Stone turned to Joan. “Are you familiar with this house?”
“Yes, I am. I spent time here as a child and poked my nose into every nook and cranny.”
“Then let’s take a look into the nooks and crannies. Lead the way.”
Joan led him to an elevator and gave him a tour of the reception rooms on the lower floors, then the bedrooms on the middle floors, then finally, to the eighth floor, which contained a living room, a library, two bars, and two studies, one for each of the Charleses.
“Let’s start with Ed Sr.’s study and ransack the place, every cupboard and drawer.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Anything of interest, particularly keys, safe combinations, and documents dealing with banks, at home or abroad, particularly abroad.”
Joan found a pair of shopping bags from Bloomingdale’s and set them out, ready for use.
They had been ransacking for a few minutes when Joan held up something. “Aha!” she said.
“Aha, what?”
“Keys.”
“Look for a safety-deposit box key,” Stone said, then watched as she sifted through them. “We have four safety-deposit box keys,” she said, holding them up.
“From what banks?”
“One from United States Trust, around the corner, two from Troutman Trust, on Madison Avenue, and one from a bank in someplace called Georgetown.”
“Cayman Islands,” Stone said. “Keep them all and resume ransacking.”
“I’m tired,” Joan said.
“There’s a bar in the library,” Stone said. “Let’s ransack that.”
“Allow me,” Joan said, “as you are my guest.” She found some heavy Baccarat whiskey glasses and some ice and poured two stiff Knob Creeks, handing one to Stone, then collapsing into a wing chair by the fireplace.
“Are you feeling quite at home?” Stone asked.
“Oddly, yes. I think I’ll sleep here tonight.”
“The master bedroom looked comfortable.”
“Not until I’ve ransacked it, kept what I like, which will be mostly jewelry and furs, and sent the rest to Goodwill, which will blow their minds.”
“Good thinking. Now, I think we should discuss your successor.”
“My successor? Are you firing me?”
“Surely a person of your great wealth and standing in the community would not wish to continue working for me.”
“Why not? It’s the most fun I’ve ever had. You can refer to me as your assistant, though, and not your secretary. I’ll want to hire my own secretary.”
“Would you like a raise?”
“Just for form’s sake, you can double my present salary.”
“Done. And hire whoever you like and pay her or him whatever you see fit.”
“Tomorrow,” she said, “after we’ve ransacked the safety-deposit boxes.”
Seventeen
Stone met Joan at United States Trust on the Upper East Side just as the doors opened. He noted that Joan was pushing a large, wheeled suitcase. He had dealt before with the manager, a Mr. Hedger, and they were shown into his office.
“Good morning, Stone,” Hedger said. “Please have a seat.”
“I have brought you new business,” Stone said, and introduced Joan. “Ms. Robertson is the niece and only survivor of Annetta Charles, and thus her heir.”
“My condolences and my congratulations,” Hedger said to her.
Stone opened his briefcase and handed Hedger some documents. “This is Mrs. Charles’s death certificate, along with that of her husband, Edwin Sr., who predeceased her. Also, a copy of her last will and testament, which makes Joan her only heir. Please note that Edwin Charles Jr. is explicitly excluded from any inheritance and that a trust has been provided to meet his basic needs. Don’t let Junior tell you any different.”
“I understand,” Hedger said. “We will be closing his accounts. It will be a relief not to have Junior as a customer any longer.”
Stone handed Hedger a safety-deposit box key. “We assume that this is the key issued to Ed Sr. when he opened his account.”
Hedger checked the number on his computer. “Confirmed,” he said.
“Please change the ownership to Ms. Robertson. Also, any other accounts opened by Ed Sr. or Annetta.”
Hedger did some more computer work, then took a card from a desk drawer. “Ms. Robertson, may I have your address and phone numbers, and a sample of your signature?”
Joan completed the card. “I’d like Mr. Barrington to be a cosigner on all my accounts,” she said, “but not a co-owner.” She smirked a little at Stone.
Hedger handed Stone the card.
“There,” Stone said, signing it with a flourish. “That will be sufficient for me to steal her blind.”
“Just try it,” Joan said.
Hedger gave her a book showing checkbook styles, and she chose one.
“We’ll messenger you your checks tomorrow,” Hedger said. He consulted his computer again, then scribbled something on a card and handed it to her. “This is the current balance of your checking account and your household account, from which Mrs. Charles paid her staff and other expenses.”
Joan glanced at the card and tucked it into her purse.
“How else can I help you?” Hedger asked.
“I’d like to visit my safety-deposit box,” she replied.
“Please follow me.” Hedger led them to an elevator, which went two floors down. They emerged into a vault containing many boxes, and he introduced Joan to the guard in charge. “Ms. Robertson would like to visit her box,” Hedger said to the guard. “Ms. Robertson, I’ll leave you in his capable hands. Feel free to call me whenever I may be of help.”
The guard went to unlock the box, using the bank’s key and Joan’s.
“What is the balance of the personal checking account?” Stone asked.
“Two hundred and eighty-eight thousand and change,” she replied. “And half again as much in the household account.” The guard escorted them to a private room, where he unlocked a large box and returned the key to her. “Please let me know when you’re ready to leave, Ms. Robertson, and I’ll secure the box.”
“Thank you,” Joan said. “Stone, you open it.”
“Why are you looking so worried?” he asked, opening the box.
“I’m afraid it might be empty.” She peered into the box. “How much do you think that is?” she asked, pointing.
Stone looked into the box and found it nearly filled with bundles of hundred-dollar bills. “I should think something between a million and a half and two million dollars.”
“Oh, dear,” she said, leaning against the box for support.
Stone said, “I hope you’re not going to faint again.”
“Not this time.” She hoisted her suitcase onto the table and opened it. “Let’s see if this will hold a million dollars,” she said, and the two of them started transferring bundles while keeping a running tab. They stopped at one million, and the suitcase was only half full.
“Let’s leave the rest here for a rainy day,” Joan said.
They left the bank, and Fred put the case into the trunk.
“Let’s go see what Troutman Trust has in store for us.”
Fred drove them to the bank and took the case out of the trunk. They met the local manager, then repeated their earlier performance and were taken downstairs to the vault, where two steel boxes, both larger than those at U.S. Trust, awaited them.
Stone surveyed the contents of the two boxes. “I’d say something in the region of five million.”
They filled Joan’s suitcase from one of the boxes, then had them locked away.