Insatiable Appetites

by Stuart Woods

  “Thanks, I’ll ask him. You want dinner tonight? Viv’s away on business.”

  “Sure. Patroon?”

  “Eight o’clock.” Dino hung up.

  Stone got to Patroon first, and Ken Aretsky, the owner, joined him for a moment. “How is Eduardo Bianchi, Stone?” Ken asked. “I know you two are close.”

  “I had lunch with him today,” Stone replied, “and he looked wonderful, in very good form.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Ken said. “He comes in once in a great while, and I’m always happy to see him.”

  Stone wondered why Ken happened to bring that up, but he didn’t want to ask.

  Dino came in and sat down, and a waiter appeared with Knob Creek for Stone and Johnnie Walker Black for Dino. They chatted briefly, then Ken excused himself to greet another customer.

  “Have you heard anything new?” Dino asked.

  “Not a word, but Ken just asked after Eduardo’s health. I thought for a moment he might have heard something, but he didn’t say so. Have you heard from Mary Ann?”

  Dino shook his head. “Anna Maria and I don’t do business.” That was her given name, but she had begun using Mary Ann as a teenager.

  “She said something odd on the phone. She said that when Eduardo died, all hell would break loose.”

  “I’ve no idea what she meant by that,” Dino said. “He’s an old man, and nobody’s going to be surprised when he dies, are they?”

  “That’s what I thought, but Mary Ann seems to know something I don’t.”

  “She’s probably referring to the disposition of his estate.”

  “She’s certainly thinking about that. She asked me and the firm to represent her in settling his affairs.”

  “My guess is you’re not going to find a huge amount in his estate,” Dino said.

  “You think Eduardo’s been concealing assets?”

  “Eduardo is a Sicilian. It’s in his nature to conceal everything, especially money. I’ll bet when you see his will, you’ll find there isn’t much in there besides the house and some investments.”

  “I’ve always had the impression that Eduardo was immensely wealthy,” Stone said.

  “Back when we were married, Mary Ann thought so, too. Even before she started her investment firm she was helping him with investments, so she knew things that I didn’t.”

  “What sort of investments?”

  “I had the impression he was pretty big in real estate, but I don’t know what else. Except for his house, which is lavish, he seemed to live fairly simply. There were some practically invisible servants around the place—in addition to the evil Pietro—and Eduardo’s dead wife’s younger sister lived there and cooked for him until she died a couple of years ago.”

  “He owns a lot of art,” Stone said. “His study, the living room, and the dining room are filled with his acquisitions.”

  “So are the upstairs rooms,” Dino said. “Did you ever go up there?”

  “No.”

  “Have a look around, if you have the chance.”

  “I may have the chance tomorrow,” Stone said. “I’m meeting Mary Ann out there at ten.”

  “She’s right on it, isn’t she? She always had a mind like a steel trap, and hands, too.”

  “Well, I’d rather have a client who is ready to deal with things than one who doesn’t want to know.”

  “I’ll bet you two things,” Dino said. “One, she already knows a lot. Two, there are things that she doesn’t know, that Eduardo kept to himself.”

  “It will be interesting finding out.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Dino said, slapping his forehead. “I just thought of something.”

  “What?”

  “Dolce.”

  Stone gulped. Dolce was Eduardo’s younger daughter. Stone had once had a torrid affair with her, ending in their marriage, in Venice. It had been a civil ceremony, and before the religious one could take place, the following day, Stone had been called back to the States. Dolce had followed him, apparently believing that he had jilted her at the altar, and had begun a series of attempts on his life. She was clearly mad, under a placid surface, and Eduardo had locked her away in his house. She kept escaping, continuing her plots against Stone, and finally her father had packed her off to Sicily, where she had been kept in a convent. Stone had received an envelope from Eduardo containing a page from the book they had signed at the Venice town hall upon their marriage. It was the only legal evidence of their union, and Stone had burned it.

  “Oh, shit,” he said.

  “If Eduardo dies,” Dino pointed out—unnecessarily, Stone thought—“what’s to keep her in Sicily?”

  “I wonder if Eduardo had her legally committed?” Stone mused.

  “More likely, he just stuck her in that convent and made a generous donation,” Dino replied. “That would be more Sicilian. I’d look into that, if I were you.”

  “Believe me,” Stone said, “I will. Listen, I’m having everybody to dinner at my house tomorrow night.”

  “What time.”

  “Six-thirty for drinks.”

  “Viv will be back. We’ll be there.”

  “I’ll have to ask Mary Ann, but I doubt she’ll come.”

  “From your lips to God’s ear.”

  Stone called Herbie Fisher at home after dinner, told him about Eduardo, and asked him to work on the new case. The kids arrived after eleven; Stone greeted them all, sent Ben to Mary Ann’s apartment, then went to bed.

  The following morning, Stone had Joan print out a representation agreement, which was mostly boilerplate, then Fred drove Stone and Herbie to nether Brooklyn. As they turned into the driveway, they were flagged down by a uniformed policeman. They identified themselves and, after a call to the house, were admitted.

