6

More than two hundred miles northeast of Manhattan, the Charles and Mystic Rivers flowed inland from Boston Harbor at the influx of land now known as Boston, Massachusetts. Once the hunting grounds of the native Shawmut Indians, the area of Bean Town had changed from a small port village colonized by Puritans and where Colonists once dumped tea into the harbor into one of the most populated and historic towns on the Eastern seaboard. If New York City resonated with the voice of Brat Packer Joey Bishop, the town of Boston resonated with the voice of Vonda Shepard whose fluid voice shaped the town in a popular Nineties television series. Writer William Collins chose this town to escape from his parents for the first time in the Eighties. Baseball pitcher Sam Malone operated a successful bar on Beacon Street, and Richard Fish and John Cage owned and ran their law firm here. Located in the top floor of a Boston brownstone office building, their elevator doors parted to reveal Alex Russo standing in a high-necked sweater and white skirt, a thick parcel of papers clutched tightly to her chest. She strided forward before the glass marble design with the firm's name on it. Collin's widow worked here as a lawyer and junior partner. Alex's brown eyes scanned once to the left and then to the right.

"Hello, I'm Julie Costello…" An attractive blonde appeared before Alex. "Can I help you?"

"John Cage?" Alex spoke lifting her head up. "I've got an appointment." She forced a nervous smile.

"Miss Frost…" Julie shook the young girl's hand. "Yes, he's waiting for you…"

"Thank you…" Alex shined.

"I thought you were much older by your voice on the phone." She gestured left down to a corridor off the entryway.

"I get it all the time." They passed the office of Nell Porter and her associate, Ling Wu. They glanced out at Julie and Alex together and did a double take.

"Was that Mikayla?" Ling wondered.

"John?" The cute assistant office manager knocked at the office door of John Herschel Cage, the senior lawyer of the firm with Richard Fish. He was a short puckish figure with receding curly brown and gray hair trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey in an expensive suit. His owlish eyes looked up, checked his watch and lit up as he moved to his feet and came around his desk holding out his hand to meet the person who had identified herself as Monica Frost on the phone the previous night from Manhattan. Since the Twenties, her family inheritance was being held in limbo by the local Boston Trust Bank until an heir could be found related to the Frost family. Rumors were when Civil War Lieutenant Theodore Lucius Frost passed away in 1922, his only legal heir at the time was his daughter, Abigail, and she had passed away without ever leaving a will while believing her brother, Teddy, was still alive. The official record claimed that Teddy had died on the Titanic, but reports of him being alive went on for years. The fact that Monica existed was very convenient timing.

"Miss Frost," John spoke in a quiet solemn voice just above a whisper and held her dainty white hand and looked into her exuberant brown eyes. "I'm honored that you called me to handle your inheritance."

"Please, call me Nikki…" Alex removed her jacket and placed it neatly over the chair across from the desk before sitting down, folding her long left leg over her right sensually and tossing back her hair. She laid her parcel across her lap. "Now, as you know, my mother was recommended to contact you by the late Mr. Collins, the writer."

"I knew William very well." John sat on the edge of his desk graciously with his left hand within his right and his eyes earnestly transfixed on the beautiful young girl. "He was a very good and trusting person. His wife is still one of my best friends." He dropped to his feet and crossed round to his seat. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother's passing as well."

"I'm afraid she didn't leave me with much…" Alex choked a bit and reacted remiss before pausing in remembrance and continuing. "Well, as you know, my grandfather's law firm, Radcliffe, Grint and Watson, broke up after World War Two, and it was only until recently that I heard you helped the Fenton family solve their old financial disputes. I assume you still have access to their old records."

"I'm proud to say we have been granted full access to their records." John gestured. "Did you bring proof of your identity?" He reached to Alex surrendering her paperwork. Laying it before him, John undid the string holding it tightly closed and placed out neatly before him the legal papers of a single mother who he never knew.

"Let's see, birth certificate, social security card, driver's license, old photos…" He paused to take a look at something. "A Nineteenth century library card…" He held the faded sepia-toned card up to the light.

Alex rolled her eyes upward hopefully.

"Mother's birth certificate, her marriage certificate, your father's death certificate…" There were other random things here like tax receipts and letters from the 1950s. "As you know…." John shuffled through her paperwork. "The Frost family fortune has been locked in gratuity since 1912 when Teddy Frost passed away, and his daughter left her portion of it to several charities when she died in 1965. Unfortunately, even with all this paperwork, a judge is going to want irrefutable evidence that you're the last living heir to the fortune."

"Like what?" Alex leaned back in her seat.

"Well, like a DNA test…."

"What?" Alex reacted a bit distracted. She paused and thought a second. "I thought my blood test was in there." She reached and tugged at her left ear while giving a slight nose twitch. John checked her papers as a solitary sheet shot up out of the top like a high school student raising his hand. John jumped to see it bounce up from the back of the file. If it had been a snake it might have bit him.

"Found it…." John looked it over. It had been performed at Collinsport General Hospital in Maine on March 13, 1993 against tissue known to be from surgery Abigail had in 1962. Over the years, no more than seventy-three claimants had tried to gain access to the fortune, both legally and illegally, and as John viewed the word "Positive Match" on it, he felt his heart about to burst from being part of the solution to such a historical riddle.

"I see no reason Judge Cone won't let you have your father's inheritance."

"Oh God…" Alex suddenly broke down emotionally. "I just wish my mother was alive to see this."

"Could you just sign this for me?" John pulled out a waver for her to sign. "You know… you're going to be very famous after this gets out."

"Oh, please, no publicity…." Alex looked terrified. "I can't stand public displays of attention."

"I'll keep it as private as possible." John's quiet whisper of a voice sounded. "Now…" He looked at her signature. She had signed "Monica E. Frost" in large flowing 19th Century lettering. "Where can I reach you if I need you?"

"I'm staying at the Youth Hostel over on Demonbreun." Alex confessed standing and taking her jacket.

"Oh, no, no, I can put you up at a very nice hotel near here." John picked up his phone. "Have you ever heard of the Tipton Hotel?"