by Lee Perry
Mattie shook their hands, stopping to shake Cameron’s hand too, “You can call me Mattie, okay?”
“Okay…” Cameron agreed, suddenly shy and clutching his backpack of toys.
“And please call me Catherine.”
“Okay,” Mattie’s smile was warm and she gestured to the door, “Come on in and I’ll give you the lowdown and tell you why I asked for your help.” They followed her up the steps and inside and Jordan shook her head in awe,
“This is one heck of a house.”
“It is,” she agreed, “welcome to Bellosantuario, it means, beautiful sanctuary.” She spoke as she led them into an enormous foyer and gestured to a life-sized portrait that hung on the wall, facing them, “And this is Joseph Kendrick Lynch. Born in 1832, he was known as the King of the Northwest Railroad after the Civil War, and when he owned silver mines in Montana and Idaho he was known as the Silver King, then he worked to popularize and corner the market on bar steel and became known as the King of Steel. He owned several newspapers and banks and the first electric power companies. He was one of the richest men in America, right up there with the Rockefellers, Carnegies, and Vanderbilts.”
Piercing blue eyes surrounded by meticulously groomed white hair, beard and moustache gazed outward from the portrait; Joseph Lynch stood with his hand tucked in his coat, his posture erect. Mattie turned and continued up the grand staircase, “So this place…”
“Wait,” Catherine held up a hand, “if Helga’s a hundred and nine, then she was born in 1905… and he was seventy-three when she was born?”
“Oh, yes,” Mattie snickered, “he was a widower and remarried a much younger woman, very scandalous at the time since he had grown children older than his new wife.”
Catherine stared up at the portrait, “Wow.”
They followed her up the stairs, “So Bellosantuario is tucked in this little valley between the Tularcitos Mountains on the south and the Salinas Valley to the north, it sits on fifteen hundred acres of ranchland where Helga’s estate manager keeps about five hundred head of cattle. The revenue from the livestock pays for the upkeep of this place and his annual salary… and I can tell you he is well compensated.”
“How well?” Jordan asked.
“Half a million.”
“Holy crap.” she muttered from the side of her mouth.
She led them down a grand hallway lined with paintings and sculptures, “There are twenty-seven rooms, twelve bedrooms, nine baths… over twenty-nine thousand square feet in all…” Jordan mumbled something indistinctly and Mattie continued, “Which would make this place more than two and a half times bigger than Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello. Lynch bought the property in 1922 and died just months after he finished building here in 1924.”
“So,” Catherine’s voice drifted as she regarded the paintings and amazing views from floor to ceiling windows, “Helga had it torn down and rebuilt after it was damaged in an earthquake…”
“Yes, she and her mother spent every summer here together. She had lots of happy memories of this place so she rebuilt it. She was just twenty-nine at the time; her mother had died the year before. From what I’ve read so far she was really proud to have provided so much employment for so many during the depression.” She gestured to an open door at the end of the hall and motioned them inside, “This was Helga’s bedroom.”
“Yikes.” Catherine muttered, spying the king-sized bed at the far end of the room, This bedroom is so big it makes that bed look small, “It takes up the whole end of the building…”
Cameron ran over to the bank of tall curved windows and pointed, “Jordan, look!” he exclaimed, “Cows!”
She followed and lifted him onto her hip so he could see better, “I count…” She counted softly under her breath and he laughed,
“Nine! There are nine.”
“That is correct, sir.” she chuckled and set him back on the floor, “This has such a nice view,” she said, gazing out at the rolling verdant hills, “wanna’ play in here for a while?”
“Okay!” He shrugged out of his backpack, “I can set up my trucks under this couch…” he said, pulling out his collection of toys.
“Is that okay?” Catherine turned to Mattie.
“Sure, this is actually a great place to begin,” she motioned to the couches that ringed the wide sitting area, “and tell you why you’re here.” They made themselves comfortable and she continued, “So thank you again for taking the report on the Rodin, I understand you actually spoke to Helga about it.”
