From what I could make out, they were planning on moving back to Iowa and wanted to take Charley's remains with them.
As long as I was alive, there was no way that was going to happen.
Her voice was as professional and icy as ever.
"Barbra Lawry."
"Miss Lawry, this is Hugo Ciccarelli."
"Yes? What do you want?"
"I had a nice little visit, yesterday, from a certain young lady bearing court documents."
"Good. Now that you've had a chance to read the documents, I'm sure you'll comply with the proceedings."
I could see her behind a big desk, her feet resting on top of the blotter, smoking a big cigar and smiling...while she pulled the wings off flies.
"I'm not sure that I understand."
"Well, then, Mr. Cicarelli, I would suggest you hire yourself a lawyer. You're going to need one."
"Why are you doing this?"
"My mother wants to move back to Iowa. We want to bring our father's remains home - with us. Simple."
"Yes, but why dis-inter your father's remains and take them with you? What are you trying to prove?" I asked, hoping that the nervousness and anger tripping around in my voice wouldn't be noticeable over the phone lines.
"I'm not trying to prove anything. She and my father built there lives there, where they were happy. It's their home. She wants to buried next to him - at home."
"Your father left your mother because he was unhappy. He moved out here to find himself."
"He made a mistake. Certainly, you can agree with that. My father would still be alive today, if he had never met you. The least you could do is respect his memory and let him rest where he was happiest."
I swallowed a hard lump in my throat. "His will stated that he wanted to be buried next to me, regardless of what your mother wants--"
"Any will that my father wrote that post-dates the will that I have in my possession, was written while he was ill and less than competent to be making those decisions."
"You had your chance to challenge the will, two years ago, Barbra. You can't do this!"
"This family is still grieving that loss, Mr. Ciccarelli. You wouldn't understand that, of course. I'm sure that you're still coasting along on your share of his insurance money, wasting it on that coffee shop..."
"I'll fight you on this --You won't win."
"Oh, yes I will. I'll see you in court, Hugo," she said, and hung up.
I went to my desk and started to look for my copy of Charley's will.
