The Von Bucati Mansion cont.

The Von Bucati Mansion

By Dan Watt

Author of the e-books Ruby Queen and Sylvia on Kobo.com; and e-books Lucy and the Snivel Chair and Learning the Garden of the Body on Amazon.com

This is a bit long so if you want just skip down to the continuation of the The Von Bucati Mansion.  The Dark Tower movie is coming out.  I read Stephen King’s series and was left disgruntled.  His writing of Roland’s past, the gunslingers, was amazing, but other parts were disappointing.  If you’ve read or watched The Stand, The Green Mile, The Shawshank Redemption, just to list a few, you know Mr. King can write fantastic stories.  What bothers me about the Dark Tower series is that he delved into the darkness when he could have had a much stronger story if he followed more of the depth.  That Stephen King added himself into the story, I felt, was wrong.  It could be he was in pain and angry from horrendous injuries caused by a drunk driver, and I can relate to getting hit and injured by a vehicle, but he should not have included himself.  Roland Childe and the Dark Tower don’t belong to Mr. King, they belong to Robert Browning.    My hope is that with a powerful cast of Idris Elba as Roland and Matthew McConaughey as Walter, Mr. King has allowed director Nicolaj Arcel to follow the depth and less of the darkness.

Cont…

“What about businesses?” I asked leaning forward.  I think the old bird is really taken by me.

“That’s all taken care of,” she replies, still smiling, staring at me with her one clear eye.  “I have rented a small cottage in the Muskoka’s and would like you to attend with a number of other chosen people.”  She glances at a Ferrari calendar hanging behind me.  “Today is the second of June, 2021.  Mark in your calendar for June twenty-third to be at Chateau Morgan on Lake Eugenia.”

I lean back.  “I’m not sure I’ll be available that day.”  It’s important to never let a client tell you what to do.

“That would not do, Mr. Deleppe.”  Her one good eye has gotten as menacing as the tone of her voice.  “Would you like to be picked up?”

I gulp.  “Yes, I can catch up on work on the way up.”  There’s a chill in the air all of a sudden.

She puts her right hand on top of mine and the touch is icy.  “This old body really needs replacing Mr. Deleppe.  It is getting old and falling to pieces.”

“How old are you?”  I ask as I slip my hand away from hers.

“I was born in 1890, so be nice to me,” she says winking at me with her good eye.  She reaches into her purse and pulls out a legal envelope.  “This is my will and signed by two very old friends.  If you could look it over and approve of it.  I realize you lawyers, like anyone else, like to discuss cases and perhaps wills.  Please do not discuss my will with anyone.”  She stands up.

I get up myself and walk her to the door.  When I open it heat blasts in.  “Where is  your driver?” I ask.

“I prefer to drive myself.”  Her smile is young; vivacious comes to mind.  “I’ll see you at the Chateau.”

I step out and watch her walk to the little parking lot I share with three other defence lawyers.  I can’t believe it!  She just slipped behind the wheel of an olive green compact Jaguar full of curves.  I take a picture with my cell phone and click Identify.  Now this is something else, it’s a 1957 Jaguar XKSS Roadster.  The actor Steve McQueen had one.  Oh, I’m going to make a lot of money off this client!

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