Chapter 25
Simon did not want to be in the house after dark, with a strange car in the driveway. He did not want nosy neighbors ringing the doorbell and asking questions. He did not want to look like a lawyer or a person with authority so he wore jeans and a sports coat. And, he did not want to be rushed.
The house had no alarm system. She said Harry didn’t believe in them and wouldn’t spend the money. Harry had been dead for ten years and she often talked about him as if he were still around.
Her chair was a wicker straight-back that was fragile and shaky and seemed designed for a woman who weighed less than a hundred pounds.
He settled into it, moving slowly to make sure it would not collapse.
The desktop was covered in glass and well organized with nothing out of place.
A large cup held the usual collection of pens, pencils, paper clips, etc.
Netty was very neat and tidy. There was no computer, no iPad, no devices at all.
He took a stack of mail and began sifting through it, at first careful not to misplace anything.
He did not find a bill for an internet provider.
Perhaps it was packaged with her cable, as was his.
He knew that the stack did not include all of her monthly bills. Others would arrive later.
Though his curiosity was piqued, he felt like some creepy voyeur looking at the private affairs of an old woman. He kept telling himself that he had no choice. Someone had to do it.
He found the rather abrupt letters from Allstate canceling her auto insurance.
He found several other past-due notices and unpaid bills.
The checkbook was in the bottom drawer, left side, exactly where she said.
It was in a blue leather notebook-style binder, with three checks to a page and stubs that dated back two years.
He flipped through the stubs and got a clear picture of where she shopped and what she bought, and nothing was unusual or surprising.
She did indeed have a credit card, a Visa, which she had been forced to use when she checked out of the lake cabin two months earlier.
But she used it sparingly. In another drawer he found the old Visa statements filed in perfect monthly order.
Behind them were the monthly statements from the local bank.
The latest was for October and showed a balance in her checking account of $3,100.
There was no sign of the past-due bill from his office. An hour passed before he realized it.
In the bottom right drawer was a stack of old magazines—AARP, Southern Living, Medicare Bulletin, Travel WMart up 2.5%. CD rates still too low.
Simon could almost see her taking careful notes during the quarterly calls, then sliding the notebook back into its hiding place. It had only twenty-five sheets of onionskin paper, a slightly beige color. He wondered where she hid the notebooks from previous years.
Santa had just arrived and Simon felt a measure of vindication. He hadn’t been such a fool after all. His dear Netty was loaded to the max and he would be in charge of her estate one day. He poured out his drink, brushed his teeth, gargled with mouthwash, left his office, and drove to the hospital.
She was watching television in the dark when he eased into the room, tapping on the door. “Netty, it’s me. Are you awake?”
Her face glowed with a huge smile and she held out her right arm, IVs and all. He squeezed her fragile, bony hand and whispered, “How are you doing?”
“Much better now,” she said warmly and with a voice stronger than he expected. “Thanks for stopping by again, Simon.”
It was his third visit of the day. He glanced at the counter near her bed. There were three bouquets of flowers, all sent by his office.
“Any other visitors?” he asked. As always, he was afraid Wally Thackerman or some other lawyer might be slithering around.
“No, no one but you,” she said sadly.
“I stopped by your house. Everything is fine. Your neighbors, Norris and Rose, knocked on the door.”
“What did they want?”
“Nothing, just saw my car and thought they should check into things. I told them I was your lawyer and things were fine.”
“He’s okay. She’s rather snooty, thinks she’s a notch above. They tried to join the country club but couldn’t get in.”
Simon really didn’t care. “They were very nice. Just curious.”
“Too curious.” She muted the television and said, “Pull up a chair and let’s talk. I’m worried sick about this accident, Simon. I don’t think it was my fault.”
He wrestled the chair over and squeezed into it.
“Are those people okay? The ones in the other car?”
“They’ll be fine,” he said. Both had broken bones and were missing work.
They would hire a lawyer, and when they realized she had no insurance, they would probably file suit.
However, at the moment, Simon wasn’t worried about litigation, for now he knew the truth about Netty’s assets.
He could easily negotiate a generous settlement and put the matter to rest. As for the DUI, he couldn’t make it go away, but he doubted the prosecutor would be too harsh, given her age.
Plus, Simon would offer to pay a huge fine.
Money usually allowed the guilty to get off light.
How pleasant it is to have money, he thought.
“How’s the food?” he asked.
“Dreadful. Typical hospital stuff.”
“Okay, what do you want? How about some egg rolls from that Korean place? Or Chinese dumplings? We’ve tried everything in town.”
“What a marvelous idea, Simon. I’ll take a bunch of egg rolls, those stuffed with shrimp.”
“You got ’em. I’ll be there when they open in the morning.”
“What would I do without you, Simon?”