Revenge is sweet

“Mr. Wilson, I’ve asked you to tea today to be a witness to my Last Will and Testament. You have always been our family’s lawyer and I hope will continue to be for many years to come. I have typed up my Will and would ask that you be the executor when I leave this earth.”

   James took off his starched, black, trench coat, laid it neatly on the chair, seated himself at my large oak table with velvet cushioned chairs, and read the sheet of paper I handed to him.

Last Will and Testament of Rebecca Davenport dated August 28, 2020

I, Rebecca Davenport, being of sound mind, do declare that this is my Last Will and Testament and revoking all other Wills that have come before, hereby bequeath and bequest the following:

To my former but still nosy neighbor, Tom Addison, who was always going on about what is wrong in my garden and what I should do to take care of it – I leave all the weeds and broken lawn mower equipment.

To my lazy, good for nothing brother-in-law who does nothing to help my sister – I leave my how-to books, so he can learn how to be a productive member of society instead of relying on everyone else to cater to each whim.

To the French teacher I had in high school who said I would never learn French – I leave my supply of French mustard and a souvenir of the Eiffel Tower.

To Jill Henson, my competitor for Apricot jam at the country fair and sore loser when I won each time – I leave my family’s recipe for it; so that she can win the competitions.

To my coworker who always had her nose stuck up in the air because she insisted, she was better than me – I leave my pile of washing and supply of clothes pegs.

To my creditors (loan sharks) at 6th Street and Elm – I leave my jar of pennies and other small change.

To my English teacher, Mr. Smith, who said my writing was no good and never would be – I leave my bestsellers and Carnegie medal (a British award for literary excellence in children’s writing) and supply of gold stickers bearing the words BOOK EXCELLENCE AWARD WINNER that I also received after winning an international competition.

I could see his eyebrows rising as he continued; first pausing to have a sip of the blended tea (it’s a secret) that brought a smile to his lips.

To my mother-in-law who is always criticizing the way I dress and carry myself - my cracked, dusty, free-standing oval mirror.

To my soulmate and confidante of 25 years, Rick Davenport, - my dog; with the express instruction that Prince have daily walks in the park, steak once a week, and sleep on my side of the bed every night.

And finally, to my beloved and faithful dog Prince - all my investments and worldly possessions so he can truly be a Prince all the remaining days of his life.

Signed,

Rebecca Davenport     __________________________________

Witness  

James Wilson, Executor  ____________________________________

“I have placed in this envelope the current addresses and phone numbers of the relevant parties. Please keep both safe from prying eyes.”

   “Rebecca, are you sure this is the Will you want to use?”

   “Yes” I said emphatically.

   “I will respect your wishes then. The beneficiaries are not going to be happy, but they do deserve their inheritance. Thank you for the tea. Now that we have signed and witnessed this document, I will place it in the safe in my office until such time as it is needed.”

   Without another word he rose from the table, put his coat back on, adjusted the belt loop so the coat was snug on him, and left by the front door. I peered at him through the curtains as he went to his car - he was shaking his head and muttering to himself. It’s my Will, I thought to myself, I can word it how I like. Revenge is sweet. I only wish I could be here to see their faces. The recipients will think they are getting something good since I have always been careful with money. I do have several possessions (comes from being an accumulator, no, pack rat if I’m honest) but I take care of what I have. My journals with the thoughts, aspirations, recipes, dreams, etc. that I write in them are the foundations for many of the books that I have written. Let them believe what they want. I wasn’t sure I could go through with having the Will worded the way I did, but I am incredibly pleased I had the courage.

   Just then, an idea struck her. My latest protagonist is going to write a similar Will, she thought. Brilliant! She would essentially be there to see her beneficiaries and their reactions through her writing. Pouring herself another cup of tea she sat down at the small table she used as a writing desk that overlooked her favorite oak tree and began to write…

The words flowed onto the page - chapter after chapter - she was in top form today. Only her rumbling stomach clued her in that she should take a break and have a sandwich and some crisps. Later she would treat herself to a small cream puff with a cup of coffee. 

It was nearing five o’clock when Rebecca stopped writing for the day and prepared the evening meal. Prince had his weekly steak and she and Rick had a zucchini and tomato tart. She added olives and fresh basil and used a sheet of puff pastry that she free-formed into the shape of a tart. Rebecca had fun creating that meal and added it to her repertoire of recipes to make for the future. The combination of Mediterranean flavors was delicious. If her cooking teacher could see her now, she would not believe it was the same Rebecca. After supper she and Rick did a cryptic crossword together and then spent the rest of the evening reading; a favorite pastime - with Prince nestled between them.

   The next day, Rick took Prince out for his walk and Rebecca again sat down to write. After a half hour, the doorbell rang. It was Jill Henson; now that was a surprise! Jill never paid a call on her. Curiosity got the better of her and she invited Jill into the living room.  

“I’ve made you some Apricot jam - it’s a new recipe I’m trying. It goes real well with Amaretto. Here, you can have this bottle; I’ve got a spare at home. I’m sorry I was a such a spoilsport, but you always win no matter what I try, any competition we enter together. Best-selling author, caring husband, wonderful dog, you’ve got it all. I am ashamed to say I was a little jealous, please accept my apology.”

With that Jill left and didn’t wait for a reply. 

Rebecca understood that – it was hard to admit you were wrong to another person. She was partial to Amaretto, but it had been years since she had tasted any. Her writing could wait a few minutes while she had a small snack. First, Rebecca buttered a slice of bread, put jam on the slice then poured herself some of the liqueur. It had a slightly strange taste, like it was a bit rancid…

All the years of researching for her mystery stories paid off as the realization came - arsenic! Oh no; and I have so much left to write, she thought. Silently she continued, my latest book is nowhere near ready for the publishers yet. Rebecca was determined to leave a clue that could be found with the identity of the killer; so, with minutes left to live she grabbed her journal and wrote - JH and underneath the initials - Amaretto. Hopefully, her clue would be deciphered. Pen in hand, she closed her eyes a final time.

The clue was discovered by the ever astute Detective Inspector Holmes and the killer brought to justice. The rest of the Amaretto was disposed of and Revenge is Sweet was snatched up by her publisher and printed posthumously. It sold 35 million copies its first year.