Jordan sat next to Catherine, “Yes?”
“I’m just impressed; from what I’ve heard hardly anyone got face time with her, not even her lawyer.”
“Did they knock first?” Jordan asked dryly, making her chuckle.
“I think you got lucky that day. Anyway, she…” she shot a quick look at Cameron, “passed away a few weeks ago…”
“Oh,” Catherine looked sad, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Her heart simply slowed down until it stopped, basically. She spent her last three days in ICU. Her doctors were extremely careful to cover themselves in determining her passing was due to natural causes.” She shrugged one-sidedly, “At a hundred and nine I guess it would have to be. Anyway, she had many fairly distant family members, at this point mostly nieces and nephews she was estranged from, but once word got around…”
“Let the games begin…” Jordan shook her head in thinly veiled disgust.
“Exactly,” Mattie nodded, “and because she left behind two conflicting wills, both signed within weeks of her passing, lots of goings-on have come to light, so I was asked by the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office…” She grinned when Jordan scoffed, “to pursue an investigation that started with the theft of that sculpture and immediately blew into a giant mess that now extends into Helga’s many bank accounts, bank vault where jewelry is missing, and there’s more that’s missing from her art collection. I’m researching her personal correspondence and matching it against inventories so I can create a timeline of her art purchases, loans and sales for the surrogate’s court.”
“Lord,” Catherine’s brows arched sympathetically, “No wonder you need help.”
Mattie stretched a long arm over the back of the couch, “I spent a week pouring over the records her personal assistant maintained in her apartment and I barely scratched surface there before I came here to look for any stashes of personal correspondence and to see for myself the inventory her property manager sent me.”
“So where do we come in?” Jordan asked.
“I’d like Catherine to dive into the digital stuff, I’ve subpoenaed Helga’s financials,” she gave her a sympathetic look; “to say the records are extensive would be an understatement.”
“And me?” Jordan asked.
“You,” Mattie smiled, “you know I found that Rodin when I got back from vacation… It popped on the bureau alert you posted, one of those super rich personal injury TV lawyers says he bought it legitimately from some guy online. Said he handed over the cash in person so he could,” she wagged her fingers in air quotes, “save on shipping.”
“Oh yeah,” Jordan rolled her eyes, “that sounds believable.”
“He’s very successful at what he does, but let’s just say he’s not exactly a class act. I traced the eBay transaction to a burner phone… so that avenue of the investigation led nowhere. When I returned it her personal assistant, Gary Tauscher, said she was delighted to have it back.”
“Well,” Catherine shrugged, “that’s nice to hear.”
“But there’re so many people who benefited from Helga Lynch’s… generosity, I’m gonna’ call it for now, that I need to you to help me figure out who preyed on her for her money and valuables and who stole it from her so the court can figure out how to proceed with probate. I’ll focus on the art and valuables if you and Catherine can take the financial end of this case, and then I expect we’ll cross over each other when we get to her empty mansions.�
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“Uh, oh…” Jordan muttered. “How many empty mansions did she have?”
“For a reclusive heiress who spent her last twenty-four years locked away in a hospital room, she maintained this one and another in Connecticut that I know about so far. She also bought a surprising number of homes and apartments for others I’m still finding out about.”
“Well,” Jordan waved a hand, “I’m in.”
“Me too.” Catherine checked her watch, “It’s dinner time for us, is there someplace we can go and eat?”
“Ready for dinner, Cam?” Jordan stood, “Mattie, can you join us?”
“Really?”
“Oh, please,” she snorted, “we’re gonna be working together for a while, we might as well get to know each other.”
Cam packed up his collection of trucks and they chatted as they returned downstairs. An older, gray-haired man waited by the front door and Mattie waved to him,
“Hey, Ray… Agent Hawkins,” she gestured, “Doctor Bernard… and Cameron, this is Raymond Somerfield, he’s the estate manager here at Bellosantuario.”
