the Golden Orange (1990)

by Wambaugh, Joseph

  The patio offered a panoramic view of the turning basin, where there was decent wind but little boat activity on a Monday morning. They sat at a table under a blue umbrella, and Tess switched to sunglasses with white frames. She wore a white linen dress with a double row of black vertical buttons and black scalloped trim across the shoulders. To Winnie she seemed overdressed compared to the other more casually attired breakfasters at the yacht club.

  Winnie saw an older man emerge from inside and look toward the tables, blinking in the bright sunlight. He said, "That must be Scroggins. He's all gray, just like I imagined."

  It was true. Martin Scroggins wore a gray suit, a gray silk tie with the tiniest of patterns, and his thinning hair, absent the rinse popular with men his age at Tess's club, was the color of a tarnished butter knife.

  "Good eye, Officer," Tess said. "That's Martin, all right."

  "He's so invisible he stands out," said Winnie.

  Scroggins saw Tess, waved and quickly came to their table, giving her a peck on the cheek. He was so tall he had to duck under the blue umbrella to shake hands with Winnie.

  When they were seated Martin Scroggins immediately signaled to a waitress for coffee and menus. He was not a man to lolly gag.

  "Have you been well, Tess?" he asked.

  "Well enough."

  "Yes, I was sorry to hear about your divorce."

  "Be sorry for the last two," Tess said. "Not this one. Ralph Cunningham was a real bastard."

  Scroggins gave Tess a patient understanding nod. He looked to be a man with an understanding of all the Binder problems, Winnie thought.

  "I had hopes he'd be the one for you, Tessie," Scroggins said. "I know your father hoped so too."

  "Daddy hated Ralph's guts."

  That embarrassed the elderly lawyer. He cleared his throat and took a sip of water.

  Tess said, "Winnie's a retired Newport Beach policeman, Martin. I wonder if you two ever saw each other in a courtroom?"

  "Can't say that I ever tried a criminal case around here," Scroggins said, smiling at Winnie. "Oh, occasionally when a client would have a problem with one of his kids, I might attempt to get a drunk driving reduced to a reckless. Something like that."

  "Don't think we ever met," Winnie said.

  When the menus came Martin Scroggins ordered a very hearty breakfast. Tess asked for a slice of toast, no butter.

  Winnie said to Tess, "I'm gonna have an omelet. Even though I know it won't beat your omelets." He saw that Martin Scroggins didn't miss the implication of Tess having made breakfast for him.

  When the waitress was gone Scroggins said, "How can I help you, Tessie?"

  "It's about Daddy's will, Martin. I have a few questions about the trust giving El Refugio to Warner for the remainder of his life."

  Martin Scroggins glanced at Winnie again, very uncomfortably.

  "Winnie's aware of everything," Tess said. "It's all right, Martin."

  "Yes, well, a trust by its nature is a device whereby some taxes can be saved and the property can be controlled. The decedent's wishes will be honored, and, believe me, your father was adamant about his wishes."

  "No, you don't understand," Tess said. "I guess what I'm trying to find out is, how is it that there was so little in the estate?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, I only got two hundred and fifty thousand."

  "Yes, but your father believed Ralph Cunningham would do right by you during the term of your marriage. He didn't think you'd need much money. After all, Cunningham's worth quite a lot."

  "Are you saying Daddy didn't anticipate that my third marriage mightn't outlast our champagne bubbles?"

  "Exactly. He thought you were ... well, as he put it, mellowing."

  "He wouldn't put it that way. Maturing, you mean."

  Scroggins didn't say anything.

  Tess said, "All right, so he thought that a quarter of a million should keep a well-married lady in necessities through Warner's lifetime?"

  "I think so," Martin Scroggins said. "In any case, your father and I both knew Warner well enough to agree that if something did happen, some emergency or need, Warner would do whatever he could for your well-being. Your father even told me that if you ever found yourself divorced again or in dire financial straits, Warner'd welcome you to live with him. Warner loves you like his own, Tessie."

  "Dear God!" Tess Binder said, taking her cigarettes from her purse. "Living at the ranch? Me? Dear God!"

  Scroggins was very uneasy. He signaled to a waitress for more coffee. While the young woman poured, he said to Tess, "Your father's thinking was sound, in my opinion. It's quite common for a trustor to leave his estate to his wife as a life tenant to use for her lifetime, and then to his child in fee after his wife passes away."

