Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [130]
“Is this your brother?”
“Yeah.”
“Handsome. What was his name?”
“Ben Standing Elk.” I braced myself for a gasp of surprise. Leticia’s death had caused huge ripples on the White Plain Reservation, and I’d found myself sucked into the riptide and spit out. I chanced asking,
“Do you know the Standing Elk Family?”
“No. I’m from Eagle Butte. And I won’t snap at you and assume you meant because I’m Indian I should somehow know all the other Indians in the state.”
“You know what I meant.”
“Sorry. I’m just a little sensitive about that.”
“I can imagine.”
She took the coffee and dropped her coat on the chair, and I fished out my cigarettes, giving her time to 463
settle. “What I tell you is confidential, right?”
Ethical dilemma.
No. It’s only a dilemma if she tells you what you don’t want to hear.
My thoughts teetered between serving my
conscience and serving hers. I sighed. “Yes. It’s confidential.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said and I still don’t know what to do.” Pause. “I’m sure you figured out Vernon made another will just a couple weeks ago.”
“Yeah, I did. I guess I wondered how it happened. Did he ask you to take him to a lawyer’s office?”
“No. He hated to leave the facility. We had a group seminar geared for the new residents, dealing with updating their wills, and Vernon showed up. I helped him fill out the paperwork, never expecting he was serious. The only reason he willingly hung around other residents was when I was there to act as a buffer.”
She cleared her throat. “It’s not what you think. We were just friends. Vernon hated group activity weeks because I usually did Admin that week and spent less time with him. Anyway, the will kit was a simple ‘do it yourself ’ jobber we use at the retirement center as a template. I didn’t notice he had it notarized until we were back in his room.”
I had guessed right about the will not being on file in some legal office. “Where is the will now?”
“At my house. And if your next question is if there 464
are copies elsewhere, the answer is no. I have the only copy.”
“What did Vernon change?”
She shifted. “Everything. He cut Amery out of it completely.”
“Who gets the estate?” Luella hesitated a beat too long and a sensation like I’d swallowed ground glass spun in the pit of my stomach. “You?”
“No. Worse. Prime Time Friends.”
Another ugly pause.
“Ironically enough, when I was put in charge of the program I was under orders from Mr. Boner to convince Vernon Sloane to gift some of his money to us. That was the initial reason I’d insinuated myself into his life. Horrible, isn’t it?”
The pain in her voice made me cringe.
“But the plan backfired on me.” She made dents in the top of her Styrofoam cup with her fingernails.
“The more I got to know Vernon the sorrier I felt for him and the more I wanted to protect him. Everybody wanted a piece of him, and no one saw what a sad, lonely little man he was. I did.”
“So by playing on his sympathies, you got him to sign over everything anyway?”
Her skin became a deeper shade of scarlet. “It might seem that way. I did feel guilty, which is why I initially never told anyone about the new will. He gave it to me because he said he didn’t want it around, but I don’t know if he meant for me to hide it or destroy it. 465
So I don’t know what to do.”
“Your option seems pretty cut-and-dried to me. You turn in the will, get to be the big hero to Prime Time Friends, and Amery gets nothing. I doubt we can prove she killed him—”
“But what if she didn’t kill him?” Luella’s eyes finally met mine. “Like you said, there’s no proof.”
“Now you think it was an unfortunate accident?”
“I hate to say this, but Vernon had been known to wander. Out looking for his car. Waiting for his daughter to pick him up even though she’s been dead a while. One time last fall