He was dressed in jeans and a barn coat and stood holding his cowboy hat in his hands, “How do you do…” He shook hands with Jordan and Catherine and bent at the waist to shake Cameron’s hand, “Hey there, Cameron.”
“We’re heading out,” Mattie said, “and I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Look forward to it.” He nodded, “I’m gonna lock up then.”
Jordan had parked next to Mattie’s rental car and she followed her down the long country road and back onto the highway. They drove back to Carmel Village and parked at The Manor Inn, a mansion converted into a resort hotel. Mattie was staying there in a modest room and on her recommendation, Jordan reserved a room and after checking in, she joined Mattie, Catherine and Cameron in the hotel’s restaurant.
“I ordered dinner for you,” Catherine told her, “I got you a steak, I hope that’s okay.”
“Okay?” Jordan leaned in for a quick kiss, “Thank you, that’s perfect.” Catherine looked surprised and she added, “We’re not on the clock anymore, if Mattie hasn’t heard on the FBI grapevine that we’re a couple we might as well tell her now.”
Mattie nodded, “Oh yeah, I heard that one.”
“Well then,” Jordan smiled, “since you know about us, tell us about yourself.”
“I have a master’s in art history and I was working as a curator at the Smithsonian when the FBI asked for my input on a case for what was an obvious counterfeit Rembrandt.” She shrugged, “I got caught up in it and ended up applying, went to Quantico…”
“And the rest is history.” Jordan finished for her.
“Pretty much.”
“Why are you staying here instead of Helga’s mansion? I take it the place is empty.”
“Mister Somerfield made it clear Bellosanturaio has been kept ready for occupancy on a twenty-four hour rule since the 1950’s, which would be the last time Helga Lynch visited, but he maintains it for her alone.”
“Wow,” Catherine had been playing tic-tac-toe with Cameron on his activity placemat, “and he knows she’s…?”
“Oh yes, in fact I’d say he’s acutely aware of that. His father was the foreman in charge of construction when Helga had it torn down and rebuilt, and when it was finished he stayed on as the estate manager. Ray junior grew up there and got the job when his dad died.”
“Great,” Jordan grumbled, “this one’s going to involve just a butt-load of nepotism, isn’t it?”
Cameron’s eyes grew wide, “Jordan…” he simultaneously spoke and used her name sign.
Catherine chuckled, speaking and signing back to him, “Jordan’s being naughty, huh?”
Jordan made a comically remorseful face, making Cam laugh.
Mattie looked surprised, “You guys know sign language?”
“Jordan taught us.” Catherine said a note of pride in her voice.
“Yeah,” Jordan grinned at the toddler, “my parents were deaf so…” her voice faded and she shrugged.
“So,” Cameron spoke and signed to Mattie grandly, “we know sign!”
This time it was Jordan who laughed and said, signing back him, “Yes, we do!”
“So what’ll happen to that place?” Catherine asked.
“Don’t know yet, although he said the mayor has plans for it.”
“Like what?”
“He wants to turn it into an historical foundation the town can turn a profit on from conferences and retreats for corporations and the arts. The first floor has two art galleries and a dance studio with a stage. Helga had Ray build a private airstrip in the fifties, although she never used it and there’s a library filled with antique books… well,” she gave them a sly smile, “they’re antiques now. The place is loaded with valuable art they could always sell in tough times… There’s a pool,” she continued, “tennis court, bocce court, a billiards room I think she built in memory of her father… two huge barns, residences for staff and Ray has his own residence there too.”
“I can just imagine the millions the lawyers are gonna make.”
“Lawyer.” Mattie emphasized. “She only had one; William Stiger.”
“For a woman of her wealth,” Catherine looked skeptical, “you think she’d have had a whole cadre of lawyers.”
Mattie nodded “I thought so too.”
“Are you married?” Cameron suddenly asked.
Catherine and Jordan looked surprised but Mattie grinned, “No.”
“Do you live in New York?” he asked, coloring idly with one of the crayons that came with his placemat.
“I do.”
“Do you wish you had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend?”
