Chapter 16
Simon loaded her suitcase into the trunk of his car and they drove away. Glancing at the rows of identical houses, he said, “And you and Harry moved here ten years ago?”
“Something like that. I’m not good with dates and such. The house was brand-new and we had just settled in when he suddenly passed. It was just awful.”
“I’m so sorry. And you moved here from Atlanta.”
“That’s right. I never liked Atlanta, too big, too much traffic.” Over their series of lunches he had learned that she was from a small town near Nashville and met Harry while vacationing with some friends near Destin. They settled in Atlanta.
“Why’d you move here?” Simon asked.
“Good question. Harry had just retired and we were looking to change scenery. We liked the mountains and a nicer climate. Houses were cheap, or at least a lot cheaper than the other places we looked at.”
Cheap. A word she used frequently. Ten years ago when Harry died he was around the age of sixty-nine and had spent a long career working for Coke, where, as her story went, he had secured all the shares of stock available to him and socked them away.
Add the Wal-Mart stock. So, as the guessing went, at the time of his death he had substantial net worth.
Why, then, would they have been so hung up on buying a cheaper house?
Simon reminded himself that he probably spent too much time analyzing her story and trying to understand her finances.
There was an excellent chance that Harry, a “Depression kid,” was just plain stingy and cheap, and after twenty or so years of marriage Eleanor had picked up the same habits.
She had never referred to herself as being poor as a child.
“Modest” was her favorite description. Perhaps she, too, had been raised in a family that was extremely frugal.
And there was always the chance that the money was not there.
This thought hit Simon from time to time and made him nervous.
However, it was still difficult to understand why a person as modest and unassuming as Eleanor would create the fiction that she was worth millions.
What could she possibly gain from such a charade?
There was no answer, but Simon, once again, vowed to keep digging.
Her phone rang. She found it deep in her bag, managed to untangle it, took a look and said, “Oh dear. It’s Wally. What should I do?”
Simon knew exactly what to do. He wanted to hear the conversation. “You’d better talk to him. Tell him you’re out of town for a few days. Put him on speaker. I’ll listen but stay quiet.”
She looked thoroughly confused as the phone rang for the fifth time. She tapped it and said, “Hello.”
“Eleanor, it’s me, Wally. How ya doing?”
“Well, I’m fine, Wally, and how are you?”
“I’m okay. I guess you’ve seen the news and all that. Had a little scrape with Clyde Korsak a few days ago. Have you seen him lately?”
She looked at Simon who gave a quick nod.
“Why yes. He stopped by the house a few days ago. I haven’t seen him in years. We’re not close, you know?”
“Right. Well, he came to my office that afternoon, said he wanted to talk about your will, wanted to see it. I explained that I could not discuss such matters. He was drunk and belligerent, pulled a gun and made threats. It was a bad scene, Eleanor. Then he jumped me and threw some punches.”
“I’m so sorry, Wally. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. He’s still in jail. Have you talked to him since?”
“Oh he’s called once or twice. I’m out of town for a few days.”
A long pause as Wally apparently wondered where she was. “Not a bad idea, really. Here’s the question for you, Eleanor. Since I’d never met Clyde before, how did he know I prepared your last will? Did you tell him? I can’t believe you would do something like that.”
“Oh no, Wally, I said nothing about you. As you cautioned me, my will is top secret. I wouldn’t tell a soul.” She shot a guilty look at Simon, as if he was somehow to blame for something.
“That’s strange. I wonder how Clyde knows that I represent you.”
“Beats me. I haven’t said a word.”
“Okay. Well, be careful. And when you’re back in town let’s get together and review your will. It’s been almost six months.”
“Yes, it has.”
She ended the call and cradled her phone in her lap. Nothing was said for a long time. “I feel deceitful, Simon. I don’t like it.”
“Netty, if you tell Wally about your new will, he’ll go nuts and demand that the two of you sit down and work things out. He’ll call me and make threats. It’ll be a disaster.”
“I guess so.”
Another mile passed in silence. There was so much to say, but the thoughts were scrambled. Finally, she asked, “How long will Clyde stay in jail?”
“Don’t know. Aggravated assault carries up to ten years. I suspect, though, that when Wally comes to his senses he may drop the charges.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s right. The last thing Wally needs is for your will to become public.
He did a very bad thing when he included a direct cash gift to himself, and not a small one at that.
If that became known, and if you said that you were not aware of the gift, then Wally could face disciplinary charges from the state bar. ”
“This is all very confusing, Simon. What if I had not signed a new will, the one you prepared? And then I pass on, and then Wally presents, or probates, the will he prepared, with the gift to him? At that point the gift would be made known, right?”
