“We all know what happens to messengers.” Lucy took a quick swallow of the wine to fortify herself. “I told the boss that she was going to be trouble.”
“Looks like you were right,” Hannah said.
“I admit I hoped I would be safely out of town before she figured out that I was the one responsible for her financial disaster,” Lucy said.
She was not looking forward to going back to Summer River in the morning, but at that moment—given the option—she would have preferred to be there rather than where she was, trapped in the booth with nowhere to run. At least she was not alone, she thought. Hannah and Ella were her best friends. They would not abandon her.
Hannah studied Alicia with a considering expression. “I wonder how she found out that you were the researcher who discovered that the dear departed had a second family in Canada?”
“Who knows?” Lucy said. “I suppose someone at the office let it slip. It’s not like what we do at Brookhouse is top secret.”
“The GW probably batted those false eyelashes at one of the male investigators on the staff who immediately fell all over himself telling her everything she wanted to know,” Ella said.
“A distinct possibility,” Lucy agreed.
She was the one who had nicknamed the second Mrs. Gatley the Grieving Widow. It had been a tribute to Alicia’s obvious acting talents. The name had stuck. Now everyone in the forensic genealogy department of Brookhouse referred to Alicia as the GW.
Alicia was closing in rapidly. Her carefully made-up face was splotchy with rage. The rapid-fire snap-snap-snap of her towering heels on the wood floor was so sharp Lucy was amazed there were no sparks.
“Brace yourselves,” she said. “Remember, we are professionals.”
“Does that mean we can’t take her down when she starts calling you names and flinging wine in your face?” Hannah asked. “Just curious.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what it means,” Lucy said. “We represent Brookhouse Research. Our behavior reflects on the firm.”
“Sure, take all the fun out of the evening,” Ella said.
“It won’t be that bad,” Lucy said. “She’s pissed, so she may call me a few names, but she won’t fling wine in my face. It would ruin that cool Grace Kelly thing she’s got going on.”
“Got news for you,” Ella said. She did not take her eyes off the GW. “She’s no longer channeling Grace Kelly. Looks more like the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Before she gets here, I’d like to place a small side bet. I’ve got five bucks says she’s so mad she’s going to try to bitch-slap Lucy.”
“I say she’ll go for the wine toss,” Hannah said. “It’s got more drama.”
“You’re on,” Ella said.
“Stop it, both of you,” Lucy said. “She’s not going to make a fool of herself in front of all these people.”
Alicia arrived at the booth and pinned Lucy with a demonic glare.
“It’s your fault that everything went wrong,” she raged. “You had no right to interfere with my life, you damn bitch. Who do you think you are?”
“I was just doing my job, Mrs. Gatley,” Lucy said. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Brookhouse Research was hired by the attorneys handling your husband’s estate. The trust provided for his children.”
“Bernie never told me about any children. I’m positive he didn’t have any. You tracked down some deadbeats up in Canada and bribed them to pretend they were Bernie’s long-lost offspring. Admit it.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Gatley. Bernard Gatley had three children, two daughters and a son, by another woman. They are the primary heirs to the estate.”
“If those so-called heirs do exist, which I doubt very much, they are illegitimate.”
“The law makes no distinction,” Lucy said patiently. “A man’s children are his offspring regardless of whether or not he was married to their mother. But in this case that is not even an issue, because Mr. Gatley was actually married to the mother of his three heirs, who are now adults with children of their own.”
“You can’t prove it,” Alicia said, her voice very tight.
“That’s just it, Mrs. Gatley, Brookhouse Research did provide extensive proof that your husband’s offspring have every right to a portion of their father’s estate.”
“A portion?” Alicia’s voice went up a notch, hitting the shrill threshold. “They’re getting the best properties and all of the stocks and bonds.”
“You heard the estate lawyers and the judge. Mr. Gatley’s other family has every right to their share of the estate.”
Ella smiled benignly. “It’s not as if you didn’t get a very nice chunk of change yourself.”
Alicia turned on her. “I’m only getting a fraction of what I was supposed to receive. Bernie promised me that everything would come to me. Why in hell do you think I married him?”
There was a short, fraught pause. Lucy became aware of the hushed silence that had settled in the bar.
“I really don’t think you want to discuss such personal matters in here,” she said very softly.
“Don’t you dare tell me to shut up, bitch,” Alicia screeched. “If Bernie really did have kids, why didn’t they show up at the funeral?”
“The three people I found in Canada were small children when their parents split up,” Lucy explained. “They lost track of their father years ago. The reality is that he walked away from the family at some point and never looked back. They believed that he was dead.”
“Which he is now,” Ella pointed out cheerfully.
“I sacrificed two years of my life by marrying that old geezer. And what do I get? A measly few thousand dollars. And it’s all your fault.”
Evidently having noticed that Lucy, Ella and Hannah all had tight, secure grips on the stems of their wineglasses, Alicia spun around. She swept up a full beer glass from a nearby table and hurled the contents straight at Lucy’s face.
Before anyone could react, Alicia stormed back through the herd of fascinated happy-hour patrons, slammed open the glass doors and disappeared out into the late-afternoon sunshine.
Lucy sighed and picked up one of the three small cocktail napkins on the table. She used it to wipe some of the beer off her face. Ella and Hannah offered their own napkins.
The man whose beer glass had been commandeered for the drama gave Lucy an apologetic look.