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grump in his old age. But I could see why he was one of the most respected men in the county. He helped everyone who asked for it, and he helped in ways that mattered. He doesn’t give money to charities, probably because he doesn’t have a lot, but he gives himself. He attends all the church dinners, Elks Club bingo nights, and oyster feasts, usually wearing his own apron that’s dark blue with red letters on the front that says Field and Bay. He’s very proud of his career and his magazine. It’s his identity. Along with his ascot, or his bow tie.
    â€œOnce we get this “will” business settled, I want to talk about the Hijenks,” Burl said. “We’ve got to stop it.”
    â€œNow hold on a minute,” I said. “I may have a conflict here and I’m not ready to discuss it.”
    â€œWhat conflict?” he asked.
    â€œI’m a lawyer, among other things,” I said. “And I might have a client in this fight.”
    â€œDon’t you desert me boy,” Burl said with a smile. I knew he wasn’t really upset. Burl is a democratic soul, and understands everyone has a right to their views. Just the same, I’d rather not antagonize him, not with my first one thousand dollar fee hanging in the balance.
    â€œBurl, here’s a simple agreement to sign that says I’ll do the will and you’ll pay for it. And I’ve attached a form that will get you started thinking about your will. It will help you make lists of things. Account for your money and property. List your relatives and friends you want to leave things to, then come back and we’ll talk it through.”
    â€œDamn, if you’re going to make a major production out of this, I sure don’t want to be paying the hourly rate.”
    â€œBurl, for one thousand dollars, you get everything I know for as long as it takes,” I said.
    â€œNeddie, my boy, welcome to Parkers. Again, I’m sorry about your brother.”
    â€œThanks Mansfield,” I said, using the formal name. I stood to see him out and he moved toward the door. He took the handle and started to turn it, then looked back at me to add, “You know, your brother was working for the CRI.”
    â€œI know Burl, thanks for coming in, and I’ll get right on the paperwork for your will.”

    This was turning out to be a busy day.
    Diane Sexton wasn’t due in Parkers until two o’clock, well after I would finish lunch with the Calico Cat, Effie Humbolt. By lunch I mean a piece of Dominos pizza, catered by Effie from the pizza shop located in the far end of our building. To call our offices a professional building may have been a stretch. We had an insurance agent, who was independent, meaning he represented a lot of companies when he was sober. Fortunately, there are a lot of insurance companies out there so you can go through quite a few in a lifetime of overindulgence. We also have a second hand clothing store, which does quite well because we have so many available customers. And we have a real estate firm that deals almost exclusively in local property. Its owner is Pippy Plotkin, who is called “Pigskin” because it is alliterative and because Pippy paints his car in maroon and gold colors with Washington Redskin logos on the doors and an Indian in full headdress on the hood. Pippy makes a lot of money churning beach houses and fishing cottages, then he spends it all attending out of town football games. I’ve only met him once, but Effie says he’s a pip.
    Effie is about forty-five and married to a local appeals court Judge. The courthouse is in Annapolis so I seldom see him, which is fine because then I can dream that Effie loves me. She is a peach, knows everyone who ever lived in Parkers, and comes from one of those “crossover” families who were poor about three generations ago, but through farming and a good Maryland law school, found themselves at the