  "And Warner was his wife," she said, matter-of-factly.

  Martin Scroggins cleared his throat and said, "Surely, you can't be having money troubles?" He glanced at Winnie again, but Winnie looked away and drank his coffee in silence.

  "Surely, I am," Tess said. "Ralph was a swine. His prenuptial agreement is unbreakable. He gave me nothing but household things."

  "Well, perhaps until you're on your feet, you might consider talking to Warner. Really, he could use you out there now. He's lonely with your father gone. It's only him and the servants."

  "Have you been to El Refugio lately?"

  "No, not since your dad died."

  For the first time, Winnie spoke. He said, "Do you know Hack Starkey?"

  Martin Scroggins looked wary. He said, "Yes, I know him. I should say I know of him. I can't remember ever actually meeting him." The old man looked back at Tess and said, "He did odd jobs for your father and Warner, I believe."

  "Mostly for Warner," Tess said. "He was Warner's man Friday."

  Scroggins dropped his eyes while sipping his coffee, and said, "I wouldn't know about what services he may have performed. There was certainly no provision for anyone else in the trust. Just you and Warner. And even if Warner, as life tenant, and you as remainderman, were to agree to change or terminate the trust, in my opinion, it can't be done. The trustor, your father, specifically addressed that possibility. He knew what he wanted."

  Martin Scroggins brightened when breakfast came. He had a hearty appetite for an older man, and after waiting just long enough to be polite, he wolfed his breakfast while Tess made small talk with Winnie.

  Winnie ate quietly, only saying to Tess, "This can't touch your omelet. Your killer omelet."

  Tess winked at Winnie when Scroggins was occupied with dipping a slab of ham into egg yolk. Then she said, "Things're always better when they're made on an old-fashioned kitchen table."

  After the lawyer obsessively mopped up the last drop of yolk, he said, "Tessie, so far, I don't know if I've been very helpful to you."

  Tess said, "You see, Martin, I can understand how Daddy would think I was being provided for by my husband, and that a pittance would suffice."

  "A quarter of a million," Martin reminded her.

  "Is a pittance these days and you know it." She added, "Around here."

  "Once again, I could suggest the ranch," Martin Scroggins said. "Why it's . .."

  "A living hell in the summer!" she said. "And limbo the rest of the time."

  Martin Scroggins was clearly disappointed. "Your father and Warner wouldn't agree with that. Neither would I."

  Tess reached over and patted his hand. His fingers were extremely long, and pencil veins crisscrossed the hands, petering out at the jutting wrist-bones. "I didn't mean to sound like a brat," she said. "It's just that I've been abandoned. I don't have anything, Martin, except for the equity in my house."

  When Scroggins glanced at Winnie again, Winnie said apologetically, "This is the only shirt I got without a fuzzy collar or a hole in it. Usually, I dress like a shipwreck. I couldn't feed a pet gerbil."

  Tess smiled at Winnie and said to the lawyer, "For once, I haven't latched on to a man who can help m
e. Not in that way. He helps me in every other way."

  Martin Scroggins got very serious. "I'm trying to understand what I can do, Tess."

  "Martin, is there anything . . . anything else that could be converted into cash? I mean, aside from El Refugio, which I realize can't be sold during Warner's lifetime."

  "What are you saying? Do you think I'd withhold information from you?"

  "No no no," Tess said quickly. "But, I don't know how ... I just can't believe they could have devastated Daddy's money in only six or eight years! It's incredible that there wouldn't be anything left except the cash I got and enough for Warner to live ft on.

  "Tessie, they didn't devastate his fortune!" the lawyer said. "Sure, they traveled a lot and lived very well, but your father was entitled to that. He earned that money. And Warner certainly wasn't left with some vast secret bank account after your dad died. I believe there's enough to cover bills and enough to run the ranch for several years." Then he showed his first bit of exasperation. He said, "Tess, that ranch isn't Warner's. It's yours. Or it will be when Warner's gone. Your father didn't abandon i" you!

  "But, Martin, where did all the cash go?" Now Tess was showing exasperation. "That's what I want to know."

  "The ranch!" he said. "El Refugio, of course."

  "What're you talking about? A three-acre spot of green in the middle of the desert?"

