This was the last bit of work I needed to get done, so I don't suppose I'll be bothering you anymore."

Mr. Monroe left the room, leaving Jimmy to sigh in relief and wonder why the man was so unpleasant. It may have been because he had never married, but Jimmy didn't know. It certainly wasn't due to a lack of money.

"Jeannie?" Jimmy called out to his secretary.

"Yes, Mr. Tagett?"

"How did old Monroe get so rich?"

Jeannie rose and entered the room. "I think it was inherited."

"Really?"

"Local gossip says his grandfather won the family ranch from a state senator playing poker in Austin almost a hundred years ago. The senator refused to pay his debt, so his grandfather threatened to blackmail him over the senator's activities with certain barmaids in the hotel they were at."

"That was before oil was found on the property, I assume?"

"That's right. Oil was found about thirty years later, and the Monroe fortune was established. That's one of the reasons the Monroes have never really been accepted in this town, because they got their money playing cards."

"But a lot of folks in this town made their fortunes in shady deals."

"Yes, but the state senator, Mr. Crabtree, was well liked by the townsfolk back then, and memories die hard when the family lives on. You see, our illustrious former state senator's grandson is Jonathon Crabtree, the rich guy who owns the town newspaper."

Jimmy looked on with interest as Jeannie continued. "That's why the Monroes still don't fit in around here, because there are still plenty of Crabtrees who remember how they got their start. So, Edgar and Elizabeth have been grudgingly allowed in society, but were never fully accepted and generally shunned."

* * * * *

Edgar Monroe returned to his home immediately after leaving the lawyer's office. The work there had been a strain on him, and he could tell he needed a nitroglycerin pill for his heart soon. This had been happening fairly often lately, though, so the old man had gotten used to it and hardly noticed how often the pains were occurring.

Pulling into the driveway, Edgar glanced up at his sister's room. Her second story bedroom had two windows which latched together and looked out over a small, decorative balcony away from the road and onto the rest of the Monroe property. As Edgar looked at the window, his face frowned in bitterness.

Edgar's father, Daniel, had only two children, Edgar and Elizabeth. Both bright students, they each had promising futures ahead of them. In spite of their family background, both Monroe children had been initially popular in school. Edgar had played on the football team and had lettered in track in high school. Elizabeth, who was a year younger, had done equally as well when Edgar went off to college.

Right after her senior year, though, something changed. Everyone in town saw it but few ever knew of its cause. Elizabeth stopped going out with all her friends. She secluded herself on the Monroe Estate for weeks until one day she got sick and had to be rushed to the hospital. The young girl recovered, but she had permanently lost her zest for life. From then on, she remained at home, turning into an old spinster years before her time.

Edgar had been at college when all this happened, but he quickly noticed the change in her. He also noticed that all of their old friends were no longer speaking to either of them. Even his best friend, Jonathon Crabtree, no longer would associate with him. Finally, Edgar confronted Elizabeth and she, crying, explained everything to him.

Elizabeth had been going steady with the Crabtree boy, Jonathon, all year. One night while they were together, he made some advances toward her which she refused. Later that night, however, Jonathon came by the house and climbed up to her room. He unhooked the window lock by sliding a thin ruler between the two swinging windows and unhooking the lock. Once inside, Jonathon surprised the young girl in bed and made good his earlier intentions.

Naturally, the young girl in her distress secluded herself from the world. She refused to tell her parents what had happened because she wanted to protect Jonathon.

Unfortunately, Elizabeth was pregnant and had to tell her family. Trying to maintain their respectability, the Monroes sent their daughter off to an old Mexican lady in a nearby town. Since this was before the day such things were legal, they were often ugly affairs. The traumatic experience not only damaged her emotionally, but also physically. Near death from a hemorrhage, Elizabeth was taken from the Mexican lady's shack to the hospital under the falsehood that she had suddenly gotten sick.

The doctor knew well enough what had happened by examining her, but he was a kind man and didn't reveal the truth. Unfortunately, the young girl had been seriously hurt and would never be able to bear children. Elizabeth, injured and sensitive as she was, secluded herself on the Monroe Estate from then on, never participating in social functions or even considering marriage.

For his part, Edgar felt as her older brother that it was his duty to care for and watch over his sister. Their parents reinforced this notion, expecting Edgar to always stay home with Elizabeth. So he also abandoned the idea of marriage and remained a bachelor all his life.

Now, in these last years of his life, Edgar found that he had lost the love for his sister that guided his earlier actions. Instead, that love was replaced by a bitter, growing hatred of Jonathon & Elizabeth for ruining his life.

As Edgar pulled into the garage, the daily scene of the Monroe family repeated itself as it had for the past forty_five years. Juanita, who was both cook and maid, was in the kitchen working on dinner while Felipe, the gardener, struggled with the rose bushes out front. Elizabeth, as usual, was upstairs reading. It seemed she was always reading these days. There was apparently nothing else left to occupy her time other than the television, which she abhorred.

The routine of this afternoon had a timelessness to it which made Edgar feel very comfortable. In fact, except for the mild pain in his chest, there was nothing in the day's activities to warn him that he would die that very evening.

* * * * *

As mayor of the town of Concho, David Emerson found that there was little that went on in the small community that escaped his attention. When Edgar Monroe had died the night before, David knew about it just after the ambulance crew. It was already too late for Edgar by then, however. The old man had been dead for several hours when the maid finally discovered him.

