Doris Meadows had twelve million dollars, a mansion, a bird aviary, and a very bad heart. All Stacey Ryan had to do was to marry her and wait for her heart to give out. It was all very simple. Or was it?
“All right, Turner,” Stacey said as Turner poured him a third scotch. “Give me the skinny on your latest scam.”
“Okay. Six months ago and elderly man walked into my office. His name was Matthew Hamilton. He wanted to make out a will leaving all his money and worldly possessions to his niece, a one Doris Meadows, age twenty-seven, who was living with him at the time. Hamilton was a retired oil man, and Doris was his only next of kin.”
“Turner, you keep saying Hamilton was. What is he, a stiff?”
The lawyer laughed. “As usual, Stacey, you’re racing ahead of me. I didn’t think too much about that money at the time, as there was no possible way for me to latch on to it. Now there is a way. Hamilton has checked out, killed in a car wreck, two months ago. Doris Meadows has inherited everything.”
“Okay,” Stacey said before sipping his whiskey and grabbing a second cigar. “So how do we get Doris Meadows’ money?”
“That’s simple, Stacey. You’re going to marry the gal.”
Startled, Ryan swore and coughed. “I’ll be damned if I’ll marry the Meadows dame. Has your brain gone around the bend? That won’t get us her money until she dies.”
“That’s right, my boy, until she dies,” repeated Turner.
“Now wait a minute. You’re surely not thinking of murder, are you?”
