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A Veterinarian with stories to tell
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Category:
Family
Publisher: BQB Publishing
ISBN-10: 1939371836
Type: Fiction
Pages: 336
Copyright: Oct 21, 2015
ISBN-13: 9781939371836
Price: $5.95 (eBook)
When Wisconsin veterinarian Doc dies, his family and nephew learn that to inherit his fortune, they must "Take Doofus squirrel-fishing", and they can only do that by talking to Doc's friends, reading his book, searching through his emails and papers, and discovering the clues around them.
When Wisconsin veterinarian Doc dies, his family learns that to inherit his fortune, they must decipher the cryptic codicil he added to his will---"Take Doofus squirrel-fishing"---and they can only do that by talking to Doc's friends, reading the memoir Doc wrote of a Christmas season decades earlier, searching through Doc's correspondence, and discovering clues around them. Humor abounds as this mismatched lot tries to find time in their hectic lives to work together to solve the puzzle. In the end, will they realize that fortune comes in many guises? "Doc's Codicil" is a mystery told with abundant humor. It tells the story of a veterinarian who teaches his heirs a lesson from the grave.
Excerpt
Codicil: a document that amends a previously executed will.
The Heirs’ Story, Rockburg, Northern Wisconsin, September 2013
Al finished tying his tie and looked at himself in the mirror. A halo
of wispy, white hair edged his shining pate; his back was stooped;
and his face lined and creased. You’re kind of an old fossil for this nonsense, he thought. He reached for his suit coat, hesitated, and left it where it was. “Too damned hot today,” he grumbled. “I wouldn’t bother with a tie if I knew these kids better.”
His wife Jan, white-haired and dressed in her robe, looked at him from the master bathroom and mumbled something as she brushed her teeth.
He snorted quietly. Together forty-five years, and she still thinks I can understand her when she talks with a toothbrush in her mouth.
“What was that, dear?” Jan set the toothbrush aside and rinsed her mouth. “How do you think your meeting will go?” she asked.
“I do not know. You can’t play games with bank stock and not expect consequences, even if you are dead.” He scanned his dresser and the bed. “Where the hell are my socks? I had ’em in my hand a second ago.”
Jan sighed. “On your left shoulder, Al,” she called to him, “where you put them while you tied your tie.”
He saw her roll her eyes. I guess I deserved that.
Thirty minutes later in the bank’s board room, Al Huss watched Seth, Doc’s oldest son, pace back and forth at the other end of the conference table. Six foot tall, frowning, muscular, and shaved bald, Seth looked intimidating. Al followed Seth’s eyes as they lingered
over the dark wainscoting, wide moldings around the doors, windows, ceiling, and the wood flooring that groaned as he paced.
Al had seen the look before. Kids move to a big city and think our bank is a museum piece. Seth’s sister, Julie, an attractive, willowy brunette, the youngest of the family, was dressed casually in shorts and blouse and sat
halfway down the mahogany conference table to Al’s left. Her pixie haircut set off a wicked grin. Al saw her flick something, maybe a paper clip, across the table at her brother Jed.
Jed, in jeans and T-shirt, had a beard, thinning auburn hair, and was slightly
shorter and leaner than Seth. Whatever Julie had aimed at him, Jed deflected toward his cousin Mark, a thin, dark-haired young man sitting next to him. Mark, the only one wearing a suit, gave a start, and looking puzzled, glanced around the room. A smile flickered
across Jed’s face; as with studied innocence, both he and Julie used
magazines from a rack by the wall to fan themselves.
Both have graduate degrees and families, and they get home and act like fourth graders, Al thought. Just like Doc said.
Yellowed curtains behind Al fluttered pleasantly in a light breeze from an open window behind him. Wally picked up a newspaper and began to fan himself. Apparently natural ventilation isn’t enough for a generation raised with air conditioning, Al thought. They don’t
look happy that I haven’t turned the lights on, either.
The light from the windows was enough for Al. He drafted the will years ago and reread it after the funeral last week. Al had agreed to do this as a favor for Doc. That was before the codicil.
Crazy bastard, I told him not to do this. Just like him, though, the
stubborn SOB
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