don’t know, I’ll make something
up,” Roy said.
Steven directed Roy through a
series of turns until they stopped at a small house in a run down area. Most of
the houses were poorly tended, with unmowed lawns and patches of weeds. Amy’s
house was the cleanest on the block; you could tell the yard was attended, and
although the house was modest it looked cared-for.
“Here goes,” Roy said, stopping
the car on the street in front of the house. Steven removed the tin box from
the trunk and they walked to the door. Roy knocked.
A short woman in her mid-thirties
answered the door. She was wearing the uniform of a fast food chain. She looked
tired.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Mrs. Amy Maysill?” Roy said.
She looked suspicious. “Yes,
that’s me.”
“I’m Ben Yates and this is—” he
motioned to Steven “—Henny Youngman, and we’re from the law offices of your
family estate. We’re acting on behalf of the will of Robert Maysill, an
ancestor of yours. We have an item here that you’ve inherited.”
He really is good at this ,
Steven thought.
She squinted her eyes. “Inherited?”
“Yes,” Roy said. “If we could come
in, we’ll transfer this to you. I think you’ll be impressed with it.”
“Are you selling something?” she
said. “I have no time or money. If you pull a toaster out of that box I’ll just
wind up asking you to leave.”
“No toaster,” said Steven. “We’re
just delivering this. It’s all yours, no sales, no strings.”
She squinted her eyes further and
seemed to be thinking it over. “All right, I’ll let you in, but I’ve just
finished a long shift and I’m tired, so please don’t start in on a sales pitch
or I’m going to kick you right out.”
She opened the door and they
walked inside. The living room was small but tidy. All of the furniture was dated
but functional. There was a television in the corner; it was an older tube model.
Steven and Roy sat on the sofa. They could feel the springs underneath the
cushions.
“Thanks for letting us in,” Roy
said. Amy sat on a wooden chair across from them.
“So what’s this about?” she asked.
“Well,” started Roy, “recently the
will of an ancestor of yours was discovered. It directed that certain items
that had been undiscovered until just recently be given to his descendants. We
researched and found you to be one of those descendants. This is your share of
the items bequeathed to you. You are a descendant of Robert Maysill, correct?”
“Yes, I am,” Amy said, “but his
family died poor. Except for the house he built and the money he spent on a
family crypt before he died, they had no money to pass on.”
“That’s what everyone thought,”
Roy said, “until this was discovered.” Steven opened the box, reached in, and
held up one of the baggies.
“Dirt?” she asked.
“Not dirt,” Steven said. “Look
closer. Here.” He passed the baggie to her. It was heavier than she expected,
and it fell out of her hands and to the floor. Both Steven and Roy sucked in
air.
It didn’t open; the seal on the
baggie held. She reached down and picked it back up.
“It sure is heavy,” Amy said.
“What is it?”
“Gold,” Roy said. “There are three
more bags in this box. They’re yours.”
She passed the bag from one hand
to the other, thinking about what they had said. Then she handed the bag back
to Steven.
“Is this the part where you ask me
to write a check as a good faith deposit on the gold?”
Roy chuckled. “No, we’re not
asking you for anything. We’re going to leave this with you, free and clear.
It’s yours to keep, do with as you wish. The only condition of the will was
that it not be talked about publicly. I think your ancestor wanted it spent discreetly.”
Amy sat stunned and silent. After
a moment she spoke. “You’re telling me that you’re just giving me four bags of
gold? You don’t want anything?”
“That’s correct,” Roy said. “We
don’t want anything.
up,” Roy said.
Steven directed Roy through a
series of turns until they stopped at a small house in a run down area. Most of
the houses were poorly tended, with unmowed lawns and patches of weeds. Amy’s
house was the cleanest on the block; you could tell the yard was attended, and
although the house was modest it looked cared-for.
“Here goes,” Roy said, stopping
the car on the street in front of the house. Steven removed the tin box from
the trunk and they walked to the door. Roy knocked.
A short woman in her mid-thirties
answered the door. She was wearing the uniform of a fast food chain. She looked
tired.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Mrs. Amy Maysill?” Roy said.
She looked suspicious. “Yes,
that’s me.”
“I’m Ben Yates and this is—” he
motioned to Steven “—Henny Youngman, and we’re from the law offices of your
family estate. We’re acting on behalf of the will of Robert Maysill, an
ancestor of yours. We have an item here that you’ve inherited.”
He really is good at this ,
Steven thought.
She squinted her eyes. “Inherited?”
“Yes,” Roy said. “If we could come
in, we’ll transfer this to you. I think you’ll be impressed with it.”
“Are you selling something?” she
said. “I have no time or money. If you pull a toaster out of that box I’ll just
wind up asking you to leave.”
“No toaster,” said Steven. “We’re
just delivering this. It’s all yours, no sales, no strings.”
She squinted her eyes further and
seemed to be thinking it over. “All right, I’ll let you in, but I’ve just
finished a long shift and I’m tired, so please don’t start in on a sales pitch
or I’m going to kick you right out.”
She opened the door and they
walked inside. The living room was small but tidy. All of the furniture was dated
but functional. There was a television in the corner; it was an older tube model.
Steven and Roy sat on the sofa. They could feel the springs underneath the
cushions.
“Thanks for letting us in,” Roy
said. Amy sat on a wooden chair across from them.
“So what’s this about?” she asked.
“Well,” started Roy, “recently the
will of an ancestor of yours was discovered. It directed that certain items
that had been undiscovered until just recently be given to his descendants. We
researched and found you to be one of those descendants. This is your share of
the items bequeathed to you. You are a descendant of Robert Maysill, correct?”
“Yes, I am,” Amy said, “but his
family died poor. Except for the house he built and the money he spent on a
family crypt before he died, they had no money to pass on.”
“That’s what everyone thought,”
Roy said, “until this was discovered.” Steven opened the box, reached in, and
held up one of the baggies.
“Dirt?” she asked.
“Not dirt,” Steven said. “Look
closer. Here.” He passed the baggie to her. It was heavier than she expected,
and it fell out of her hands and to the floor. Both Steven and Roy sucked in
air.
It didn’t open; the seal on the
baggie held. She reached down and picked it back up.
“It sure is heavy,” Amy said.
“What is it?”
“Gold,” Roy said. “There are three
more bags in this box. They’re yours.”
She passed the bag from one hand
to the other, thinking about what they had said. Then she handed the bag back
to Steven.
“Is this the part where you ask me
to write a check as a good faith deposit on the gold?”
Roy chuckled. “No, we’re not
asking you for anything. We’re going to leave this with you, free and clear.
It’s yours to keep, do with as you wish. The only condition of the will was
that it not be talked about publicly. I think your ancestor wanted it spent discreetly.”
Amy sat stunned and silent. After
a moment she spoke. “You’re telling me that you’re just giving me four bags of
gold? You don’t want anything?”
“That’s correct,” Roy said. “We
don’t want anything.
Similar Books
