24
EAGLE WAS QUIET for a moment. 'Joe, I’m afraid I can’t do that without Keeler’s permission.”
“Ed, Walter Keeler died in an automobile accident south of San Francisco a couple of hours ago.”
“I’m sorry; I didn’t know. Did Keeler sign a new will?”
“I can’t go into that right now, Ed, but I need a copy of your letter.”
“All right. It’s on my home computer. I’m leaving the office now; I’ll fax it to you in half an hour.”
Wilen gave him the fax number. “Thank you, Ed. I’ll wait here for it.”
Wilen hung up and walked to the window. Lights were coming on in Palo Alto.
His secretary came to the door. “Mr. Wilen, I think I’m done for the day. Is there anything else you need?”
“No, Sally,” he said. “I’ll be here for a while; I’m waiting for a fax.”
“Eleanor Keeler called when you were on the phone a few minutes ago.”
“I’ll call her,” Wilen said. He said good night to his secretary, went back to his desk and dialed the number.
“Hello?”
“Eleanor, it’s Joe Wilen.”
“What have you learned?”
“I’ve had a call from the state highway patrol. Walter was killed in the crash. They identified his body from a fragment of his driver’s license.”
“Are they sure?”
“I believe so, but I’ve had his dental records sent there for a positive identification. I think it will be a day or so before that can be done.”
Eleanor sounded as if she were crying. “This can’t be,” she sobbed. “We’ve only been married a week. What am I going to do?”
“Eleanor, do you have any family or friends you can call?”
She seemed to get control of herself. “No, nobody in San Francisco. Nobody at all, really.”
“I think the best thing for you to do tonight is just to have some dinner and try to get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you what I’ve learned.”
“Joe, what am I going to do? I don’t even know if I have any money.”
“You and Walter have a joint bank account, don’t you?”
“Yes, he opened one at the San Francisco branch of his bank last week.”
“You can draw on that for anything you may need,” Wilen said.
“Joe, I know this is an awful thing to ask, but did Walter sign his new will?”
“Yes, he did, and you are very well taken care of, Eleanor. I’ll come up there in a couple of days and go through everything with you, but please be sure that you have no cause for concern.”
“Thank you, Joe. That makes me feel better.”
“Good night, Eleanor. Try and get some rest.”
“I will, Joe. Good night.” She hung up.
As Wilen hung up the phone, he heard the fax machine in his secretary’s office ring. He walked into her office and switched on the lights. The machine was cranking out two sheets of paper. He took them back to his office.
He sat down, switched on his desk light and began to read. As he did so, his eyes widened. He had been expecting unfavorable information, but what Eagle had to say was astonishing. The woman was not only a fraud, she was very likely a murderer. He read the letter twice, doing his best to commit it to memory.
If Eagle had only told him about this in Santa Fe, he could have prevented Walter from signing the will. He would have done anything to make him read the letter. Now Walter had willed this awful woman more than a billion dollars in liquid assets!
Wilen could not shake the feeling that, somehow, this was his fault. He had failed to protect his friend and client, the man who had made him rich beyond his dreams. He had to find a way to fix this.
ELEANOR WRIGHT KEELER ordered in dinner from an impossibly expensive fancy grocer down the street. She sat on her terrace, drinking from a well-chilled bottle of Veuve Cliquot Grande Dame champagne and eating beluga caviar with a spoon from a half-kilo can. When she had eaten all she could stand, she called Jimmy Long.
“Hello?”
“Jimmy, it’s Barbara.”
“Hey Babs.”
“My husband was killed in a car crash this afternoon.”
“Oh, God, Babs, I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t be, baby; I’m a fucking billionaire!”
“I’m not kidding. He signed a new will today that leaves me everything-well, almost everything. He said there would be some bequests to his alma mater and some charities, but damned near everything!”
“You take my breath away, kid. What are you going to do with yourself?”
“Any fucking thing I want!” she crowed. “I’m going to buy a jet airplane and fly around the world, stopping everywhere! You want to go?”
“You bet I do.”
“Wait a minute, I already have a jet airplane. It’s not big enough, though. I’m going to buy one of those… what do you call them, the ones that can fly from here to Tokyo nonstop?”
“A Gulfstream Five?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“They cost forty or fifty million dollars.”
“What the fuck do I care? I’ve got a billion!” she exulted. “I can buy anything! Go anywhere!”
“That’s unbelievable!”
“I know, I know. I just had to tell you, baby.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Listen, it’s going to take a few days to sort everything out. I guess there’ll have to be a funeral or a memorial service or something. Then, when all that’s over and the estate is settled, I’m coming to L.A. and buying something nice in Bel-Air.”
“Great idea!”
“Something big, for entertaining, something with an Olympic-sized pool-one of those old movie star mansions, maybe!”
“You deserve it, kiddo, after all you’ve been through.”
“You’re damned right I do! I’ll call you, Jimmy!”
She hung up and did a little dance around the apartment, making exultant noises. She could have anything!
BACK IN HIS OFFICES, Joe Wilen sat at his secretary’s desk, reading Walter Keeler’s will on her computer. Two pages needed fixing. He began fixing them.
25
DETECTIVE ALEX REESE of the Santa Fe Police Department read through the last of a stack of financial documents he had gathered from various sources, including Donald Wells’s business manager in Los Angeles, then he got up and went over to the D.A.’s office. The secretary told him to go right in.
“Morning, Alex,” Martinez said. “What’s up?”
“My background check on Donald Wells didn’t turn up much. He was born in a little town in Georgia called
