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“Sure, so we know she really did think she was in danger of being murdered. So why are you examining the painting?”

  “Look very closely at the edges. The frame is not metal, as it appears. It is soft wood, painted a metallic color. You will notice that the wooden edges are scratched, finely bent, or chipped in some places, I would surmise freshly. This leads me to believe that someone has tried to move this painting recently, perhaps failed, and placed it back.”

  Alders inspected the frame where Felix had indicated, then stood.

  “I don’t know, Felix. What does that have to do with the murder?”

  He gave Alders a grim smile. “This could be a house of crime, Sam, but for the moment I am going to observe everything and take it all as important. What’s more, if Agatha was right about someone trying to steal her possessions, then all the more reason to think she was right about her own murder.”

  Though he nodded in agreement, Alders frowned at the painting.

  “Why would anyone want to steal this portrait, though? It’s huge, and it must be nearly impossible to steal. I’m not an art critic, but I doubt it’s worth much money, unless it’s painted by some master I don’t know about.”

  Felix shrugged. “‘Not for any intrinsic value the thing possesses, but as a token of my sincere regard and friendship for you, and as a remembrance of me, I pray you to accept this wine cooler.’”

  Alders stared at him.

  “I was quoting George Washington. As a token of his appreciation, George Washington once sent Alexander Hamilton a wine cooler. The wine cooler, was, as Washington said, not particularly remarkable, but it nevertheless carried great value to Hamilton. Additionally, because Washington had sent it, it eventually became very valuable - it sold for a quarter of a million dollars.”

  “I assume a wine cooler was something a little different in the days of George Washington. So, what are you trying to say?”

  “I’m trying to say that this painting of Bellinger may have some value, sentimental or otherwise, that is not obvious from its appearance.”

  Alders looked at the portrait again and shrugged. “I’ve got to say Felix, I really don’t think I’ve ever seen this side of you before, except maybe during the Kettering case when we were investigating that gold. Is history really a hobby for you?”

  “I would not call it a hobby. More a study that was forced upon me in my younger years.”

  “Oh? And why was that?”

  “Another time,” Felix said, waving him aside. “For the moment, let’s focus our attention on this.” He produced the small scrap of paper they had found on the chess table.

  “What about it should we focus on? It’s a scrap of paper we found on a chess table with a chess strategy written on it. It’s got nothing to do with the case.”

  “Maybe. But why would Agatha - if she truly was dying - go to all the trouble to write an obscure strategy on a piece of paper and place it on a chess set she is not using? I think this piece of paper was intended for us. Agatha made a deduction about her murder after she wrote to us, and she intended to communicate something about her murder in this message.”

  “It’s a bit of a leap.”

  “Perhaps. But do you remember the details Stephanie gave, of how Agatha withered away? I think Agatha was trying to say that her murder was like defeat in detail. Death in Detail.”

  Chapter 4

  Before Alders could respond to Felix’s supposition, a short, balding man appeared at the far end of the hallway.

  “Excuse me,” the balding man said. “Are you Felix Green?”

  “I am,” Felix said. “May I ask who you are?”

  “I’m John Dewey, lawyer for the recently deceased Ms. Agatha Bellinger. I must say, Mr. Green, I didn’t expect my letter to reach you so quickly.”

  “Letter?” repeated Felix. “I’ve got a letter here from your client, but not from you.”

  “Ah, then it’s good luck that you’re here. I wrote to you today, Mr. Green, to tell you that a provision regarding you has been made in Ms. Bellinger’s will. She very specifically requested that her will be read as soon after her death as possible, and I thought it best that you be here. The family has already congregated in the drawing room to hear the reading.”

  “This is my associate, Mr. Sam Alders.” Felix said, gesturing to Alders. “Is it alright if he comes with me?”

  “Yes, yes, that should be fine. Hurry now, it would be best not to keep everyone waiting.”

