Black Dog

Seventeen

Stone met Joan at United States Trust on the Upper East Side just as the doors opened. He noted that Joan was pushing a large, wheeled suitcase. He had dealt before with the manager, a Mr. Hedger, and they were shown into his office.

“Good morning, Stone,” Hedger said. “Please have a seat.”

“I have brought you new business,” Stone said, and introduced Joan. “Ms. Robertson is the niece and only survivor of Annetta Charles, and thus her heir.”

“My condolences and my congratulations,” Hedger said to her.

Stone opened his briefcase and handed Hedger some documents. “This is Mrs. Charles’s death certificate, along with that of her husband, Edwin Sr., who predeceased her. Also, a copy of her last will and testament, which makes Joan her only heir. Please note that Edwin Charles Jr. is explicitly excluded from any inheritance and that a trust has been provided to meet his basic needs. Don’t let Junior tell you any different.”

“I understand,” Hedger said. “We will be closing his accounts. It will be a relief not to have Junior as a customer any longer.”

Stone handed Hedger a safety-deposit box key. “We assume that this is the key issued to Ed Sr. when he opened his account.”

Hedger checked the number on his computer. “Confirmed,” he said.

“Please change the ownership to Ms. Robertson. Also, any other accounts opened by Ed Sr. or Annetta.”

Hedger did some more computer work, then took a card from a desk drawer. “Ms. Robertson, may I have your address and phone numbers, and a sample of your signature?”

Joan completed the card. “I’d like Mr. Barrington to be a cosigner on all my accounts,” she said, “but not a co-owner.” She smirked a little at Stone.

Hedger handed Stone the card.

“There,” Stone said, signing it with a flourish. “That will be sufficient for me to steal her blind.”

“Just try it,” Joan said.

Hedger gave her a book showing checkbook styles, and she chose one.

“We’ll messenger you your checks tomorrow,” Hedger said. He consulted his computer again, then scribbled something on a card and handed it to her. “This is the current balance of your checking account and your household account, from which Mrs. Charles paid her staff and other expenses.”

Joan glanced at the card and tucked it into her purse.

“How else can I help you?” Hedger asked.

“I’d like to visit my safety-deposit box,” she replied.

“Please follow me.” Hedger led them to an elevator, which went two floors down. They emerged into a vault containing many boxes, and he introduced Joan to the guard in charge. “Ms. Robertson would like to visit her box,” Hedger said to the guard. “Ms. Robertson, I’ll leave you in his capable hands. Feel free to call me whenever I may be of help.”

The guard went to unlock the box, using the bank’s key and Joan’s.

“What is the balance of the personal checking account?” Stone asked.

“Two hundred and eighty-eight thousand and change,” she replied. “And half again as much in the household account.” The guard escorted them to a private room, where he unlocked a large box and returned the key to her. “Please let me know when you’re ready to leave, Ms. Robertson, and I’ll secure the box.”

“Thank you,” Joan said. “Stone, you open it.”

“Why are you looking so worried?” he asked, opening the box.

“I’m afraid it might be empty.” She peered into the box. “How much do you think that is?” she asked, pointing.

Stone looked into the box and found it nearly filled with bundles of hundred-dollar bills. “I should think something between a million and a half and two million dollars.”

“Oh, dear,” she said, leaning against the box for support.

Stone said, “I hope you’re not going to faint again.”

“Not this time.” She hoisted her suitcase onto the table and opened it. “Let’s see if this will hold a million dollars,” she said, and the two of them started transferring bundles while keeping a running tab. They stopped at one million, and the suitcase was only half full.

“Let’s leave the rest here for a rainy day,” Joan said.

They left the bank, and Fred put the case into the trunk.

“Let’s go see what Troutman Trust has in store for us.”

Fred drove them to the bank and took the case out of the trunk. They met the local manager, then repeated their earlier performance and were taken downstairs to the vault, where two steel boxes, both larger than those at U.S. Trust, awaited them.

Stone surveyed the contents of the two boxes. “I’d say something in the region of five million.”

They filled Joan’s suitcase from one of the boxes, then had them locked away.

“Let’s go home,” Joan said.

“Your house or mine?” Stone asked.

“Yours. You’ve got some empty space in your various safes.”

They went back to Stone’s house, where Joan opened the big Excelsior safe, and they got two million dollars stuffed inside.

“I’ll stow the remainder at my new house,” she said. “After work.”

She went back to her desk and started doing what she did every day.

“We’ll need to have a talk about taxes,” Stone said.

“Taxes? What taxes?”

“I’ll need to take a look at Ed Sr’s. final tax return,” Stone said. “Then you can decide how much time you’re willing to do.”