Second Degree (Benjamin Davis Book Series 2)

by A. Turk

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE READING

  OF THE WILL

  Saturday, September 2, 1995

  Dr. Nichols accepted Davis’s offer to come to the house to read his mother’s will. Peter wanted his girls to be at the reading since they’d been named as beneficiaries. He knew that their home would be less intimidating for the family than Davis’s law office. Peter’s home was a Tudor, just like his office, which was located on historic Music Row. When he left the house to pick up Albert, Helen, Nan, and Jayne were sitting in the screened-in porch overlooking the swimming pool. Helen greeted Davis and Morty with a pitcher of fruit tea and a homemade pecan pie at the ready.

  Peter and Albert entered the porch, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, Davis turned serious and professional and asked everybody to take a seat. Peter was Morty’s lifelong friend and client. However, like most of Morty’s clients, over the last few years, he had been transitioned to Davis. For this reason Morty told Davis to take the lead at the reading. Davis explained that Lillian Nichols had not been competent to change her will for at least the last six years. Peter knew that his mother hadn’t tried, or he would have been aware of it. He’d kept her original will in his possession and held up the document so everyone in the room could see it.

  Davis confirmed that his copy was identical to the original and continued, “On May 14th, 1988, this will was prepared by Morty, witnessed by me and Sherry Duncan, and notarized by my secretary, Bella Rosario. Mrs. Duncan, a dear friend of Lilly, died three years ago, but because her signature was notarized, her availability now isn’t necessary.”

  Davis stopped and let that information sink in. Then he handed each member of the Nichols family a copy of the will. He indicated that he preferred to explain the document rather than read it verbatim. No one objected.

  He began, “The will names her sons, Albert and Peter, as co-executors, which means it was her intent in 1988 that both of you act as co-administrators of her estate.”

  Peter looked over at his brother to determine whether he was following along and understood. Albert’s face was noncommittal.

  “The will does provide that if one of you predeceases her or is unable or unwilling to participate in the probate, the remaining son should proceed to probate alone.”

  Albert had the same blank stare. Peter came to Davis’s rescue and asked, “Al, do you think you’re up to going to court and paying the bills of the estate?”

  “I’m too busy running the market,” he answered.

  Everybody in the room just looked at each other. Albert hadn’t run the market in more than a year.

  Again, Peter interceded and said, “Al, we sold the market last year. You remember that, don’t you?”

  Albert didn’t answer at first, and there was an uncomfortable silence.

  “We sold the market? I didn’t agree to that. I ran that place for more than thirty years, and you sold it out from under me? What the hell’s going on here?”

  Albert was becoming very agitated. He started wringing his hands together so hard that he cut off his circulation, and they began to turn white.

  Peter helplessly sat there as Davis tried to calm Albert down. “Al, don’t you remember you and your mother sold the market last year, and half the sales proceeds were placed in trust for you? That’s when you moved into Pointer Place. They’ve been taking good care of you, haven’t they?”

  Albert jumped to his feet, and as he turned toward Davis, Peter saw a wild look in the man’s eyes. In a matter of moments his brother transformed from a mild-mannered man to a raving lunatic. He turned and aggressively accused Peter, “Where’d the other half of the sales proceeds go?”

  Morty tried to help handle the question, “It’s now part of your mother’s estate.”

  “Who gets that half?” Albert shot back.

  Peter had read the will and knew that Davis planned to talk about taxes and other matters before he explained the distribution of the estate, but Albert wasn’t giving him much choice. It was evident that Albert was not capable to serve as co-executor, and Peter hoped Albert would voluntarily step down.

  Davis broke his train of thought: “Al, your mother left all of her jewelry, silver, and china to Helen. She left $50,000 each to Nan and Jayne in trust, which each will receive on her twenty-fifth birthday. Peter is the trustee until they reach the appointed age. If either of them were to die before her twenty-fifth birthday, the other gets the deceased granddaughter’s share. The two girls also get their grandmother’s collections, by alternate selection, with Nan picking first because she’s older. The remainder of her estate is divided between you and Peter. Your half will go in trust with your other money to help care for you as you get older. There’s plenty of money to last you until your time comes.”