  Alders and Felix followed the balding man down the hallway in the opposite direction from the living room, passing archaic looking lamp-fixtures and wall paneling until Dewey stopped. He ushered them into a large room with dull-colored sofas and wooden benches and several large tables. Six people were scattered around the room. Standing uncertainly by the doorway was Stephanie, who started in surprise when Felix and Alders entered the room. Sitting on the far bench, a red-haired man and a black-haired man chatted animatedly. There was a certain resemblance between them despite their differing hair colors. Neither seemed to notice Alders and Felix’s approach. Seated at the central table were two women, one with dark hair like Stephanie’s and a gaudy neon-green scarf, and the other a middle-aged woman with bleach blonde hair. A man with dark brown hair leaned against the table nearby. All three stopped talking abruptly when Dewey sat down next to them.

  “Now that we are all here, we can begin,” Dewey announced.

  “Hold on,” said the red-haired man. “Who are they?” he seemed to have noticed Alders and Felix for the first time.

  “That will all be made clear in just a moment, Henry,” Dewey said politely. “Now, it was your Aunt’s wish that her will be read as quickly as possible following her death, so we should not delay any longer.” He opened an official-looking folder on his table and drew out a document. “The actual document being quite long, I will summarize it. You may or may not have known that shortly before her death, your Aunt Agatha summoned me with the intention of making a new will.”

  The tension immediately escalated in the room. Stephanie’s eyes went wide and Diane sat up straight, staring at Dewey.

  “The basic provisions of the will remain the same,” he advised them. “The distribution of the estate is to be unchanged.”

  As quickly as it had come, the tension seemed to vanish. Gloria slumped a little in her chair, clutching her heart, while Jasper wiped his forehead.

  “It reads,” Dewey continued, as if nothing had happened. “That her estate is to be divided evenly between all living children of her sister, Martha - this would be you, Ms. Stephanie Reims - all living children of her brother, Virgil, these would be you, Henry, Jasper, Chester, and Diane Bellinger - and all living children of her old friend Colonel James Crownover - this would be you, Ms. Gloria Crownover. She provides that a number of the items in the house and the house itself are not to be liquidated; this list is rather extensive, but I have it here if you wish to see it.” He passed it to Chester, who glanced at it with vague interest before handing it to his sister.

  “Thus far, the provisions of the will remain unchanged. However, on the occasion of my most recent visit, Ms. Bellinger added several clauses to her will, some of which are very irregular, but nevertheless quite valid. First, she is on no account to be cremated or her body otherwise intentionally destroyed. Second, she has stipulated that, on her death, I, as executor of her estate, was to contact a certain Mr. Felix Green, private investigator. This is Mr. Felix Green, private investigator,” he added, gesturing to Felix. Every other pair of eyes in the room suddenly fixed on Felix, though he did not seem overly disturbed by the sudden attention.

  “What’s he got to do with it?” Jasper blurted out.

  Dewey held up his hand for silence, then continued. “A generous provision for Mr. Green’s fee and expenses has been included in the will. The will says that, in the event of your Aunt Agatha’s death, Mr. Green is to be hired to investigate her death, and he shall render a verdict on her death. Her assets are
to be held in trust by the estate and not distributed amongst her heirs until that verdict is rendered, and the estate is to cooperate fully with Mr. Green’s investigation. If Mr. Green should communicate to me that your Aunt Agatha’s death was by natural causes or otherwise not precipitated by her heirs, meaning the children of her siblings and Colonel Crownover, those of you in this room now - then your respective inheritances will be distributed to you. If Mr. Green should conclude that your Aunt Agatha was murdered, then he shall determine who among you was responsible for her murder, and anyone complicit will, naturally, not inherit anything, with their share or shares being distributed amongst the rest. However, if Mr. Green should not be available, or fail to determine the cause of death, or ascertain that Ms. Bellinger was murdered but fail to find the murderer, or for any other reason be unable to complete the investigation within a month of the reading of this document, the entire estate will go to her next closest living relative - deliberately excluding you all.”

