I here? Is this what money and power are all about? I was actually just sitting at the curb down the block, but I needed a little more time. Nathan Kern might know about why Melvin changed the will. I’d cool off and give Katie time to soften him up.
Katie had been shopping.
The table was set with elegant heirloom china and silver and crystal that had been in the family for generations-just not our family; I’d never seen the stuff before. Rosita was setting out a floral centerpiece, and she had a new uniform on, very professional, with her head held high.
I found the merchants’ darling in the parlor entertaining our guest. She had spent on herself no less than on anything else, but still exquisitely. The dress was dark green, the scarf was the life work of a thousand silkworms educated in every nuance of impressionism, and the emerald pin holding it on her shoulder made an even greater impression. She hadn’t taken risks with her hair, which was still long and loose, as I liked it.
That’s why I’d given her the check, to celebrate. She hadn’t spent it all in one place, but she might well have spent it all.
Nathan was her equal in conspicuous taste. Medium gray Italian suit, with the diamond cuff links option, silk handkerchief the same vibrant yellow as his tie, distinguished graying hair, and what he could teach that detective about mustaches would fill a book.
And I? I could hold my own with these perfect people. No doubt. I hoped the last two hours didn’t show in my striking features or jaunty demeanor, and the suit that draped my muscular frame cost at least as much as Nathan’s. I promised myself a nice, refreshing temper tantrum sometime very soon, and smiled.
No more Mr. Kern. I was the man now. “Nathan, thank you for coming.”
“It’s so good to see you again, Jason,” said Suspect Number One, and I shook his hand.
“It seems like forever since last Wednesday,” I said.
“Yes, I understand you’ve had a busy few days.” The pleasantries persisted for a few moments, and then Katie ushered us into the dining room.
Through the excellent meal we let him talk. He knew how to both speak and listen, but we encouraged him to speak, and he was very interesting. Tomorrow he would leave for a week in some African basket case to review the water and education and health projects that the foundation had funded. I pictured him wafting through villages of grass huts. Would he wear his gray suit? Brown might work better. Or he might try to fit in with the locals with khakis and a pith helmet.
In front of us was enough silverware for a Third World village to eat with proper manners for a week. Perhaps we should use plastic once a month to show solidarity with the Third World. I would discuss that with Katie.
Then the conversation turned to the more local projects the foundation funded. The African stuff was new; these were what the foundation had originally been created for. There were After-School Programs and Reading Programs and Food Pantries and Free Clinics, to the point that there were real advantages to being disadvantaged. Grants to be programmed, programs to be granted; projects to be funded, funds to be projected; boards to meet… I was getting bored.
My imagination wandered in other directions. Nathan vs. Felicity, super-heavyweight board meeting smackdown. Felicity might have the Vegas odds, but the smart money would be on Nathan.
Then we returned to the parlor, and Nathan asked permission and lit one of his little cigarettes, and we bandied over our brandy. The foundation was more than a word to me now, which was the official purpose of the evening. I did appreciate it. There was no question about continuing its funding. I had even gained some respect for its director.
And I was done with that conversation. Now it was time for the real business. Katie had left us and I made my move.
“Nathan, it’s very interesting to learn more about the foundation. Tell me about how Melvin was involved. Was he active in it? Did he make decisions?”
He smiled sadly. “He attended board meetings. He suggested board members. He suggested quite a few things, but he never demanded them. And he could have. He had the right to remove any member he wished. That was how the foundation was set up.”
The parlor was our nicest room, where Katie had smeared the largest slice of the decorating budget. It’s hard, sometimes, to find a comfortable chair that’s also expensive. “Did he have any differences with the board?”
“Oh, a few, but none major. Obviously, the membership was made of individuals he respected and who had a similar vision for the foundation. He had a hands-off attitude.”
“Did you get along with him?”
He laughed, and it was pleasant. “Oh yes. By his choice we did.”
Somehow the contrast of the dark patterns of the carpet, the walnut end tables, and the ebony fireplace against the pale green wallpaper imposed an atmosphere of calm. Katie and I usually tried to have our arguments in this room.
“By his choice?”
Nathan Kern put a graceful finger to his aquiline nose, propelled smoke past it, and considered. “Should I be frank? He can’t defend himself here, can he? But you are his son, and certainly you knew him. Please understand me as I say this, that I dislike speaking anything besides good of a man who is not present.”
He meant it, too. “I knew him well enough,” I said. “And I’ve learned a lot more in the last few days.”
“I’m certain you have. Your father had many sides to his affairs, and I only dealt with the altruistic ones. By common agreement, we did not discuss any others. He knew I was aware of them.
“And I suppose that was why I was working with him, so some good would come of his wealth. A few pluses on the ledger to balance the minuses. That was why he had created the foundation. And I don’t mean that the foundation was his only positive effort, of course.”
I nodded. “I understand. As I’ve said, I’m only beginning to discover all his efforts.”
He blew smoke thoughtfully into the atmosphere. It clashed slightly with the room’s colors. “Had your father spoken to you about the changes he made to the will?”
How helpful to bring that up. “No. It was quite a shock.”
“I’m sure he meant to discuss it, probably very soon.”
“He was driving home from Fred Spellman’s house when he had the accident. He had signed the new will only an hour before he died.”
I was watching very closely. Nathan’s eyes showed his surprise.
“That very night?”
“Yes. It was a close thing, apparently, between whether you or I ended up here in the hot seat.”
Nathan was still and silent, staring into the air. Despite his best efforts, it was still transparent. Finally he focused back onto me.
“Remarkable.”
Well, yes. No doubt about that.
“I had no idea,” he added. “I can see how great a shock this has been. You really had no idea you would be the principal heir?”
“Not at all,” I said. “I didn’t know until Fred told me last Thursday morning, after the funeral. When did you find out the foundation wasn’t the heir?”
“When?” He was still bemused. “Well, officially when I met with Fred last Friday afternoon. But I knew, of course. Your father and I had discussed the reasons in detail.”
It was a good thing I had just swallowed a mouthful of brandy, or I would have choked on it. I set the glass on the table beside me, trying to act calm, trying to be calm.
“So… do you know why he changed his will, Nathan?”
I was feeling something like panic. Since leaving Fred’s office, all I’d been thinking about was brake lines and motives. Now I was back to how much I really wanted to know this, how it was so important.
“Yes, I do. As I said, we discussed it at length.” His words came forth with the majesty and calmness of deep wisdom. Or maybe it was cigarette smoke. “I asked him to.”
“This is your fault?” It was pure reaction.
“Well, now, not precisely,” he said sympathetically and a little defensively. “I only requested that the foundation not be the principal recipient. I would hardly have been so bold as to suggest who should be.”
