“You followed him?”
“Yes.”
“Why were you following him?”
“To see where he went, of course. But, oh, you don’t mean that. You have to understand. None of us had seen him in weeks.”
“Us?”
“Yes. The family. His family.”
“And who might that be?”
Jenson frowned. “But surely you know that. If you don’t there’s no point. But you won’t let on, because you won’t tell me what he told you.”
“Who’s the family?” Steve rephrased his question.
“I don’t know why I should answer your questions when you won’t answer mine.”
“Any reason why you don’t want me to know who his family is?”
“None at all.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I was just pointing out that it wasn’t fair.”
“I never claimed to be fair. You sought this interview. I told you it was going to be one-sided.”
Jenson glared at him for a moment. Then he shook his head. “All right, have it your way. The family. Let’s see. There’s me. My sister Rose-that’s Rose Tindel. Her husband, Jason Tindel. My cousin Pat, Pat Grayson. Her husband, Fred Grayson. My Aunt Claire, Claire Chesterton. She’s Uncle Jack’s niece.”
“Wait a minute. Your aunt is your uncle’s niece?”
“No, no. That does sound strange, doesn’t it. Jack Walsh is really my great-uncle, but I call him Uncle Jack. My mother was his brother’s daughter. They’re both dead now. So’s my father. I always think of him as Uncle Jack.”
“I see. So that’s the family?”
“Yes. Except for Jeremy. He’s eighteen. He’s Jack’s sister’s grandson. His parents were killed in a car accident when he was three. Aunt Rose brought him up.”
“All right,” Steve said. “And you say none of you had seen him for weeks?”
“That’s right.”
“And then today?”
“I saw him on the street.”
“Speak to him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Jenson waved his hand. “You don’t understand.”
“I’m trying to understand. You’re not giving me much help. Why wouldn’t you speak to your uncle? Why would you just follow him?”
“Because he wouldn’t speak to me.”
“Why not?”
“I told you. He’s strange.”
“So what was the point of following him?”
Jenson’s eyes flicked momentarily. “To see where he goes. What he’s up to. Which is why I’m here.”
Steve sighed. He thought for a moment. He turned to Tracy Garvin. “Miss Garvin. This man is not consulting me as a client. I don’t need notes of this interview. Besides, I think your presence is inhibiting him.”
Tracy’s face fell. She looked at Steve as if she couldn’t quite believe he’d said that.
“So,” Steve said, “why don’t you go call Mark Taylor. See if he’s turned up anything on the Halsburg case. If he has, coordinate with him and set everything up.”
Tracy stared at him. There
Steve Winslow turned back to Jenson. “All right,” he said. “It’s just you and me here. We can stop beating around the bush. If you won’t quote me, I won’t quote you. What the hell’s going on?”
Jenson smiled. “You now admit Uncle Jack called on you?”
“I’ll admit anything you like. I can always deny it later. But say Uncle Jack was here. Why shouldn’t I listen to him, and what’s it to you?”
“That’s more like it,” Jenson said. “All right, let’s talk turkey. My uncle’s worth a lot of money. It’s his. All his. Made it himself. A self-made man. It’s a classic success story. Who was it-Horatio Alger, right? Anyway, that’s him. Made it in the stock market. Started with a hundred bucks, parlayed it into a small fortune. In his day, the man was a genius. Sharp as a tack. Now …” Jenson shrugged.
“What happened?”
“He got old. Senile. Lost it.”
“Just like that?”
Jenson’s eyes shifted. “No. It was gradual.”
“Nothing happened to trigger it?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
“No, his mind just started getting muddled.”
“When?”
“Within the last year.”
“Before that he was fine?”
“Yes.”
“And he had a home?”
Jenson nodded. “Now you’ve got it. That’s the whole point. He had a home. A life. A family.”
“Where was home?”
“He had a house in Long Island. Great Neck. Gorgeous house. Lived there thirty years. One day he up and sells it, goes and lives on the subway.” Jenson smiled and shrugged. “What more do I have to say?”
“How does that affect you?”
Jenson looked at him. “Are you kidding? I was living there. In the house. We all were. Suddenly he sells it out from under us. No word, no warning, we’re out on the street. You know what it’s like trying to get an apartment in the city these days? Forget it. Right now we got a bungalow in Teaneck, New Jersey. We’re all jammed into it and lucky to get it. Meanwhile he’s running around the subway system begging quarters with the winos. All the time, the man’s worth millions.”
“So,” Steve said, “what is it you want?”
“I told you what I want. Let’s swap some information. Maybe we can help each other.”
“How so?”
“Look. The man’s insane. You can’t accept employment from a man who’s mentally incompetent. The way I understand it, he’s not responsible for his actions, so anything he does wouldn’t be legally binding. So you start working for him, you could find yourself out on a limb.”
“Whereas?” Steve said.
“Whereas, if you cooperate with me, I could make it worth your while.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You have to understand. I’m his heir. We all are. We’re blood relations. When he dies, his money goes to us.”
“It does?”
“Yes, it does. In equal portions, share and share alike. I’ve seen the will.”
“I see,” Steve said.
“I’m sure you do,” Jenson said. “But that’s just the thing. Uncle Jack’s lost his marbles. He’s not responsible for his actions and he might do anything. You see the situation. Now he’s consulted a lawyer, and of course that worries me. What if he should try to change his will? He can’t, of course, because he’s not legally competent, but what if he tries? What if he decides to disinherit all of us, and leave the whole shooting match to some wino he met