Apparently, Mr. Monroe had gone to his room after dinner to read and go to bed. Later that night, the maid stopped by to shut off his light. It seems that Edgar was in the habit of falling asleep in the middle of his reading, and the maid had gotten used to tucking him in at night. This night, however, Mr. Monroe's body felt quite cold when the maid touched it while pulling up the covers.

David chuckled to himself at what happened next.

The poor maid was a rather high_strung lady, to say the least. When she realized she had been trying to put a dead body to bed, the maid screamed bloody murder and fainted dead away. The gardener came rushing up to see what was wrong, and that's when the ambulance was called.

By the next afternoon, the town had quieted back down from its most recent excitement, and the residents had begun talking about the deceased. Mostly they were saying that he was a queer, old gentleman who probably would have lived longer if he'd smiled every now and then.

For his part, David sat in his office at city hall and mused thoughtfully about his old friend. Now, David and Edgar weren't friends the way most people think. In fact, David himself would only call the two of them acquaintances. For some reason, however, David was the only person with whom Edgar ever seemed to enjoy talking. This had quickly earned David the reputation of being Edgar's only friend, even though David felt like nothing of the sort.

David sat looking out the office window towards the Monroe property. He had just received a call from Jimmy Tagett explaining that Jimmy was the lawyer for Mr. Monroe's estate and that Edgar's will was rather peculiar.

"I don't understand it myself, Mr. Mayor, but that's what Mr. Monroe wanted. Now between you an' me, I think the deceased was getting pretty senile towards the end. I'm afraid to find out what’s in these here letters Mr. Monroe wanted passed out."

"When is the meeting?"

"Three o'clock this afternoon if you can make it. Mr. Monroe strictly told me to have the letters passed out the day after he died, and the will read two weeks later."

"OK, Jimmy. I'll be there."

"Thank you. Goodbye."

David sat still for several minutes. Aside from the servants and Elizabeth, David probably knew Edgar better than anyone else in town and David knew the old man well enough to know his calculating nature. Edgar had said before that once you had a person figured out, you could make him do most anything you wanted just by pulling the right strings. David had laughed at the time, but he had seen Edgar do just that in several business dealings in the months since making that remark. It was obvious that Edgar was not senile. No, the man knew exactly what he was doing, and that was what bothered David the most.

The mayor glanced at his watch. It was 2:45. With a sigh, he got up and headed towards Jimmy Tagett's office.

* * * * *

There were five chairs knit together in a tight semicircle in Jimmy Tagett's office. By five minutes to three every seat was taken but two. David Emerson noticed this and thought about the power curiosity has over people, not to mention greed.

Looking about the room, David also noted with surprise the people Edgar had wanted to receive letters. Juanita, the maid, and himself were no shock, but Jonathon Crabtree's presence caused the mayor's eyebrows to rise.

Jonathon noted the mayor's reaction and looked back at him with the look of a trapped animal. Jonathon had been as shocked as anyone when he learned Edgar wanted him there. The two men had literally not spoken to each other in over forty years. Edgar and Jonathon had been good friends prior to what happened that night with Elizabeth. Once Edgar learned about it, though, that was the end of all friendship and the start of a hatred on his part that would seemingly never be quenched.

Now, Jonathon sat in the tiny office waiting for Elizabeth to arrive. It would be the first time they had been this close together since that night. In the back of his mind, Jonathon thought that Edgar surely must know the pain he was causing. Perhaps this was his revenge for all that Jonathon had done.

At precisely three o'clock, Felipe, the gardener walked in the room, followed by Elizabeth Monroe. She looked very frail and was completely pale. As the old lady slowly entered the room, a look of shocked horror crossed her face though her eyes betrayed the iron will inside her weak body. She had just seen Jonathon and apparently had not been told that he was invited. Miss Monroe regained her composure and quietly took her seat.

Seconds after Elizabeth sat down, Jimmy Tagett arrived, having fortified himself with a quick drink in the outer office.

"Ahem," Jimmy began, coughing slightly. "As you all know, Mr. Monroe was a client of mine. We worked on his will together several years ago. Since then, he has made several changes, the details of which I have not been made privy to. One of these changes is that Mr. Monroe's will may not be read until two weeks after this date. In the meantime, the deceased thought it would be appropriate to have me pass out these personal letters from him to all of you. I don't know what these letters say. He said they were personal for each one of you."

As the occupants of the room exchanged glances with each other, the lawyer got up and passed out the letters in their sealed envelopes.

"You don't have to look at these now," he said. "You can take them home with you if you like."

Each person nodded in agreement, and the tiny group broke up. Elizabeth rose slowly, putting her envelope in her purse. She wore a baffled expression on her face. It was clear that Edgar had never told her about this little game he was now playing.

* * * * *

The Monroe house was a stately, old building set on one acre of land in the middle of town. The rest of the Monroe property was located several miles outside of Concho. Edgar Monroe, Jr. had bought the property in town and built the house shortly after oil was discovered on the ranch.

The house's present occupants barely used its twenty_five rooms. Edgar IV and Elizabeth each had rooms on the second floor while Felipe and Juanita lived on the third floor. Edgar roamed the house freely during the day, but Elizabeth rarely left her room except for meals and her afternoon stroll. In fact, Elizabeth's trip to the lawyer's office was only the second time that year she had left the Monroe property.