  “What if I want something?”

  “Well, Peter’s your trustee. I’m sure if it’s a reasonable request, he’d get it for you.”

  “What if he thinks it’s unreasonable?”

  “Under the trust, he controls your funds, and if it’s an unreasonable request, he has a fiduciary obligation to say no.”

  “I’d like a couple of new pipes and some tobacco.”

  Albert had smoked a pipe for more than thirty years. The market always smelled of vanilla. The customers didn’t seem to mind or got used to the odor. Peter loved it. His father smoked the same tobacco, so Albert’s pipe reminded him of his dad. Unfortunately, it had been a problem at Pointer Place, which was a smoke-free environment.

  Peter broke in, “No problem. I’ll take you to Uptown’s tomorrow, and you can pick them out. How about a Dunhill or Peterson?” Those were two brands that his brother liked.

  “I’d also like a red Corvette, a convertible.”

  Peter replied, “That’s a problem, Al. You don’t have a driver’s license anymore.”

  Albert looked visibly disturbed; he’d obviously forgotten he no longer had a driver’s license.

  Peter offered a solution: “What if I bought a new red Corvette with my half of the money, we kept it here at my house, and you could drive with me whenever you wanted?”

  Albert seemed satisfied and calmed down. Peter hoped his brother had been appeased.

  Davis took a moment to eat a piece of his pecan pie and take a sip of his fruit tea. As he did he thought of the song lyrics “you say potato and I say patattah.” Where Davis was from, pecan pie was pronounced pea-can pie. The southern pronunciation was much more soothing to the ear.

  Davis finished explaining the will and asked if there were any questions.

  Jayne, a Hillsboro High School junior, asked the first question: “My grandmother’s collections are boxed in the basement. Can Nan and I open them up and keep some of them in our rooms but leave the rest boxed up until we get places of our own?”

  Peter answered his daughter’s question: “We’ll just leave them in the basement for the time being until you girls are ready for them.”

  Nan, the college sophomore, asked the next question: “Can we use any of our $50,000 now, or do we have to wait till we’re twenty-five?”

  “That’s up to your dad. He’s the trustee.”

  Albert raised his hand.

  Davis acknowledged him: “You don’t have to raise your hand, Al. What’s your question?”

  “What happens to my money when I die?”

  “Well, Al, Morty prepared your will about ten years ago.” Davis turned to his old friend and let him respond.

  “If I recall correctly, you left your estate in trust for Nan and Jayne, with Peter as the trustee. The girls get distributions at various ages. I think it was at twenty-five, thirty, and thirty-five, but I’d have to check.”

  “Can I change my will?”

  Everyone knew that was a loaded and dangerous question. The question was directed to Morty, so he responded, “Do you want to change your will?”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “Let me pull it and read it, and we can talk about it, okay?”
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  “I’ll make an appointment.”

  There were no more questions so Peter showed Davis and Morty to the front door.

  Davis spoke up, “You’d better make an appointment for yourself, so we can start probate. I’ll prepare a document for Al to refuse to serve for health reasons. If he won’t sign, we’ll have to go to court and explain the situation. Call Bella on Monday, and she’ll make you an appointment. We may have a problem.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SEEKING A

  NEW PARTNER

  Thursday, September 7, 1995

  Benjamin Davis was no stranger to hard work. His cases required absolute dedication. A trial could last two or three weeks while the rest of his practice came to a shrieking halt. In the past Bella went it alone. Morty was no longer interested in the day-to-day grind of the practice of law. He acted like Davis’s consigliore, as in the Godfather. He answered Bella’s questions but only wanted to be involved in the exciting stuff. That was the benefit of having senior status. Now with the addition of Sammie, Davis had another set of hands to help Bella, particularly when Davis was unavailable. But Sammie always wanted to come to court; there was a delicate balance to maintain.