“Right.”
“So wouldn’t he get in trouble anyway? I don’t understand all this.”
“Well, it doesn’t make sense, really. Yes, Wally would probably get in trouble, but he was willing to roll the dice.
He would be the attorney for your estate and the trustee for the trusts he established in your will.
He would be in a great position to handle a lot of money.
I think Wally just saw the opportunity and couldn’t resist the temptation. ”
Simon tried not to sound pious. He, too, had seen the opportunity and had not resisted the temptation. True, Wally was bolder and greedier, but Simon’s will certainly took care of Simon. He tried not to fantasize over the fees but it was impossible not to.
“It’s all gobbledygook.”
Worse than that, Simon thought.
Robin’s Retreat was a small hotel on the shores of Lake Murray.
It was nestled at the bottom of some rolling foothills, far away from the busy marina and its bars and restaurants.
Simon helped with the check-in and waited in the lobby for half an hour while Netty prepped for lunch.
They ate regular American food, on a deck with waves gently lapping the small boats five feet away.
“How’s the room?” he asked.
“It’s lovely. A beautiful view of the water. Thanks for bringing me here, Simon.”
“Stay a few days and let’s see what happens with Clyde. I’ll keep my ear to the ground around the courthouse, something I do every day anyway. I’ll talk to the police and prosecutor and if I hear something important I’ll let you know.”
“I packed two books to read.”
“Perfect. Take it easy, get some rest, go to the spa for a massage if you like. I’m kinda envious.”
“You’ve been here?”
“Once, many years ago. Paula and I had an anniversary and spent two nights here, a great time.”
It was not. They fought and bickered and left a day early.
A few more bites and he glanced at his watch, one of those deliberate moves designed to inform the person on the other side of the table that he suddenly had better things to do. “I need to be going, Netty. Gotta big meeting at three.”
“I’ll be fine here, Simon. You run along.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks so much. You’re such a dear.”
He called her twice a day through the weekend and everything was swell.
On Monday morning, he took a call from Robin’s Retreat about a rather unusual matter.
Seemed as though the hotel routinely checked the credit backgrounds of guests who were not regulars.
Since Simon’s credit card had never been used before at the hotel, and since the guest, Ms. Barnett, was charging everything to the room, the hotel called Visa.
With the room rate, plus in-room dining three times a day, plus several visits to the spa, in addition to the hefty occupancy, tourism, and food and beverages taxes, Ms. Barnett was racking up $1,200 day.
According to Visa, his limit was $10,000, which she had blown through the day before.
The current balance at the hotel was slightly more than $4,100.
The card’s previous balance was almost $7,000, which included some online betting, which, thankfully, Visa did not reveal.
Simon gasped for breath and tried to explain that he clearly told the clerk at check-in that all charges were to be paid by the guest, Eleanor Barnett.
His credit card had been used only to reserve the room.
After holding for an eternity, the general manager came back with the report that Ms. Barnett had specifically instructed the hotel to charge everything to Mr. Latch. This happened after he left.
Simon steamed until noon, and as soon as Tillie left he raced to his car and headed for Murray Lake.
He found her in the restaurant. She was thrilled to see him and invited him to lunch, as if she were treating.
When the check arrived, the waitress, who was very friendly, said, “Here it is, Ms. Barnett.” As if she stayed there every week.
Simon watched her sign the check, then asked, “Did you charge lunch to your room?”
A sweet smile. “Why yes. I thought you told me to.”
“Okay, but I also told you to use your credit card for all charges. The hotel manager called this morning and said your bill is over four thousand dollars. It’s on my credit card, not yours.”
“But you told me to use your card so no one can find me here. I’m sorta hiding, right? It was your idea.”
It was his idea, from start to finish, and at that moment he was not sure that he had been perfectly clear with Netty about who was to pay.
He kept smiling and nodding as if everything was fine, he had plenty of money, the big-shot lawyer.
“I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear, Netty, but you can certainly afford to pay for your little stay here. ”
“You lawyers. All you think about is money.”
“That’s not true.” But of course it was, especially since Simon had no money. He had already decided to play it tough because he was right, and because he was determined not to get bullied into paying a bill that was pocket change for Eleanor Barnett.
He said, “Why don’t you get packed while I talk to the general manager.”
“I have to leave?”
“Yes. It’s time to go home.”
Her eyes watered but Simon didn’t care. When she finally made it to the reception desk, an hour later, he and a clerk were waiting.
Reluctantly, she handed over a Visa credit card.
The clerk ran it through as they waited and waited for the charges to clear.
Finally, the clerk smiled and Simon grabbed her suitcase.
Another financial crisis averted.