Gray Mountain: A Novel(93)

“How easy is it to tamper with the B nut?” Samantha asked.

“It’s not difficult if you know what you’re doing. The trick is to do it without getting caught. You would have to wait until dark, sneak onto the tie-down area of the ramp, remove the cowling that covers the engine, use a flashlight and a wrench, and do your business. One expert said it can be done in about twenty minutes. On the night in question, there were seventeen other small aircraft tied down in the same area, but there was almost no traffic that night. The ramp was very quiet. We’ve checked the surveillance videos from the general aviation terminal and found nothing. We’ve talked to the ramp guys on duty that night, and they saw nothing. We’ve checked the maintenance records with the mechanic in Roanoke, and of course everything was working fine when he signed off on the last inspection.”

“How badly was the engine damaged?” asked Mattie.

“It’s a mess. Evidently, the Cessna clipped some trees. It looks like Donovan was trying to land on a county highway—he might have seen the headlights of a car, but who knows—and when he hit the trees the plane pitched forward and landed nose first. The engine was smashed and it’s impossible to determine the position of the B nut. It’s fairly easy to conclude that the fuel was cut off, but beyond that there aren’t many clues.”

The judge entered the courtroom and assumed the bench. He scanned the audience and said something to a clerk.

“What’s next?” Samantha whispered.

“We’ll keep digging,” Jeff said, but with little confidence.

The judge looked toward the rear of the courtroom and said, “Ms. Wyatt.”

Mattie introduced Jeff to His Honor, who politely passed along his condolences and said nice things about Donovan. Jeff thanked him as Mattie began producing orders for the judge to sign. The judge took his time reading the will and commented on various provisions. He and Mattie discussed the strategy of the estate hiring a lawyer to pursue the Tate appeal. Jeff was quizzed about Donovan’s financial status, his assets and debts.

After an hour, all orders were signed and the estate was officially opened. Mattie stayed on to handle another matter, but Jeff was dismissed. As he walked back to the office with Samantha, he said, “I’m disappearing for a few weeks, so use the prepaid phone.”

“Anyplace in particular?”

“No.”

“No surprise there. I’m leaving myself, for the holidays, Washington and then New York. I guess I won’t be seeing you for a while.”

“So, is this Merry Christmas and Happy New Year?”

“I suppose so. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.”

He stopped and quickly pecked her on the cheek. “Same to you.” He turned onto a side street and hurried away, as if someone might be trailing him.


The funeral for Francine Crump was held at 11:00 a.m. Wednesday, in a Holiness church deep in the hollows. Samantha never considered attending the service. Annette strongly advised against it, since it was likely they would pull out the snakes and start dancing. Samantha took this seriously. Annette later admitted she was exaggerating. There were no known snake-handling congregations still practicing in Virginia, she explained. “All the members are dead.”

But a nest of angry rattlers could not have been worse than the mob of Crumps that showed up later in the day for a showdown with “Missus Kofer.” They descended upon the clinic with a show of force unlike any Mattie had ever seen: the five siblings, some of their current spouses, a few of their large children, and a few assorted blood relatives.

Their beloved mother was dead, and it was time to split the money.

Mattie took charge and told most of them to leave. Only the five siblings would be allowed to take part in the meeting; the rest could go sit in their trucks. She and Annette herded them into a conference room, and when they were seated Samantha walked in and joined them. Collectively, they were a mess. They had just buried their mother. They were terrified they might lose the family land and whatever money that meant, and they were bitter at the lawyers for facilitating this. They were also getting pestered by relatives who’d heard rumors of coal money. They were away from home and missing work. And, as Samantha suspected, they had been fighting amongst themselves.

She began by explaining that no lawyer at the clinic had prepared another will for their mother; indeed, no one had heard a word from Francine since the last family meeting at that very table some nine days earlier. If Francine told them otherwise, then it simply wasn’t true. Nor did Samantha know of any other lawyer in town who might have prepared a new will. Mattie explained that it was customary, though by no means obligatory, for one lawyer to call another when a different will is prepared. At any rate, as far as they knew, the will signed by Francine two months earlier was her last will and testament.

They listened and fumed, barely able to control their loathing for the lawyers. As Samantha wound down, she expected a torrent of abuse, probably from all five. Instead, there was a long pause. Jonah, the oldest at sixty-one, finally said, “Momma destroyed the will.”

Samantha had no response. Annette frowned as her mind raced back to the old Virginia statutes regarding lost and destroyed wills. Mattie was impressed at the cleverness of their scheme and could barely suppress a grin.

Jonah went on, “I’m sure you have a copy of the will, but, as I understand things, when she destroyed the original the copy became useless. That right?”