  What both Davises knew about trial work was that after a favorable jury verdict, an appeal could last three or four years. Davis’s work demanded patience and attention to detail. Through both her uncle and Morty, Sammie knew this. What Sammie found so interesting was that each case varied as to the facts and the law. They all loved the challenge of a new case.

  In contrast the hard work of Peter Nichols, DDS, had gotten routine over the last twenty years. He performed the same four procedures again and again. Occasionally for a friend he might provide general dental services, but his reputation was built on cosmetic dentistry. He worked six days a week, sometimes fourteen-hour days, and he was still not keeping up with demand. Nichols’s specialty was a unique and profitable niche in the marketplace. His practice was almost exclusively adults, except the children of close friends. Many of Nichols’s patients were celebrities. He was the “Dentist to the Stars.”

  Davis’s two children, Caroline and Jake, and even Davis’s wife, Liza, enjoyed going to Dr. Nichols’s office because there was always someone famous in his waiting room. Caroline for years, over Davis’s protests, pestered Dr. Nichols’s patients for their autographs. The stars politely signed their names and wrote a special note to one or both of the children. The memorabilia hung on each child’s bedroom wall.

  Jake also loved Dr. Nichols’s television commercials where he sang a duet with one of his famous patients. Nichols actually had a pretty good voice and made several appearances on the Grand Ole Opry and local television shows with or without one of his patients.

  Nichols’s distinct office building, a Tudor mansion, was always shown in those commercials. It had become a Nashville landmark over the years since so many people had seen it so often. It was located on Music Row, close to Nichols’s patient base.

  Davis knew most of Dr. Nichols’s patients because they were also Morty’s clients; many remained represented by Davis after Morty’s semi-retirement. Others fled to representation in either LA or New York.

  Davis preferred that his meeting with Dr. Nichols be at Davis’s office for two reasons. First, Davis could charge Nichols for the meeting, rather than the other way around; and second, Davis would suffer no pain at this appointment. Davis’s chronic problems with his teeth and gums tainted his professional relationship with Nichols; Davis simply associated the man and what he did with pain.

  Bella Rosario, first employed by Morty and now by Davis, buzzed Davis on the intercom and announced Nichols’s arrival. Davis told Bella to park Nichols in the conference room and to let Morty and Sammie know that their one o’clock appointment had arrived.

  Despite his odd office hours, Morty indicated that he’d attend the meeting with his old friend.

  Davis got to the conference room first and greeted Nichols. Sammie was also a patient. Unlike Davis, Sammie, at age twenty-seven, had perfect teeth and a perfect smile. Nichols liked to joke that it was hard to believe, based upon their dental records, they were related. But uncle and niece were cut from the same cloth.

  When Morty arrived, the two old friends bear-hugged hello. In deference to Morty, Davis let him open the conversation.

  “Peter, how are you, Helen, and the girls holding up?”

  “It’s hard to believe that Mom is gone. She lived with us more than six years. The house just doesn’t feel the same.”

  “Lilly was a great lady. I’ll miss her,” Morty interjected.

  “How’s your brother doing? Al seemed a little agitated at the will reading. Did you get him his pipes and the red Corvette?” Davis asked.

  “I got him the pipes the next day. It took some nagging, but I did finally get the red Vette. We argued over the interior. He wanted white, I wanted tan, and we compromised on black. Here’s the executed document, where Al waives his right to serve as co-executor on the estate. I like the car. It was a small price to pay to avoid the embarrassment of going to court to declare him incompetent.”

  Davis had to agree. Proving Albert was incapable of serving as the co-executor wouldn’t have been difficult, but it still required a public hearing, and the Nichols family, ever since the murder of Peter Sr., was a very private family.

