chuckled. âYou bet I will, baby.â And he did, even though he took the last few stairs on all fours. âSo which one is the bedroom?â he asked between deep breaths.
âThatâs another adventure, loverboy. Next floor.â
âStuff that. There must be a sofa right here.â
Tanya shook her head and pointed her finger at the ceiling.
After some hesitation Edward seemed to accept that this had to be on Tanyaâs terms. âWhich way, then?â
âThe spiral staircase at the end of the corridor.â
Gamely, he stepped towards it and hauled himself to the top. âMakes you kind of dizzy.â
âThatâs not the fault of the staircase.â She pushed open a door. âIn here, buster.â
Robertâs bedroom matched the size of the back room downstairs. It overlooked the yard at the rear of the property so it was built over the same foundations. The king-size bed was constructed of oak, with headboard and footboard graciously curved and upholstered in a French empire style. All the furniture matched and there was plenty of it, dressing table, ward-robes, chests of drawers and easy chairs, but no sense of crowding. More books lined the facing wall and there was a fifty-inch plasma TV as well as a sound system with chest-high speakers. There was an open door to an en suite shower room. A second door connected to a fire escape.
âThisâll do,â Edward said, stepping towards Tanya.
She moved aside. âNot so fast.â
âCâmon, I showed you my secret.â He patted the bed.
âFair enough. Hereâs mine.â She crossed to the dressing-table, swung the mirror right over and revealed a manila envelope fastened to the back. âItâs ridiculous. I checked the mirror a week ago, and nothing was there. This morning I found this. Robertâs will.â
âYeah?â he said, his thoughts elsewhere.
âYouâd better listen up, because it names you.â She slipped the document from the envelope and started to read.ââThis is the last will and testament of Robert Ripple, of Precious Finds Bookshop, Main Street, Poketown, Pennsylvania, being of sound mind and revoking all other wills and codicils. I wish to appoint as co-executors my good friends George Digby-Smith and Edward Myers.â Thatâs you. Unfortunately as an executor youâre not allowed to profit from the estate.â
âNo problem,â Edward said. âNow why donât you put that down so we can give this bed a workout?â
âListen to this part: âI leave my house and shop in trust to become the sole property of my devoted assistant manager, Tanya Tripp, on condition that she continues to trade as a bookseller on the premises for ten years from the date of my decease.â Nice try.â
âDonât ya like it?â Edward said, frowning.
âIt stinks. This wasnât drafted by Robert. Itâs a fake. I know why you wanted his credit cards the other day and why in the end you walked off with that old receipt book. So you could fake his signature. Well, itâs a passable signature, Iâll give you that, but you forgot something. A will needs to be witnessed. There are no witnesses here.â
âNo witnesses, huh?â He raised his right hand in a semi-official pose and intoned in a more-or-less coherent manner, âThe state of Pennsylvania doesnât require witnesses to a will. Youâre in the clear, sweetheart. Itâs all yours, the house and the shop. Just be grateful someone thought of you.â
âThought of me ? You were only thinking of yourselves, keeping up the old arrangement, taking your stolen pounds from the safe and spending them in England. Iâm supposed to give up ten years of my life to keep this smelly old heap of wood and plaster going just to make life dandy for you guys. Well, forget it. I donât buy it.â She held the will high and