The Widow

Chapter 40

With Simon focused on his criminal problems, and with Judge Pointer steadfastly refusing to even discuss Eleanor Barnett’s complicated estate, Teddy Hammer quietly pursued his grand scheme. His plan was to attack the will prepared by Simon on the grounds of undue influence. If Simon was convicted of murder, he would go away for a long time and his will would be worthless. If he was acquitted, something no one really expected, then they would have a huge court fight over his actions in preparing the will. Teddy would also attack the will prepared by Wally Thackerman, also on the grounds of undue influence. He was confident he could use the threat of an ethics complaint to bully Wally into backing off.

Once Simon and Wally and their wills were out of the picture, Teddy could reveal his secret. Neither lawyer had discovered that there was a third will, one signed by Harry Korsak in 1988. According to Jerry Korsak, who had a copy of the old will, his father had agreed to leave everything to Eleanor, in trust. Upon her death, the assets would go to Jerry and Clyde in equal shares. Because Eleanor had such strong feelings against the boys, Harry had not told her about the will and she did not sign a similar one at that time.

Teddy at first doubted the story because he had learned to doubt almost everything Jerry told him. However, the old will was straightforward and attempted to protect Jerry and Clyde upon Eleanor’s death. The will had been prepared by a lawyer who died years earlier, and it was a near perfect example of legal malpractice. It virtually guaranteed years of litigation. For example, Harry kept his assets jointly owned with Eleanor while at the same time attempting to shield the assets in a poorly drafted trust. Why the old will was not probated at Harry’s death was not clear. Teddy surmised that Eleanor knew nothing about it and managed to avoid probate because the assets were jointly owned. He was also certain that neither Simon nor Wally knew about the old will. How could they? There were many unanswered questions, but the bottom line was that Clyde and Jerry were the only blood relatives still around. Eleanor’s niece and nephew didn’t even know she was dead.

The most pressing matter was the issue of the assets. What was in Eleanor’s estate? Jerry was convinced there was plenty. He knew his father owned stock in Coke and Wal-Mart, but some of his claims seemed rather grandiose. Before Teddy invested hundreds of hours of work, he needed to make sure there were significant assets. Otherwise, the case was not worth pursuing. To investigate, Teddy befriended the conservator, Clement Gelly, the conscientious young lawyer who had not asked to be involved. Judge Pointer trusted him and leaned on him for the favor.

Teddy convinced Clement to take a trip together. After getting Judge Pointer’s quiet approval, they flew together, at Teddy’s expense, to Atlanta and checked into a splendid hotel in the ritzy Buckhead neighborhood. Teddy had learned the identity of Buddy Brown, a principal in Rumke-Brown, Harry’s old brokerage house. However, his two attempts to get him on the phone had gone nowhere.

Buddy was fully aware of Eleanor’s death and the surrounding drama with her lawyer in Braxton, Virginia. In fact, he had a file with the press clippings and had followed the chatter online. He knew he would be involved at some point, so when the conservator, one Clement Gelly, called and asked for a meeting, Buddy really had no choice but to agree.

Teddy stayed at the hotel and kept busy while Clement took a cab a few blocks away to an office building filled with professionals and firms that seemed to want little attention. Rumke-Brown’s first-floor suite spoke of understated wealth. The walls and floors were decorated in a minimalist theme, with contemporary paintings and strange bronzes on the end tables. The mood was subdued and quiet with soft background music. There was no receptionist because the firm did not allow walk-ins or encourage visitors. An assistant met Clement and led him through the halls to a large corner office where Buddy Brown was waiting with a smile.

The firm’s website followed the minimalist theme of revealing almost nothing. There were a few partners and about a dozen associates, all much younger than Brown. Though his age was not given, he graduated from Emory in 1962, so he was in his mid-seventies. Fit, tanned, vigorous, ready for the next tennis match. No pickleball for him. The same assistant served them coffee and designer water on the conference table. Brown rolled up his sleeves, glanced at his watch, and was ready to donate one hour to the cause, whatever it was.

He said, “Looks like you got yourself a real mess up there.”

“Lots of drama,” Clement agreed. “I was minding my own business when the judge hooked me in as the conservator.”

“Yes, that’s what you said on the phone.” In other words, I’ve already heard this. “Where is the case procedurally?”

“Which one? The murder trial is set for May twenty-third. The estate mess is on hold until the criminal matters are resolved. Same judge with both cases and she’s very much in control.”