  Suddenly Martin Scroggins stopped toying with his crust of toast. He stared at her for a moment to see if she was being serious. "You don't mean three acres."

  Tess looked befuddled. "Of course that's what I mean."

  "Tessie," said Martin Scroggins, "your father bought land from his neighbor in nineteen seventy-one. The neighbor was a speculator who'd gotten in enormous trouble and needed liquidity." Then he stopped and said, "Surely you know all about this!"

  Tess Binder leaned forward in her chair and said, "Martin, this is the first I've ever been told about an additional land purchase."

  Scroggins was unraveling. He looked from one to the other and back again. "But . . . but I don't understand!" he said. "I assumed ... no, I was told! I distinctly remember that I was told by Warner Stillwell during a telephone conversation that you were aware your dad's liquid assets were used to buy the land. It was such an incredible bargain. A steal, really. He said that he and you and your father had discussed it!"

  "How . . . much . . . land . . . did my father buy with those monies?" Tess demanded.

  They even talked different, Winnie thought: those monies.

  The old lawyer's voice was suddenly weak. He said, "Why, half a section. Three hundred and twenty acres. But Tessie . . . how could you not know?"

  "You never told me!"

  Winnie discovered that he was leaning forward himself, staring at the unblinking sky-blue eyes of Martin Scroggins, looking for a hint of duplicity, but seeing none.

  "Tessie, I've been in practice for forty-seven years," the lawyer said. "I would never withhold any part of a transaction from a party who ..."

  "Why didn't you send a copy of the deed with my copy of the will when Daddy died?" Tess pressed ever forward while the old lawyer retreated.

  "It was there, Tess! After the estate closed and I recorded the probate decree, I sent the decree to Warner. And a copy to you My God, Tess, could my secretary have ..."

  Then he stopped and Winnie knew he was thinking: my secretary! That bitch! What? How?

  "I got the copy of the trust and the will," Tess said. "There was no copy of a decree in there describing the assets."

  "I can't explain this!" the lawyer said, and when he raised the cup to his lips, his long bony hand was trembling. "I assure you that Warner told me you knew all about the decision to buy the land. After all, it'll revert to you someday. Why would Warner tell me that? I don't understand! I've got to phone him!"

  "I take it that Daddy himself never told you I was aware of the purchase of hundreds of acres?"

  Scroggins paused and Winnie saw Tess watching the lawyer very closely. Finally the lawyer said, "He may have. I can almost remember discussing it with Conrad on the phone. But I can distinctly remember discussing it with Warner."

  "But you can't say for sure that Daddy told you?"

  "No, I can't, but I have a feeling he must have."

  She seemed to relax a bit. She leaned back in her chair and lit a cigarette. Martin Scroggins continued to stare and shake his head in disbelief.

  "So," he said, "until this meeting you thought you were only going to inherit the house and a few acres of grove?"

  "That's right," Tess Binder said. "That's exactly right."

  "I must contact Warner Stillwell immediately!" Martin Scroggins said.

  Tess leaned forward so suddenly she bumped the table and the coffee spilled. "No, you mustn't!" she said. "This is something that . . . well, it's a family matter and I have to sort it out."

  "But I was your father's attorney! And I feel as though I'm your attorney even though I've never represented you directly. My God, Tess, you were unaware of the dimensions of your future inheritance, and I feel responsible! I've got to find out how it happened. How you wouldn't have received your copy of the recorded deed. I mailed it to you, let me see, a very short time after your father died."

  Tess asked, "In the same envelope as the will and the trust?"

  He thought for a moment and said, "No, a bit later. I think. But you see, I assumed, I mean, I'd been told you knew all about the land purchase!"

  "I'm not blaming you, Martin," Tess said. "I'm not blaming anyone. I just want to sort this out myself and I don't want you to get involved. Not yet. After I make an inquiry, then you can help me."

  "Yes, of course, I'll help," he said. "But Warner told me you knew about the land!"

  "Yes, well, maybe both he and Daddy assumed the other one told me. Perhaps it was all a big mistake. Perhaps your letter with the copy of the deed was lost by the postman. We have so many new carriers these days."

  Winnie pitied the old man. He'd lost his aplomb completely. The lawyer looked at Winnie and said, "How could it be a mistake?"

  Tess turned to Winnie and said, "Well, Win, I think we should let Martin get to his office, shouldn't we?"

