Insatiable Appetites

21

The following day Stone received word from the court that Eduardo Bianchi’s estate had been released from probate, and that the proceeds could now be distributed. Stone was flabbergasted. Probate took weeks or months — in problematic cases, years.

Herbie shook his head. “It looks like Eduardo knows people who, even after his death, want to make life easier for him.”

Stone called Mary Ann and told her the news. She seemed pleased but not surprised.

“Just between you and me, Mary Ann, was influence brought to bear here?”

“Nothing untoward,” she replied, “so don’t worry. Daddy had many friends.”

“I understand. Shall we now distribute the bequests?”

“Good idea. How do we go about it?”

“I’ll make up a list of all of them, and we’ll meet to cosign the checks.”

“Say when.”

“Tomorrow at three, my office?”

“I’ll see you then.”

Stone hung up and turned to Herbie. “The list is your job,” he said. “Do you want your associates to help?”

“I’m way ahead of you,” Herbie said, taking a file folder from his briefcase and handing it to Stone.

Stone read through the document quickly. “It looks as though Eduardo’s influence extends to you. Good job!”

Herbie shrugged. “I can be bought for a Picasso and a Braque. When do we get our pictures?”

“I’ll send Fred out there to collect them from Pietro.” He called the Bianchi house, spoke to Pietro and gave him instructions on wrapping and boxing the three pictures. He hung up. “I’ll have Fred deliver them to you. Office or home?”

“They’ll impress more people at the office,” Herbie said.

The following day, Mary Ann arrived on time. Stone gave her a cup of tea and handed her the document to read.

“All very neatly done,” she said. “And the checks?”

Stone buzzed Joan, who brought the checks, each clipped neatly to a covering letter explaining the disbursement.

“We cosign the checks and the letters,” Stone said, handing her half the stack and taking the other for himself. When they were signed they traded stacks and repeated the process.

“There, all done,” Stone said. “I noticed that there was no bequest to the foundation for the maintenance of the house and property.”

“Papa took care of that when he set up the foundation. There’s more than enough in the endowment to generate the necessary income.”

“Has Dolce discussed with you her moving into the house?”

“She has, and I’m content with her wishes. She’ll pay for whatever alterations she wishes to make and for the renovation of the barn, which has already started, I understand. That building predates the house by a couple of hundred years. It was damaged in a battle of the Revolutionary War. It should make a beautiful studio.”

“Would you like me to overnight the disbursements or have them delivered by messenger?”

“By messenger, I think. I’ll deliver Ben’s to him.” She stood and picked up Ben’s folder. “Well, it looks as though we’re all done. Thank you for handling everything so expeditiously, Stone.”

Stone stood to walk her out. “There only remains the investigation into the forged paintings,” he said.

“Where are we on that?”

“The audit of Raoul Pitt’s gallery is nearly completed. If we don’t come up with an explanation of what’s happened, we’ll have to turn it over to the NYPD’s art squad.”

“Whatever it takes,” Mary Ann said.

“Oh, I sent my man, Fred, out to the house to pick up the three paintings that Eduardo bequeathed to Herb Fisher and me. Pietro is packing them.”

“That’s fine, one less thing to worry about.”

“Does Dolce know about the forgeries?”

“Yes, and she was angry about it. She’ll be anxious to hear how the investigation is going.”

They said goodbye, and Stone asked Joan to messenger the letters and checks to the heirs. They were on their way in half an hour.

Fred arrived with Stone’s picture, having already delivered Herbie’s to his office. Joan came in with a box cutter and cut away the wrappings, and Stone set the painting on the back of the sofa, switched on all the lights, and regarded his new treasure.

“I think I’ll keep it,” he said.