“Smooth, Cam,” Jordan snickered, “real subtle.”
He looked at her briefly in confusion then looked back expectantly at Mattie,
“A girlfriend.” Mattie said matter-of-factly and flashed Jordan a teasing grin, “Looks like interrogative skills run in the DNA.”
Jordan laughed and nudged him, “Want to be an FBI agent when you grow up, Cam?”
“I don’t know…” he said, looking thoughtful.
“What else would you like to be?”
He looked at her, resolute, “A zookeeper.”
She tucked the covers around her softly snoring son and his favorite sleeping companions, his sister’s teddy bear and Glowworm, and slid under the covers of the bed opposite, snuggling next to Jordan, “I’m not used to wearing so much to bed…” she whispered playfully.
Jordan snickered softly and placed a kiss on warm lips, “I know,” she pulled her close, “I almost stripped off the bottoms when I got in.”
Catherine slid her hands under the t-shirt Jordan wore, sighing in contentment when she finally touched soft skin. “We’ll be home tomorrow night and I can ravish you then…” Jordan burst out giggling and pressed her lips into Catherine’s soft hair. “You can laugh all you want…” She shifted until she could whisper hotly in her ear, “But I will, I’ll make you beg for more.”
Jordan stopped laughing when she felt Catherine’s hand slide under the waistband of her pajama bottoms, “You always do…” she rasped quietly, feeling suddenly flushed, “I’ve just never heard you use that word before.”
“I think we may have to start.” She whispered and snuggled closer, letting her hands wander and smiled against warm skin when Jordan moaned softly in appreciation. “Thank you for the mini-vacation.”
Jordan sighed, “Thanks for coming with me on a work trip… again.”
“We weren’t expecting Disneyworld this time you know.”
“I know,” her closed eyes crinkled happily at the memory, “That was a great Christmas, wasn’t it?”
“The best.” Catherine agreed.
“And it was nice getting away from all the snow.”
“You mean in Florida?”
“Uh huh, here too, it was a nice break.” Jordan grunted, suddenly feeling too warm w
here Catherine touched her, “Uh, maybe you should… uhn…”
Catherine chuckled softly, “Can you be quiet?”
“Uhn…” Jordan clenched her teeth and pressed her lips together at the feel of the Catherine’s questing fingers between her legs, “Oh, god I hope so.”
New York City, NY
Once they emerged from the Holland Tunnel Catherine checked for new email on her tablet, “Oh, jeez…”
“Oh, jeez, what?”
“I got a bunch of emails from Mattie,” she tapped the screen, quickly scanning the text; “thank god she simplified it. She sent links to access Helga’s subpoenaed banking financials… should be a lot quicker than sifting through tons of attachments… then I can organize them like I want.” Her voice faded as she scrolled through the emails and Jordan smiled, recognizing the moment when Catherine became intrigued by a new digital challenge.
They had gone out to breakfast with Mattie the next morning, spending some time strategizing how to proceed with the Helga Lynch case. When they left for the two-hour drive to the San Francisco airport, Mattie returned to her review of the art catalogues in Bellosantuario, keeping her warrant in plain view for the estate manager when she went digging into boxes of personal correspondence in Helga’s bedroom. The trio’s flight home was thankfully uneventful, their planes landing between snowstorms, and because it was early evening when they landed in New York, Jordan had the cab drop them off at the FBI’s garage where they retrieved their van and drove home.
“Helga told us she never met Rodin, and maybe that was a good thing.” she took a quick look behind her at Cameron watching a video on the van’s monitor, “How’s it going back there?”
“Fine, mom…” he answered absently, unwilling to tear his eyes from the screen.
Jordan prompted her, “Maybe that was a good thing?”
“I read he was pretty old when his work became notably, uh… erotic.” She whispered the last, making Jordan flash a feral grin.
“Well,” she sighed, “while you’re buried up to you cute nose in banking stuff I’m gonna go talk to Helga’s lawyer,” she clicked on the turn signal, “it’s a good place to start.”
