While Justice Sleeps(51)
“She’ll kill him.”
“If Mrs. Turner-Wynn chooses to remove Justice Wynn from life support, unless the doctors offer a medical reason to stop her, it’s her choice.”
But if I don’t do something to allay the suspicions of the FBI and Homeland Security, I’ll lose everything, Avery reminded herself. All to save a dead man. “There’s got to be a way, Mr. Fox. Some loophole.”
“There isn’t. One of the papers I was planning to review with you is the conditional addendum to his power of attorney. The addendum clearly states that if you refuse to accept power of attorney, Celeste Turner-Wynn controls.”
“Why would he do this? He didn’t trust her.” Even as she spoke, she knew why. Choosing Celeste was intentional, the bastard. Serve or be damned.
“He was very insistent about these provisions. Tore up a dozen drafts.” Noah hadn’t understood what Justice Wynn’s endgame was, but he’d speculated—as had the other attorneys privy to the rash of documents Justice Wynn had signed in the past six months. A labyrinth of codicils and durable powers of attorney, each with a different name, a different objective. Until late January, when a new name appeared. Avery Keene.
Justice Wynn wasn’t Noah’s favorite client, not with his penchant for biting remarks. Assigned to Wynn as a third-year in the firm’s trust and estates group, Noah had been thrilled about the coup. Until their first encounter. The memory of Wynn suggesting Noah had won his law degree at a county fair still grated. He’d discovered then that serving Howard Wynn was the T&E group’s version of hazing. Survive him, and you’d be on your way to partnership.
* * *
—
Noah recalled their last meeting, which had taken place in a conference room down the hall. Already prepared for the occasion, he’d removed a sheaf of papers the size of a halved encyclopedia. Only forty of the pages belonged to Justice Wynn’s original will. The rest had been built of numerous codicils, taunts, and jeers to be delivered from beyond the grave. Today’s revision would become the latest codicil to the last will and testament of Mr. Howard Wynn.
“Shall we start at the beginning?”
“No time for that,” Wynn barked. “The nosy witch will return soon to ferry me home. I don’t trust her.”
“Your wife, sir?” Noah hadn’t expected her at the office and would need to give her name to security. A driver had deposited him and waited outside. “When will she be arriving, sir?”
“I said witch, not harlot,” Justice Wynn corrected acidly. “I don’t know if she works for me or not.”
Noah felt a tendril of unease. Legally, Justice Wynn could not change his will again if he showed signs of dementia. “Sir, does who work for you?” he inquired gently.
“Nurse Lewis, you brass-plated charlatan. The harridan that nips at my heels until I send her off to fetch something or other,” he explained angrily. “The blasted woman sneaks about my house, prying into my every closet and secret. It’s not right that a man be reduced to hiding his secrets from himself.”
“From yourself?”
Justice Wynn’s eyes flashed with impatience. “Will you continue to repeat everything I say? If so, you might as well return to your cubbyhole. I’m not paying usury rates for a parrot.”
“I’m just trying to make sure I understand what you want, Mr. Justice.”
“I haven’t asked for your understanding,” he retorted. Shifting in the conference room chair, he thumped padded leather with his balled fist. “You can’t possibly comprehend the machinery of justice and the lengths to which others will go to thwart it. Therefore, you’d do well to keep your puerile mind focused on the small tasks I assign to you. Take my dictation, fancy it up with the words that will earn your five hundred and twenty an hour, and then bring the documents to me for signature.”
Noah repressed the urge to snipe back. As much as he wanted to tell Justice Wynn to go to hell, the man had upped his billable hours by a quarter in the last six months. Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, he probed, “What exactly do you want to change?”
“First of all, I need to execute a durable power of attorney. And I will require a backup, in case she refuses to act.”
* * *
—
They’d spent three hours in conference, changing the will and setting up contingencies for contingencies. During that time, Noah had learned more about trust and estates law than he’d ever gained in the classroom or on the job. By the end of the night, the documents produced had been presented to Justice Wynn for signature and witness. Later, Noah had speculated with his best friend in corporate about the relationship the justice had with his clerk.
Now, sitting with the woman in question, he felt he possibly understood the justice’s choice. Avery Keene wasn’t magazine beautiful, but with her wildly curling hair, lush mouth, and sharp green eyes, she had the striking looks that men of any age fell prey to upon sight.
“Ms. Keene, Justice Wynn gave me specific instructions to provide for only two options. Either you agree to serve as his guardian in all matters or the privilege goes to his estranged wife. I asked about using his son or a close friend, but he refused.”