  The lawyer appeared to finish his reading. The room, which had stood in stunned silence until this point, seemed to break into commotion all at once.

  “That can’t be legal,” called Henry.

  “Murder?” Chester roared. “The old woman was mad!”

  “She can’t mean the money to go to cousin Robert,” Jasper murmured. “She hardly knew him!”

  “She was crazy,” said Diane, flipping her neon green scarf over her shoulder. “We all knew that.”

  “Oh dear,” Gloria answered her. “Oh dear, oh dear.”

  “That will just can’t be legal,” Henry repeated.

  “There is nearly always grounds to challenge a will,” Dewey said with annoyance. “I drafted this will myself and I believe it is quite legally proper. On the occasion of my last visit, two days ago, when the will was signed by your late Aunt, she appeared to be quite lucid and in her right mind. It was witnessed by two of my paralegals and I think they would testify that there was nothing wrong with your Aunt-”

  “She thought someone was trying to kill her,” Chester barked. “That makes her insane, doesn’t it? Paranoid? Not in her right mind?”

  Felix cleared his throat.

  “Ladies, gentlemen,” he began. “Your late Aunt Agatha’s will has merely called on me to investigate her possible murder. Prior to her death, she wrote to me, expressing her concerns in this matter.” He showed them the letter he had received, placing it on the table. “Now, I understand your Aunt had recently reached her centenary - that is to say, turned a hundred,” he said, seeing Alders’ blank stare. “She was a very old woman, and it is entirely possible that she was simply having fantasies. If that is the case, I’m sure that my investigation will be quick, and I will rapidly deliver the appropriate verdict to Mr. Dewey here. In the worst case, if all is as it appears, you will have your rightful inheritances - or at least, have access to them - within a month. Surely, a legal battle to overturn this will would be much more costly and time-consuming than that?”

  “I believe it certainly would be,” Dewey affirmed.

  Felix nodded. “So, you all have nothing to fear from my investigation... unless of course, it transpires that your Aunt was murdered.”

  “Ridiculous,” Jasper scoffed.

  “Was it ridiculous?” Felix asked. “Have any of you, for example, seen or heard anything that would give you cause to think your aunt was murdered?”

  He was met with deafening silence.

  “Very well,” he said. “I don’t see any immediate need to trouble you good people further. If my investigation turns up anything of interest, I will, of course, report it to you.”

  He turned and walked out the door of the room, Alders behind him. As soon as the door shut, the sounds of muffled argument drifted through the wall. Felix grinned.

  “Going to let them stew for a while?” Alders asked.

  “Yes,” Felix affirmed. “That woman, Agatha, must have been more than in her right mind. She must have been very, very clever. Quite shrewdly, she has arranged her will in such a way that they cannot afford to hamper my investigation, because if they do, then of course the money will not go to any of them. Only the murderer can afford to keep silence. I just have to give them some time to work that out.”

  Behind them, the door opened again and the small, balding figure of Mr. Dewey emerged, file under his arm.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, with a nod.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Mr. Dewey?” Felix asked.

  “Certainly, if you don’t mind walking and talking,” Dewey said. “I have much to do.”

  They started down the hallway.

  “When did Agatha ask you to draft her a new will?”

  “Two days ago. I came to visit her here. As I was very concerned that she was approaching the end of her life, I drafted the new will and delivered it to her on the same day. It was one of the stranger things I have ever written in my legal career,” he added, with a frown.

  “You knew she was concerned that she was being murdered?” Felix asked.

  “Yes, though she did not confide anything further than that in me. I happen to know that she chose you because she remembered reading about you in the paper several weeks ago. It was something to do with your involvement in the investigation of Sean Lebow’s murder.”

  Felix bowed his head. “It was one of the more creative murders that has been committed in the Great Redmond area, I think, but that is neither here nor there. I had something I wanted to ask you, Mr. Dewey. How much is Agatha’s estate worth?”

  The balding lawyer came to a stop.

