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Cruikshank tried to fire her and have her removed from the property, claiming it was his right to fire and hire anyone he wanted. He lost. And so on. And so on.”
    Wilf had been turning the papers over, trying to keep up.
    “When I first started working here,” Carole said, “I had to go through all the active client files and more or less memorize them. Dorothy Dale made me.”
    Wilf picked up a sealed envelope.
    “What’s that?” Carole asked.
    “It says ‘Last Will and Testament, Samuel Marshall Cruikshank.’”
    Carole snatched the envelope away. “I didn’t put that in there.”
    “Maybe my father did.” Wilf took it back. “It’s his handwriting.”
    “Well anyway, it’s sealed. You can’t open it.” Carole made another grab but she was too late. Wilf was tearing it open with his teeth.
    Carole retreated to her desk. She could see herself being firmly escorted out the front door by Clarence McLauchlin at nine o’clock the following Monday morning. It would give the town something else to talk about. She was becoming a regular freak show.
    She glanced back at Wilf. He had pinned the envelope under his sling and was drawing out a handwritten sheet of paper. He unfolded and studied it for a moment.
    Carole looked up at the clock. Five minutes to go.
    “Who’s Adrienne O’Dell?” Wilf said.
    “Why?”
    “Mr. Cruikshank left everything he owned to an Adrienne O’Dell.”
    “That can’t be right.” Carole got up from her desk and with a surprising display of speed crossed over to Wilf and snatched up the will again.
    “Is that Cruikshank’s handwriting?”
    Carole was too busy reading to answer.
    “We’ve got enough samples of his signature in these files anyway. And a couple of handwritten notes from him to Dad. We should be able to tell.”
    “This doesn’t make any sense.” Carole was staring at the will as if it had gone out of its way to personally offend her.
    “Why doesn’t it make any sense?”
    “How would he even know Adrienne O’Dell, let alone leave everything to her? She’s just, she’s one of those O’Dells!” In sympathetic shock, a soft lock of her hair came loose and fell slowly over her one eye.
    “The O’Dells are not ringing a bell.”
    “Half of them are drunks. Half of them have a new baby every year!”
    “Oh, right. Those O’Dells.” Wilf had a vague memory of being very young and watching a hopelessly drunk man stop to hug each hydro pole as he made his weary way along the street.
    “Adrienne was a grade behind me. Actually she was the only one who ever made it to high school. She tried really hard.”
    “Where is she now?”
    “But that’s why it’s so strange. She works in a dress shop. How could old Mr. Cruikshank know her?”
    “What dress shop?”
    “It’s just down the street.”
    “Do you think she’d be there now?”
    Carole could feel her face heating up. She tried to speak firmly. “You can’t tell her about this will. There’s been some mistake. You’ll have to wait until your father arrives back home.”
    Wilf got up on his feet. He began to button his overcoat “What side is it on?”
    “What?”
    “The dress shop.”
    Carole put the will back in its envelope. She put the envelope back in its file and carried all three files back to the filing cabinet. She put the files back where they belonged and slammed the cabinet shut.
    “I’m not going to tell her about the will.” Wilf was pushing his way through the gate.
    “What are you going to do then?”
    “I just want to have a look at her.”
    “You think someone drowned Mr. Cruikshank in his bathtub, and now you want to meet the sole heir of his complete estate just to have a look at her. I could be fired, you know?”
    Wilf looked back at Carole, at her tall willowy figure standing tensely on the other side of the little wooden fence. For some reason she looked very attractive. “I’ll be careful. She won’t suspect a thing.”
    Carole made a face. She brushed