After Felipe had let her off at the front door, Elizabeth went immediately back to her room. She was extremely puzzled over her brother's actions and hoped the letter would help to clear things up. Elizabeth was dismayed, however, to find that the letter raised more questions than it answered. In it, Edgar said that he wanted to postpone the reading of his will for personal reasons and that she would understand. He also said that he was planning on leaving a trust fund for Felipe and Juanita to support them after she died, so she need not worry about them.

Edgar told her to be sure to review her will as soon as possible. He said that since she was the last Monroe it was important that she got her affairs in order right away. This seemed a very strange request to her, and Elizabeth could not understand why Edgar had asked her to do it. But he was so insistent in the letter that she felt she ought to comply.

The last Monroe had barely set down the letter when the phone rang for her. Juanita answered it and informed Elizabeth that Jimmy Tagett was on the line.

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am."

"That's quite alright, Mr. Tagett. What is it?"

"Well, ah, I'm wondering if you have read your brother's letter yet."

"As a matter of fact, I have just finished it."

"Then you know about the will."

"If you mean my will, yes. Why do you ask?"

"Well, ma'am, in Mr. Monroe's letter to me, he asked that I be sure and schedule your appointment right away to make sure it got done as soon as possible."

"Oh? He did, did he?"

"Yes, ma'am. Uh, how does Friday morning sound to you?"

"That would be fine."

"OK, how about nine o'clock in my office?"

"Why don't you come by my home instead?"

"Uh, yes ma'am. I'll be by at, uh, nine in the morning then."

"Thank you. Goodbye."

"Yes. Goodbye."

Jimmy Tagett breathed a sigh of relief at having finished that dreadful chore. Elizabeth, on the other hand, sat in quiet puzzlement trying to figure out why her brother set up his will the way he did.

* * * * *

If there was any man in Concho with a reputation to guard, it was Jonathon Crabtree. He had spent his entire life building a reputation, first as a businessman, then as mayor and later as a state senator like his great_ grandfather. Mr. Crabtree and his wife, Helen, were two of the pillars of the community. He was a member of the Rotary and both belong to the Symphony Club and had all of the right friends. His record was spotless, at least as far as most people knew.

Because of this, Jonathon was very nervous to learn he had been included in Edgar Monroe's will. He knew it could only mean one of two things. Either Edgar was going to announce to the whole community what had happened with Elizabeth, or he was going to bury the hatchet. Of the two options, the first one stood out as the most likely. Jonathon knew that few people hold a grudge as long as Edgar did and then choose to release it at the grave.

The business with the letters made Jonathon even more nervous. Why would Edgar want to write him a personal letter after all these years?

Once everyone else had left the lawyer's office, Jonathon hurried out to the car and drove to his office as quickly as possible. The elderly gentleman first made certain he would not be disturbed. Then he opened his letter with trembling hands and read the first sentence. Jonathon's eyebrows rose in surprise.

Jonathon,

I know you must be very concerned right now about why I am writing you this letter. Let me assure you that you have nothing to fear. I have let my anger and hatred toward you ruin my life and seriously hurt yours as well. In the past few years, however, I have thought back on our friendship as it used to be, and I must admit that you have been the closest friend I have ever had.

Because of the friendship that we once had, I feel it is only right for me to tell you that I have forgiven you for what has happened. As I have kept my lips sealed in life, so shall they be in death. It is a shame that I have waited until this late date to make amends. It would have been pleasant to go for walks together to talk about the old times and make new ones.

Will all sincerity and respect,
Edgar Vincent Monroe, IV

As Jonathon finished the note, he wanted to shout for joy. A tremendous weight lifted off of his shoulders, and Jonathon felt freer now than he ever had before. He read through the letter several times more to be sure that he hadn't misread anything. Each time, though, the letter came out the same, and his joy increased.

On his last reading, however, Jonathon realized there was a second page to the note which he hadn't noticed earlier. Dated only the day before, it was a postscript to the original letter. It read as follows:


Jonathon,

I am sorry to pass this on to you. Everything I wrote in my first letter remains the same. I feel I must warn you, however, that Elizabeth has been threatening to expose everything in her will. She said that if I die first, she will change her will to tell everyone what happened between you two. At present, there is no mention of you at all in her will. I don't know if Elizabeth will really change her will or not, but I felt I should warn you.

Edgar

Jonathon's spirits fell from their dizzying heights. Shaken, he quietly folded the letter and put it in his safe.

* * * * *

Returning from the lawyer's office, Juanita hurried into the kitchen to get the afternoon tea ready. She had little doubt that Miss Monroe would want it, and she knew her mistress wouldn't consider the lawyer's meeting to be reason enough to have tea late.

At thirty_five, Juanita moved about the kitchen efficiently, serving the Monroe family as she had done since she was fifteen. As she waited for the water to boil, Felipe came into the kitchen. His face was flushed with excitement. Catching his breath, he asked Juanita if she had read her letter yet.

"No, I've got kitchen work to do right now."

"Woman, if your letter says what I think, pretty soon you're never gonna hafta wash anymore dishes again."

"What you talkin' about?"

Felipe pulled out his letter and began to read part of it.

"And so, Felipe, I ask you to care for my sister and continue to work for her. If you do, after her death you will receive an allowance of twice your normal pay out of a fund administered by Mr. Tagett for the rest of your life."

Juanita snatched the letter from Felipe's hand and read it herself. Once finished, she pulled out her own letter and tore it open. Shortly, the gardener and the maid were hugging themselves, celebrating their good fortune.

The rejoicing stopped several moments later as Elizabeth began pounding her cane on the floor above their heads. Juanita scurried up to the spinster's room with the tea and came back down a few minutes later.

