Post-Mortem Advocacy

20250919

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

Beatrice was previously seen here.

“And how do you know the deceased, Ms Collins?” The solicitor’s tone was that sort of precise, distant politeness which probably took half a semester of drilling to get right, and made Beatrice second-guess whether the appraising stare was habitual or whether she was rousing suspicion.
Let’s be honest, even if they weren’t suspicious of her the moment she walked in the door, they were about to be.
“Well, here’s the thing - I wouldn’t say I know him, and I only met him after he died.”
The solicitor’s eyebrows, which had been rising into the warning zone, slowly relaxed back to neutral as Beatrice placed her card on the table. Accredited medium was a difficult licence to obtain, for good reason. And very easy to lose for the same reasons. Any professional malarky would get you into boiling water.
Probably metaphorical.
“You’re saying you’ve had direct contact with the deceased since he passed?”
“Yes. He says to tell you…” Beatrice paused, carefully listening to the etherial whisper, then as deadpan as she could relayed “Wobbly wibbly plink.”
Silence. The solicitor’s expression remained impassive.
Beatrice uneasily muttered to her unseen client “Please tell me you didn’t have me say that just to see if I would.”
“No, it’s the catchphrase for our favourite cartoon character when we were growing up together.” The solicitor folded their hands and gave her a pensive look. “I would find his personal passwords or similar more compelling…”
“He said he doesn’t trust me with those.” Beatrice strove to keep the annoyance out of her voice.
The solicitor raised an eyebrow. “Is Mr Hill here with us?”
“Yes.”
The solicitor leant back in their chair and spoke past Beatrice. “Chris, if you want someone advocating for you after your will has gone into effect, I need to be able to vouch for them in a court of law. Work with us.”
“Ah, I wouldn’t say I’m advocating, exactly-” Beatrice paused, struggling to keep a straight face as Christopher responded in a direct fashion to this admonishment, then out loud decided “I’m going to exercise some professional discretion on behalf of my client.”
“And the bicycle I rode in on?” The solicitor said casually.
“Beetle, actually.” Beatrice didn’t try to hide her puzzlement.
“VW.”
“What? Oh - of course.” Beatrice blushed contritely. “Sorry, I’ve never been a car person.”
That prompted the faintest flicker of a smile.
A few lines were jotted down and the paper pushed across to her. “So. If you could… transcribe? The answers to these security questions on Mr Hill’s behalf…”
“Right.” Beatrice picked up the pen and tilted her head in pointed expectation.
While it involved far too much physic grumbling, the impromptu form was filled out and, given the solicitor’s crisp nod, found satisfactory.
“Now. What did Mr Hill contract you for?”
“It’s nothing to do with the will.” Beatrice assured them. “It’s just, he says his death was ruled a suicide? And he wants to contest that. He figured talking to you was the first step.”
“I… suppose?” The pen tapped a slow metronome of contemplation. “What does he say was the true cause?”
“He isn’t sure, I’m afraid. The moments of death tend to be confused for people. He describes seeing something in the middle of the road, low to the ground but sort of shimmery? And that’s the last thing he remembers. But he’s adamant he did not deliberately go off the road, nor was he driving recklessly.”
“I see.” There was a distinct hint of relief in the solicitor’s voice. Which if both had known each other since childhood made sense.
Beatrice turned her head (a useful gesture to indicate that she was Listening elsewhere), then relayed “He says that the false ruling has put a lot of stress on his loved ones, and he wants the record put right. In particular he wants his sister to know? But he thought it would be better coming via you rather than direct contact. Trusted known party, and all that.”
“Yes, I think you’re right, Chris.” The solicitor was now directing their words to the general spot Beatrice had been listening, which while not where Chris was, exactly (the etherial plane was tricky to map onto three-dimensional space), Beatrice still considered a nice gesture. “Would you like me to update the family and then contact the police, or start contesting the ruling first?”
“Whichever you think best.” Beatrice relayed. “But he wants ‘dotty’ to know as soon as possible, because this has sent her into a horrible spiral and he’s worried for her.”
“Ah.” The solicitor digested this, their professional facade melting away to reveal very real concern. “Then I think arranging a meeting with the family is paramount. Are you able to hold a seance?”
“Of course.” Beatrice assured them, awkwardly adding “But, um, I’m afraid I’d need to take this on as a proper job and bill for it…”
“Of course.” The solicitor offered a faint, reassuring smile. “We are engaging you in a professional capacity. Which will include speaking to the police on Mr Hill’s behalf.”
“Right.” Beatrice swallowed a sigh. “Fair warning - they don’t like being told they’re wrong, and like to make a big deal about the fact deceased souls can lie. This is unlikely to be a nice quick revision.”
“It never is.” The solicitor said with serene resignation. “Now. Do you have a standard contract?”
Beatrice clicked open her satchel. “Here. Oh, and I’m happy to be paid - and officially employed - by someone other than the deceased, if that simplifies things. Often the family club together rather than complicate inheritance and all further.”
“Ah, yes, that would help…” The solicitor accepted the contract and gave Beatrice a full smile. “And, if I may say, I’m very glad that people will get a chance to say goodbye.”
Beatrice returned the smile as Chris earnestly echoed this. “Believe me, I entirely understand. All part of the job.”

Prompt was “‘How do you know the deceased?’ ‘Well, here’s the thing…’.”