Kaleidoscope by Dorothy Gilman Page A

to be thorough. To poke and pry, so to speak, into the ‘why’ of this tragedy. You knew John Epworth well?”
    â€œ
Very
well. We’ve been good friends for a long time,” he said. “Especially when Jean was alive. His first wife,” he explained. “Lovely woman. Her death was a great shock to him—to us all—and of course the child was in the car, too.”
    Pruden nodded. “Like many people in Trafton I admired him but we know so little of the situation, Mrs. Epworth being under a doctor’s care and unapproachable. You’ve met his second wife, of course.”
    He shrugged. “Only at social affairs. She shone at those.”
    Pruden, with what he hoped sounded like normal curiosity, said, “I take it that she is not very much like Mr. Epworth’s first wife?”
    â€œGood God, no,” said Harbinger.
    Pruden smiled. “I take it you don’t appreciate her.”
    â€œI thought her much too interested in John’s money. And in spending it,” he added. “When we golfed together John would joke about it but he didn’t seem to mind; he was always generous. No, I thought that marriage a big mistake. No warmth in her.”
    â€œOf course,” pointed out Pruden carefully, “she will have full control of his money now that he’s dead?”
    Harbinger gave him a long and thoughtful glance. “Just why are you here?” he asked. “And investigating? You’re surely not implying . . . not suggesting . . . That is, according to the newspapers, John’s murder has already been solved, publicized, and is virtually ready for trial.”
    â€œNot to us,” Pruden said calmly, and took an enormous chance by saying quietly, “You could be of tremendous help to us if we could learn about Mr. Epworth’s will that you drew up for him.”
    Harbinger looked amused. “You know I can’t allow that, it would be highly unethical.”
    â€œYes,” agreed Pruden, “but wouldn’t it also be unethical to see an innocent child condemned?”
    This startled him. “You can’t be serious,” he insisted. “I began my career as a defense attorney and I certainly don’t envy the lawyer appointed to defend that unfortunate possessed child. It’s a watertight case.”
    â€œWe don’t believe that,” Pruden told him.
    Harbinger frowned. “I can’t think of anything more unethical than to share information that’s highly confidential.”
    Pruden nodded. “That’s understood. Couldn’t we call it simply an exchange of important information, information that I sincerely believe John Epworth would approve, considering what’s at stake?”
    Harbinger sighed. “If you really think . . . All right, I’ll tell you this much: John was about to make a few changes in his will. Two weeks ago an appointment was made for . . .” He glanced at his calendar. “For later this week. This Friday, when he and his wife were to meet me here to—as he put it—update his will. Minor changes, he said.”
    â€œMay we ask what changes he wanted made?” inquired Swope.
    â€œHe didn’t say. He was always a very generous man, and of course very wealthy, so I assumed that he wanted to include a few charities in a new will. I think what you want to know is whether the will, made out at the time of his second marriage, left his entire fortune to his wife. It did, yes.”
    â€œI see,” murmured Pruden.
    â€œHowever,” continued Harbinger, “shortly after making that Friday appointment he asked to see me privately to discuss the changes he’d considered. He came alone, explaining that he preferred to come alone because after much thought he’d reached the decision that he wanted very
major
changes made, wanted his money divided in half. Half to his wife, and half to the Trafton Home for Disabled