When we entered the office, Jennifer’s companion was seated across from her. He appeared older as we drew close and fell under his analytical gaze. A pleasant smile returned the youthfulness to his face, as did a little awkwardness in the way he rose from the table to greet us. He didn’t quite have the power meet and greet handshake down.
“Hello, he said as he reached out and shook my hand with enthusiasm. “I’m glad to meet you, Ms. Shaw. I’ve heard so much about you from Max Marley. I’m Terry Pfister.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Attorney Pfister. Hello, Jennifer,” I added as I sat down next to her. Before she could respond, Terry spoke to Jack.
“You must be Detective Wheeler. You’ve made quite an impression on Max, too, although I understand he hasn’t known you long. He sings your praises: 'Jack Wheeler’s a law man of another kind. One who doesn’t mind getting down into the mud if that’s what justice requires!’” As he made that pronouncement, he sounded like Max and ended with a gesture that was an exact replica of one Max used often. I smiled wondering how much longer it would take before caginess won out over his spirited appreciation for the absurd. Jennifer did not smile, and her posture straightened more, if that were possible.
“I’m sure Max appreciates your obvious admiration for his glibness and ability to deliver a message.” Trust Jack to put the best spin on the lawyer’s amiable greeting. Jennifer relaxed ever so slightly. “It’s a pleasure. And, please call me Jack.” When he and Terry had exchanged a hardy handshake, they both sat down.
“May I bring you some coffee or another beverage?” the receptionist asked.
“Coffee would be wonderful,” Jack replied. I realized I could use some too. I’d skipped it at my lunch with Pat, ordering iced tea instead.
“I could use a cup, too.”
“Just bring us a pot, Grace, please?”
“Sure, Skip. I’ll be right back.”
“Skip is what everyone around here calls me.”
“Is it a childhood nickname?” I asked out of sheer curiosity.
“No. Before I had my law degree, I worked as a skip tracer. Somewhere along the way the name got mixed up with my own. I like Skip better than Terry, so I quit correcting people. Sometimes judges don’t take kindly to the fact I have to clarify who I am. They don’t always appreciate my bounty hunter past. It does make me a memorable law man, though.” He pointed his finger skyward for emphasis, once again imitating Max.
“That background you have chasing down fugitives must come in handy from time to time,” Jack added. I wondered if the wheels were turning in Jack’s head. Had Skip applied those skills to investigate Dave Rollins’ past?
“I suppose I’d have an edge evaluating the risk that a client might run for it if I were handling criminal cases. Don’t tell Max I said this, but I’m glad I don’t have to get down in the mud in pursuit of justice. That got old quick. Occasionally, I get pulled into a case where there’s some question about fraud related to the settlement of an estate. Believe it or not, this is the first time I’ve been asked to answer questions about a client who was murdered.”
In that moment, the supposedly seasoned, mud-weary skip tracer looked younger than ever. His eyes widened making them appear rounder, exaggerating the roundness of his face. His gaze shifted abruptly as Grace entered the room with coffee. The aroma swirled around us as she poured a cup for each of us. Jennifer, who had been completely silent since Grace had left to fetch the coffee, took charge.
“Thanks, Grace. We’ll help ourselves to cream and sugar if we need it. Would you shut the door on your way out, please?”
“Sure, please let me know if you need anything else.”
As soon as the door closed behind her, Jennifer opened a portfolio and pulled out a sheet of paper for each of us.
“If I understood you correctly when you arranged this meeting, Georgie, your interest in meeting with us is twofold. First, you want to know who was involved with Dave Rollins in his later years who might have something to say about how Marvelous Marley World plans to honor his passing. Second, you want to know who stands to gain by Dave Rollins’ death.” I hadn’t put it in such blunt terms, but she had it right.
“That’s the gist of it,” I agreed.
“It probably won’t come as any great surprise that, for the most part, it’s the same small group of people who qualify on both counts. I checked with Skip to make sure that was the case before I prepared the list of names and contact information for you.”
