“I’m telling you, Hobbs,” said John Dough, “inheriting the Dough millions has had some nerve racking moments. Do you remember Frack, the butler?”
“A smiling and mild mannered chap,” said Hobbs
“That’s the guy. I fired him after inheriting the house in the Hamptons. Well, two days ago he came to my office and demanded one hundred thousand dollars. He claimed to have been in the study when my father drew up another will, naming his brother sole heir.”
“You believed him?”
“I confess the news was quite a shocker. Dad and I had an argument over Marilyn sometime during the last week of June. Dad opposed the marriage, and it seemed possible that he had cut me off.”
“Frack said he has this second will, which he said would be worth a lot more than the blackmail money he was asking for. He said the new will was dated June 31, only one day newer than the old will, but it would be legally recognized he claimed.”
“You didn’t pay him, I hope?” asked Hobbs.
“I paid—with my boot to the seat of his pants.”
“Perfect,” agreed Hobbs. “Imagine trying to peddle a story like that!? Why did they decide not to pay Frack?