Chapter 37
“Miss Thibodaux! How very nice to finally meet you. You really should have come to my office first you know.”
I just gave him a polite, but empty smile. Since I hadn’t known he even existed until the last day or so I could have asked him why he hadn’t searched me out if it was so all fired important. But self-preservation kept my mouth shut even when it wanted to fall open looking at “Mr. Dub” as he asked (no, ordered) me to call him. I was sitting in front of a real live copy of Colonel Sanders. White three-piece suit. White dress shoes. Black string tie. Snow white hair, mustache, and goatee. My gawd.
I refuse to even try and record how he talked. I’m pretty sure most of it was put on for my benefit. On the other hand, he stayed in character so well for so long I might just be wrong about it. And crazy? Yeah, I’m pretty sure he is, but he still seems sane enough that we got down to brass tacks and hard facts not long after initial greatings.
First off, Uncle Henley left a will but the records they had made it seem like I was still a minor so everything was going forward like that was a fact and not an assumption. It was only after Sarge mentioned to Auntie that I was eighteen … who then essentially blabbed and told Edgar who had to in turn report the fact to his superiors who sent it on to the Judge in the case … that anyone realized I was an adult. Of course Detective Edgar had made sure of that but Mr. Dub wanted to make his own case that I was an adult and had Lorelei Edgar make copies of all of my identity papers. Seems like a waste of paper if you ask me but whatever.
After we got through that part Mr. Dub felt that he needed to read me Uncle Henley’s will.
I, Henley Beauregard Thibodaux, being of sound mind and body, do hereby leave this will in my own hand for my own purpose. I hereby revoke any and all prior wills and codicils I have made save for specifically excluding, should they still live at the time of my death, the woman born Juliette Thibodaux, my full sister and one Henri Frechette, my half-brother, and all their descendants both natural and adopted. This is in keeping with the wishes of our parents whose last will and testaments were unsuccessfully disputed at the time of their deaths.
I have instructed Braxton Dubreuil, Esquire to act as my executor and to take all and pay all legally binding contracted debts that have not already been cleared at the date and time of my passing. Copies of any release of liens or payment for debts are on file to defend my estate against fraudulent claims.
Beyond that I will, devise, bequeath and give all the rest and remainder of my property and estate of every kind and character, including, but not limited to, real and personal property in which I may have an interest at the date of my death and which is not otherwise effectively disposed of, to my niece and only living relative, one Ava Maxine Thibodaux.
If I leave a writing separate from this will that disposes of some or all of my tangible personal property, whether the writing is executed before or after I execute this will, I direct that the writing be incorporated into this will and followed by my personal representative. If my personal representative cannot find any such writing within thirty days after my death, my personal representative may presume that no such writing exists and shall distribute my tangible personal property in accordance with the provisions of this will.
Mr. Dub seemed to be waiting on some kind of reaction from me. I didn’t have one to give him so I asked, “Did he?”
“Did he what Child?”
“Did Uncle Henley tack anything on to his will? Is there something that I need to take care of?”
He gave me a considering look. “Huh, most people don’t ask that. You’ve managed to surprise me. But the answer is no, Henley left no other instructions that have come to light.”
I thought that a strange way to put it then thought of something else. “I was given to understand that you were appointed by the Judge. Uncle Henley’s will makes it seem like you were … er … his executor by his own choice.”
Apparently I was getting more interesting by the moment because Mr. Dub was losing his sad, serious face and started smiling and getting feisty.
“You are more mature than expected, probably than even Henley gave you created for being.”
“I don’t know. We didn’t communicate very much. He … spent a lot of time taking care of his mother … my grandmother.”
“Nice way of putting it Child. I recommended to Henley that he stay in better touch, perhaps even bring you out here, but he seemed to think you were better off without him.”
“That’s what he said? Or what you think he felt?”
Pleased for some reason Mr. Dub answered, “Said it. Was quite plain spoken about it.”
“Well he was wrong,” I said and then let the matter rest. It was something that couldn’t be changed and I didn’t have the luxury of feeling sorry for myself about it.
I shook my head to clear it then asked, “I don’t want to seem like a gold digger or insensitive or whatever people might think of me in that respect but I’m full up and I know lawyers cost and everything else. So, is there anything that I need to do, be responsible for, take care of, whatever you want to call it?”
He steepled his hands and looked at me. “You remind me quite forcefully of your Aunt Sylvee.”
“I … never met her. Most everyone died before I was born, and those that weren’t … didn’t bother staying in contact with me at all once my family was killed and I got dumped in foster care.”
“So I was given to understand.” Like he was coming to a decision he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a file. When he opened it I could see an envelope. He handed it to me. “It is my determination that you are an adult and are fully capable of handling the estate that remains in my care. In that envelope are the keys to a storage locker down the street. I’ve been told that you’ve been going through some of Henley’s belongings that were stored at The Isabelle.”