Jack and I scanned the list she handed us. It included his children and his ex-wife and more than a dozen other people. Several of those names were new to me and I was eager to learn more about them. Several of the names on the list, like that of his agent Bernie, also noted each as the “recipient of a token bequest.” I flipped the paper over, but there was no more specific information anywhere about what that meant or who got what.
“What’s a ‘token bequest’?” I asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that term used before.”
“It’s not a technical term,” Skip replied. “By that, we mean that Dave has left a specific personal item and/or a small transfer of cash or other assets to an individual. For the most part, we’re talking about personal items that are hard to price—like the framed copy of the first contract he ever signed with his agent and a few other personal items. That’s true for a violin he’s leaving to the first violinist in the Marvelous Marley World orchestra.”
“That’s quite a generous gift!” I exclaimed.
“It’s no Stradivarius, but it’s still valuable. Collectibles aren’t worth anything until someone makes an offer.”
“I’m certain Richard Hart won’t want to sell it. It’s a lovely, hand-crafted instrument. Glorious to see but even more remarkable when played by a skilled musician. Dave mentioned once that it was one of his most valuable possessions because of its beauty not its price. It was right up there with those delightful Indian miniatures and the vintage sheet music he collected. I wonder who’s going to inherit those items?” Jennifer scrutinized me closely as I made those remarks. Just as I was starting to feel uncomfortable, Skip spoke.
“I can provide you with more details about each gift if you think it’s important.”
“Would you do that, please?” Jack asked. “We’re still early in this investigation and it’s not clear what might turn out to be meaningful, but squabbling about who gets what often does, I’m afraid.”
“Sure,” Skip replied making a note to himself on the proverbial yellow legal pad.
“Pat mentioned that much of Dave’s personal memorabilia had been moved to the Marvelous Marley World archives. I didn’t pay close attention during the quick walkthrough Jack and I did at the house during our visit, Saturday morning. His collectibles still seemed to be in the locked display cabinet in his office. None of his artwork appeared to have been damaged or destroyed either.”
“That’s fortunate for everyone who stands to benefit from Dave Rollins’ largesse,” Jennifer offered. “I suppose we’ll need a copy of the report from the insurance adjuster before we can make a final determination of how true that is.”
“I take it they have a complete inventory of what Dave Rollins kept at his home and the condition of each item at the time they insured it,” Jack commented as he jotted down a note on a pad in front of him: “insurance inventory—before and after break-in.”
“That’s true. Perhaps it’s too early to breathe a sigh of relief on behalf of the maestro’s beneficiaries,” Skip added with a shrug. “We don’t want anyone to be disappointed.”
“Lawyers! They worry too much. Pat would have told us if she’d discovered something of value that had been stolen or damaged.”
“When she spoke to you yesterday about your decision to have it all crated and moved into storage, you mean?” I asked, curious that she didn’t bring that up. Jennifer’s eyes narrowed as if sizing me up or the intent behind my question.
“Yes, that’s
a measure intended to protect Dave’s assets from another incident. Pat had already been through the house with the police the day before. Has she contacted you since then, Detective?”
“No. What she reported was that not much of value appeared to be lost or damaged from her examination of the wreckage—even after taking another look at it yesterday. We’ll wait to see what the audit reveals since it’ll be more thorough, and then we’ll get a final tally.”
“We can send you a copy of the audit once we get it.” Skip spoke, and Jennifer nodded.
“Don’t go to any trouble. We’ll have the insurance company send us a copy. It sounds like you won’t rest easy about being able to fulfill Dave’s intentions until you get it.” Jack examined the list of beneficiaries. I did too. Perhaps, like me, he wondered what kind of flack Skip and others at his firm faced if they couldn’t honor Dave Rollins’ bequests because of vandalism or theft. Or who would make such a fuss? One name jumped out at me.
“How nice that Dave included Marla among his beneficiaries. Did she know she was on the list?” Killing him was a way to speed up getting her hands on whatever Dave had left her. She sounded sincere when she’d told us it would have been stupid to kill the golden goose writing those monthly checks. Was she more upset than she let on about having to ask for what was rightfully hers each month? Skip and his colleagues had better hope none of what was coming to her was missing or there would be a price to pay.