"Miss Monroe wants you to put in a buzzer or intercom system for her so she can ring me in the kitchen."

Felipe groaned. "OK, I'll take a look into it tomorrow or Thursday."

"If you could, see if you can get an intercom. I don't want to have to run up to her room every time I hear a bell ring over my head."

"Boy, she's going to be tougher to live with than the two of them were together."

A pounding noise came through the ceiling above them.

"I don't know about that, but she's sure started off that way."

"Who knows, maybe she'll knock off pretty soon herself."

"Don't talk that way, Felipe," Juanita reprimanded as she headed back upstairs.

* * * * *

Like Jonathon Crabtree, David Emerson waited until he got back to his office to read his note from Edgar Monroe. Although he saw no need to read the letter right away, curiosity got the best of him fairly quickly. Besides, the only other thing he had to do was work on the next year's fiscal plan. Anything, even a note from a dead man, was more pleasant than that task.

Coffee in one hand and the letter in the other, David began to read.

David,

I'm sorry to be writing you this letter under these circumstances, but I guess we all have our time.

I know how rumors can fly around a small town like ours, so I felt it was only fair to tell you exactly what I have done. I only ask that you keep it confidential unless the person involved makes it public knowledge. I have set up a fund for my maid and gardener to retire on. After my sister passes away, they will have a pension to live on for the rest of their lives.

I told Elizabeth some personal matters, but nothing of any substance.

I wrote Jonathon Crabtree to let him know that I have buried the hatchet concerning our long standing feud. As far as I'm concerned, it's over.

Finally, I have written to you to not only tell you these things but to let you know that I plan on making a rather sizable donation to the city in my will. I'm going to make you wait a few weeks for the surprise, but let's just say it will make building the new high school a lot easier.
Lastly, let me say that you have been a good friend to me and I have really appreciated your kindness.
Edgar Vincent Monroe, IV

As he finished the letter, David didn't jump for joy or even show a trace of excitement. Instead, his face wore an utterly bewildered look. The news about the gift to the town was very nice, but unnecessary. David would have found out about it in two weeks anyway.

It was also unlike Edgar to try and prevent rumors from spreading. He had lived through decades of rumors without caring before. Why start now? Lastly, the expressions of friendship were completely out of character for Edgar.

David was certain the letter had been written for some other reason, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. Edgar was trying to do more than just spread information with these letters, but he had taken to the grave whatever scheme lay behind them.

With a sigh, the town mayor slugged down the last of his now cold coffee and prepared to close shop for the day.

* * * * *

Tuesday night was a very difficult one around the Crabtree residence. Jonathon was fretful all evening and tossed and turned the entire night. His wife, Helen, didn't think he had slept more than an hour or two all night.

She didn't talk to Jonathon about it though. Even from their wedding day, Jonathon had not been one to share his problems with her. She knew he had been under a lot of stress lately organizing support for his campaign for governor. So, that was probably what was troubling him now.

Jonathon had been officially out of politics for three years now, and making a comeback had proved quite difficult. The election was not for another year, but he had hoped to be able to declare his candidacy within the next three or four weeks.

On Wednesday morning, Jonathon still looked pretty worried, but he was much calmer in spite of getting so little sleep. He skipped breakfast at home this time, however, preferring instead to have coffee at the small diner near his office.

By coincidence it seemed, Jonathon happened to come in for breakfast at the same time that Jimmy Tagett made his daily stop.

"Good morning, Jimmy."

"Good morning, Mr. Crabtree. How are you?"

"Fine, and yourself?"

"Pretty good, sir. What brings you to this little greasy spoon?"

"Well, I had a rough night last night, couldn't sleep. So I figured I'd get a bit of an early start and have breakfast out for a change."

"That sounds like a good idea to me. Why couldn't you sleep last night? Are your old injuries starting to bother you?"

"Why no. I could climb that tree in front of this place faster than you, my boy. No, I've just been thinking about poor Edgar Monroe's death."

"Oh?"

"Yes. He and I used to be good friends you know."

"Really?"

"Yes, a long time ago. Well, his letter to me was intended to bury the hatchet and let me know he was sorry for how he's treated me all these years."

Jimmy looked very surprised, "Really?"

"Yes, but along with burying the hatchet, his letter reminded me that I'm not exactly in the prime of life anymore myself."

"I wouldn't worry, Mr. Crabtree. A man in your condition should have many more years to go."

"I hope so. However, that doesn't excuse me from doing a little tidying up and getting my will reviewed."

"No, sir. That sounds like a good idea to me."

"I'm glad you agree, Mr. Tagett. My will is currently with Mr. Lattimore, but I've been so impressed with how you've handled Edgar's case that I'd like to make an appointment with you instead."

"That would be wonderful sir. It's a slow time of the year for me now. I've only got one other will to work on, so you can come in most anytime you want."

"That's good. I'll give your secretary a call then." Jonathon sipped his coffee. "By the way, who's the other client with a will?"

"Funny you should ask. It's Miss Monroe. You're the second will review I've gotten as a result of Edgar's passing away."

"Hmm." Jonathon stared down into his coffee trying to hide his shaken expression.

"I see her on Friday morning, in fact. The lady is getting so stubborn, though, that she's making me go to her house for the appointment."

Jonathon took a big breath of air. "Well, I hope I won't be as troublesome as she is, Jimmy. It's already Wednesday now, so I'll probably make arrangements to see you next week some time."

