“I’d say so, but not if all assets were jointly owned.”
“Exactly. Everything they had was jointly owned, with survivorship rights, so it all passed immediately to Eleanor without the need for probate. Ole Harry was a pretty slick dude. With the full marital deduction and jointly owned assets, he outfoxed the IRS and she got everything.”
“Sounds like he really wanted to keep things away from his two sons.”
“And those bloodsucking estate lawyers. No offense.”
“Of course not.”
Spade was watching the game and said, “I put a thousand on Tulsa minus eight and they’re losing by twenty. Remember that cash you gave me last night?”
“It appears to be leaving your wallet. Do we have a next step?”
“I don’t think so. We could pay a hacker to take a peek at the firm’s books and her account.”
“That’s a crime.”
“Tell me about it. I almost got busted three years ago, remember? I used a hacker in Russia who was about to rat me out when somebody got to him first. Ate a bullet. I ain’t going to jail, Latch.”
“Nor am I. So, it’s fair to say Ms. Barnett is loaded?”
“I’d bet on it, but I wouldn’t bet the ranch. Too many unknowns. Did dear Harry sell some stock? Did Ms. Barnett? Is she worth a lot less but Buddy watches her money because he’s done it for years? Was she grandfathered in when the firms merged? Safe to say she’s got a lot of stock but who knows how much.”
“She knows but I doubt she’ll show me a statement. I tried once and got a stiff arm.”
“Come on, Latch. As charming as you are? Just tell the old gal you can’t represent her if you don’t know her assets.”
“I’ve tried that.”
“Want me to talk to her?
“Hell no!”
“Just joking, Latch. I’d like the rest of my retainer, gotta pay Chub. Tulsa!”
“Always a pleasure, Spade.”
Chapter 7
Eleanor refused to meet again at Starbucks, said she felt too old there, as if, at the age of eighty-five, there was a place where she might feel young. Simon didn’t argue and suggested they meet in his office at 6 P.M. one afternoon, after an alleged long day in court and clearly after 5 P.M. sharp when Matilda clocked out. Any mention of her was now done so in a manner to convey suspicion. Netty admitted that she really didn’t trust her. Atta girl.
So far, the last will and testament Simon was contemplating was a complete mystery to his secretary, and it was imperative that it remain so.
Netty sipped sparkling water and said, “I would really like to get this wrapped up, Simon. It’s weighing on my mind.”
“I understand. Just a couple of things. I’ve made a list here of about three dozen charities and nonprofits that I want you to consider naming in your will. Your trustee will be given the authority to distribute the money at his or her discretion.”
“Who’s my trustee?”
“Well, right now it’s Wally Thackerman.”
“That little crook. The more I think of him the more I despise him.”
“I understand. You mentioned a niece and a nephew.”
Her chin dropped. Her eyes watered. She suddenly looked very sad. She swallowed hard and said, “I mentioned them only because you asked about relatives. You see, Simon, I have no family. My parents died young. My sister Rose and I were never close. I really never liked her, to be honest. She’s dead now and her two kids are my only relatives. It’s kinda sad, you know, going through life with no family, no kin folks.”
“I know some people who would say it’s a blessing,” he replied, but the wisecrack went nowhere.
“Vince Barnett and I tried but we couldn’t have kids. We were so young.”
“Where is your nephew?”
“Oh, gosh, who knows? Last I heard he left his wife and kids and ran off with a college girl.”
Simon was suddenly tentative with his questions. “And you have no relationship with him?”
“None. I saw him briefly at my sister’s funeral fifteen years ago. He barely spoke to me. We just don’t know each other.”
“And your niece?”
A long pause as she managed a slight smile. “Maggie. She’s certainly a better person than her brother, but I haven’t seen her in decades. You see, Simon, their childhood was not good, and Maggie fled as soon as she could. She had to get away from her parents and her brother. She became a veterinarian and moved to Africa where she studies giraffes, last I heard. We’ve had no contact since she was in college, couldn’t even get home for her mother’s funeral. Pretty sad family, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’ve seen a lot worse. What if you made a gift to the foundation she works for?”
“To study giraffes?”
“I’m sure they do good work. Do you know its name?”
“The giraffe?”
Simon took a breath as he scribbled something and asked himself if this was one of those moments when the marbles were loose. “No, the nonprofit Maggie works for?”
“Oh no, of course not. I don’t even know what country she’s in. And besides, she hasn’t bothered to contact me in at least thirty years. So why should I send her a check? I’ll be dead, right? You know, when she gets the check?”
“Right, that’s the purpose of this will.”
“So Maggie gets a check she’s not expecting from her dear Aunt Eleanor, who she has obviously forgotten and never really cared about in the first place, and what’s she supposed to do, write me a thank-you note? I’ll be dead, Simon. Who’s going to read the thank-you note?”
Damned sure won’t be me, Simon thought to himself, but it was an excellent question. “All right, all right, forget the family. Can you think of any person, a friend, neighbor, anyone, who you might want to leave some money to?”
“No. You’ve already asked me this. So did Wally. I said no.”
“Well, you left a chunk to Wally.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, Netty, in paragraph fourteen, section A, there is an outright gift to Wally Thackerman for $485,000.”
Her jaw dropped and she shook her head. “That little creep.”
“He did not explain this to you?”
“Of course not. I don’t think so. If he did I don’t remember it. Why would he do that?”
Simon had been looking for an opening to bring up the gift to Wally. As he suspected, she was unaware of it because she had not carefully read the will. She had trusted Wally, just as she would trust Simon, hopefully enough to allow him to simply explain the provisions of the will, hitting the high points and skirting by the fine print.
“I can’t begin to understand what Wally was thinking,” Simon said.
“You’re not doing that, are you, Simon?”
“Of course not. It’s highly unethical and probably grounds for disbarment.”
“Gobbledygook. Please don’t take advantage of me.”
“There is no gift to me in your will. Period. As the attorney for your estate and for the trust I will be entitled to fees for my services, but all fees must be filed in public records and approved by the court.”
She exhaled, obviously relieved. She reached over and touched his hand. “Thank you, Simon.”
“Just doing my job, Netty. And part of my job is to protect your estate and prevent trouble. For this reason I want you to leave some money to your two stepsons.”
She jerked back her hand and frowned. “Why would I do that?”
“Because they might cause trouble during probate. If they find out how much money you really have, then it’s almost guaranteed they’ll hire a lawyer and contest the will.”