“Since I didn’t tell you that how do you know?”
“Deputy … no, the boy is now Detective Edgar … relayed the information.”
“I’ll have to find out how he knows because it isn’t exactly something I’ve been trumpeting about.”
He glanced at the door and then said, “It might be prudent at that.”
Well how dee do. The crazy old guy might not be that crazy after all. He knows his secretary is probably carrying tales to her brother. What he thinks of it though I’m not sure.
“If I were you, I would replace the locks post haste. There is only a few pieces of furniture in there but you should still look over everything.” He slid into item number two. “Now that I have proof of your age I will arrange to have your name put on Henley’s bank account, now your bank account.”
“Wait … how can you put me on an account of a dead man. Don’t I have to start one of my own?”
“Normally,” he said nodding in approval. “Being as I was already on Henley’s account, I can put you on it and then take myself off and you will be sole owner. I will start that process on Monday. Hopefully the Judge will be available to expedite the paperwork.”
“Any reason they wouldn’t?”
“Judge Cordelle is … well … harrumph … he has his own way of doing things. He may request that you make an appearance before him. Nothing to worry about.”
Ugh. Usually when people say that, there is something to worry about.
“Now as far as Henley’s house …”
“Didn’t the State take that one away because of some flood plain or something?”
“That was your Grandparents’ property … your grandfather’s to be more precise. His wife … your grandmother … had a life estate and was allowed to remain there until her death then the property was supposed to go to his son Landry Frechette, but Landry predeceased your grandmother by three or four years. You were next in line …”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Your grandfather, Mathieu Frechette, named you as his next of kin after his son Landry. While his will was heavily disputed, and your grandmother’s will mildly so, what did not change was the succession of inheritance. The State took the house by Imminent Domain; by law they had to pay market value for the property. Of course, their lawyers did their best to lower the value, but because it held a historically significant designation, significant funds are being held in trust for you until you reach the age of twenty-one.”
“But you said Uncle Henley’s house.”
“Yes, yes I did. Your uncle …” He stopped and looked somewhat uncomfortable. “Henley was the primary beneficiary of your father’s will which was written … Child it was written prior to your birth. It specifically listed your mother (who died intestate), your siblings, and your uncle but your name was not specifically mentioned. There was also the issue of the business Henley and your father co-owned. There were assets and funds that were … hmmm …”
Trying to be objective and not get butthurt about everything I asked, “Are you trying to say that my uncle somehow withheld funds from me?”
“No … and yes. I understood why Henley took the path he did but as a lawyer I … did not approve.” He paused again then explained. “Your uncle was your father’s executor. It was expected that he would continue the business and that your family would continue to receive a percentage of the income equal to the share of the business your father owned and at his passing would transfer into your mother’s name. Henley was bereaved and grieving and in some shock. When the government took you out of his custody, they also tried to lay claim to your inheritance. Henley … in a fit of temper … let the will stand as it was written rather than to your father’s intent. As long as I’ve known him he has said his plan was to put the funds in trust for you … but there always seemed some reason why he didn’t, including that the State would more than likely find out about the money and attach it in some way and he was adamantly intent that that would never happen.”
My brain was upside down inside my skull, or so it felt. “Okay. And?”
“During the dispute of your grandmother’s will Henley got into a financial bind. He’d put a lot of his own money into the upkeep and repair of your grandmother’s home. The porch had collapsed and that ate up most of his remaining liquidity, not to mention the cost of cross claims and filings … which I was not part of so you can get that look off your face young lady. Henley didn’t turn to me until after he’d made the decision to take your inheritance and sink it into a house outside of the State’s planned expansion of the drainage area. Unfortunately, just last month to be exact – the State once again expanded their plans, this time with federal assistance, and the new house is in that zone. The State has already taken the property and the Judge made the decision to pour that sum into the same trust.”
“The one that is basically out of my reach until I reach twenty-one.”
“Yes. And before you ask, there are no exceptions to this. The only thing I can say is that the funds are insured and in cash, not in an investment account. You don’t have to worry that you will lose the principle, but there is also no chance that the income will increase beyond the percentage of interest required by law.”
I was getting topped off but I had one more question. “How much does it cost to keep the storage locker? And, is there any expense to me on the trust?”
We discussed the latter and I only sorta kinda understand it and then went to my first question. He said that the next payment was due in just a few days and it was an automatic deduction from the bank account. If I did nothing I could keep the storage locker until summer before the bank account went to zero, and it went into arears. I have some figuring to do.
My hour was up and it was time for me to go meet Sarge at the Bayou Cabins. Mr. Dub said I might call on him as needed but I can’t afford his billing. After reading the papers real carefully I found that he wasn’t exactly sparing on what he charged to Uncle Henley’s estate.