Page 2 of Bah Humbug Mate

Dash stood and approached the receptionist. “Excuse me. Is this going to take much longer? I was requested to be here by ten and it’s now ten-thirty.”

“Mr. Nelson will be with you shortly,” she said, without ever looking up or making eye contact.

“Well, you can tell Mr. Nelson he has fifteen minutes before I leave this office and head back to Alaska.”

“Why don’t you just leave now?” asked the man in the custom-tailored suit.

Why does he want me to leave? Could he be a second beneficiary, and if I’m not here, I get disinherited, and he gets everything?

Whatever the reason, the exchange seemed to get the receptionist’s attention. “I am so sorry. Mr. Nelson is usually very punctual. I’ll go check on him and see what’s the matter. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“Is that what you call that weak, tepid cup of weasel piss you gave me earlier?” asked Dash. Harsh words, but the stuff had been truly appalling.

The receptionist giggled. “It is truly awful, isn’t it?”

Before she could leave her desk, a tall, large man came out from the private office off the lobby, extending his hand to Dash. “Clifford E. Nelson; my friends call me Blitz. I take it you’re Dasher Samuels.”

“It’s just Dash. My mother named me for Dashiell Hammett, the author who wrote hard-boiled detective novels.”

The lawyer’s bushy eyebrows shot up as if he meant to dispute that but thought better of it. There must be enough money involved that the guy didn’t want to make an enemy of Dash.

“My mistake,” said the lawyer, trying to cover.

“He doesn’t even know who he is. How could you and my grandmother be so sure he’s the rightful inheritor,” said the man in the suit.

“That’s enough, Rudy,” admonished the lawyer. “Your grandmother had been searching for him for years and became convinced Dash was her daughter’s son. I did my own research and came to the same conclusion. “You’ll have to forgive Rudy.”

“Will I? Why don’t we just cut to the chase, and you tell me what this is all about?”

“Let’s step into my office, and I’ll be happy to answer any and all of your questions.” The man the lawyer had identified as Rudy stood. “No, Rudy. Why don’t you head home? If you’re needed, I’ll give you a call.”

Rudy sputtered but was silenced by one look from the lawyer, who showed Dash into his office.

Sitting down, Dash jerked his thumb over his shoulder back towards the lobby. “What’s his problem?”

“I think Rudy, along with many others, expected to inherit the bulk of your grandmother’s fortune.”

“Fortune? What kind of money are we talking about?”

“In terms of cash?” The lawyer named a sum of money that made Dash’s head spin. “If you liquidated everything? About triple that.”

Dash sat back and emitted a low whistle. “No wonder Rudy is pissed. I have no reason to own anything in Canada; why don’t you just turn everything into cash and send me the check.”

“I’m afraid it’s not quite so easy.”

“Sure, it is.”

“You would turn your grandmother’s whole herd off the property they have lived on for years and which has been home to generations of reindeer…”

“Caribou,” Dash corrected.

The lawyer smiled. “I stand corrected. Generations of caribou have inhabited?”

“Well, fine. Then liquidate what you can without displacing them and send me what’s left.”

“Again, it’s not quite so easy. Your grandmother had a couple of provisions.”

“What are they?” Dash asked, letting his annoyance bleed into his tone.

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