The Original Alibi

Chapter 23

Reginald Franklin the third had an office in one of those high rise buildings all dressed up in glass and concrete. The kind that said step lightly, be respectful, I’ll be here long after the world has consumed your bones.

I leaned into the shiny, L-shaped chrome handle pushing open the glass door and entered the two-story lobby. From there I walked on a tan terrazzo floor to the bank of four elevators across from the gift shop. The directory on the wall before the elevators showed Franklin’s office to be on the seventh floor. Elevators spooked me, but I was running late so I decided to face my fear. I pressed the button for seven, then for four after being asked to do so by a young lady wearing a black and white polka dot dress with red heels and purse. Her hair looked like she had come to the building directly from her hairdresser. Her lipstick matched her purse and heels. She could have been a secretary, a wife, a professional in her own right, or a high-end hooker making an office call. I couldn’t tell. She looked over and casually wet her lips. Her tongue, several shades lighter than her lipstick, appeared bumpy along the side I could see. She wore no wedding ring. I couldn’t tell her age closer than early thirties maybe. The modern woman could be asked if she was wearing a bra, but it remained tacky to ask her age, so my guess would have to do. I considered telling her I was a writer, not telling her I had been in prison, and asking for a lunch date. At the fourth floor, she got out before glancing back. I fumbled in my pocket, and then extended my hand holding one of my business cards. My arm aborted the door’s effort to close our relationship before it opened. She took the card, looked at it, then at me, then again at the card, then the elevator door closed on her smile. I had no idea how to reach her. It would be up to her whether this had been one of life’s vignettes or the start of something big.

I like women who make the first move, although this strategy, if it can be called a strategy, can result in long periods of celibacy.

Franklin’s office was no less grand than the building lobby except it lacked the two-story ceiling. The built-in front counter and desk combination was backed up by a lady with her hair stacked on top of her head and held there by a couple of those things that look like chopsticks. She was no less pretty than the lady in the elevator. Her outfit held no polka dots, but she did have cleavage. You know me well enough by now to realize that I would trade polka dots for cleavage any day. What man wouldn’t? I mean, I like Polka dots, but it’s no contest. After four years in a prison of men, I no longer took my appreciation for the female form for granted, honoring it at every sighting. I gave her my name and took a seat in the lobby hoping that Franklin and I would become great friends so I would have a reason to frequently visit this building. There are so many lovely ladies assaulting your senses at every turn. It’s like wanting an apple and waking in an orchard.

After a few minutes, Franklin came out to get me. I recognized him. He recognized me, although Charles had made that easier by calling ahead to remind the attorney that the general wanted everyone to fully cooperate with me. Keep no secrets from good old Uncle Matthew, especially anything you know that might shed light on who murdered Ileana Corrigan.

After chatting back and forth about everything and nothing, we took coffee in china cups brought in by the cleavage from the front counter. Styrofoam in this office would be a crime punishable by banishment from the ranks of the employed.

“Mr. Franklin, other than the general’s will, what legal matters do you handle for him?”

“I do the legal end of all his business dealings. Look over limited partnership agreements he might be considering investing in. The leases he uses for a small apartment building he owns near the Long Beach traffic circle. He sometimes buys or sells real estate and a few times he has invested in a couple of small businesses. The last six months or so, he’s divested himself of many of those holdings.”

“Getting his estate in order?”

“Something like that, yes.” After a pause he added, “The general’s instructions were that I was to give you a copy of his latest will. It has been mailed to you.”

I nodded while mouthing the words, “I got it.”

“The general asked that I cooperate with you. What is it you’d like to know?”

“Has he recently changed his will?”

“No. We prepared the current will about five years ago, perhaps a little farther back than that.”

“I’d like a copy of the former will, the one he changed from, also the one in effect at the time of the murder of Ileana Corrigan.”

“I don’t know, Mr. Kile. The general said to give you a copy of his will. Then again, the general said to cooperate fully with whatever you wanted to know. All right, his former will dates back fifteen years so that would have been before the Corrigan woman’s death. Do you want anything farther back than that? I think we had one, but it involved Benjamin, his son, before his death.”

“Skip that one. The one I have and the former one executed fifteen years ago will be fine.”

Franklin buzzed his receptionist, told her what he wanted and we chatted about the L.A. Lakers until she brought it in. I left a few minutes later, resisting a desire to approach Franklin’s receptionist. At this point it seemed a little too strong a mix of business and pleasure. The polka dot dress in the elevator was still in play, although what might come from that would be up to her.