Criminal

what he was supposed to say.
    Apparently, neither did Henry. “What the—” He was visibly angry. His mouth twisted in disgust as he asked Amanda, “What game are you playing?”
    Yet again, Will felt a cold sweat come on. He looked down at the floor, wishing he could disappear. If Amanda thought this was going to be a happy homecoming, she was dead wrong.
    “Wilbur?” Henry prodded.
    Amanda took over. “Hank, I need to ask you some questions.”
    “It’s Henry,” he corrected. He obviously didn’t like surprises, just as he obviously did not like Amanda. He couldn’t even look at her.
    Will cleared his throat. He told his uncle, “I’m sorry that we showed up like this.”
    Henry stared at him. Will felt an odd sense of déjà vu. Even after all these years, Henry shared similar features with his dead sister. Same mouth. Same high cheekbones. He had all of her secrets, too. All the stories about her childhood, her parents, her life.
    And Will had a thin file that told him nothing more than that Lucy Bennett had been brutally murdered.
    “Well,” the Buckhead Betty said. “This is awkward.” She extended her hand to Will. “I’m Elizabeth Bennett. Like in Austen, only older.” Her smile was as practiced as the joke. “I suppose I’m your aunt.”
    Will didn’t know what else to do but shake her hand. Her grip was firmer than he expected. “Will Trent.”
    She raised an eyebrow, as if the name surprised her.
    Amanda asked, “How long have you been married?”
    “To Henry?” She laughed. “Too long.” She turned to her husband, saying, “Let’s not be rude, sweetheart. These people are our guests.”
    Something passed between them, the sort of muted, private exchange that old married couples hone over the years.
    “You’re right.” Henry pointed to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Sit down, boy. Would you like a drink? I need a drink.”
    “I’m fine,” Amanda said. Instead of sitting in front of the desk, she sat on the couch. As usual, she stayed on the edge of the cushion, not leaning back. The leather was old. It creaked under her slight weight.
    “Wilbur?” Henry asked. He was standing beside a cart with a full bar.
    “No, thank you.” Will sat beside Amanda on the couch. The frame was so low that he could easily rest his elbows on his knees. His leg wanted to shake. He felt nervous, like he’d done something wrong.
    Henry dropped a piece of ice into a glass. He picked up a bottle of scotch and unscrewed the cap.
    Elizabeth sat down in the matching leather chair. Like Amanda, she sat on the edge of the seat, back straight. She opened a silver box on the side table. She took out a cigarette and lighter. Will couldn’t remember the last time he’d been around a smoker. The house was large enough to absorb the smell, but the pungent odor of burning tobacco filled his nostrils as the woman lit the cigarette.
    “Now.” Henry pulled over one of the chairs from his desk. “I assume you came here for a reason. Is it money? I have to warn you, all my cash is tied up right now. The market’s been volatile.”
    Will would’ve preferred a knife in his groin. “No. I don’t want your money.”
    Amanda said, “James Ulster is dead.”
    Henry’s lips pursed. He got very still. “I’d heard he got out.”
    “Two months ago,” Amanda confirmed.
    Henry leaned back in his chair. He crossed his leg over his knee. His glass rested lightly on his palm. He smoothed out the arm of his suit jacket. He said, “Wilbur, I know that despite Ulster’s terrible actions, he was still your father. Are you holding up?”
    “Yes, sir.” Will had to loosen his tie again. The air was stifling. He wanted to leave, especially when the room turned silent. No one seemed to know what to say.
    Elizabeth took a deep drag off her cigarette. There was an amused smile on her lips, as if she was enjoying their discomfort.
    “Well,” Henry said. “As I said, your father was a very bad man. I think we’re all relieved to learn of his demise.”
    Will nodded. “Yes, sir.”
    Elizabeth tapped the cigarette against the ashtray. “And how is your life, young man? Are you married? Do you have children?”
    Will felt a tingling in his arm. He wondered if he was having a heart attack. “I’m doing well.”
    “What about you, Hank?” Amanda asked. “I saw when you made partner. Three years out of law school and you rocketed to the top of the firm. Old Treadwell certainly took care of