  Martin Scroggins was shaking his head and muttering when Tess leaned over and kissed his cheek. He stood up reflexively and Winnie put out his hand. The lawyer's palm was damp.

  "Could I just ask one question?" Winnie asked.

  "Yes, of course," Martin Scroggins said.

  "How much is the place worth now?"

  "Well, I wouldn't know," the lawyer said. "You'll have to ask a broker out in La Quinta."

  "Any idea at all?"

  "No," said Martin Scroggins, "except that Conrad believed that with P. G. A. West having put in such a big development out there, the entire area was going to boom. He'd heard rumors of a big new airport and believed that with half a section he could find an eager developer, easily. That's land for a few hundred condos and an eighteen-hole golf course, which is what Conrad had in mind."

  "So, he didn't give you a round number?"

  "No, but it's one of the last choice areas reasonably close to Palm Springs. I believe he'd tested the water with a developer from Rancho Mirage and turned down fifty-five thousand."

  Winnie said, "For all that land?"

  "Fifty-five thousand an acre," said the lawyer.

  Winnie said, "Fifty-five . . ." It stopped him cold. "That's too many zeros for me! The Japs didn't send that many zeros to Pearl Harbor!"

  "By the time it becomes Tessie's it'll be worth twenty to thirty million," said the lawyer. "There can only be one other explanation for all this ..." He hesitated, glancing at Winnie again.

  "We've gone this far, Martin," she said, "so speak your mind."

  "It might be that your father thought you still weren't ready. I mean . . . well, three marriages? A life that's been . .."

  Unproductive ?''

  "Yes, you know how he .. . doted on you."


  "Not from my point of view. I paid a price, being his only child."

  "Well, it might be that he and Warner decided you shouldn't know about the extent of your father's estate. That it'd be better for you to think your inheritance would be a more modest one."

  "That doesn't explain Warner's failure to notify me after Daddy's death, does it? And the fact that the copy of the land deed never arrived in my hands."

  "I simply cannot explain that part of it," the lawyer said.

  Neither spoke until they were halfway to Linda Isle in Tess's car. Then Winnie said, "I think we jist found a motive for what's been going on."

  "Yeah," she said. "Warner didn't plan to live out his days in Daddy's refuge. Warner must have other ideas, connected somehow with Hack Starkey."

  "I'll tell you one thing, lady," Winnie said. "I'd work partners with you anytime. I've seen veteran detectives do a lot worse in an interrogation. That old man's scared you'll slap a malpractice lawsuit on him."

  "I just hope he keeps his mouth shut," she said. "I want you to tell me what to do about Mister Warner Stillwell."

  "I don't think that lawyer's gonna blab anything to anybody," said Winnie. "He's glad you're not mad at him. Far as you're concerned he'll be quiet as a snowfall."

  When they were near Tess's club, Winnie looked at his watch and said, "Think it's late enough for a drink?"

  Tess kept her eyes on the road and said, "Whatever you say, old son."

  "Might help me to relax and think clearer. A beer maybe."

  "Or two?"

  Winnie said, "You don't think I'm an alcoholic, do you?"

  "Don't get paranoid. There's a big difference between a heavy drinker and an alcoholic."

  "Sure, it's when booze starts swinging a wrecking ball at your life."

  "Right," Tess said, glancing at him. Not with disapproval, he was sure of it.

  The valet-parking kid who took Tess's Mercedes nodded at Winnie in recognition. He was starting to feel part of it all: The Golden Orange!

  While they were still at the yacht club, during a silence when Martin Scroggins had been devouring his breakfast, Winnie had been eavesdropping on a foursome at the next table, discussing a Los Angeles Times story about the scientific world going coconuts over the claims of the Yank and the Brit who had either achieved cold fusion, or confusion, with less energy than it took to run their experiment. But if others in The Golden Orange were excited about science attempting to approximate the Promethean gift of fire, at Tess's club events of greater significance to hot mommas were being breathlessly bandied about. A certain pair of houses had sold! Corky Peebles was practically hyperventilating when she spotted Winnie and Tess on the patio at a white table under an umbrella. Corky blazed a silicone trail across the deck, wearing a halter top, with breasts out to here, and shorts with a glittery blue anchor on each buttock. Every head in the place turned on its axis when she jiggled by.