“So, what’s my involvement at this point?”

“Nothing officially. I’m just trying to verify Ms. Barnett’s assets.”

“Okay, I spent an hour with our attorney yesterday and this is my position. I have, or had, a fiduciary relationship with Harry Korsak and Eleanor Barnett, both now deceased. It was a confidential, privileged relationship, as with all our clients. However, upon their deaths, the confidentiality became somewhat less strict, shall we say. I will agree to give a deposition, with my attorney present, for the record. I will not agree to testify in any proceeding, unless, of course, I am subpoenaed, at which time I will comply. Fair enough?”

“I suppose.”

“But there are some things I can tell you now, off the record, and in confidence, that might help you inventory her assets. Are we off the record?”

Clement wasn’t sure what the record was, and he knew he would immediately debrief with Teddy Hammer over lunch. He wasn’t a journalist working on a story, and he had not traveled all the way to Atlanta to get stiff-armed. “Sure,” he said.

Buddy started at the beginning.

He was a stockbroker with Merrill Lynch in Atlanta when he met Harry and Eleanor. Her first husband died a few years earlier and she had $50,000 in life insurance. Harry was working for Coca-Cola and had just qualified for its employee stock-option plan. They put all their money in Coke and kept buying shares for many years. They were frugal, saved as much as possible, and for thirty years bought all the Coke stock they could afford. Later, they began buying Wal-Mart shares with the same strategy. Both companies grew over the years and split their common stock numerous times. The little Korsak nest egg became a fortune. Around 1990, they splurged on a vacation and went to a small Caribbean island few people had heard of. It was called Montrouge, in the French West Indies, near Guadeloupe. Some executives at Coke had discovered the place and were trying to keep it quiet. It was paradise, just a speck of an island with beautiful mountains and white beaches. Harry and Eleanor fell for the place and bought a nice bungalow for half a million. An Atlanta developer showed up and saw the potential. The plan was to buy the entire island, sell off individual lots, put in a resort or two, and watch the value increase. Sort of like Mustique. Harry, whose health was not great, was tired of working and began dreaming of a glorious retirement on the island. He put $5 million into the development and built a bigger house on the beach. The land was selling at outrageous prices. A few celebrities moved in and the prices went even higher. A deal to sell Montrouge for $200 million fell through. Harry’s piece would have been worth 15 percent of the total. More financing was needed to finish a third resort, and Harry put up another $5 million. Buddy voiced his concern at that point, but Harry was determined. The limited partners began squabbling and lawsuits were filed. The resorts were doing well and the property values were through the roof, but there was discord among the ownership. One group tried to buy another in a hostile takeover. Harry sided with the losing group. A hefty loan was in default. Harry put in another $5 million. Almost all of his Coke and Wal-Mart stock was gone but his real estate protected his net worth. Then, an unbelievable disaster. On the first day of June 1999, the volcano on Montrouge erupted for the first time in 240 years. The island was practically blown out of the ocean and off the map. Over a hundred people, tourists and residents, were killed, most of them never found. Harry and Eleanor had been there the week before. Their luxury home was totally destroyed. The typical insurance coverage on the island protected the homes and resorts against fire, wind, flooding, and so on. Not a single one mentioned volcanoes. Big lawsuits were filed by the owners, and the litigation raged until the owners got tired of losing. The insurance companies won every case.

Harry’s bad health deteriorated even faster. He and Eleanor had nervous breakdowns together and went into therapy. To run away, they sold their home in Atlanta and moved to the hills of northern Virginia. Harry died not long after the move.

It was a very sad story.

The obvious question was: How much, if any, of the money was left?

Buddy dodged the question for a while, then said, “Upon the advice of counsel, I can’t give you the exact value of the stocks in the portfolio. I will if a court orders me to, but I can’t now.”

Clement was frustrated by Buddy’s reluctance and said, “Okay, I get that, but I’m trying to anticipate litigation, and it would be helpful if I had an idea, in the ballpark, of the value of Eleanor’s stocks.”

“I understand. At its peak, the Coke stock was worth a little over ten million. What’s left is less than half a million. Wal-Mart was about six mil, and it’s all gone.”

Clement managed to stifle his reaction. “That’s quite a bit less than we thought.”

“Substantially less than half a million.”

Clement left after an hour and a half, returned to the hotel, and found Teddy Hammer at a small desk in the business center. He sat in a chair across from him, smiling as he shook his head, and said, “It’s all a hoax.”