Page 33 of Nash Falls

“She took wonderful care of him. And your father expressed feelings for her to the extent he could for anyone other than your mother.”

With this comment, Nash thought that Dickey was more than simply his father’s lawyer.

“I know she’s employed at the VA, but do you know if she has the financial ability to keep up the property, pay the taxes?”

“She will.”

“Meaning my father left her some money?”

“Yes. Now, after Parker’s death the house is to be sold and the proceeds donated to the American Cancer Society, in your mother’s memory.”

Nash sat back. “That was good of him.”

“I don’t have to tell you that your mother walked on water in your father’s eyes.”

Nash decided to go there. “You two were not just client and attorney, I take it?”

“We were drinking buddies, you could call us. And I fought in Nam as well, though not with your father. But we had that in common, and it’s a lot—more than a lot, actually.”

“I’m sure.”

“He had savings and checking accounts and a small life insurance policy. Half the money is to go to Isaiah York.”

“Shock,” noted Nash with a frown.

“By the way, he really unloaded on you at the church service.”

“Did you expect otherwise? Which also leads me to ask why my father named me as executor. You said you would fill me in on that?”

Dickey seemed to be working to hold back a smile. “To quote him, your father said you were ‘good with stupid shit like that.’”

“Right,” replied Nash. “Well, let’s get on with the stupid shit, shall we?”

“The rest of the funds go equally to the other members of the, um, motorcycle club. All told those equal around $75,000.”

“But I thought you said he had left some monies to Rosie Parker?”

“I’ll get to that. He sold the Ford Bronco, and his Harley was left to Shock. I think he may have already picked it up. And his mementos from Vietnam also go to Shock, with the proviso that you can select any you may want beforehand. That includes medals, military papers, weapons, that sort of thing. Shock has been informed of this and is waiting his turn.”

Nash was surprised about this testamentary disposition, but didn’t remark on it.

“You also have first dibs on your mother’s possessions. I’m not sure what they all are, but they may be the usual things—letters, photos, keepsakes, perhaps things from your childhood. There is a small safe and they may be in there.” He handed Nash a card. “The code for the safe.”

Nash pocketed it. “So he kept my mother’s effects?”

“From what I understand, Mr. Nash, he never got rid of anything belonging to her.”

Except for me, thought Nash.

“Burial and related expenses have all been paid for, as has my legal fee. And now we get to the remaining item.” He picked up some other papers and ran his gaze down them. “You may be aware that back in the 1980s, veterans exposed to Agent Orange settled a class action lawsuit against a number of manufacturers of the chemical herbicide that had been dropped into Vietnam to kill crops and cover foliage being utilized by the North Vietnamese. It was $180 million spread over more than two million veterans—so not that much, actually. But due to some unique conditions pertaining to his individual case, your father also reached a separate settlement with the Army over his Agent Orange exposure.”

Nash sat up straighter. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

“No one was, really. Not even Shock. In 1991 a bill was signed into law designating injuries suffered from exposure to Agent Orange and other herbicides as wartime injuries so that the VA would be responsible for taking care of the medical issues associated with that exposure. That was why your father was able to receive treatment there.”

“What unique conditions pertained to my father’s case?”

“Again, something I was not privy to. He received the funds shortly after your mother’s death. The total amount was $550,000.”