Stuart Woods: Orchid Blues

"What was the lead?"

"A teller at the bank, a woman, was the only employee who'd been there for less than two years; she'd been there three months."

"And they couldn't get anything out of her?"

"A couple of weeks after the robbery, she vanished, along with a bunch of other people, apparently."

"What do you mean, 'vanished'?"

"She was a member of some religious sect in the Hudson River Valley, twenty-five or thirty people. They simply pulled up stakes and left the state. Apparently, they had spent the weeks before disposing of their property and even their vehicles. A lot of people thought they'd committed mass suicide, and they may very well have, because every effort to track them down failed."

"Very strange."

"Very strange indeed."

"The guy on the New York State Police is doing a follow-up with the FBI office in New York, and he'll get back to me when he knows more."

"Thanks, Stone, I really appreciate this."

"Glad to help. You doing okay?"

"I'm managing."

"Let me know if you'd like to see my new airplane; I'm taking delivery today."

"Okay, I will."

"You can reach me at the Disney hotel in Vero, or on my cell phone; the number's on my card."

"Let me see how things go."

"Take care."

"Bye."

When Holly and Daisy got to the office, the atmosphere had returned to something more normal, since the witnesses had all been interviewed and sent home. She went into Hurd's office. "What's happening?"

"We've got the employee records, and we're going through them now."

"I want to know about the more recent employees." She told him about her conversation with Stone.

"That's real interesting," Hurd said. "I'll rush it." He handed her a sheet of paper. "Here's the tally on what the robbers got."

She took the paper and looked at it. "Holy cow! They had over four million dollars in cash in that one bank?"

"A confluence of four payrolls, not the three we originally thought. They would normally have no more than half a million cash on hand."

She handed the paper back. "I don't suppose there's any indication of the employees' religious affiliation in their records?"

Hurd picked up a file and looked it over. "Nope. That would probably be against some privacy law."

"Hurd, when you interview these people-and I do want them all interviewed again-I want you to tell our people to find out, subtly, if possible, what church these folks go to. If any of them is anything smaller or stranger than Baptist, Methodist, Catholic or some other well-established denomination, I want to know about it."

"Okay, I'll pass the word along." Hurd put down the folder. "Holly, when is the service going to be?"

"Service?"

"The funeral."

"Oh, sorry. There won't be one; Jackson's own wish. He hated everything to do with funerals, and he didn't want to put his friends through that."

"I understand. I'll let our people know."

"Thanks, Hurd." She went back to her office. There was a note on her desk to call Fred Ames, Jackson's partner. His had been one of the messages on her machine. She called him back.

"Hello, Holly. First of all, I want to tell you how sorry I am."

"I know, Fred. It's a big loss to you, too."

"Yes, but still-"

"Don't worry about me; I'm all right."

"Good. Holly, I don't want to rush you on this, but you and I should get together and go over Jackson's estate."

"I guess you're right. Is it important that we do it soon?"

"I think so. There are some unusual aspects, and the sooner we can go over them, the better."

"You don't want to do it on the phone?"

"I'd rather do it face-to-face."

"Late this afternoon be okay?"

"Five is good for me."

"Five it is; I'll see you at your office."

"Bye, Holly."

"Bye." Holly hung up and went back to Hurd's office. "Let me have the personnel files you're finished with, and I'll go over them again. That way, we're less likely to miss something."

Hurd handed her a stack. "I didn't notice anything unusual about any of these, but you're welcome to check them out."

"Are you checking out bank officers, too?"

"Yes, but they're in a separate bunch. You want them?"

"Yes, please."

Hurd got up and went to a table across his office and picked up a stack of a dozen folders. "Here you go."

Holly went back to her office, sat down and opened the first folder.

Holly arrived at the law offices of Oxenhandler amp; Ames at five-thirty. The staff had left for the day, and Fred Ames was alone in his office.

He gave her a big hug. "I'm sorry," he said, "and I won't say anything else."

She hugged him back. "Thanks, Fred."

He waved her to a chair. "Have a seat, and I'll make this as quick as possible."

"You make it sound like a trip to the dentist."

"It's not all bad news, but it's not all good, either."

"Shoot."

"Jackson's affairs were in excellent order. He'd seen to that in anticipation of the marriage."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"He left everything to you, except his half of the practice, which he left to me, and a few small bequests. He appointed you and me as his executors; he figured you'd need some help."

"Not only will I need your help, Fred, but I want you to do all the work, at your usual fee. I'm going to be busy."

Fred waved a hand. "Don't talk to me about fees again, all right?"

"All right, I'm sorry."

"The problem with the estate is the law that allows a spouse to leave everything to a spouse with no estate taxes."

"Why is that a problem? It sounds like good news."

"It's a problem, because you weren't Jackson's spouse."

Holly blinked. "Oh."

"You were an hour short of spouse, I guess, and I think it's worth having Jackson's accountant try to make a case to the IRS that you qualify. After all, you'd been living together for a while, and common-law wife might count."

"Common-law wife sounds like a broken-down trailer and a couple of old cars up on blocks in the front yard."

"If it works, don't knock it. Jackson was worth something over three million dollars, including the beach house, his belongings and his investments, so if you have to pay the estate taxes, it's going to bite."

"Listen, Fred, that's so much more money than I ever expected to have in my life that Uncle Sam can have his cut without any bitching from me."

"Still…"

"I know, save what you can."

"Right. Now the good news. A couple of weeks ago, Jackson and I took out life insurance policies. We each insured ourselves for a million dollars, and we each had a survivor's policy for another million that would go to the other in the event one of us died. This was to ensure the survival of the practice, since losing a partner means losing a lot of business."

"That's fine with me, but are you saying he left a policy for another million?"

"Yes, and it's payable to you, by name, not to his estate or spouse. What's great about that is that, if you do have to pay the estate taxes, you'll have cash without having to sell assets."

Holly put a hand to her breast. "My God, I had no idea about any of this."

"I don't know if you know this, Holly, but Jackson took that piece of land your house is on in lieu of a fee from a client years ago, then he bought an old Florida farmhouse inland somewhere for a dollar, sawed it in half and had it moved to the lot and reassembled."

"Jackson told me about that."

"So, after a lot of renovations and additions, and in the current real estate market, which is spectacular, that little old farmhouse on the beach is probably worth two million dollars, should you want to sell."

"I don't. Jackson still lives there, as far as I'm concerned."

"As you wish, it's yours to do with as you like. Jackson has a brokerage account and some T-bills, and about forty thousand dollars in cash in the bank. It's going to take a few weeks to get this probated, but you'll have the insurance money in a week or two, so you'd better start thinking about what you're going to do with it. You don't want that kind of money sitting around in a checking account."