Kling recognized the man he’d met at the wake. Thirty-five years old or thereabouts, plain, craggy face, dark eyes, mustache, eyeglasses. Wearing the same brown suit he’d been wearing when they’d met the first time. Button-down collar, striped tie. Tall and angular. Hand extended in greeting.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “come in, please, have you learned anything?”
“No, not yet,” Kling said.
“Few questions we’d like to ask you, though,” Parker said, “if that’s all right with you.”
“Yes, please,” he said, ushering them into his private office and closing the door behind them. They were facing a window wall that offered a breathtaking view of the skyline. Big wooden desk covered with papers in blue binders. Bookshelves sagging with heavy legal tomes. Framed university degrees on the walls. Colbert sat behind his desk, the window wall behind him.
“So,” he said. “How can I help you?”
“I got a visit this morning from a man named David Wilkins,” Kling said. “Do you know him?”
“Peter’s brother. Yes. I know him.”
“I understand he and Mrs. Wilkins don’t get along.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Colbert said, and smiled.
“Threw champagne in his face, that right?” Parker asked.
“He shouted obscenities at her. At her own wedding reception, mind you. I’ve never seen her so angry.”
“You were there?”
“Oh, yes. The three of us have been friends…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I still can’t get used to the idea of Peter being gone.” He sighed, shook his head again, and said, “Yes, I was there. I was Peter’s best man, in fact.”
“Wilkins seems to think his brother left a will,” Kling said.
Colbert said nothing.
“And that he’s in it,” Parker said.
Colbert still said nothing.
“Would you know if there’s such a will?” Kling asked.
“Why do you want to know this?” Colbert said.
“Well…there’s been a murder committed,” Kling said, “and we like to cover all the…”
“What my partner’s trying to say,” Parker said, “is that it has been known in the annals of crime for people to kill other people in order to inherit money. Is what I think he’s trying to say.”
“I see. So you think…”
“We don’t think anything yet,” Kling said. “We’re trying…”
“What we think ,” Parker said, “is that Wilkins sounds like a flake goes around insulting the bride at her own wedding and now thinks he’s named in his brother’s will, is what we think. Which could have some bearing on the case.”
“So is there such a will?” Kling asked.
“By such a will, do you mean a will in which David Wilkins is named as a beneficiary? Or merely a will Peter Wilkins left?”
“Take your choice,” Parker said.
“Peter Wilkins left a will, yes,” Colbert said. “Hasn’t Debra told you this?”
“We didn’t ask her,” Parker said. “Do you have a copy of that will, Mr. Colbert?”
“I have the original,” Colbert said.
“May we see that will, please?” Kling asked.
“Why?” Colbert said.
“As my partner explained, it might have some bearing if Wilkins was named as…”
“Yes, I understand. But the will hasn’t yet been probated, hasn’t been made a public document. If I showed it to you, I’d be violating the privacy…”
“Mr. Colbert,” Parker said, “your partner was killed. We’re trying to find out who did it.”
“I recognize that. But I don’t think I can show you his will.”
Parker looked at him.
“I’m sorry,” Colbert said.
“Can you tell us if David Wilkins is a beneficiary in the will?” Kling asked.
“Suppose I say he is? Will you then want to know what the conditions of the will are, what the terms of the will are, what…”
“Can’t you just give us a simple yes or no?” Parker said.
“Can’t you wait till the will is probated? The man was buried only last week, I would think…”
“Let me put it to you this way, Mr. Colbert,” Parker said. “Suppose this nutty brother of his who loses his head at weddings discovers he’s going to inherit a million bucks when his brother dies. And suppose he sees in the newspaper that a person was killed spraying a wall, and suppose he decides it would be a good idea to kill his brother and make it look like the same person did it so he can collect his mil and run off to the South Pacific, do you think then you could understand why we might want to know if this guy’s really going to inherit?”
“Yes, but…”
“So give us a break, willya?” Parker said.
Colbert smiled.
“I suppose I can disclose a negative,” he said. “No, David Wilkins is not named as a beneficiary in his brother’s will.”
“Thank you,” Parker said. “Can you tell us who is named?”
“That would be a positive,” Colbert said, and smiled again. “I’m sorry, really, but I couldn’t reveal that without first asking Debra Wilkins’s permission.”
“It’ll be a matter of public record the minute she files for probate,” Kling said.
“Yes, but it’s not a matter of public record yet.”
“Do you know when she plans to file?”
“I have no idea.”
“Hasn’t said anything to you about…”
“She’s given me no instructions. Her husband was just killed, Mr. Kling. I’m sure the last thing on her mind is filing his will.”
Kling nodded.
Parker nodded, too.
“Well, thanks a lot,” he said, “we appreciate your time.”
“Happy to be of help,” Colbert said, and came from behind his desk to show them to the door. “If you like,” he said, “I’ll give Debra a call, ask if it’s okay to supply the information you’re looking for.”
“Yeah, we’d appreciate that,” Parker said, and handed him his card.
“Thanks again,” Kling said.
In the hallway outside, as they walked toward the elevators, Parker said, “Did you see those diplomas on his wall? The guy went to Harvard !”
“Why’d he wait till we were on our way out?” Kling asked.
“Wait for what ?” Parker said. “Sometimes you’ve very fucking mysterious, you know that?”
“Wait to make his offer. About calling the wife.”
“Let me tell you what that’s called, okay? It’s called lawyer-client confidentiality, and it means you don’t call your client while somebody is with you who can hear the conversation. Got it?”
“I’m gonna ask her about that will,” Kling said. “I don’t see what the big secret is about a will that’s gonna be probated anyway.”
“It’ll wait till tomorrow,” Parker said. “You bucking for commissioner or what?”
Kling looked at his watch.
“It’ll wait till tomorrow,” Parker said again.
Kling nodded. “Wanna grab a burger?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Parker said, and grinned. “But not with you.”
CHLOE THOUGHT it was an April Fools’ Day joke at first, Sil handing her the check over the table. He’d told her on the phone this morning that it might take a few days yet for the group’s business manager to cut the check, but here he was handing it to her, nice pretty yellow check, his fingers to her fingers over the table. The first thing she saw was the six zeros, four of them in front of the decimal point and another two after it. Then she saw the two, and sure enough, she was looking at a check for twenty thousand dollars.