Read Muller, Marcia - [11] Trophies and Dead Things(v1.0)(html) for Free Online Page A

knew what he had to do to them
to make them usable. I'd recently started—and quickly stopped—reading
an article in a magazine in the dentist's office about a Texas woman
who created what she termed "road kill art"; the point at which I'd set
it aside was where she described the odor in the cave where she left
her "art supplies" so flesh-eating beetles could clean them. Rather
than commenting on Grant's hobby, I sat and busied myself with the file
I'd taken from my briefcase. "Mr. Grant—" I began.
    "Please—Tom."
    "Tom. Does the name Perry
Hilderly mean anything to you?"
    I thought I glimpsed a flash of
recognition in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly that I might have
imagined it. He considered briefly, then shook his head. "I can't say
as it does. Angela—Ms.Curtis—mentioned something about a bequest. Is
this Hilderman—"
    "Hilderly."
    "Is he the testator?"
    "Yes."
    "Why did he make a bequest to me?"
    "I don't know precisely that he
did. Hilderly named a Thomas Y. Grant in his will, without indicating
what the relationship was. In a note to his attorney, he said that
he—the attorney, Hank Zahn—would know how to reach Grant. You are the
only Thomas Y. Grant that Mr. Zahn knows of."
    Grant's expression became
puzzled. "I know Hank Zahn by reputation. I'm surprised he would draw
up a will without first ascertaining the
client's relationship to his beneficiary."
    "He didn't draw up this
particular one. It was a holograph superseding an earlier will, written
three weeks before Hilderly died."
    "When and how was that? His
death, I mean."
    "Last week, in a random shooting
on Geary Boulevard."
    "One of those snipings? I
remember seeing on TV that there had been another, but none of the
details." Grant closed his eyes, as if trying to call forth the news
story. When he opened them again, their expression was one of
bewilderment. "Ms. . . . may I call you Sharon?"
    I nodded.
    "Sharon, I'll be damned if I know
what this is all about."
    "Is it possible that Hilderly was
once a client of yours?"
    "I have a good memory for my
clients. He wasn't."
    "Could you have employed him as
an accountant at some time?"
    "Is that what he was? No, I've
always used the same man at the same Big Eight firm."
    "Where are you originally from,
Tom?"
    "Durango, Colorado."
    "And you attended college and law
school at . . . ?"
    "Undergraduate at Boulder, law at
Illinois."
    "Have you spent much time in
Berkeley?"
    "I don't believe I've been there
more than a dozen times in my life. Is that where Hilderly came from?"
    "He attended the university until
he was expelled for activities relating to the Free Speech Movement."
    "I'm afraid I don't know much
about that, other than what I read in the papers a long time ago."
    I watched him for a moment. While
his eyes seemed candid and his manner was relaxed, I sensed an
undercurrent of falsehood in the man. After a bit I asked, "What about
the name Libby Heikkinen? Is that familiar to you?"
    He shook his head—too quickly, I
thought.
 
    "Jess Goodhue? David Arlen
Taylor?"
    "Neither. Who are these people?"
    "The other beneficiaries. Are you
sure none of their names rings a bell?"
    "Goodhue sounds vaguely familiar."
    "She's an anchorwoman with
KSTS-TV."
    "Right. I think she interviewed
me once."
    The sense of falsehood still
nudged me. I said, "Aren't you interested in the value of your share of
Hilderly's estate?"
    "I'm more interested in why he
named me in his will. But, yes, how large is it?"
    "Your share would come to around
a quarter of a million dollars—should you be able to prove you are the
Thomas Y. Grant that Hilderly intended the money to go to."
    Grant's gaze strayed to a window
that overlooked another bricked courtyard, and to the eucalyptus groves
of the Presidio beyond its wall. He was silent for a long moment, then
looked back at me and said, "I'm afraid I can't do that. And frankly,
while it's a good deal of money, I don't really need it. I understand
the difficult position this places