Jimmy, who had his mouth full, shook his head in agreement. The old man rose from his seat and headed off to work, with a very troubled look on his face.

Upon reaching the office, Jonathon locked the door and opened his safe. Pulling out Edgar's letter, he removed the second page and placed the rest back in the safe. Jonathon then picked up the second page and burned it in his ashtray, carefully sifting through the ashes to ensure its complete destruction.

* * * * *

Only a few people turned out for Edgar's funeral on Thursday afternoon. The preacher, who had never even spoken to the deceased, plainly struggled to find something to say about him. Fortunately, few people cared to hear what he had to say, and most were glad that he kept it short.

The Whitehall Funeral Home looked about as good as a funeral home could look, which does not say very much. At least it was cool, though. Outside the west Texas heat was oppressive enough that only the young in body or slow of mind would be found in it for any length of time.

Inside the funeral home, Miss Monroe sat by herself in the first row with Felipe and Juanita in the row behind her. Three rows back sat those who hardly knew the deceased but for some strange reason felt obligated to come anyway. This group included a few old schoolmates of Edgar's and some business associates. David Emerson and Jonathon Crabtree sat together in the back more because there seemed no one else for either of them to be with.

David noticed that both Felipe and Juanita were looking properly somber for the occasion. He figured that Juanita probably really did feel sad, but he wasn't so sure about Felipe. As early as the day after Edgar's letters were passed out, the grapevine was buzzing over Felipe and Juanita's good fortune. Apparently, Felipe had taken the night off to go out and celebrate. He had gotten quite drunk at Red's Bar and Grill and had to be kicked out. His ejection, however, occurred only after he had started practicing Indian war whoops and drinking toasts to the day "ol' Miss 'Lizbeth tends the garden on her back." Despite the whole incident being horribly funny to the other patrons, the owner of the bar showed some heretofore lacking good taste and threw the gardener out.

At the funeral, though, everyone seemed to be in the proper spirit. Of the mourners, in fact, Jonathon Crabtree looked the most shaken up. David wasn't too sure why. Perhaps the man had encountered his own destiny in the event; maybe he felt sad that Edgar had only in death released his animosity; or it could be he was genuinely sorry to see the man die. Whatever the case, his expression played well with the local reporter. The next day, the article on the Monroe funeral emphasized Mr. Crabtree's concern even for one who had hated him so long.

Oh well, what could you expect when Jonathon owned the newspaper?

After the funeral service concluded, the tiny motorcade of mourners drove out to the local cemetery for the burial. This too, was a simple, short affair. No one cried, not even Elizabeth. She just stood there with the same straight posture she had all of these years.

At it's conclusion, the old lady returned to the funeral home's car and was driven home. No one spoke with her, and she approached no one. The rest of the mourners slowly departed, occasionally talking with each other. They had all fairly quickly shed their funeral faces to return to daily living. All, that is, but Jonathon Crabtree. David noticed that even after the ceremonies had concluded, Jonathon remained gloomy and set apart from the rest.

* * * * *

"Boy, I'm glad that's over," said Felipe.

"Yes, I hate funerals, too."

"No, Juanita, not the funeral. I'm glad I got that intercom Miss Monroe wanted finally installed."

"You mean it works?"

"Yes. She's been such a nag about it that I'm glad she can't bother me anymore."

Juanita looked up from her cooking at the intercom set against the wall by the door.

"I can talk to her, right?"

"Yeah. Just push down the button. That's all."

"When did you get this in?"

"Just after the funeral."

"You mean it's been in for an hour, and she hasn't called me yet?"

"She doesn't know it's working. I told her I still had to do a bit more in the kitchen. I thought I may as well give you just a little more peace and quiet from the old nag."

"Felipe!"

The gardener smiled and quickly left the kitchen for the garage. There, he set the leftover wire on the work table next to the ladder and proceeded to straighten up his work area.

He was nearly finished when he heard Juanita ring the dinner bell. Felipe tidied up a bit more and headed to dinner. Miss Monroe hated it when he came to meals dirty, so Felipe made it a practice to clean up as best he could. This time, he was in a hurry and managed to wipe off his face, but failed to get his hands clean.

Evenings in the Monroe household had already settled back into a routine after Edgar's death. Everyone ate their food in relative silence with only Juanita making any effort at conversation. After dinner, Miss Monroe went up to bed, where she would remain the rest of the night. Juanita busied herself with the dishes and then went to her room also. The Monroe's had never gotten cable television, so Juanita had it in her room to watch at nights.

Felipe had been tossed out of the only bar in town that would let him in two nights before. So tonight he continued the celebrations privately as he had the night before. Having gone up to his room right after dinner, the gardener was well on his way to a good stupor by 9 PM.

The Monroe house remained quiet the rest of the night. At about 2 AM, as the moon drifted slowly across the sky, a silent figure appeared at the Monroe garage. Gloved hands quietly opened the side door to the garage, and the figure made its way to the gardener's work area. Looking quickly about the room, the intruder spied the ladder and the electrical wire beside it.

Quietly, he carried the ladder out of the garage and right below Miss Monroe's bedroom. Placing it against the balcony, the figure climbed up to the side_by_side windows. Then, he very carefully slipped a thin metal ruler between the two windows just as he had done over fifty years before.

Very slowly, he worked the hook out of its place and unlatched the windows. Jonathon Crabtree than waited a minute to be sure Elizabeth was still asleep. A car drove by, but had no chance of seeing him on the side of the house. Quietly, he crept once again into the Monroe girl's bedroom.

