by Stuart Woods
“Then perhaps you can tell me why a kidnapper, facing the prospect of a five-million-dollar profit, would immediately murder his hostages for a fifty-thousand-dollar payoff?”
Wells shrugged. “Maybe he got cold feet, and when he found the contents of the safe, decided to settle for that.”
“I should point out, Bob,” Eagle said, “that the collection of a ransom is a very high-risk activity for the perpetrator, offering multiple opportunities to be caught, whereas the taking of the cash and gold coins held the promise of a higher level of safety.”
“But then why would he kill the woman and the boy?”
“Kidnappers,” Eagle said, “historically decide early in their planning whether to kill the hostages or free them after the ransom has been collected. This particular perpetrator obviously traded their lives for his own safety.”
“Did your wife have a will, Mr. Wells?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Are you aware of its provisions?”
“Only in a general sense, from what she told me. Both our wills were executed on the same day, placed in envelopes that were sealed by the attorneys, then placed in my safe in Malibu.”
“And what was your understanding of the benefits of the will with regard to yourself?”
“She mentioned nothing in that regard.”
“Was it your assumption that she would leave you a large bequest?”
“We never discussed it; her money was not a factor in our marriage.”
“A national magazine has ranked your wife as the fifth wealthiest woman in the United States,” Martínez said, “with a net worth in the billions.”
“She laughed at that when she heard,” Wells said.
Eagle spoke up. “Mrs. Wells did loan Mr. Wells the money to set up what has become a successful film company, and he repaid the loan. Here are copies of the relevant documents and a notarized copy of Mr. Wells’s personal financial statement, as prepared by his business manager. As you will see, he has a net worth of some twenty-five million dollars, which does not include Mrs. Wells’s share of their two homes, which would normally accrue to him upon her death. He earns a multimillion-dollar income from his film company, as well, so he would have no financial motive against his wife.”
“I think we’ll decide that after seeing Mrs. Wells’s will.”
“We will be happy for Mr. Wells to authorize his attorneys to give you a copy of the will, even though we do not know its contents.”
“How soon?” Martínez asked.
“I’ll call them today,” Wells replied.
“What else can we do for you, Bob?” Eagle asked.
Martínez looked at Reese, who shook his head.
“Have his attorneys fax me the will,” Martínez said, handing Eagle his card. “That will be all for the present.”
“Bob,” Eagle said, “is Mr. Wells a suspect in this case?”
“Let’s just say that he remains a person of interest,” Martínez replied.
“I would prefer it if you would couch that in more positive terms when you speak to the press,” Eagle said.
“I’ll just say that Mr. Wells has not been charged. Will he be available in Santa Fe if we have further questions?”
Eagle looked at his client. “Don?”
“My wife expressed a wish to be cremated and have her ashes scattered on our property in Santa Fe,” Wells said. “I can stay for a few more days, until that is accomplished, but then I must return to Los Angeles for business reasons. I have just finished shooting a film in Rome, and I must begin the postproduction process, if I am to make our release date.”
“When will the bodies be released?” Eagle asked.
“Today, I should think. All right, Mr. Wells, you may return to Los Angeles, but I would be grateful if you would be available by telephone.”
“Of course,” Wells said, handing Martínez his card. “And I want to say how grateful I am for your and Detective Reese’s efforts in the solution of this crime.”
Everyone shook hands cordially, and the visitors left.
“What do you think?” Wells asked when they were gone.
“You did well,” Eagle said.
“They didn’t ask whether I was having an affair, as you did.”
“Don’t worry, they’ll ask everybody else you know.”
“Do you think I’m a suspect?”
“Right now, you’re the only suspect.”
21
EAGLE SPENT THE remainder of the morning working on briefs and meeting with clients. Just before lunch he had a phone call from Joe Wilen.
“Good morning, Joe.”
“Morning, Ed. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer to introduce me to a real estate agent.”
“I’d be delighted to. What is your cell phone number?”
Wilen gave it to him.
“You’ll hear from an agent with French and French, named Ashley Margetson. She has an outstanding knowledge of the market, and I’m sure she can show you properties that will interest you.”
“I’ll wait for her call,” Wilen said.
BARBARA/ELLIE WIPED Walter Keeler’s genitals with a hot facecloth, eliciting a happy groan, then pulled the sheet up to his chin. She walked outside, sat down and used her cell phone to call Jimmy Long.
“Hello?”
“It’s Barbara.”
“Eleanor! How are you? Your car arrived a few days ago. What was that all about?”
“I flew off to San Francisco with a gentleman,” she said.
“That was fast work.”
“You heard I was acquitted, that I’m a free woman?”
“I did.”
“I’m sticking with the Eleanor Wright identity, though. Will you go see our friend in Venice and tell him I need a certified copy of my birth certificate? I want to get a real passport and driver’s license.”
“Sure, babe.”
“I’ll reimburse you, of course.”
“Don’t worry about it. I just turned my new film over to the studio and got a very nice check. What do you want me to do with your stuff?”
“Get rid of it all. Sell the car and keep the money. That will make us more than even. Give the clothes to the Salvation Army or something; I already have a new wardrobe.”
