"Hardly. It's the terms of the will that are embarrassing."

"Yeah? He tell everybody what he thought of them?"

"In a way. He left everything but our executor's fees to someone none of us ever heard of."

I laughed. That was Denny. "So? He made the money. It's his to give away."

"I don't deny that. And I don't mind, believe it or not. But for Rose's sake... "

"You know what he thought about her? Want me to tell you?"

"She is his sister."

"Not that he had any choice about it. The nicest thing he ever said about her was, ‘She's a useless, lazy, whining, conniving freeloader.' The word bitch came up a few times, too."

"But—"

"Never mind. I don't want to hear it. So what you want is for me to find this mysterious heir, eh? And then what?" They want you to do some crazy things sometimes. I could guess why Denny registered his will. A Rose with thorns.

"Just tell her the bequest is here for the claiming. Get a statement of intent we can file with the registry probate. Already they're harassing us about showing them that we're doing something to execute the terms of the will."

That figured. I knew those jackasses. Before the brewery gave me the consulting job, I did investigations for them, free-lance, to make ends meet. "You said ‘her.' This heir is a woman?" Denny never mentioned knowing any women all the time I knew him. I had him figured for a complete asexual.

"Yes. An old girlfriend, from when he was in the army. He never fell out of love, it seems, and they never stopped writing letters, even though she married somebody else. You'll find your best leads in those letters. You were in the Cantard, too, so you'll know the places she talks about."

"The Cantard?"

"That's where she is, yes. Where are you going?"