  Pietro met them at the door, somehow looking older since yesterday, then he led them to Eduardo’s study. Mary Ann sat at her father’s desk, rifling drawers and peering under the large piece of furniture.

  “Good morning, Mary Ann,” Stone said. “How is your father this morning?”

  “In a deep coma, thank you.” She stared at Herbie. “Who’s this?”

  “Mary Ann, let me introduce Herbert Fisher, a partner at Woodman & Weld, who will be assisting me in this matter.”

  “Bring us coffee,” she said to Pietro, who vanished.

  “What were you doing under the desk?” Stone asked.

  “Looking for secret drawers,” she replied.

  “Before we begin, Mary Ann, let me explain a few things about how we will work.”

  “All right, go ahead.”

  Pietro appeared with a silver tray bearing a coffeepot, creamer, cups, and a plate of small pastries.

  “Leave us,” she said to him. “Go ahead, Stone,” she said, when the man had gone.

  “First of all,” Stone said, “we can represent the estate or we can represent you, personally, but not both. Since you are, presumably, an heir, that would be a conflict of interest. Which will it be?”

  Mary Ann thought about that for a moment. “You will represent the estate,” she said. “I’ll find my own attorney.”

  “Fine. You must understand that we will, in a sense, be representing the court, and that means we must keep you at arm’s length while we do our work.”

  “All right,” she said.

  “I want to go off the record here for a moment,” Stone said. “What I’m now about to say to you is to be confidential among the three of us.”

  She looked at Herbie, then back at Stone, and her eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

  “Before I begin to look at a will or any other documents, I must tell you that we can deal only with those assets mentioned in Eduardo’s will and any others listed in financial statements. Is there a will?”

  “Yes, it’s in a safe behind the book
case, there,” she said, pointing. “I don’t know how to open it.”

  “Does Pietro?”

  “He says no.”

  “Then I will have steps taken to open it. What I meant by my previous statement is that, if Eduardo undertook during his life to remove cash, property, or other assets from his taxable estate by concealing them in secret accounts or corporations, I cannot know about it. I must be in a position to tell the probate court, honestly, that I am not aware of any assets not listed in my petition to the court. Is that clearly understood?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she said softly, “Yes.”

  “Something else: you are going to have to become accustomed to the idea of the estate’s paying very substantial inheritance taxes. If you obsess over taxes, you will start making mistakes that will pile up and are likely to fall on you. From what little I know of Eduardo’s affairs, he is very wealthy and, even after taxes, his heirs will come into large sums of money and/or property. You must be content with what’s left.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Now I must ask you, has anything been removed from the house since Eduardo fell ill?”

  “I suppose the maid took out the trash.”

  “I will need to see any trash bags not yet collected,” Stone said. “Has any piece of artwork been removed?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You may not remove anything that belongs to the estate from the house, until the court gives permission.”

  “I understand.”

  “Who is Eduardo’s secretary, and where is she?”

  “Her name is Angelina Bono, and she is upstairs with my father.”

  “Good. When we’re done here, please tell her I’d like to speak with her.”

  “When will we be done here?”

  “We’re almost finished, and we’re back on the record. Do you know who Eduardo has appointed as his executor?”

  “He told me long ago that I would be his executor, and that the fact was in his will, and he has never said anything to indicate that he changed his mind.”

  Stone removed a document from his briefcase and handed it to Mary Ann. “This is a representation agreement between Eduardo’s executor and Woodman & Weld. Please take your time and read it, particularly with regard to our fees, and if you agree, sign both copies.” He handed the papers to her. “If we should subsequently learn that Eduardo appointed a different executor, we must have that person execute the document.”

  Mary Ann read the entire agreement, then signed it, and returned it to Stone.

  “Thank you,” Stone said. He signed the documents and returned one to Mary Ann.

  There was a sharp rap on the study door.

  “Come!” Mary Ann said.

  Pietro entered the room, looking agitated. “Anna Maria,” he said, “your father is awake.”

  Mary Ann hurried around the desk. “Come with me,” she said, and Stone and Herbie followed her down the hall and up the stairs. The stairway and the upstairs hall were lined with pictures, which Stone wanted more time to look at, but not now.

  At the end of the upstairs hallway, double doors opened to a bedroom that could only be described as baronial in size and decor. Eduardo lay in an electric bed that had been raised enough for them to see his face. He was surrounded by beeping, flashing medical equipment, and a doctor, a nurse, and a priest were at his bedside. Eduardo seemed alert and was smiling.

  The priest, whom Stone recognized as the cardinal of New York, said, to nobody in particular, “It’s a miracle of God.”

  An elderly woman sitting in a chair on the other side of the room burst into tears.

  Stone approached the foot of the bed. “Good morning, Eduardo,” he said. “It’s good to see you looking well.”

  Eduardo struggled a little to speak but finally said, “I am not well. I will die soon.”

  “That is in God’s hands,” the cardinal said.

  “You may think so,” Eduardo replied. He motioned to Stone to approach, and the others stood back a little to allow him near the old man. He raised a hand and beckoned Stone closer. “Everything is in order,” he whispered. “It’s all in my safe.”

