Page 14 of Witch (Gray Wolf Security #24)

“I’m sorry, but you’re out of money,” said his attorney. “There is nothing left in your accounts of any consequence.”

“Nonsense! I inherited everything from my parents,” he said loudly, loud enough for those around him at the restaurant to hear.

“Actually, in his last few weeks of life, your father changed the distribution of the contents of his will.”

“Wh-what do you mean? I’m an only child. Who else would it have gone to?”

“Your father left half of his entire estate to several charities. Specifically, women’s charities. Education, nursing, convents, private schools, there are at least a dozen. He was quite generous.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been spending money thinking that I had more!”

“You’ve been spending money on something I told you to leave alone, and you didn’t listen. Those were your father’s instructions to me. Give him guidance, and let him take it, or not. You chose not to take my guidance, leaving you broke.”

“I’ll sell the mansion,” he said proudly.

“The mansion isn’t yours. The mansion was donated to the historical registry and will be open to the public. It’s a beautiful property that your parents took great pride in, keeping the historic aspects, maintaining the magnificent gardens, and even the herb garden.”

“Herb garden? There was nothing more than a few rose bushes,” he said into the phone.

“How long has it been since you saw the mansion? You weren’t even there when your parents died because you couldn’t agree on anything.

Your parents had revived the gardens planted by your grandfather.

Gorgeous gardens of all varieties of plants, flowers, trees, shrubs, and yes, herbs.

Medicinal as well as those used for cooking. ”

Hopkins had been to the mansion in recent months, but only to a hidden portion of it.

“They did that to spite me!” he spat. “Even my own mother betrayed me!”

“Maybe. But it’s beautiful, and it’s now jointly owned by the county and state. In accordance with his will, you are not allowed on the property. Should you attempt to get on the property or enter the house, you will be arrested.”

“But the contents! That is my inheritance! Those are my things in that mansion. It belongs to me!”

“It never belonged to you, Marcus. You left the mansion and your parents long ago.”

“Why did you wait to tell me this now? You could have told me months ago, two years ago when they died!”

“Yet you didn’t bother to ask me,” said the man calmly. “You chose to not return for their funeral. As they anticipated, you chose to continue this absurd quest of yours, and now, now, you’ve really fucked the goose.”

“How dare you!”

“How dare you, you insipid, moronic little idiot!” The man let out a long sigh.

“That felt good. I’m not your attorney. I was theirs.

I’ve followed the wishes of your father’s will to the T, and now, I am done.

You have nothing. No money, no property, nothing, and I will give you this final warning as a courtesy to your dear mother, who, for some unknown reason, still loved you.

“If you continue to harass the Robicheaux family, you will die. No one will find you. No one will care. They are not witches. There are no witches as they exist in your mind. This is a family with more influence, more power, more resources than you can fathom. Leave them alone, Marcus, or the next funeral will be yours.”

He waited for the man to respond to him, hearing the heavy breathing on the other end of the line.

“One more thing, you’re wanted for questioning in the death of Rachel Brommer from Mayfield, New York.

Her body was found yesterday, and apparently, you were seen on camera at a gas station as the last person in contact with her.

Turn yourself in, Marcus. I’ll be informing the state police of your location later today. ”

The phone line went dead, and Marcus realized he was still staring at the screen. He pulled out his headphones, tossing them on the table.

“Are you ready to order, sir?” asked the waiter.

Marcus started to order the most expensive things on the menu, then realized all the money he had was what was in his pocket. He had credit cards, but they were nearly maxed out as well.

“You know, I’m not feeling well now. Do you have soup, something light?”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir. Yes, we have our gumbo, chicken and wild rice, or broccoli and cheese. Cup or bowl, and it comes with cornbread.”

“I’ll do the gumbo. A cup,” he said quietly.

“And wine, sir?”

“No. No, just water.”

How far he’d fallen. Once able to order whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with no one thinking anything of it. Yes, he’d used the family credit cards. Yes, he’d taken money from the family accounts, which his father stopped five years ago.

He should have known then that his father was going to screw him over.

He’d never believed in his quest. As a child, Marcus had researched his family tree and was shocked when his parents never told him of his famous ancestor.

There had been a few others in their history, but none that took up the cause with such ferocity and passion.

One would think that you’d support your child’s passions, but not his parents.

Mother tried. A debutante originally from Atlanta, she would say things like, ‘bless your heart,’ or ‘you’re a special boy.

’ He didn’t realize until he was older that those were southern ways of telling you that you were stupid!

Maybe his mother was a witch. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of that. Maybe she was the one who poisoned father against him.

None of it mattered any longer. They were both gone and had cut him from what was truly his. It wouldn’t sway him. He would continue this fight, even if this one was his last.

When the soup was placed in front of him, he frowned, realizing that he would need to curb his lifestyle. The first thing would be to find a cheaper place to stay in New Orleans. He couldn’t continue his work here if he stayed in the high-profile, luxury hotel.

“Anything else I can get you, sir?”

“No. Wait, yes. Do you know the Robicheaux family?” he asked. Every person in the restaurant turned and stared at him.

“The Robicheaux family?” chuckled the waiter. “Sir, they’re the most prominent, well-known family in all of New Orleans, maybe in all of Louisiana. Dozens of the finest human beings on this planet. You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who wasn’t touched by them in some way.”

“Touched? They hurt you?” he frowned, ready to pounce.

“Hurt?” he laughed. The restaurant laughed with him, an elderly woman leaning toward his table.

“Son, you obviously don’t know them at all. If they touch you, you are blessed, not hurt.”

“They’ve never hurt anyone?” he asked in exasperation. The waiter stared at him, smirking.

“Only those that deserved it.”