Contraband

45

Stone traveled uptown the next morning to meet with Herbie and Roberta, at Herbie’s request. “I think it may take more than one legal mind to keep Robbie on the straight and narrow, as we progress,” Herb had said.

Stone agreed. He presented himself at Robbie’s door at the appointed hour of nine-thirty and rang the bell. Robbie swung open the door and it was apparent to Stone that she was dressed in nothing more than a thin silk dressing gown, probably of her own design. Somewhat, but not entirely to his chagrin, the sight of her draped curves caused a quickening of his breath and a rise in the blood pressure of other parts of his anatomy.

Robbie closed the door and presented a cheek to be kissed, then, when Stone aimed for it, she turned her head and he came in contact with her lips and her tongue. “I want you, and right now,” she said, slipping out of her dressing gown with a shrug of her shoulders and allowing it to drop in a puddle on the floor.

“May I remind you,” Stone said, working his speech around her tongue, “that Herb Fisher will be joining us momentarily?”

“Herb just called,” Robbie said, unzipping his fly. “He’s going to be an hour late.”

By the time enough of Stone’s blood supply had reached his brain to allow for decision making, he was beyond decision and flying on auto-penis. She backed him into a chair and, on his way down, deftly stripped him of his trousers and boxers, while dropping to her knees and taking him into her mouth.

Stone resisted the thought of defense and gave himself to the moment. Robbie, with exquisite timing, stopped him short of orgasm and climbed onto him, impaling herself. Stone managed to lift her without exiting and lowered her to the rich carpet below them, so that he could continue the exercise with complete freedom.

For the next half hour they changed positions and orifices in exquisite experimentation, then they simultaneously experienced that erotic explosion that satisfied all needs. Robbie pushed him onto his back and started working on his shirt buttons, while Stone recovered himself. By the time she had stripped him naked she was on top again, swallowing him up.

After a time, Stone snuck a peek at his watch. “I believe we are expecting company at any moment,” he said.

Robbie gasped, freed him, and ran for her bedroom. By the time Herb rang the doorbell, Stone was seated on the sofa with a magazine in his lap, and Robbie was just emerging clothed in something more businesslike for their meeting.

“Good morning,” Herb said.

“Come in, Herb,” Robbie said. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thank you, I just had some.” He looked first at her, then at Stone. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said.

“Herb,” Stone said, “you’re an hour late. How could you be interrupting?”

“Right,” Herb said, taking a seat and setting down his briefcase. “Robbie, Stone and I have to have a very frank discussion with you about how to proceed from here.”

“Why two of you?” Robbie asked, arranging herself in a chair.

“Because, in the recent past, you have shown a reluctance to follow our advice when offered individually. So perhaps now, with the full legal weight of both of us, we may persuade you to keep your conduct within the bounds of the law and, thus, remain a free woman.”

“I am putty in your hands,” Robbie replied with a warm smile at Stone.

“We’ll see about that,” Herb said. “Now, to begin, I have filed the death certificate issued by the medical examiner, along with Randall’s will and other documents that should, perhaps before the day is out, result in you being appointed the legal executor of his estate.”

“How nice,” she replied. “I guess it was a good thing he had made a will.”

“Actually, if he had died intestate, you, as his lawful spouse, would have inherited everything anyway.”

“Oh, good!” she replied. “Then I can start playing with all that cash in his safe?”

“Not yet,” Stone interjected. “First, the court has to appoint you executor, then the will can be submitted for probate. This could be a lengthy prospect, unless we can keep it simple.”

“And how do we do that?” she asked.

“First,” Herb said, “does Randall leave any living relatives?”

“He was an only child, and his parents are long dead.”

“Then there are no cousins or uncles or aunts extant?”

“None. He often called himself the complete orphan.”

“That is fortunate for our process,” Herb said.

“Now, I guess you are going to start talking about taxes, aren’t you?”

“We must file Randall’s final tax return and a return for his estate, as well,” Stone said. “Do you have an accountant?”

“I have an ace accountant,” she replied.

“Then call him today and put him in touch with Herb, so they can work together on the return.”

“But how about taxes?”

“Once your accountant has assembled all of Randall’s assets and determined his liabilities, he will arrive at the net worth of the estate. He can file, and since you are the spouse, you may inherit the estate free of income taxes.”

Robbie clapped her hands together. “Wonderful!”

“There are some complications, though,” Herb said.

“What complications?” she asked, looking worried.

“First, your husband’s death is still an open homicide investigation with the NYPD, and they will be looking into not only who murdered him, but how he amassed his fortune — particularly the cash in his apartment, since that may constitute a motive. The federal govenment will also take an interest in that.”

“Fortunately,” Stone said, “they will be in the position of having to prove that the cash was illegally obtained. If they can’t do that, then everything will come to you.”

“How long will that take?”

“As long as it takes,” Stone said. “It will help to move things along if you give frank and truthful answers to their questions and, by your attitude, convince them that you are being helpful to the fullest extent. If they are slow to complete their inquiries, we can move them along with the threat of a court order, asking the a judge to release the estate to you — or, if they are intransigent, an actual lawsuit.”

“That sounds messy,” she said.

“It would be messy, and that is why we have to work to convince everyone involved of our position.”

“And how do we do that?”

“Let’s start by our asking you some questions, and you can practice being truthful and helpful,” Herb said.

Robbie rearranged herself in her chair, crossed her legs, folded her hands in her lap, and smiled. “Shoot,” she said.