Monday, January 9, 2006

Midnight Murder

I close my eyes with thrill as Jack flies down the highway. We must be going at least 100 mph! I want to let out a scream of joy. I hold back because we’re slowing down. Suddenly, we’ve stopped and I open my eyes. We’re at the corner where the police station is. Jack turns left and parks in his reserved spot. He uses the in-car radio and calls the car in.

I jump out of the car, still full of adrenaline from the car ride over. Jack looks at me as if I’ve lost it. I run towards the doors that are propped open to catch the light spring breeze. Jack stops me. “The boss told me to take you to interview room one. He seems to be really anticipating your statement.” We both walk through the doors into the station. Jack points down the first hallway to the left. “Over there,” he says, “You can’t miss it. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

I walk down the hallway to the very end. There’s a door with a big sign that says “I1” on it. I assume the “I” stands for “interview” and turn the knob an walk into the room. It’s rather small and has two large windows and a larger mirror. A tinny speaker overhead commands me to sit at the table in an unknown voice. I yield to the instructions and pick up one of the magazines that had been left on the table. A little while later, a rather large man and a nice, trim woman enter through the door next to the mirror. They converse for a while by the mirror, and then the lady pulls a chair away from the table and sits in the only free corner of the room. She takes out and starts up her laptop computer. The man takes a seat in the chair opposite me.

“So, Jeff, from what I hear, that your parents are dead and you woke up in the corner of their room. What more can you tell me?” he asks as he adjusts his blue-black-grey striped tie a little.

I stare blankly. “I can’t tell you anything more.” He gives me a strange look. “I don’t know any more than that!” His expression relaxes as he asks me if I want a soda pop. I politely refuse. I can feel a shift in the atmosphere of the room.

Man: “So… Did your parents have any enemies? Any close friends?”
Me: “Not that I know of. We were pretty quiet people.”
Man: (nods) “Okay, okay. And how was your relationship with your parents?”
Me: “Alright, I guess. We had our times, but I don’t hate them or anything.”
Man: (whispers something to self) “Do you have anything else you want to say about this while I’m here?”
Me: “Nope”
Man: (hands me a business card) “You can call me or stop by if anything comes to mind or if you remember something.”

The man leaves the room and the woman walks over to the table. She has a certain grace about how she moves. She places the computer on the table and does something on it. She turns her focus to me.

“Hello, Jeff. Do you know who I am?” I give her a scrutinizing glance and reply, “No, but you’re pretty!” She smiles and laughs. “I’m Amanda. I’m your parents’ lawyer. I’m supposed to read their wills and wishes to you.” I lose a little of the energy that was in me before. “May I start?” she asks. I look at her and nod.

“The last will and wishes of your father read this:

“‘Should I die in an untimely manner, I wish that all assets be sold at the discretion of any and all survivors. Money should be used for daily life and/or charitable donation.

“‘I wish to be buried next to my wife’s choice of location; should that not be made, I wish to be buried next to my wife, wherever it may be that she is buried.

Amanda clears her throat. “Now, your moms will is almost exactly the same. The only difference is that she used ‘husband’ in place of ‘wife’. One more concern we need to cover is housing. Do you have any relatives at all?”

I shake my head. “Nope. They’ve all passed away. It was just my mom, my dad, and me.” She puts a look of sadness on her face. “I don’t want to have to do this, but you may have to go into foster care.” I sit there for a while thinking. “Okay.”

Amanda gets up and pulls a sheet of paper out of the printer in the corner of the room. She scribbles some notes on it, sits down, and hands me the sheet.

“I know this seems like a lot to ask, but here is a complete list of your parents assets. We need you to mark their future. T for trash, D for donate, K for keep, S for sell. Then we’ll need you to sign and date. Okay?” I nod. “Can I get you something? Anything at all?” I reply, “Breakfast and a change of clothes might be nice.”

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