Chapter 22 #2
“My husband saw himself in Brett,” Glenda said, as she wiped at an eye. “He was such a lovely boy.”
The words were strangely comforting, largely because I trusted Mr. and Mrs. Finch’s judgment of people zero percent. I could see the two of them thinking Brett hung the moon; I could see them pouring time and energy into him, especially if they thought they would get publicity or fame in return.
Glenda turned her focus back to her primary concern—that of her own well-being. “What about the stocks I purchased? Or the paintings I collected?”
“Those purchases were made with Mr. Finch’s family money, and everything goes to Savilla—” Here, Mr. Froble shook his head once as if he didn’t quite believe the piece of paper in front of him either.
“And Dakota Green.” He blinked at Glenda as if he wasn’t shattering her world, finishing feebly, “But the crown technically belongs to you and your sister.”
“And we get to share it,” Glenda said with a smirk. “Just like we shared everything else.”
“But he wrote his will in 2001, the year I won…” Katie protested.
“The year we won,” Glenda corrected, shooting her sister a look that said too much time in the same penitentiary might not have been good for their relationship.
The reminder was said casually even though it was actually a piece of the mystery I’d solved last summer.
Katie Gilman had originally won the Miss 2001 crown, but then fled at Mr. Finch’s threats, passing on the title and perks to the runner-up, which happened to be her sister, Glenda Gilman.
Within the year, she was Glenda Finch, the first phase of her revenge plot against her husband.
“I saw him sign the will more than twenty years ago,” Glenda added. “I was here, in this room with him. Why would he cut me out after all our years together?”
The unanswered question lingered in the stale air of the law office, and I didn’t feel like it was the right time to suggest that perhaps Mr. Finch had sensed his wife’s murderous plans.
“He told me I would be provided for,” Glenda said in a low voice that was almost pitiful enough to elicit sympathy, if I didn’t remember his empty eye socket or the trickle of his blood running in a tunnel under the estate.
“You know I’ll take care of both of you when you’re…” Savilla’s hands fluttered as if she were trying to bring the temperature of the room down several degrees.
I knew that Savilla had planned to finish the statement with when you’re out of prison, but after conspiring to murder Mr. Frederick Finch for his money—and a smidge of revenge—it was unlikely that the two women would be awarded early parole for good behavior, which meant both had years behind bars in store for them.
“I don’t want you to take care of me,” Glenda replied brusquely. “I want what is owed to me for putting up with that man for more than two decades. I gave him his medicine, I listened to him snore, I had sex with him—”
Katie cut in, “I bore his child.”
“He’s a monster,” Glenda finished, which I thought pretty ironic, considering who’d killed whom. “And the crown, it can’t be worth any more than… what? A hundred grand?”
Mr. Froble consulted his notes. “A hundred and twenty.”
That’s a lot of ramen and socks from the prison commissary.
Even though I kept from saying these words out loud, Glenda scowled at me. “You and your mother were nothing to Fred.”
I couldn’t help myself. I laughed out loud. She thought this was an insult?
“Ladies,” Mr. Froble said, putting out one shaking hand.
“Let us remain dignified. The proper documentation can be submitted to the court if it comes to that, though it is clear that the man himself had no such qualms when he updated his will. Rest assured that Mr. Finch was in his right mind when he made these changes.”
Glenda was not assured by this fact, but I wouldn’t let myself be pulled into her narcissistic tantrum. Katie kept her eyes averted from me, so I had no idea how she was taking the news.
“I just don’t understand…” Glenda pouted. “What kind of man changes his entire will because of… a bastard child?”
Savilla inhaled sharply. “That’s enough.” She stood and stepped forward as the guard watched her closely. “Perhaps it is a surprise, but, as I said, I swear I’ll take care of both of you. I’ve already hired the best lawyers who are working night and day to get your sentence punctuated.”
“Mitigated, dear,” Katie corrected.
Savilla didn’t miss a beat as she took a knee in front of her mother and aunt. “I swear to do my best to keep us afloat.”
“Your best isn’t going to be good enough,” Glenda scoffed, throwing off Savilla’s hand and standing, her arms flailing.
As soon as she was on her feet, the guard was on them, gripping Glenda in a kind of manual straight-jacket as he called for the officer standing watch outside the door.
In seconds, the other guard had Katie’s arms behind her back, and the men were leading the women, one sister screaming and belligerent and the other resigned and sorrowful, out the door and into the waiting police car.
Mr. Froble, Savilla, and I watched it all unfold in stunned silence, my mind circling Brett’s inclusion in the will as the room emptied. It didn’t make sense why Mr. Finch would’ve left him a dime, much less a diamond worth many millions.
The mystery of this man and his death was getting muddier than a pigpen, as Momma would say.