I called Fidge, who told me the department had made the connection between Cory Jackson and the Ileana Corrigan homicide. Still, they had nothing with any meat on it that hooked Jackson’s death with the eleven-year old Corrigan homicide. Their take was that Cory bought it as a result of his drug activities, or money he owed his bookie for NFL games in which the players had not sufficiently met Cory’s expectations.
The day became one of those that flittered away without being productive, beyond learning that certain alleys were dead ends. Finding that out did had value; it just didn’t feel like it did. A lot of the time consumed in discussing articles and rumors Axel had found on the Internet about the general, Eddie, and also Ileana Corrigan. A few of those led to phone calls and one to my taking a trip across town. In the end, all of it went nowhere and meant less.
*
Over dinner that night, Karen told me she came to live with her father and her nephew, Eddie, about a year and a half before Ileana Corrigan was murdered. At that time, she had two more years to go at University of California at Los Angeles, where she was majoring in finance. She and her mother weren’t getting along. From the general’s house, she would drive farther to school, but she had structured her schedule of classes into three days a week. She knew the general thought of Eddie as his son, rather than his grandson, putting her, the daughter, in second position for his largess. The general had raised Eddie for most of his life after Eddie’s father had died in Desert Storm in 1991. During her college years, Karen admitted she preferred being with her father. He left her to live her own life and didn’t interfere as much as her mother had.
“How do you feel about that, now I mean?” I asked her. “Eddie is the general’s grandson while you’re his daughter.”
“That’s true,” she said, “in an official kind of way. But in a life kind of way, Eddie is the general’s son. I’m the daughter he really didn’t know all that well until I was a grown woman. It’s different. Besides, the general is a sexist. I don’t mean that nasty like, he just is. He’s a man of his times.”
She said she hadn’t seen the will. That a copy had been mailed to her a couple of years ago by Mr. Franklin, the general’s attorney, but she hadn’t opened it. The general had sat her down and explained that his estate was his to do with as he wished. That she would be provided for, but the lion’s share would go to Eddie. The general told her he was leaving two million to Charles, and a half million to Cliff. That she would get two and a half million and the rest, about fifteen million, would go to Eddie who would also get the house. To me, it seemed everyone in the general’s circle patiently or eagerly awaited the inevitable reading of the will.
“You didn’t open the will?”
“No. I didn’t go to him, the general came to me. I don’t figure he’d do that to tell me lies. The general has always been straight with me. Everyone knows his word is good. Would I rather have Eddie’s cut than mine? Sure. But, hey, Mom and I struggled some, financially, so from my perspective two and a half million seems like all the money in the world. I’m cool with it.”
“The general’s wealthy,” I said, “very wealthy, so your mother should have gotten a fat marital settlement.”
“The general’s wealth came from his parents who died the year after mom and he divorced in ‘78. Their marriage had lasted only three years. After his inheritance, the general stepped up and paid Mom more than she was entitled to under the divorce. So, I guess I’d say our struggles were somewhat comfortable. The general paid for all my schooling and bought me a car when I started college. He still sends mom something now and again when she gets in a bind. He’s really been there above and beyond. But let me not leave an incorrect impression. While the general inherited a lot of money from his parents, he has more than doubled his net worth since his inheritance. He has a shrewd head for investments.”
“Have you helped him with his investments? You majored in finance.”
“I help some, but the truth is for most of the years he didn’t need my help. I do some company specific research for him. We kick stuff around. The last few years I’ve been more involved in helping him keep up with all of it.”
“And still you’re okay with the lion’s share of his estate going to your nephew Eddie?”
“Eddie and I don’t think of ourselves as aunt and nephew. I mean, I’m thirty-five and he’s thirty-two. But, no, Mr. Kile, if you’re looking for bad blood between Eddie and me over this, there is none.”
“Does Eddie think the setup’s fair?”
“It’s not up to Eddie or me, the money is the general’s and he can do with it as he chooses. I’ve already explained how I feel about that. Besides, if need be, I’ve got the qualities to hook a man who has even more than the general. If I ever decide I need to go that route. I don’t see why I’ll need to. Did that sound conceited? I didn’t mean it that way. Everybody ought to have an honest talk with themselves about their strengths and weaknesses and then strive to improve their weaknesses. I’ve done that and I continue to do it.”
I couldn’t argue with her assessment. She played ladies golf and tennis at UCLA. She was educated in a wealthy man’s subject, has a good sense of humor, and is conversant. She enjoys visually tempting men while still coming across as classy, and from what I know, men enjoy being visually tempted.
“I’ve gathered that nephew Eddie is a player. That true?”
“Did I mention Eddie likes the ladies and he enjoys his trips to Vegas.”
The waiter stopped to tell us about their tempting dessert specials. We said no, but ordered a second bottle of the Krupp Brothers Cabernet Sauvignon we had enjoyed with dinner. When he left to get the wine I asked, “Seriously, what gets Eddie’s attention? Career, charities, what?”
“Eddie likes the ladies and he enjoys his trips to Vegas.”
We laughed before I asked, “What other women has he been serious about? Before or after Ileana.”
The waiter brought and opened the second bottle of wine. I put my hand up for him to leave the bottle to breathe and I would pour when we were ready.
“None that I know of and I would know,” Karen said. “We talk pretty openly. Ileana was the only one that made him think about settling down, about getting serious about life and what to do with his. But no dice. Eddie seems a fellow content with the superficial.” She laughed. “Look at me, like I should talk.”
“You and Ileana were friends, right?”
“For a while, before she and Eddie became an item.”
Karen knew of no jealous boyfriend or sugar daddy. She also said Eddie didn’t buy the expensive jewelry found in Ileana’s house.
“Eddie couldn’t afford that kind of stuff,” Karen said. “None of us knew she had it. I agree the jewelry suggests she had a man bringing her gifts. But, if she did, I doubt that man killed her.” When I raised my eyebrows, she said, “If he had, why wouldn’t he take back the diamonds he had bought for her?”
While I had listened, I poured our wine. “Could be, then again, if he did kill her and the cops ever put his name with their suspicions, the fact the jewelry hadn’t been taken could argue against him being the killer.”
“Or, if he did take it, it might have suggested a killing during a robbery. Somebody could have seen her wearing it and followed her home to take it by force.”
“You have a point,” I said. “Such is the grist of investigating homicides. The possible theories, winnowing them down, and then finding or not finding support for each.”