Grandfather Robert's Will
Chapter 55's

“Before.” he keeps Rachel by his side, Jenson turns to the doctor. “ Does Rachel have to be hospitalized?”

“Jenson..”.

“Shut up baby.”

“Anyone who has a concussion should be checked regularly and should be under surveillance. It would be wiser if Miss Cecilion stayed and treated with professional handling.”

“I won't stay in the hospital because there's a lump in my head. Good afternoon, Lieutenant.”

“Nona Cecilion.”

Raising her chin, Rachel looked back at the doctor. “Now, Doctor..”.

“Rizky.”

“Dr. Rizky,” he started. “I'll follow some of your advice. I'll rest, avoid stress. If there are signs of nausea or dizziness, I will immediately meet you. I can assure you, since you've convinced Jenson that I'm sick, I'll be well cared for and always looked forward to. You should be satisfied with just that.”

Far from satisfied, the doctor approached Jenson. “Surely I can't force him to be hospitalized.”

"Yes doctor, I'd like to be treated."

“More or less during the week,” the reset, then go across that alley.

“If I didn't know more,” ponder Jenson, “I'll say that he wants to keep you here Just to look at you.”

“Of course. I look amazing with blood splattered on my face and with a hole in my head.”

“I think so.” Rachel pecked her cheek, but used that motion to look at her wound more closely. The doctor's stitches were small and neat, ending in Rachel's hairline. After counting the six, Jenson's determination became round. “Let's go home so I can start spoiling you.”

“I'll take you myself.” Randall signaled the door. “It is better that I do look around while I am here.”

...****************...

Jesica squawked like a hen and insisted that Rachel was in bed five minutes after she stepped through the entrance. If Rachel had the energy, she would argue against it. But he instead let himself be enveloped, given soup and warm tea, also reviled. Although the doctor had already assured her that sleep was safe for her, she thought of the ancient stories and struggled to stay awake. Armed with a sketchbook and a pencil, he spent time. But as he grew tired of it, he began to think.

Murder. Nothing more than murder. Murder after treasure, he mused, an impossible thing for him to understand. He had previously said to himself that his life was threatened, but it seemed far from his attention. Now he just needs to touch his own forehead to prove how important it is.

Uncle, cousin, auntie? Who was the one who wanted Robert's treasure so badly that he could kill? It's not the first time Rachel hopes she gets to know them better, understands them better. He realized that he was just following Robert's lead and thought they were all boring.

By the time Jenson arrived, Rachel had already drawn a stack of sketches. “Company of criminals.”

Jenson comes straight from the garage, where he and Randall find brake fluid still wet on his concrete floor. Not everything, Jenson said. Whoever had damaged the brakes left enough oil for the car to run normally in the first few miles. And then, can't anymore. Jenson had already concluded that the police would find a hole in the brake. Like they found a hole in Rachel's car brake, got a dark puddle under that car. It was as deadly as the one on his car.

He wasn't ready to tell Rachel that anyone who had tried to kill them was close to the garage a day, maybe two days earlier. Instead he observed the sketches Rachel had made.

“What do you see?” sue Rachel.

“You have amazing talent and it is best to seriously consider painting.”

“I mean in Their faces.” Impatient with herself, Rachel pulls her legs in Indian style. “Nothing there. No spark, no sign that these people are capable of killing.”

“Anyone can kill. Oh yes,” added Jenson as Rachel opened her mouth to express her disapproval. “Anybody. The motive should be according to his personality, situation, and needs. If anyone threatens him, he kills. For some people, only if their lives or the lives of their loved ones are threatened.”

“It's completely different.”

“No.” Jenson sat on the bed. “It's just a matter of different degrees. Some people kill because their homes are threatened, their possessions are threatened. Others kill because their desires are threatened. Wealth, power, it is a very strong desire.”

“So someone very ordinary, even conventional, can kill to achieve that desire.”

Jenson pointed her index finger at Rachel's sketches. “One of them has tried it. Aunt Laura with her round little face and myopic eyes.”

“You don't really believe that..”.

“He's loyal to Morgan, very, very loyal."

Jenson picked up the next sketch. “Or Morgan herself, chubby, outspoken, stubborn. He thought Robert was crazy and troublesome.”

“They are all so.”

“Accurate once. Uncle Yosef, stiff, has no sense of humor, and is Robert's only surviving son.”

“But, he knows his father shrewdly, probably more than anyone else. Who would dare to say that he would not cover up his dislike in a more direct way? Yagil..” Jenson chuckled as she observed the sketch. Rachel drew it exactly as the original. Fun with himself.

“I can't imagine him dirtying his own hands.”

“For one hundred and fifty billion? I-i can. Bianca Cornelia tiny and sweet. I wonder if he is as sweet and as blank as he looks. And Uncle David.” Rachel drew it with the muscles of the arms stretched. “Will he be satisfied with a few hundred million when he can earn hundreds of millions?”