A few minutes later, the same shadowy figure skillfully rehooked the lock with the ruler and climbed silently down the ladder.

* * * * *

Friday morning when Jimmy Tagett arrived for his appointment with Miss Monroe, he was met by a very apologetic Juanita.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tagett, but I don't think Miss Monroe has gotten up yet."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir. She's usually up by seven, but I haven't heard her take a shower yet."

"Are you sure she's OK?"

"I hope so, but I don't know."

"Well, why don't you check on her?"

"Mr. Tagett, I know I should, but I'm the one who found Mr. Monroe, and I don't ever want to do that again."

"Would you mind if I went up and knocked on her door, then?"

"Uh, why no, sir," replied Juanita, who was thrilled that someone had come to her aid. Felipe was still in bed from his drinking binge the night before, so he had been of no help this morning.

After knocking on the door and getting no answer, Jimmy called out to Elizabeth several times, each time in a louder voice. Finally, with sweat starting to bead up on his forehead, the lawyer summoned up all of his courage, slowly opened the door, and poked his head in. A split second later he slammed the door back in place and threw up all over the hallway floor.

Juanita needed no further hints and immediately went into hysterics, screaming as she ran down the stairs and out of the house. Felipe soon came running downstairs from his third floor room to see what was wrong. He tried to move as fast as he could, but his headache forced him to move very gingerly.

He approached Jimmy, who by now had stopped gagging but still had no color in his face, and asked what was wrong. The lawyer started getting sick again as he tried to respond, but he did manage to get Felipe to call the police.

With that, Felipe walked downstairs to get some aspirin and coffee and search for Juanita. Jimmy tried to stay put, but the stench from his vomit and the thought of being left alone drove him downstairs as well.

A police car pulled up a short while later, and soon the police chief and everyone else of dubious importance was at the Monroe house. Three ambulances were needed. One each for Mr. Tagett and Juanita to treat them for shock and the third for Miss Monroe.

It wasn't until noon that the police finally let her body be taken out of the room. First, they wanted to get all of their pictures and the preliminary investigation over with.

It was clear that Elizabeth had had a chance to recognize her attacker because the shock of the realization was frozen on her face. That shock, combined with Elizabeth's ghastly, bug eyed, blank stare was enough to make stronger men than Jimmy sick to their stomachs. Most of the policemen had seen more gruesome murders in their day, but Miss Monroe's eyes bulged out of their sockets so grotesquely that few men could stand to stay in the room with her corpse.

The horror of the scene was merely magnified by her swollen tongue hanging out of her mouth, and the electrical wire bound tightly around her throat in its death grip.

* * * * *

The Monroe murder caused the biggest stir Concho had seen in thirty years. The newspaper that day ran a huge front page story, and the next day nearly the whole issue was devoted to the "Crime of Crimes" in Concho. Complete with pictures of the body being carried away and several descriptions of the murder scene, the articles had enough fuel in them to keep the rumors flying about town for several days.

After the murder, Miss Monroe's gardener, Felipe Rodriguez, was brought in for questioning which lasted several hours. Three days later he was detained on suspicion of murder, and by the next day, Police Chief Templeton was quoted in the Concho Times as boasting he had the murderer "red handed."

As Mayor David Emerson read the article with the chief's statement, he couldn't help feeling that something was wrong. Picking up the phone, he called the police chief and asked him to come up and talk about the murder.

A few minutes later, Jack Templeton arrived. A rancher's son, the fifty year old police chief wore his uniform very casually and topped it off with a cowboy hat whether indoors or out. As he walked into the room, David was reminded of a comment Edgar Monroe had once made. He had called the chief "the best kind, completely dedicated to his job, but not smart enough to cause any trouble."

Looking at Jack Templeton, David had to admit Edgar was right. To make matters worse, there were only three policemen working for Templeton, and they weren't much better. The mayor shook his head sadly and hoped that this one time they hadn't botched the job.

"As you can imagine, Jack, I'd like to talk with you about the Monroe murder a bit."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that. Most everyone is curious about it these days."

"Jack, I'm not doing this out of mere curiosity. I want to see how good a job you've done."

"Well, you don't have to worry none about that. We've got that gardener locked up nine ways from Sunday."

"Why don't you tell me about it and we'll see?"

"OK," Jack grumbled, angry that he had to prove himself.

"To start with, who are the possible suspects?"

"There are only two, the gardener and the maid."

"Why no one else?"

"Well, we figure it had to be an inside job. The house was locked at night, so the only people who had access to the lady were the suspects we got."

"Couldn't someone have broken in?"

"Naw, all the doors were locked, and the windows were latched."

"How closely did you examine them?"

"Enough to know they was latched, for God’s sake!"

"Come on, Jack. I just want to be sure we're all set, that's all."

"OK. I suppose we could have looked a bit harder at them, but it's so clear the gardener done it that it seems a waste of time."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like this. The gardener had the motive. He an' the cook were each supposed to get a lot of money once the old lady died. Now the cook was pretty cool about the whole situation, but the gardener went out partying so much that Red's had to kick him out. This guy was already living it up on his new wealth.

"So now we got two suspects an' one of 'em is already celebrating the lady's death. Then, when we examined the gardener that day, we found his hands covered with dirt like that on the wire around Miss Monroe's neck. We asked him where he got it from, and he said he had used wire to put in an intercom system that day and hadn't washed his hands. He then tried to show us where he stored the wire, but he couldn't find any."