“You never cease to amaze me.”
“Are you sitting down? Stand by to be further amazed: I was married in San Francisco the day before yesterday.”
“Holy shit! Are you kidding me?”
“I kid you not. I am, at the moment, on my honeymoon at a beautiful hotel in the Napa Valley.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
“His name is Walter Keeler.”
“Hang on. I know that name, don’t I? From the Wall Street Journal, maybe?”
“You have a good memory, my dear. He sold his company— Keeler Avionics—a while back?”
“God, yes, I remember. He walked away with a bundle of money, didn’t he?”
“He walked away with a busload of money.”
“Man, you are something else!”
“We have a new apartment in San Francisco; got a pencil?” She gave him the address and phone number. “I’ll let you know when I get a new cell phone.”
“Well, baby, I hope this doesn’t mean we can’t fuck each other from time to time.”
“From time to time,” she said, laughing. “I won’t forget you.”
“I’ll send you the pink slip for the car to sign, so I can sell it.”
“You can mail me the birth certificate, too, and as soon as possible, please. I have to run now, sweetie, but I’ll be in touch.”
“I’ll send you the birth certificate pronto. Take care!”
She hung up and sighed. Soon she would be legally documented again, and there would be no stopping her.
A DAY AFTER Joe Wilen’s call, Eagle received another.
“Hello, Joe.”
“Ed, I found a place, and it’s just perfect. I talked it over with my wi
fe, and she’s all for it, so I want to proceed to closing. The house is empty, and it’s all cash, so I guess all I need is a title search.”
“Give me the details, and I’ll get that taken care of immediately. When do you want to close?”
“Do you think we can do it tomorrow? I want to get it done before my wife has second thoughts.”
“Tell Ashley to set it up at my office late tomorrow afternoon, and you’ll be home in that King Air by bedtime.”
“Will do.”
Eagle noted the details of the property, gave Wilen his account number for wiring closing funds and said goodbye. He called the title company and got the search started; they would do it quickly for him.
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Ellie and Walter were having lunch at Galiano Vineyards with the owner, Emilio Galiano, an old friend of Walter’s. He made some of the best wines in Napa, wines that people lined up to buy well in advance of their general release.
“I must say, Walt,” Emilio said, “you have outstanding taste in wives.”
“You bet your ass I do,” Walter replied.
“You’re sweet, Emilio,” Barbara said. “Walt, what would you think of buying a little vineyard in Napa? Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Fun?” Galiano asked. “It’s bloody hard work, is what it is.”
“I’ve been trying for years to get Emilio to sell to me,” Walter said, “but he enjoys teasing me too much about how willing he is to sell.”
“I’m not playing with you,” Emilio said. “I might just sell. You know, I’ve been training my winemaker for eight vintages now, and he’s very, very good.”
Walter sniffed his glass and tasted the wine. “I cannot but agree. Your kids aren’t really interested in running the place, are they, Emilio?”
“Well, the girls are busy raising my grandchildren, and I have no sons, so …”
“Name a figure,” Walter said. To his surprise, Emilio named a figure.
Walter made a sucking sound through his teeth. “Woooo … you really think it’s worth that much, Emilio?”
“I’ve been thinking about it, and I do, Walt. Of course, that includes the acreage and the house. Besides which, I wouldn’t sell it for less. That price is only for you, because I know you won’t kick me out of my winery until you’ve sucked me dry of knowledge about how to run the place.”
“What do you think, Ellie?” Walter asked.
“You and Emilio know best,” she said. “I have no inkling of what the place is worth.”
Walter reached into a pocket of his jacket, which was hanging on his chair, and produced a checkbook. He wrote a check, handed it to Emilio and held out his hand.
Emilio feigned a coronary. “You mean it?”
“I’ll need a day to move enough money into my checking account before you cash the check. The lawyers can close later.”
Emilio looked at the check again, then reached across the table and shook Walter’s hand. “Done,” he said. He took Ellie’s hand and kissed it. “The new mistress of Galiano Vineyards,” he said.
“Of Galiano-Keeler Vineyards,” Walter corrected.
“As you wish,” Emilio said, smiling.
No, Barbara thought, as I wish. This said to her that Walter would do anything she asked of him as long as she kept him happy. And now she was in the wine business.
22
EAGLE PUT A stack of documents on his conference table and began handing them, one at a time, to Joe Wilen for his signature. When that was finished, the seller signed everything, and Eagle presented him with a cashier’s check for the selling price, less the real estate agent’s commission, a check for which he handed to Ashley Margetson.
“Congratulations, Joe,” Eagle said. “I admire your approach to buying property.”
“I would have been a lot more reticent if Ashley hadn’t shown me the perfect house,” Wilen said.
“Joe, may I speak to you privately for a moment?”
“Of course.”
The two men said goodbye to the seller and the agent, then sat down on Eagle’s sofa. “Joe, I would be grateful if you would deliver a confidential letter to Walter Keeler.”
“A letter from whom?”
“From me.”
“On what subject?”
“I’ll tell you only that it concerns his wife and that he should read it before he makes a new will.”