“Yes. When they divorced, Dave made provisions for Marla to have a share of the proceeds from the sale of the house in the event of his death. That wasn’t a secret. His wealth is substantial, and his children stand to inherit the bulk of his estate. Ensuring that their mother benefited from the sale of what was once their family home was a little sentimental but didn’t have much impact on the disposition of his assets. Those assets also include royalties from the music he wrote as well as any money that might come from licensing agreements or other uses to be made of his name and musical legacy.”
“Offhand, do you have an idea of what he’s worth?” Jack asked.
“Jennifer can probably give you an estimate of his current net worth down to the penny, but I’d say upward of eighty million dollars.” Jennifer nodded in agreement. Jack let out a little whistle.
“It’s good to work for The Cat!”
“Dave wrote hundreds of songs and more than a few of them made tons of money for Marvelous Marley World. Dave retained the copyrights and Max saw to it that Dave got his cut of any royalties that came from recordings. If you factor in his future earnings, it could be much more than that. For a legendary figure like Dave Rollins, he’s likely to make much more money dead than alive. That depends on how well his life’s work is managed, which is one reason he set up Music Man Enterprises before he died.”
“Will the family run the business?” I asked.
“Marla and each of Dave’s children already own shares in the business. His holdings will be divided among them. The business is run, day-to-day, by professionals with knowledge and experience in the entertainment industry. The managers of MME report to a board. Jennifer and I sit on the board, along with Dave’s son and daughter. Marla, too, as do several representatives from the creative arts—music, film, and theater. Dave Rollins also has a Charitable Foundation and a member sits on MME’s board. Marvelous Marley World always has two seats since The Cat Factory’s reputation is also at stake depending on how Dave’s music is used.”
“Do the board members get compensated for their duties?”
“Some do. I don’t take money because I get paid to manage Dave’s personal estate—the family’s estate now. Jennifer doesn’t either since she has a similar role to play on the accounting side. Marla and the kids don’t take money. Nor does anyone from Marvelous Marley World. That still means about half the members are paid a six-figure salary for their service.”
“Wow!” Jack exclaimed at the numbers being tossed around.
“Pat’s mentioned here,” I said going back to the list Jennifer had given me.
“Yes. Dave made provisions in his will for her. I forgot to include her as a board member, didn’t I? As his longtime Personal Assistant, she’s always been concerned about protecting his legacy. She probably knew him as well as anyone alive, and she’s fiercely loyal. Marla didn’t always appreciate Pat’s presence, but Dave had the last word on the matter, so they’ve made it work.” Skip shrugged.
“Does she get paid?”
“She tried to refuse, but Dave insisted that she accept compensation. I’m sure that’s as much as she earns from her annual salary as his PA. Dave also set up a retirement fund for her years ago, but the extra compensation from her seat on the board was intended to make it easier for her to prepare for that eventuality. She’s younger than Dave, but older than his ex-wife. He valued Pat’s years of service and wanted to provide for her in the event of his death.”
“That board seat gives her a pretty good retirement income,” Jack offered.
“Yes, and then there’s the cottage. She’ll have a place to live in retirement, too,” Skip added.
“The cottage?” I asked. “Do you mean the one Dave Rollins was renting when Pat first met him?”
“You know about that, huh?” Jennifer asked, smirking. The smirk turned into a smile as she continued to speak. “Dave Rollins was a hopeless romantic. As his accountant, I objected to the offer he made on that beach house. Cottage is a nice word for what was more like a rundown shack. He insisted on purchasing it when he heard it was up for sale, concerned that someone might buy it for the location and tear it down.”
“Given the price of property near the beach, I’m sure he was right,” I added.
“He not only bought it but fixed it up. It’s got the same cozy feel it always had but it’s structurally sound—a little bigger than it was—and has been totally updated.”