"So you think the wire used to kill Miss Monroe was the leftover wire the gardener couldn't find."

"Yep. We compared the stuff on her neck with the intercom and it was the same."

"Couldn't someone else have taken the wire and killed the lady?"

"No. The house was locked, remember? It was an inside job. Besides, we checked the garage doors, and Felipe's were the only fingerprints present."

"Did the maid see anything?"

"No. She was watching TV and says she didn't see or hear nothin'. Her room's on the other side of the house anyway."

"Well, what does the gardener have to say about all of this?"

"He's screaming about how he didn't do nothing, and he's been framed, and all he did that night was stay in his room and drink. He says that he may have been celebrating, but he didn't mean nothin'."

"It almost looks too good to be true, doesn't it? How could he have been so stupid?"

"Yep. I thought about that, so we checked out his story a bit more. My boys and I went through his room that day, and he musta really put one on the night before. There were bottles all over the place and even his sheets had beer breath."

"Couldn’t that mean his story's true?"

"I think some of it is. We think this gardener guy went up to his room and got sorta drunk while thinking about all the money he was gonna get. Then he decided why not speed up his inheritance. So he goes and gets this wire and strangles the old lady. Only he's too drunk to do the job smart and leaves us a lot of clues about who did it. He wasn't so drunk that he don't know what he did, though, so then he goes back to his room and really gets himself snockered the rest of the night."

The police chief beamed with the pride of a child at show and tell as he concluded his analysis.

"When do you plan to go to the D.A. with this?"

"Well, we were athinkin' about doin' it later this week since today's only Tuesday."

David sat in silence. There was still something he didn't like.

"I'll tell you what, Jack. Why don't we wait a full week until next Wednesday."

Jack Templeton started getting red at the hint he might have done something wrong.

"Why's that? Don't you thing we's done our job right?"

"No," David backpedaled, "it's not that. I just think it would be proper to wait. Miss Monroe won't be buried until later this week I hear, and Edgar Monroe's will isn't to be read until Monday. Once we've paid our respects to the deceased, then we can get the killer."

The police chief continued to grumble, so David added, "Besides, with all that out of the way, then your boys will have center stage to show how good a job you really did."

Jack's face lit up at that remark, and he responded, "That's right! I hadn't thought of it that way. OK, David. We'll wait a little while and then show this town how to catch a murderer."

"Good."

David let out a deep sigh as the sheriff left the office. He didn't know if it would do any good to wait a week before bringing charges against the gardener, but the wait certainly wouldn't hurt.

* * * * *

The same preacher that buried Edgar Monroe a week earlier was called upon for Miss Monroe's funeral as well. This time, he did a much better job, probably because he'd had the practice with Edgar.

Unlike Edgar's funeral, Miss Monroe's was well attended. It seemed like half of the town came out to view the spectacle. Rumors had been flying about town steadily since Miss Monroe's death. By now, however, they dealt not only with the identity of her murderer, but also with the disposition of the Monroe Estate.

There were no other Monroes in existence as far as anybody knew, so the entire town was extremely curious about the final disposition of the Monroe fortune.

Like the previous Monroe funeral, this one was a short, somber affair. Miss Monroe's casket was taken out to the cemetery and placed on the other side of her parents from where Edgar was buried. Throughout the whole ceremony, there was a respectful silence, although few seemed to be mourning the recluse's loss. Even Jonathon Crabtree, who appeared so upset at Edgar's funeral, seemed more relaxed and composed at Elizabeth's.

In fact, the only person to cry at Miss Monroe's funeral was Juanita, her former maid. Juanita stood at the head of the procession for the funeral, accompanied by one of the town's police officers. Jack Templeton had gotten it in his head that the maid may have been an accomplice, and he had put a guard on her to keep her from leaving town. The police chief was not bright enough to think of this all by himself, however. He had only done it after Jonathon Crabtree's paper printed the rumor.

The town's only newspaper had already tried and convicted Felipe for the murder. It was now accusing him of murdering Mr. Monroe as well, and it claimed Juanita was in on the whole operation. Of course, there was nothing to back up all of these claims, but there was nothing to disprove them either.

As the burial service concluded, the crowd of mourners slowly dispersed. David Emerson watched each person as he or she departed. He didn't know what he was looking for, but something was not quite right. Time and again David's thoughts returned to Edgar Monroe and his curious will. Few unusual things ever happened in a small town like Concho, yet the past two weeks had revealed an unusual will and a murder. Although the two didn't seem to be closely connected, David's intuition told him there was more here than met the eye.

Unfortunately, Jimmy Tagett refused to open Edgar's will until the specified day. This struck David as absurd, especially when he knew Jimmy regularly inspected wills in advance to be sure there were no surprises. After badgering Jimmy long enough, David discovered that Edgar had promised Jimmy a large sum of money if he didn't inspect the will. Apparently, the will was in a sealed envelope, and Jimmy would only receive the money if, on the proper day, the mayor witnessed the seals being broken.

Oh well, thought David, that was only four days away and it didn't appear any more damage could be done between now and then.

* * * * *

Monday morning started out hot and promised to get hotter as the day wore on. David Emerson had trouble sleeping that night, as did Jonathon Crabtree, David Tagett, and Felipe Rodriguez.

The will reading was scheduled for ten o'clock that morning. Mr. Tagett was going to limit the audience for the reading, but it was certain the local paper would nab each person to get as accurate a picture of the will as possible. In the room during the reading would be Jimmy Tagett, David Emerson, Jonathon Crabtree, Juanita Ruiz, Phillip Rodriguez, and Jack Templeton.