  “It is difficult to tell,” he answered, with a sigh. “Even excluding the items that she specified should not be liquidated, I estimate that most of the value of the estate is in historical artifacts.” He gestured to the portrait of Sebastian Virgil Bellinger, not far down the hallway. “It is hard to say what these items will fetch if they go to auction. However, I can estimate, with confidence, that the absolute minimum value of her estate is fifty million dollars.”

  Alders let out a low whistle.

  “Split six ways, that is just over eight million dollars for every one of the heirs,” Dewey said stiffly. “Only part of it - say, two million dollars per person, is in forms that could be rapidly liquidated, stocks, bonds, and so on.”

  “I had one other question,” Felix continued, unfazed by the amounts that Dewey had given. “The will provided that if I could not reach a determination, the money would go to Agatha’s next closest living relative. Who is that?”

  “It would be her second cousin, Robert. I understand he has had very little contact with the family.”

  “Could you tell me any more about this cousin Robert?”

  “Certainly. He might already be known to you. His name is Robert Breckinridge. He’s the Chief of Police.”

  Behind Felix, Alders’ mouth dropped open and he seemed not to be able to shut it. Even Felix, so often unfazed by the strangest occurrences, looked vaguely shocked.

  Dewey looked oddly pleased with himself at the effect he’d produced.

  “Here is my card, if you need to get in touch with me, Mr. Green.”

  “And here’s mine,” Green said, exchanging cards. With that, Dewey walked out the front door.

  Alders turned to the portrait of Sebastian Virgil with disbelief still outlined on his face.

  “I knew I’d seen this man somewhere before. He’s got Breckinridge’s mustache, that’s what it is. To think that Breckinridge had a rich old aunt like this. He never told me. We can’t let him get his hands on this money, Felix,” Alders said, whipping around. “We’ve definitely got to solve this case.”

  “Hm...” Felix’s hand was again creeping towards the photograph of Sebastian and Teddy Roosevelt. “It explains why Agatha didn’t want to call the police,” he said off-handedly, as Alders slapped his hand away. “If Breckinridge was a relative, the police would have had an extreme conflict of interest. And given the questions rai
sed about the integrity of the police force, she could hardly have hoped they would behave in an impartial and fair manner while investigating her death.”

  “I’d like to see the look on Breckinridge’s face when he realizes we’re investigating this case,” Alders said violently.

  A nearby door opened, and a brown-haired man in a ruffled suit stumbled through towards them. He smelled vaguely of booze. Felix turned a critical eye on him.

  “Hello. You’re Mr. Green?” the brown-haired man asked. “And I don’t think I caught your name?”

  “Sam Alders,” Alders replied stiffly.

  “Right, well, I’m Chester Bellinger, Agatha’s nephew. Look, Mr. Green, we all know that Aunt Agatha went a little - odd - towards the end. Couldn’t you just, you know, clear this all up?” He gave them a toothy smile that neither man returned.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Felix replied cooly. “I’m already investigating.”

  “No, I mean, look, it said in the will that all you had to do was return a verdict that she wasn’t murdered to Dewey, and it’s all over. Isn’t that right?”

  “That could be part of my job, yes.”

  “So why don’t you just pick up the phone,” he said, gesturing to an old-fashioned rotary phone sitting on a stand. “Call Dewey, and tell him Agatha wasn’t murdered. We all know she was just a paranoid old maniac. And I could make - a - uh, substantial supplement to your fee for your troubles.”

  “Ah.” Felix said.

  “Well? Go on.”

  Felix made no movement towards the phone.

  “Something that may interest you, sir,” Alders began cooly, “is that in this city, the police are corrupt, but the private investigators are clean. It’s a weird way for things to run, I’ll admit, but we’re clean. We’re going to complete this investigation as we were meant to do.”

  The toothy grin fell from Chester’s face.

  “Suit yourself,” he said. “But you’re idiots, you know that? You could have made a lot of money and saved yourself a lot of pain and effort for no reason. Aunt Agatha wasn’t murdered, she was just a certifiable lunatic.”