“I’ll need to know more than that, Ed.”
Eagle shook his head. “I’ve told Keeler in the letter that you are not privy to its contents. If he wants you to read it, that’s fine with me.”
Wilen shrugged. “All right, I’ll deliver your letter.”
Eagle took the envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to Wilen. “I’m grateful to you, and I believe Keeler will be, too.”
“Walt has already given me notes for a new will; I have an associate drawing it in my absence, and Walt is supposed to sign it as soon as I get home.”
“Then I’m in time,” Eagle said. He stood up and offered his hand to Wilen. “I’ll look forward to seeing you and your wife when you move into your new house,” he said. “You must come for dinner.”
Wilen shook his hand. “Thank you, Ed, and thank you again for handling this closing with such dispatch.”
“It was my pleasure.” Eagle watched Wilen leave his offices and hoped to God that he would keep his word and deliver the letter.
THE FOLLOWING DAY, having returned to San Francisco with his new wife, Walter Keeler drove down to Palo Alto for the day to see his lawyer and to pack up some of his belongings there to move to the new apartment, so Eleanor had a day to herself. She used her new birth certificate and marriage certificate to obtain a driver’s license in the name of Eleanor Keeler, then had photos taken and hired an expediting service to obtain a passport for her.
She spent the rest of her day doing some serious shopping for her new wardrobe, taking pleasure in buying the best of everything with her new American Express card.
WALTER KEELER STOOD in his old home and pointed at things for the movers to take to the San Francisco apartment. Except for his clothes, papers, books and pictures, he would sell the house furnished. When the movers had left, he took one last look around the place, then left and drove to his lawyer’s office.
Joe Wilen greeted him warmly. “Just got back from Santa Fe last night,” he said, “and I bought a house there.”
“That’s great; it’s a beautiful place,” Keeler replied. “You know, Joe, you should sell the King Air and make the jump to a jet. I’m moving up to something with transatlantic range; why don’t you buy my CitationJet? It’s actually easier to fly than your King Air.”
“Walt, that’s a damned good idea,” Wilen said. Keeler named a very low price, and Wilen agreed. “I’ll need to get signed up for the training right away,” he said.
“Why wait? The airplane is at Hayward, but I’ll have it flown over to San Jose for you tomorrow. You can have my hangar rental, too; I’m building something bigger.”
Wilen buzzed his secretary and asked her to cut a check for the airplane and to download the FAA registration forms from the Internet. “We’ll wrap it up now,” he said to Keeler.
“Good for you, Joe! It’s a beautiful airplane; you’ll enjoy it.”
“The house is not far from the first tee at a development called Las Campanas. Maybe I’ll whittle down my handicap, who knows?”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Keeler said. “I’ve bought Emilio Galiano’s vineyard and winery in Napa.”
“Wow! I thought he would never sell.”
“That’s what I thought, too, but I guess I caught him at a weak moment. I asked him to name his price, and he did. I gave him a personal check, so will you move the funds from my investment account and close the deal for me? You have my power of attorney.” He jotted down the figure and handed Wilen the paper.
“Sure, I’ll move the money right now. Any preference on what to sell?”
“You figure it out, Joe; you know
I hate to deal with that stuff.”
“Okay, there’s enough in your tax-free municipals fund.” He buzzed his secretary and gave her instructions for wiring the funds to Keeler’s checking account, and when she brought in the form, he signed it and told her to fax it immediately.
Wilen opened an envelope on his desk and set a sheaf of papers before him. “Here’s your new will. Are you ready to sign it?”
“Yes, I am.”
Wilen handed him the will. “Please read it first.”
Keeler read through the new will. “Joe, do you think I should make Eleanor my executor? I mean, I know you’ll do a fine job, but shouldn’t she have that power?”
“Do you think she has the knowledge and organizational ability to deal with a complex estate like yours?”
“You have a point, Joe. I don’t know.”
“Then perhaps it would be best to leave things as they are. I’ll certainly do everything possible to look out for her interests.”
“Of course you will, Joe, and I trust you implicitly. Shouldn’t you get some witnesses in here, before I sign this thing?”
“I have one other duty to you first,” Joe said. “Have you heard of a Santa Fe lawyer called Ed Eagle?”
“Yes, I believe I have. Didn’t he win that big judgment against one of my competitors a while back?”
“That’s the fellow. I met him when I was in Santa Fe. We were partners in a golf tournament, and he was kind enough, when I expressed an interest in buying a house there, to introduce me to an agent. He also handled the closing. I liked him very much, and he’s certainly a fine lawyer.”
“I’m sure he is, but what does he have to do with your duty to me?”
Wilen took a sealed envelope from a desk drawer and pushed it across the desk to Keeler. “He asked me to personally deliver this letter to you.”
Keeler looked at the envelope but didn’t pick it up. “What is this, some business deal?”
“No, it’s not that. He declined to tell me anything about what’s in his letter, except that it concerns your wife.”
“Ellie? Does he know her?”
“I don’t know, but he said it was important that you read it before signing a new will.”
“How did he know I would be signing a new will?”
