Chapter 7
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.”
“On what grounds?”
“Oh, lawyers can be very creative when they smell money. They’ll come up with all sorts of claims. But, here’s the clincher.
I’ll include in your will a provision that disallows any gift to a person who contests the will.
So, say you give each stepson a hundred thousand dollars outright.
Now, if one of them contests the will, he runs the risk of losing the gift. ”
“You are so clever, Simon.”
He smiled and almost demurred by saying that such a provision was taught to every second-year law student, but passed on the notion of modesty and in silence took full credit for being so clever. “And, besides, wouldn’t Harry want his boys to get some of the money he invested over the years?”
“I suppose.”
“Okay. A hundred thousand to Clyde, same to Jerry. Agreed?”
“Yes, if you say so.”
Simon was scribbling away as he doled out some of her money. Precious little of it, though. “Now, I know I’ve asked you this already, but do you want to make gifts to any friends or acquaintances?”
“I’ve thought about that, yes. Inez Mulberry is an old friend in Atlanta.
She’s in a care facility there and not doing well.
She’s ninety-one. Do you know anybody that old who’s doing well?
” She chuckled at her humor and Simon joined in with a hearty laugh.
He wrote down the name and asked, “How much to Inez Mulberry?”
“Uh, let’s say, uh, twenty-five thousand.”
“Okay. That’s not much. Does she need financial assistance?”
“Oh, gosh no. She’s loaded. Her husband worked for Coke with Harry and bought tons of stock.”
Then why are you leaving her a gift? Simon let it pass. It would be easier just to put Inez in the will and keep going. “Okay, I’ll include her at twenty-five thousand. Anyone else?”
“No, can’t think of anyone.”
“Okay, so moving right along. I asked you before about the firm in Atlanta that handles your portfolio, and you said it was Appletree something or other, right?”
She rolled her eyes in frustration and mumbled, “Here we go again.”
Simon pretended to ignore her and continued, “As I said, it is important for me to have a chat with the advisor there who is in charge of your stocks and such.”
“Now you sound like Wally, and that’s not a good thing.”
Simon was being cautious and not about to push.
She was proving that she had no loyalty to her estate lawyers and he didn’t want to lose her.
His dear Netty could be his ticket to an easier, more rewarding life.
He could almost smell the huge fees coming his way.
“I understand, but to fully take advantage of the tax laws it may be necessary to protect some of your assets. To protect them, I need to know everything about them.”
She closed her eyes and frowned hard as if hit by a migraine. After a long, heavy pause she said, “You don’t trust me, do you Simon? You don’t believe me when I say I have all this money.” Her voice was breaking and she was about to cry.
The following morning, Simon was sitting in a small courtroom deleting voicemails as he waited to argue a motion in a lawsuit he was destined to lose, when his phone hummed quietly. Unknown caller, Atlanta. He quickly stepped into the hallway and said, “Latch.”
“Good morning, Mr. Latch. My name is Buddy Brown and I run a wealth advisory firm in Atlanta. How are you, sir?” Pleasant voice, proper manners, age between sixty-five and seventy-five.
“I’m fine, Mr. Brown. I appreciate your call.”
“My pleasure. Eleanor Barnett has been a client of mine for many years. I knew her husband Harry back in the day. He died too young and left her some common stock in both Coca-Cola and Wal-Mart. I’m not at liberty to say how much, but I can say that Ms. Eleanor is well taken care of.”
“Okay, that much I gather. I’m preparing a last will and testament that is not very thick. No heirs, no relatives, everything to charity.”
“Sounds like Ms. Eleanor, though I haven’t seen her in many years. She knows what she wants. Best of luck, Mr. Latch.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Evidently Buddy was a man of few words and had better things to do.
Spade had found the right man, though the question of Eleanor’s real net worth was still unanswered.
On the one hand, the call was comforting in that Buddy legitimized her claims of wealth.
It was safe to assume that any client with a long history at such an advisory firm would have substantial assets.
On the other hand, there was much that Buddy didn’t mention and he seemed determined to get off the phone as quickly as Simon got on it.
Simon returned to the courtroom just as his case was being called.
He walked to the front of the courtroom, nodded at the judge, and took a seat at counsel table.
His adversary, an old pal, began presenting his motion and the judge quickly lost interest. Simon almost chuckled to himself.
There he was, quibbling over a useless motion in a worthless lawsuit, while at the same time he had just hooked a client worth $20 million in liquid assets.
Though he had almost no liquid assets and plenty of debts, and his marriage was dangerously on the rocks, and his law office had proven to be a break-even venture over the past eighteen years, he was suddenly smiling at the future.
He would continue to build an alternate world and one day soon get lost in it.
He would wrangle his way out of his life with Paula while remaining relevant to his children.
He would phase out Matilda, though that game plan had not yet materialized.
He would wait patiently for Eleanor Barnett to succumb to the years, and as soon as she kicked the bucket he would swoop into probate court and take control of her money.