  Stone wanted to ask him the combination but thought better of it.

  “Papa!” Mary Ann said. “Speak to me, tell me what you want.”

  “You must ask Stone,” Eduardo said, then he closed his eyes and his head fell to one side. Next to the bed, a machine that had been beeping now emitted a steady electronic tone, and wavy lines indicating heartbeat and respiration flattened.

  “Save him!” Mary Ann said to the doctor.

  “Your father signed a do-not-resuscitate order last year,” the man said. “There is nothing more I can do for him.”

  Mary Ann burst into tears, and the nurse led her to a chair.

  Stone left the bedside to those attending Eduardo’s remains. He took Pietro, who was weeping quietly, aside. “I’m sorry for your loss, Pietro,” he said. “Now you must give me all the keys to Eduardo’s study.”

  Pietro beckoned for Stone to follow and led him into a large dressing room, which could have accommodated the stock of a small men’s clothing store. Suits, jackets, trousers, and shirts filled it, in neat rows. Pietro went to the top drawer of a built-in dresser, opened it, and handed Stone a bunch of keys on a ring, then he removed a similar ring from his own pocket and handed those over, too. “That is all the keys to the house,” he said. “I will need to lock up tonight.”

  “Thank you, Pietro,” Stone said, and pocketed the keys.

  Stone went back into the bedroom, approached Mary Ann, who had stopped weeping and was simply staring into the middle distance. “He was a wonderful man,” Stone said. “I’ll miss him.”

  He went to the doctor and said quietly, “I am the attorney for the estate. Please give Ms. Bianchi the death certificate.”

  He turned toward Mary Ann. “Please excuse us.” He beckoned to Herbie to follow and left the room.

  Stone got out his iPhone and took photographs of the pictures in the hallway, then he went from room to room, peeking in and photographing still more art. Finally, he led Herbie downstairs to the study and closed the doors behind him.

  Herbie sank into a chair. “That was dramatic,” he said. “What did Eduardo say to you?”

  “He said, ‘Everything is in order. It’s all in my safe.’”

  Stone walked to the bookcase Mary Ann had indicated and found a concealed latch that opened it. A double-doored safe, perhaps five feet wide and eight feet tall, occupied the space behind it.

  “You want me to get us a safecracker?” Herbie asked.

  Stone thought about that and remembered something. He went to the safe, spun the dial, then started turning it back and forth.

  “So you’re a safecracker now?” Herbie asked.

  Stone tried the safe’s wheel, but it did not budge. He spun the dial again, and tried it again, this time turning the dial in the opposite direction. He took hold of the wheel and turned it. “Voilà,” he said.

  “How the hell did you do that?” Herbie asked.

  “Eduardo sent me a note with the combination included. He just neglected to say in which direction to start.” He closed the door and relocked it, then closed the bookcase.

  “Don’t you want to see what’s inside?”

  “Not yet,” Stone replied, returning to the desk. “I’d rather do it when Mary Ann isn’t around.” He sat down and looked through the items she had been removing from the drawers when he had arrived. There was a checkbook showing a balance of more than $150,000, a desk diary and an address book, a gold pocket watch, a gold cigarette case, and a gold Dunhill lighter.

  “I didn’t realize Eduardo smoked,” Herbie said.

  “I think he must have quit a long time ago,” Stone replied, “but he didn’t throw away these elega
nt accoutrements. I want you to call the office and ask Bill Eggers’s assistant to recommend someone to come in and catalog everything in the house. Have them start first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Herbie got out his phone and made the call.

  The door opened and Mary Ann entered. “I’ve spoken to the cardinal. There will be a high mass said at St. Patrick’s Cathedral a week from today at two PM,” she said. “I have other arrangements to make, so I will return to my office in the city and make them there. Please begin your work here.”

  “Mary Ann,” Stone said, “I’m getting everyone together for dinner at my house tonight at seven. We’d be delighted if you would join us.”

  “I’m not sure Dino and his wife would enjoy that, but I’ll come if I can. May we leave it that way?”

  “Of course. It will be very casual.”

  She nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

  Herbie closed his phone. “Eggers’s guy is on it. He’ll have a team here tomorrow. Shall we take a look in the safe?”

  “Give Mary Ann a few minutes to clear the house,” Stone said, “then we’ll open it.”

  They heard a car door slam and the sound of the vehicle driving away. Stone went to the bookcase, released the catch, and opened it. He entered the combination, spun the wheel, and opened both doors of the safe.

  “Very neat,” he said. There were shelves and drawers filled with files and a case containing a watch winder behind a glass door. The watches were slowly rotating. On a shelf at waist height was a row of red envelopes, perhaps a dozen of them. “Get a legal pad and let’s start making a list of the contents,” he said to Herbie, who complied.

  Stone started at the left end and removed an envelope. “Last Will and Testament of Eduardo Bianchi,” he read aloud, then he returned the envelope to the shelf. He went through the rest of the envelopes: half a dozen of them contained codicils to the will; the others contained up-to-date financial documents: brokerage account statements, a deed to the house, and a financial statement among them.