“Jennifer’s like a proud mom,” Skip interjected. “She had a hand in the redesign and renovations.” Jennifer’s whole demeanor shifted, as if she’d let her hair down or a box that had enclosed her suddenly fell away.
“I probably should have been a designer rather than an accountant. It was a pleasant way to reconnect to my artsy side.”
“The bottom line is that Dave left that cottage to Pat. Before you ask, no she doesn’t know. It’s going to come as a surprise to her when we reveal the details of his estate.”
“That’s quite a nice surprise!” I exclaimed.
“Please, let’s keep it that way, okay? It’s one way we can honor Dave’s intentions,” Jennifer implored. I nodded.
“Sure,” Jack replied. “Are there going to be any other surprises at the reading of the will?” Jennifer and Skip looked at each other.
11 Follow the Money
“When his granddaughter shows up, that ought to create a stir,” Jennifer responded. I suppressed a gasp but couldn’t keep the astonishment from my voice.
“Granddaughter—he has one?” I asked. I’d once overheard Dave bemoaning the fact that Katie was opposed to the idea of ever having children, and Carter wasn’t likely to make him a granddad either since he’d filed for divorce.
“Yes. He didn’t realize it until recently when Maggie Knight found him. Her name is on the list.” Skip hesitated. Jennifer let out a big sigh and took over where Skip had stopped.
“This is a story that Dave was trying to keep under wraps, even though most of the people involved are no longer alive. I don’t have all the details, but when Dave was a very young man he became involved with a woman. She was a little older than he was at nineteen, and she was already married. Nowadays, in and of itself, adultery wouldn’t be such a shocker, but in the 1960s—especially when it was the woman who was unfaithful—it was devastating. Dave’s family was furious that he’d put the family name and reputation on the line. They ordered him to leave the house and never return. That’s about as much as Dave told me. When Skip snooped around, he found out more.”
“His nam
e wasn’t Dave Rollins, but Daniel Devereaux. At least part of the family’s outrage was about the fact that the woman’s husband, Robert Landry, came from a family that had made their money importing liquor during Prohibition. He was still involved in illegal activities like hijacking goods being brought in through the gulf. He ran night clubs that hosted backroom gambling operations along with other illicit sidelines. Dave used to sneak around and visit those clubs as a teenager. That’s where he discovered jazz and took up the bass. A few years later when he started playing in one of those clubs, he fell for the boss’s wife. Some of the trouble was detailed in local papers, along with the fact that it got nasty, and Daniel Devereaux ended up in the hospital after a beating. My guess is, he was told to leave town and figured that was no guarantee they’d leave him alone unless Daniel Devereaux ceased to exist.” Skip may have intended to end his story there, but Jack had questions for him. I did too.
“Probably not a bad idea. Robert Landry sounds like a dangerous man. If Maggie Knight is Dave’s granddaughter, does that mean he also has a daughter somewhere?” Jack asked.
“I don’t believe Dave ever knew she existed until recently. She was born after he left Louisiana.”
“Eight months after he left,” Jennifer added. “It’s possible that Landry’s wife didn’t know she was expecting a child when Daniel took off, left his old identity behind, and transformed himself into Dave Rollins,” Jennifer added.
“Or she kept it to herself to protect him from her husband given the situation had already become bad enough for Dave to end up in the hospital. Who knows what a man like Robert Landry would have done if he’d discovered his cheating wife had become pregnant,” Skip offered.
Or might still do if he’s alive and aware that Maggie Knight found out Dave Rollins was Daniel Devereaux, I thought. “What a sad story. Where is his daughter’s name on this list?”
“She’s not. That’s another sad tale. Dave’s daughter, Deidre Landry, was bad news. On trial for murdering her husband, Harry Knight, before she was thirty, a hung jury kept her from going to prison. There were rumors that Robert Landry paid off jurors to get that outcome. Anyway, getting away with murder didn’t mean she turned her life around. She was dead from a drug overdose not long after the trial ended.” Skip shook his head. “Some people just can’t learn, can they?”
Murder of the Maestro Page 9
