Lucid Intervals

32

Stone had his bill typed up and handed it to Felicity on her way out. “You’ll expedite it?” he asked.

“I said I would.”

“Paid in days, not weeks?”

“Probably.”

“What?”

“I can do only so much. As it is, I’ll have to phone the foreign minister personally. I may not be available for dinner tonight.”

“You know where to find me.”

“Thank God I like the food at Elaine’s,” she said, and headed for the ambassador’s Rolls.

Stone walked back to his office to find Joan waiting for him.

“Here,” she said, placing a pile of papers on his desk, “these are the closing documents for Herbie’s new penthouse.”

“When is the closing?”

She looked at her watch. “In eight minutes.”

“Does Herbie know?”

“He’s waiting outside, clutching a cashier’s check for three million one hundred fifty thousand dollars. He wanted to bring cash, but I wouldn’t let him.”

“Why did he want to bring cash?”

“He had some idea that the IRS would find out about the apartment.”

“Why would they care?”

“I tried to explain that they wouldn’t be interested, but he wouldn’t believe me.”

“Send him in.”

Herbie appeared at the door in another new suit, and his hair had grown out enough to make him look like a normal person. “Hey, Stone,” he said.

“Come in, Herbie, and sit down.” Herbie sat down. “What’s all this about the IRS?”

“I just don’t want them to know that I own an expensive apartment.”

“Why not?”

“What if they try to take it away from me?”

“Why would they do that?”

“To make me pay my taxes.”

“Herbie, when the lottery people gave you the check, they paid both the state and federal taxes on that income in full.”

“They did?”

“That’s the way they work.”

“So I don’t owe the IRS anything?”

“I didn’t say that. How much did you make last year?”

Herbie shrugged. “A hundred and a half, maybe.”

Stone was surprised. “From what source?”

“Some from the ponies, some from poker.”

“But you had to pay your bookie and your loan shark a bunch of money, didn’t you?”

“That was how much I lost,” Herbie said. “A hundred and a half was how much I won.”

“Well, if you combine those numbers, you ended up with a loss.”

“I did?”

“Your accountant will explain it to you. He will also explain how, if you’re going to earn your living as a gambler, you’d better keep some records.”

“But if I do that, the IRS will tax me.”

“If you had kept records for the last year, you’d have a very large deduction to take, and you wouldn’t owe any taxes.”

“Oh.”

“Please, talk to your accountant.”

“I don’t have one.”

“You need one desperately,” Stone said, digging a card out of his desk. “Call this guy; he’s first-rate.”

“Can’t you be my accountant?”

“Certainly not. I’m your lawyer; I have little financial expertise. That guy can tell you how to hang on to your money and to live on the income from it.”

“Okay, I’ll call him. By the way, I want the apartment in Sheila’s and my names.”

“Too late,” Stone said. “All the documents are in your name; it would take a long time to change them, and you couldn’t move into the apartment today.”

“Oh, we moved in last week,” Herbie said.

“How did you do that?”

“I swiped a key from the real estate lady.”

“Herbie, we close today, with the apartment in your name.”

“But I told Sheila…”

“You tell Sheila to call me for an appointment. I’ll sort it out.”

Joan buzzed. “The seller and his attorney and the real estate agent are here.”

“Send them in,” Stone said, moving to the conference table. “Herbie, say nothing during these proceedings. All you do is sign your name where I point, and keep your mouth shut.”

Somewhat to Stone’s astonishment, Herbie did just that, and in a little over half an hour everything was signed and the transaction completed. The seller’s team left.

Stone handed Herbie two sets of keys. “Here are the keys you’re supposed to have. You can move in now.”

Herbie pocketed the keys and shook Stone’s hand. “Thanks, Stone, you’ve been great.”

“See that accountant, Herbie, or soon you won’t have any money left.”

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” Herbie promised and then ran out of the office.

Joan came in. “How’d it go?”

“Very smoothly,” Stone replied. “Good job on the document package.”

“It’s what I do,” she said.

“Among many other things. Felicity was very impressed with how quickly you put together the dinner party for tomorrow night.”

“It was easy, once each guest knew who the other guests would be.”

“Oh, you’d better hire a waiter and somebody to help Helene in the kitchen.”

“I have already done so.”

“I suppose you’ve planned the menu, too.”

“Hot hors d’oeuvres, then crab soup to start, followed by beef Wellington, pommes soufflées and haricots verts. Crème brûlée for dessert. You can pick the wines.”

“Thank you very much, and give yourself a ten percent raise.”

“Oh, good!” she squealed and gave him a big hug.

Stone reflected that if she quit, he’d have to shoot himself.