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“Archie, thank you so much for phoning me back. I know it’s late, so I won’t take up a lot of your time. I’m not sure if you’re aware that I was John’s estate lawyer and appointed executor of his will.”

“No. I’m not familiar with any of...that.” There had never been any reason for him to be familiar with John’s legal affairs, but he could tell Ms. Madison thought his answer was a little apathetic.

“I see. Welllll, this is rather awkward. Your—John’s sister, Mrs. Winslow, has indicated that you’ve expressed a wish not to attend the reading of the will.”

The words were simple enough, but Archie was having trouble deciphering them. He said slowly, “No. We’ve never discussed the matter. Is there some rush in reading the will? I thought that usually took a few months.”

“It can, of course, but in this case the process is streamlined by the fact that I’m both John’s lawyer and his executor, and the will itself is pretty straightforward.”

“Okay. Again, I’ve never discussed the matter with Judith, but I don’t have to be there if it’s a problem. I’ll value anything John wanted me to have, and if he didn’t mention me, that’s okay, too.”

Ms. Madison said quickly, “It’s certainly not a problem. I think John’s expectation was that you would be there.”

Was this getting weird? It felt weird.

“Or I can be there. If I’m still in town.”

“Your—Mrs. Winslow—”

Archie said flatly, “Judith is John’s sister. That’s her only connection to me.”

There a pause and Ms. Madison said, “Of course. Mrs. Winslow is pushing to have the reading of the will tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Correct.”

“John’s not even buried.”

“It’s a little out of the ordinary,” Ms. Madison observed in the tone of a neutral observer.

“Is there some rush I’m not aware of?”

“Not from my perspective.”

Archie thought it over, said, “I mean, if that’s when the will is being read, I can be there. If you th—”

Ms. Madison said firmly, “Archie, I think you need to be there.”

Chapter Five

He slept late, woke at eight, and after sitting upright for a groggy few minutes, gave in and fell back into the sheets and pillows to sleep a little longer.

The next time Archie woke, it was after eleven, but he felt better.

Bird song floated through the open window, and a gentle breeze stirred the drapes. He felt genuinely rested, which was a novelty, and hungry enough to order room service, which arrived as he was on the phone to the administrative assistant at Oregon University’s philosophy department.

He opened the door to room service, saying into his cellphone, “Any idea when Professor Azizi will be back?”

“It’s difficult to be sure when it’s a family emergency,” the administrative assistant replied. “The professor said he was hoping he’d be back for Friday classes, but he’d have a better idea midweek.”

The dark-haired girl from the front desk silently wheeled the service trolley over to the small table by the window and efficiently transferred the cutlery, covered dishes, and juice and water glasses from the trolley to the table.

Archie watched her absently. He suspected she was listening to his side of the phone call; not that there was much to hear, and not that it mattered. “Right. And you said the professor left Saturday night?”

“I believe that’s what he said.”

“Thanks. You’ve been very helpful.” Archie disconnected the call, reached for his wallet, and pulled out a couple of bills.