wasn’t going to make things better. I hauled out one of my business cards and passed it across the counter.
She looked at it. “So?” she asked.
“I’m working on behalf of a client,” I said, “Mrs. Mayfield’s great-granddaughter, Athena.”
“Then I suggest you contact your client and have her provide some information on the deceased. It’ll make both our jobs easier.”
“Athena happens to be a six-week-old infant who was abandoned at birth by both her parents,” I replied. “I have reason to believe that her great-aunt, Agnes’s daughter Lenora, is trying to cheat my client out of her portion of the inheritance.”
“Someone’s trying to cheat a baby?”
I nodded.
Katy Lamb’s transformation was instantaneous. “Why didn’t you say that to begin with? Let me see if I can help. What do you know?”
I gave her the paltry details I had at my disposal. In the end and in a matter of minutes, working with nothing more than Agnes’s first and last names as well as her address, Katy Lamb handed over a treasure trove of material. She provided me with death certificates for both Peter Arthur Mayfield and Agnes Matilda Mayfield. Agnes’s date of death was listed as December 20, 2016. Cause of death was listed as complications of Alzheimer’s. Manner of death was listed as natural. Agnes’s will had not yet been probated, but Peter’s had. It was simple and straightforward. He left everything he owned to his wife, Agnes. If she preceded him in death, his estate, after final expenses, was to be divided in equal shares between his two children, Lenora and Arthur, per stirpes.
I work crossword puzzles on a daily basis. I know a lot of words, but the term “per stirpes” wasn’t part of my repertoire. “Arthur died years ago, but what does this mean?” I asked Katy, pointing at the puzzling words.
“That means that if Peter’s son, Arthur, died leaving behind living children of his own, those children would inherit whatever remains of his share, divided equally among them. The same would hold true for the next generation. How many kids did Arthur have?” Katy asked.
“One only,” I replied. “Another Peter, aka Petey, who happens to have gone missing.”
“And he’s Athena’s father?”
“That is correct,” I affirmed, knowing full well that the word “presumably” wouldn’t cut it with someone like Katy Lamb.
“Then Arthur’s share would pass on to Athena through her father. Let me take another look at Mr. Mayfield’s will,” she said. I handed it over, and she studied it for some time. “This will is a cheapy—simple and to the point. It was signed and dated back in 1973. I’m guessing that Agnes had her own will drawn up at about the same time. Once a couple has gone to the trouble of hiring an attorney and drawing up wills, they generally take a ‘set it and forget it’ point of view. When the first spouse dies, if the surviving spouse doesn’t remarry, he or she leaves things be. In other words, the second will remains valid and unchanged.”
“You’re saying that Agnes may have drawn up her own will at the same time with many of the same stipulations?”
“In my experience that’s highly likely,” Katy answered. “And do you see the name of the firm here?” she asked, pointing
“Stockman and Dodge?” I read aloud. “What about it?”
“They’re still in business, Mr. Beaumont,” Katy told me with a smug smile. “Their offices are just a few blocks up the street from here at Third and Marion. If Agnes’s original will is still valid or if a new one has been drawn up in the meantime, someone in their office might possibly know about it and be able to help you.”
“And what if an heir is MIA at the time the will comes up for probate?” I asked.
“That’s why I suggest you contact that law firm. Athena’s guardian would be able to petition that the father’s share be held in trust until he’s either located or declared to be deceased. And if that’s the case—if it turns out Petey is dead and if the terms in Agnes Mayfield’s will are the same as those of her late husband’s, Petey’s share would automatically pass through him to his only surviving child—to Athena.”
I felt like leaping over the counter and giving Katy Lamb a smooch on her brightly rouged cheek. I did not.
“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you so much. You’ve been a huge help.”
“Good luck to you, Mr. Beaumont. I’m glad someone is looking out for that poor little girl.