The Fourth Rule of Ten: A Tenzing Norbu Mystery (A Tenzing Norbu Mystery series Book 4) by Gay Hendricks
Authors: Gay Hendricks
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company be stonewalling you?”
“They sayin’ Horace ain’t my blood uncle so they don’t have to pay.”
“Did you tell them Horace was your blood uncle?”
He chewed on his lip. “Uh, no, not exactly.”
“G-Force. Please. What is your relationship to Horace Latimore?”
G-Force looked around, as if checking for spies. He kept his voice low.
“Horace my Eskimo.”
“I’m sorry. Did you say Eskimo?”
“Yeah. You know, he the one showed me the way.”
“The way where? ” I mindfully uncurled my fists, thus preventing me from leaping across the table and punching him.
“At first we just pen pals. You know, when I was at Pelican Bay,” G-Force said and turned his chair around. He settled into it, warming to the subject. “But then Horace came to visit for real, and started taking me through them steps. Horace the man. Really saved my ass, you know? He even let me stay with him ’n’ Christian when I first got out. Said he wished they could adopt me.”
“So he let you live in his igloo?” I teased, but the look on G-Force’s face humbled me, and I regretted my flippant words.
“Horace my sponsor, but he says, in his heart, G-Force his son, his own son.” G-Force’s voice grew thick. “Man so sick and all, but still he take me in. He’s like my hero. Guess that’s why he changed his will.”
“And how did …” I asked, glancing at the line, “how did James and Angus Lunzy feel about that?”
“How you think? Shit, man, them two boys resent me for breathing. Horace didn’t have no kids of his own. Horace was uh … was …” G-Force resorted to an effeminate flap of the wrist.
“Homosexual?”
“Yeah. Ain’t no big thing, not to me. Anyway, so, but Angus and James? They always knew they could stop by the laundry and get a Benjamin from Uncle Horace. Horace love his sister, Wanda, more’n anybody else on earth—she Angus and James’s mama—so when she passed, long time ago, he tried to take care of ’em.” G-Force shook his head. “They take his money, but they treat him like shit.”
“How so?”
“You know, callin’ him a faggot, minute his back is turned. Make me wanna whup they ass. Only family they got, no reason to be like that. But Horace, that man a saint. Not their fault, he say. They the sick ones.”
“He sounds pretty wise.”
I reread the will, with fresh eyes.
“So Christian Peet was his partner?”
“Horace with Christian pretty much his whole life, drunk and sober. They the only people I know stayed together like that. Christian still run the laundry, probl’y be fluffin’ and foldin’ ’til he drop, too.”
For a brief, painful moment, I thought of Bill and Martha, and their almost 20 years of …
Let it go.
I studied the key line in the will one more time.
And then I saw it:
My nephews, James Lunzy and Angus Lunzy and Godfrey Chambers are beneficiaries.
My punctuation-prone brain must have automatically inserted a comma earlier, between the “Angus Lunzy” and the “and Godfrey Chambers.” I’d expected a comma, and so I’d slotted one in. But it wasn’t there. A simple enough omission, but one that CAII was using to justify cutting G-Force out of the will. Somebody over there, some crook disguised as a Grammar Nazi, must have pounced on the interpretation that Horace was leaving $100,000 to three nephews before proving that Godfrey Chambers was not a blood relative, not by a long shot.
To me the intent was clear: Horace wanted to divide the insurance money between both nephews, plus Godfrey Chambers. Otherwise, why put his name in there at all?
The whole situation was absurd, and made no sense. CAII may have found a tiny loophole, based on a missing comma, but they had nothing to gain by cheating G-Force—the underwriter had to pay out regardless.
No, the only persons to gain from this were Angus and James Lunzy.
So that’s where I’d start.
“What do the nephews do, G-Force? If you know.”
“This and that. They
“They sayin’ Horace ain’t my blood uncle so they don’t have to pay.”
“Did you tell them Horace was your blood uncle?”
He chewed on his lip. “Uh, no, not exactly.”
“G-Force. Please. What is your relationship to Horace Latimore?”
G-Force looked around, as if checking for spies. He kept his voice low.
“Horace my Eskimo.”
“I’m sorry. Did you say Eskimo?”
“Yeah. You know, he the one showed me the way.”
“The way where? ” I mindfully uncurled my fists, thus preventing me from leaping across the table and punching him.
“At first we just pen pals. You know, when I was at Pelican Bay,” G-Force said and turned his chair around. He settled into it, warming to the subject. “But then Horace came to visit for real, and started taking me through them steps. Horace the man. Really saved my ass, you know? He even let me stay with him ’n’ Christian when I first got out. Said he wished they could adopt me.”
“So he let you live in his igloo?” I teased, but the look on G-Force’s face humbled me, and I regretted my flippant words.
“Horace my sponsor, but he says, in his heart, G-Force his son, his own son.” G-Force’s voice grew thick. “Man so sick and all, but still he take me in. He’s like my hero. Guess that’s why he changed his will.”
“And how did …” I asked, glancing at the line, “how did James and Angus Lunzy feel about that?”
“How you think? Shit, man, them two boys resent me for breathing. Horace didn’t have no kids of his own. Horace was uh … was …” G-Force resorted to an effeminate flap of the wrist.
“Homosexual?”
“Yeah. Ain’t no big thing, not to me. Anyway, so, but Angus and James? They always knew they could stop by the laundry and get a Benjamin from Uncle Horace. Horace love his sister, Wanda, more’n anybody else on earth—she Angus and James’s mama—so when she passed, long time ago, he tried to take care of ’em.” G-Force shook his head. “They take his money, but they treat him like shit.”
“How so?”
“You know, callin’ him a faggot, minute his back is turned. Make me wanna whup they ass. Only family they got, no reason to be like that. But Horace, that man a saint. Not their fault, he say. They the sick ones.”
“He sounds pretty wise.”
I reread the will, with fresh eyes.
“So Christian Peet was his partner?”
“Horace with Christian pretty much his whole life, drunk and sober. They the only people I know stayed together like that. Christian still run the laundry, probl’y be fluffin’ and foldin’ ’til he drop, too.”
For a brief, painful moment, I thought of Bill and Martha, and their almost 20 years of …
Let it go.
I studied the key line in the will one more time.
And then I saw it:
My nephews, James Lunzy and Angus Lunzy and Godfrey Chambers are beneficiaries.
My punctuation-prone brain must have automatically inserted a comma earlier, between the “Angus Lunzy” and the “and Godfrey Chambers.” I’d expected a comma, and so I’d slotted one in. But it wasn’t there. A simple enough omission, but one that CAII was using to justify cutting G-Force out of the will. Somebody over there, some crook disguised as a Grammar Nazi, must have pounced on the interpretation that Horace was leaving $100,000 to three nephews before proving that Godfrey Chambers was not a blood relative, not by a long shot.
To me the intent was clear: Horace wanted to divide the insurance money between both nephews, plus Godfrey Chambers. Otherwise, why put his name in there at all?
The whole situation was absurd, and made no sense. CAII may have found a tiny loophole, based on a missing comma, but they had nothing to gain by cheating G-Force—the underwriter had to pay out regardless.
No, the only persons to gain from this were Angus and James Lunzy.
So that’s where I’d start.
“What do the nephews do, G-Force? If you know.”
“This and that. They
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