David chuckled to himself at the thought of Jack Templeton's presence. The police chief was coming along to guard Felipe. As far as anyone cared, Felipe didn't have to even be present, but Jack insisted on it, and then insisted just as strongly that the man be guarded. Needless to say, Jack could find no better person to perform the duty than himself.

It was a busy Monday for David, so he was late coming to the lawyer's office. He knew that he wouldn't miss anything, though. Jimmy Tagett wouldn't dare open the will without David watching the seal break. Sure enough, when David finally arrived at 10:15, the small group was waiting for his arrival.

The only empty seat was one right in front of Jimmy Tagett. Jack Templeton had taken two chairs in back so his prisoner wouldn't run for the door. Then, just to be certain, he had handcuffed Felipe to the chair. In addition, one of the police cars was parked right outside the lawyer's office, ready to give chase in the event of an escape. David looked the entire scene over and thought again how right Edgar Monroe had been about the police chief. In fact, David would have found the whole situation very funny if he hadn’t been stuck right smack in the middle of it.

Jonathon Crabtree sat next to Jack Templeton, and Juanita was in one of two seats in the front row. She had tried to take Jonathon Crabtree's seat, but the police chief made her move away. He was still in hot pursuit of the accomplice theory, and he didn't want Felipe and Juanita to communicate with each other.

When the mayor finally walked into the room, everyone sighed with relief. David just smiled broadly at each person and took his place.

With that, Jimmy Tagett reached for the sealed envelope, broke the seal and pulled out the will. With a raspy voice, he began to read out loud.

"To all who are gathered here. In this, my last will and testament, I, Edgar Vincent Monroe, IV, have the following to declare.

"During my fifty or so years as a social outcast in this town, I have taken a great interest in watching people and learning about them. For the most part, I have found the stray cats around my house to be more amusing and surprising. The people have been by and large so shallow and predictable that is has become easy for me to play with their lives."

Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably.

"First, I would like to offer my apologies to Felipe Rodriguez for the injustices he has had to live with. He and Juanita Ruiz shall both receive yearly stipends of twice their annual salary for their good service now that my sister is dead."

Jimmy Tagett stopped reading. His face was filled with concern and bewilderment. Suddenly everyone in the room realized the problem. How did Edgar know his sister was dead when he had died first?

A slow, creeping terror began to fill the room. At the mayor's urging, Jimmy read on.

"I suppose by this time you wonder how I know of my sister's death, or murder, to be more precise. Actually, I do not. But I know people, and I know what each of the letters I wrote said. Based on that, I would assume my sister to be dead and Felipe Rodriguez to be in prison, closely watched by that moron Jack Templeton."

The police chief stirred in anger, while everyone else sat spellbound by the will. Jonathon Crabtree, in particular, sat glued to his seat, unable to believe what was being revealed.

The will described in detail what Jonathon had done to Elizabeth when they were teenagers. Edgar told about the abortion and surgery as well as the description of young Jonathon's means of breaking into the house. Complete with the trick for relatching the windows. Edgar's will pointed a deadly finger at the future candidate for governor.

Finally, the will reached its climax as Edgar wrote, "My life having been ruined, I have been consumed by no greater desire than to see Jonathon Crabtree pay, and I mean pay dearly, for his actions. For decades I have sought the perfect revenge, and now in my death I have it. You see, Elizabeth has met her proper fate, and it was done at the hands of Jonathon Crabtree."

After a moment's silence utter pandemonium broke loose in the lawyer's office. At once, everyone began to speak.

Jimmy Tagett tried to announce that Mr. Monroe was indeed senile and the will should be thrown out. Jack Templeton, so certain he had the right man, seconded the lawyer's opinion and said they ought to get on with the real trial. For their part, Juanita and Felipe merely looked confused and tried to ask questions about what this all meant.

For a short moment, David felt detached from the activity around him and was able to view the scene as if from afar. Quite suddenly, all of the pieces fell into place, and he saw the evil genius which had plotted the murder.

David could see Edgar Monroe thinking out every detail of what each person would do after receiving their letters. He saw Elizabeth doing as her brother suggested and updating her will. And though he had not read Jonathon's letter, David knew that Edgar must have lied to him about why Elizabeth was updating her will. It was all so simple. David even saw his own role skillfully written into the scene. He knew even before he spoke that Edgar had long before destined him to be the one to solve the mystery.

Slowly, the mayor rose from his seat and turned to face Jonathon Crabtree.

"He's made fools of all of us, you know."

Jonathon stared down at the floor.

"He manipulated all of us to get exactly what he wanted. He hated his sister for being a burden to him; he hated you for raping her and for keeping him out of society; and he hated all of us because he could manipulate us all he wanted, but he couldn't make us like him."

Jonathon looked at David. Tears were slowly sliding down his cheeks.

Jack Templeton took Jonathon Crabtree away in the police car he had parked outside. At the police station, the one_time candidate for governor confessed to the murder and was subsequently jailed. That night, his own newspaper announced his guilt and wondered what would drive such a fine man to commit murder.

Over time, things settled back down in the little town. Jonathon Crabtree was put on trial and sent to prison for life, which, as it turned out, was not that long. David Emerson was reelected as mayor. And people continued to talk about Edgar Monroe, the only man anyone ever knew who could reach beyond the grave to seek the revenge he so dearly wanted.

(c) 2010, Kevin H. Grenier