  Morty looked at Nichols as he said, “You called this meeting. What can we do for you?”

  “I’m worried. I look at Al and wonder if I’m next. He was only fifty-one when the first symptoms of the dementia reared its ugly head.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m fifty. I’ll be fifty-one soon.”

  Davis wanted to ask a question, but Sammie beat him to the punch with a critical one: “How many more years do you intend to work?”

  “I’d like to slow down in four years. I’ve got one daughter in college and another about to graduate from high school. When they’ve both finished school, Helen and I would like to spend winters at our place in Highland Beach, Florida.”

  Morty followed up: “Does either Nan or Jayne have any desire to go into the family business?”

  “Nan wants to move to New York and has no further interest in school after she graduates. Jayne’s never indicated any interest to follow in my footsteps, but she doesn’t know what she wants. She’s seventeen.”

  Davis interrupted and in a serious tone said, “The reason I ask is that a non-professional cannot own a professional corporation. Helen cannot inherit your practice and continue to own it. If you were to die, your estate would have to sell the practice pretty quickly at a fire sale.”

  “I spent my life building that practice. I couldn’t let it go for next to nothing.”

  Davis could see and hear the disappointment in Nichols’s voice. He said, “You’d be dead, and Helen and your executor, who’s Morty, would have no choice. People aren’t going to sit around and wait for your replacement. They’d find another established cosmetic dentist. Even more likely, with you gone the competition would simply move in. There are not that many cosmetic dentists in Nashville.”

  Davis paused to let that sink in. He wanted Peter to recognize that his estate planning was important and what happened to his practice when he retired or died was a big part of it.

  “I pulled your Last Will and Testament. Morty drafted it in 1988, seven years ago. Helen is the sole beneficiary. If you and she died in a common disaster, your brother is the trustee for the girls. Morty’s the backup trustee. In light of Al’s current condition, at the very least we’ve got to change that provision of your will.”

  Nichols looked at Morty.

  Morty stated honestly, “I’m too old. You need someone younger than you and Helen. You also need to replace me as executor and substitute trustee.”

  Davis could see that Nichols didn’t like the idea of replacing Morty. His face pruned up like he’d just bitten a lemon.

  Morty offered a solution: “How about
Ben? He’s younger and better looking than me, and both you and Helen trust him.”

  It was agreed that with Helen’s permission, Davis would serve as executor and trustee if both Nichols and his wife died. Again with her approval, Helen’s will would be reciprocal and identical. Davis directed Sammie to use the old wills to draft new ones. Davis explained to Nichols that the documents would contain a waiver of conflict provision since the wills were prepared by Davis’s office and he would be serving as the executor and as a trustee.

  Davis looked over at Morty and with a nod from the old man took charge. “Getting back to your practice, you’ve got two choices as I see it. The first is to sell out to a larger and well-established practice. As part of the deal you would either work for the new owners or join as a partner.”

  “I’ve got to be my own boss. At fifty, I’m not changing my ways, and I’m not taking orders from anyone, except Helen. What’s your other alternative?”

  Davis explained that Morty had also been a solo practitioner for most of his career, but in 1975, he’d reluctantly brought on Davis, an inexperienced law student, which Davis emphasized turned out to be one of the best decisions Morty ever made.

  When Morty made a sarcastic face, Davis ignored the old man and continued, “Find a young DDS, pay him well, and give him incentives to buy into the practice. Require, as a condition of employment, that he set aside money over the next few years to buy your practice. After two or three years, you determine if he or she is the right candidate; if no, then you cut the person loose and move on to someone else. However, after a few years, we’ll call them the honeymoon years, if it feels right and you get to know each other, you slowly let this person buy stock in your professional corporation using the agreed upon savings from his compensation. Help him build up his credit so when you’re ready, your young partner can buy your remaining interest in the practice using the bank’s money. You might even elect to keep a small percentage of the practice to supplement your retirement.”