Murder in Vancouver: A Northwest Cozy Mystery (Northwest Cozy Mystery Series Book 13) by Dianne Harman

Author:Dianne Harman [Harman, Dianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2020-03-28T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

The young man lunged at Uriel, angry tears streaming down his face, but Al’s bulk blocked him. “He just called me a bastard, and said I ain’t his family!” he cried, his face red.

He was a muscular young man with a couple of tattoos and a close-cropped haircut. He reminded Al of the youngsters in the Mafia, the youngster he had once been.

“That l’il thug ain’t no family of mine!” Uriel said. “I don’t care if he says he’s Milton’s seed, I don’t want anything to do with him.”

Everyone gasped.

“Milton has a child?” Alexis Berry-McGuire said. “What the… Did anyone know about this?”

“Probably not,” the young man said, wiping his tears away angrily with the back of his sleeve. “He wanted to hide me ‘cause I wasn’t good enough for his flashy life style.”

“Come along, dear, let’s go and calm down in the kitchen,” Philippa said, putting her arm around him. She clearly wanted to avoid a scene.

“No!” he said, shaking her off. “I’m not hiding in some kitchen. I’m not hiding anywhere anymore. My mom told me I didn’t have a dad all these years, but on her death bed she told me about him, and told me he didn’t ever want to see me. He never paid nothing for me!

“I grew up with roaches crawling over my bed while he has this penthouse that could have paid for more than ten houses, maybe even twenty. I’m here, and I’m here for the money. It ain’t no secret. I deserve it.”

He pointed his finger at Uriel. “You better not try and get a penny from me, old man. My mom told me all about you, even showed me a picture. You were ugly twenty years ago, and now you’re old and ugly. She said you were horrible to her. And any person who’s horrible to my mom’s going to pay. Trust me.”

“I don’t even know your harlot of a mother,” Uriel spat at him. “So crawl back into whatever hole you came from and leave us alone.”

“Don’t you worry,” the young man said, narrowing his eyes. “Soon as I get my hands on the money, I’m outta’ here. Now, who do I gotta’ speak to about that? I got all my documents. Birth certificate with that piece of trash’s name on it. So when do I get to go to the bank and get the money that’s owed to me?”

“I’m sure Milton would have wanted to leave all his money to the arts,” Ron McGuire said. “He never mentioned he had a son. Not once.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, I’m no one’s dirty little secret no more,” the young man said.

Philippa had gone very quiet, so much so, that in all the commotion, Al had forgotten she was even there. But then she spoke up, her voice little more than a squeak. When Al looked at her, she was very pale. “Jonty’s the trustee of Milton’s trust,” she said.

Oh, really? Al thought. Not even five minutes ago ya’ said ya’ had no idea.

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