Family Jewels

30

Nicky and Vanessa Chalmers lived in a tony neighborhood, but with much smaller houses than those on South Ocean Boulevard. Stone and Gala turned up on time and were given a drink out back, beside a small swimming pool. Stone sipped his Knob Creek, and Gala had a martini.

“It’s been quite a few days, hasn’t it?” Nicky observed.

“No argument there,” Stone replied.

A uniformed maid came out to where they sat. “Excuse me, Mr. Chalmers, but you might want to turn on the TV, to CNN.”

Nicky reached for the remote and turned it on. They were watching an aerial shot, apparently from a helicopter or a drone, and the voice of Monique Sullivan could be heard. “The Fiske estate, one of the oldest on South Ocean Boulevard in Palm Beach, is one of the oldest and most elegant of the mansions lining the beachfront.” As she spoke the camera began to zoom in, until it was possible to make out two figures sitting on a bench in the Fiske garden.

“That’s us,” Stone said, amazed. He could now recognize himself and Sullivan, as she interviewed him, and the sound was perfect.

“You mean that conversation is being recorded by somebody in the air?”

“Must have been a drone,” Stone said. “I didn’t hear a chopper, and there were no cameras around us. That’s very sneaky.” He saw Sullivan point at the house, and the shot zoomed in on the upstairs window, just as a figure moved behind a curtain.

“That was Harvey,” Nicky said. “I’d recognize him anywhere.”

“It was a pretty brief glimpse, Nicky,” Stone said. “Are you sure?”

“I am.”

A moment later the camera caught a figure running from the house and began to zoom in again, losing him as he ran behind some shrubbery along the driveway. The man, who was carrying a suitcase, ran out to the boulevard, then made two lefts into side streets, got into a dark car, and made his escape. The camera didn’t follow him.

“The television arts seem to have made great technical advances when I wasn’t looking,” Stone said.

“Well, they say you can’t go anywhere without being on camera,” Nicky observed.

They finished a good dinner and were on coffee in Nicky’s study when he brought up a new subject. “Stone, have you given any thought as to what Carrie’s house is worth?”

“Not really. I’m going to have to order appraisals of the house and its contents.”

“The same with the East Hampton house and the New York apartment, I suppose.”

“I expect so. I’ve seen the East Hampton house, of course, but what is the New York apartment like?”

“A duplex at 740 Park Avenue, which is said to be the best building in the city.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“Vanessa and I were talking this afternoon. We’ve never put a great deal of money into our residences, partly because we didn’t want the bother of decorating them. We didn’t have the sort of eye that Carrie had, and it occurs to us that, well...” He gathered himself. “I’d like to make you, or rather, the estate, an offer.”

“For the Palm Beach house?”

“For all three properties.”

“God, that’s a very large bite, Nicky.”

“I’m aware of that. Fortunately, I have a very large fortune. My father died a few months ago, and it got even larger. I know that you’ll have to get appraisals done, but I’d like to offer the estate a hundred million dollars for all three of Carrie’s properties.”

“That’s a breathtaking offer, Nicky, but of course I’ll have to get appraisals of not only the properties but of the contents. Carrie had a lot of fine art in the Palm Beach house and a lot of American antique furniture, as well, much of which would bring large numbers at auction.”

“I understand, and I’m prepared to adjust my offer, if necessary, when the appraisals come in. We might exclude some of the pieces, which you could auction.”

“Well, when I get back to New York, I’ll get people to work on that. As long as you understand that my duty as executor is to get market prices.”

“Having been through it with my father’s estate, I’m well aware of the hoops you have to jump through.”

“Yes, and it would simplify life for me if I could sell it all to one buyer. I’ll give you, unofficially, a first option.”

“That’s all I could ask for,” Nicky said.

Driving home, Gala spoke up. “Does Nicky really have that kind of money?”

“He does. His great-grandfather founded, at the dawn of the automobile age, what became the largest tire company in the United States, perhaps in the world, and the family, that is to say, Nicky, still owns a majority of it. He has recently become a client of my firm, so I’m familiar with the facts of the matter.”

“I was just thinking,” Gala said, “the real estate could give Nicky an excellent motive for, well...”

“Nicky a murderer? Come on, you’ve gotten to know him, do you think he would be capable of that?”

“Well, as he said, it’s an opportunity for him to acquire not just Carrie’s real estate, but her taste, as it were.”

“You have an evil mind,” Stone said.

“I was married to an evil man for eight years,” she said.

They walked Bob in the garden, then went to bed, but Gala’s thoughts about Nicky kept him awake for a while.