Джон Макдональд - The Girl, the Gold Watch and Everything

And he had always found their general attitude tiresome. They seemed to resent the frivolity of the decision to have the main offices in Miami. And somehow they had pigeonholed Omar Krepps as being a rather ludicrous eccentric, a little man who complicated their grave chores by hopping around picking up odd bits and pieces of businesses which they then had to fit into the measured structure of empire. And they had never tired of trying to tuck O.K. Devices into the fold. In far countries Kirby had always been getting little multicolored forms with small holes in them and blanks for him to fill out. Uncle Omar had told him to ignore them and he did. But they kept trying, and sometimes they would write him sad scolding letters.

The middle one called the meeting to order and said, “Let me recap the terms of Mr. Krepps’ will, gentlemen. All the assets of the estate are to be turned over to the Omar Krepps Foundation. Krepps Enterprises will be slowly liquidated over a period of time as its holdings in other corporations are transferred. We five executives of K.E. become officers and directors of the Foundation, in addition to our continuing corporate duties. It has occurred to us, Mr. Winter, that it would be fitting that you should be connected with the Foundation in some active capacity. We are mindful of the fact that Mr. Krepps left you no money in his will. We shall need an executive secretary for the Foundation, and we are prepared to offer you a salary of twenty-five thousand dollars a year.”

“I haven’t asked for anything,” Kirby said.

The five looked sternly at him. “You are unemployed, are you not?” the spokesman asked.

“At the moment.”

“Gentlemen!” said D. LeRoy Wintermore suavely. “You are giving me and my client here the impression some deal is underway. But we cannot properly assess its merits until we know what you expect of him.”

“Your client?” the spokesman asked. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“No indeed,” the old man said.

Hilton Hibber cleared his throat. “Perhaps I can shed some light. In going over the summary records for tax purposes, I find that over the past eleven years, some twenty-seven million dollars in cash and liquid assets have been drained from the asset structure of K.E. and turned over to O.K. Devices. Inasmuch as all taxes were paid on this money, Internal Revenue took no particular interest in it. But O.K. Devices was entirely owned by Omar Krepps. And now they wish to consider that twenty-seven million part of the estate. If they do, scraping up the tax money on that amount would gut the structure of K.E. and reduce the scope of the Foundation seriously. The current books of O.K. Devices were turned over to me. They were maintained by Miss Wilma Farnham, who, aside from Mr. Winter, was the only other employee of O.K. Devices. The books show a current asset value of four hundred dollars. There are no notes payable or receivable, no accounts payable or receivable.” He hesitated and took out a white handkerchief and wiped his face, though the conference room was cool. “In fact, there are no records at all, aside from the depreciation account on office equipment.”

“And we know why there are no records,” the spokesman said in a strangled tone. “Miss Farnham claims she was following Mr. Krepps’ instructions. She hired a truck and helpers, and on the day following the death of Mr. Krepps, she took all the files and records to a remote area and burned them. She stacked them, poured kerosene on them, and burned them, by God!”

“Most unfortunate,” Mr. Wintermore murmured.

“Furthermore,” Mr. Hibber said, “the Revenue people will assume this was done to conceal the location of the hidden assets. Obviously they will eventually subpoena both Miss Farnham and Mr. Winter in an attempt to extract information regarding these assets. So I suggest that — uh — co-operation at this point on the part of Mr. Winter might be beneficial to all.”

Everyone looked at Kirby Winter. “Let me understand this,” he said. “You’re in a tax jam. You don’t know what I’ve been doing for the past eleven years, and you are dying to know. If I explain what I’ve been doing and what happened to the twenty-seven million dollars, then I get a nice reward of an undemanding job for life.”

The spokesman smiled. “Badly stated, of course. But if you should refuse the offer, you can’t blame us for suspecting that some of this missing money might be — diverted to your private account.”

“That statement is slanderous, sir,” Wintermore said tartly.

The spokesman shrugged. “Perhaps. But we’re all realists here. We have to protect ourselves.”

Kirby leaned back in his chair and studied the intent faces. “You just want to know where all that money is, huh?”

He saw six eager nods, six pairs of glittering eyes.

He smiled at them. “It’s gone.”

“Gone!” It was a sound of anguish.

“Sure. I gave it all away.”

Consternation turned immediately to indignation. The spokesman said, “This is hardly the time for frivolous responses, Winter. Mr. Krepps was eccentric. But not that eccentric.” He leaned forward and struck the table with his fist. “Where is that money?”

“I gave it away,” Kirby said. “You asked me. I told you. I gave it away.”

“My client has given you his answer,” Wintermore said.

“In view of Mr. Winter’s attitude, I see little point in continuing this meeting,” the spokesman said. “His attitude is not unlike Miss Farnham’s attitude. Obviously they are agreed not to co-operate with us. May I ask your plans, Mr. Winter?”

“I might go on a cruise.”

“With twenty-seven million dollars?” Hibber asked in a cold voice.

“I never carry more than fifty dollars in cash.”

“Where do you keep the rest of it?”

“I gave it all away.” He leaned to his right and whispered to the elderly attorney.

Wintermore straightened up and said, “As the only living relative, my client is entitled to whatever personal papers and documents Mr. Krepps left here.”

All five executives looked uncomfortable. “He left a case of documents in the vault here,” the spokesman explained. “When we were faced with — this problem, we examined them. It would seem to be — some sort of a joke. The case contains fifty or so pounds of texts and pamphlets on jokes and magic. Decks of marked cards. Handkerchief tricks. Interlocking rings. The old man was — rather strange you know. The case is back in the vault — any time you care to send for it.”

On the taxi ride back to Wintermore’s office, the old man was silent and thoughtful. When they were in his private office, he began to make a strange sound. Kirby looked at him with alarm. Wintermore’s face was dark. Suddenly Kirby realized the old lawyer was laughing.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Wintermore said. “Forgive me. I have added up all the little clues in a long friendship. Oh dear. Yes indeed. There is no other answer. You did give the money away.”

“That’s what I told them.”

“But you see, they can never believe it. It is a concept so monstrous, they rebel at it. Omar delighted in practical jokes. And this is the biggest practical joke in financial history. Wherever he is, he is laughing as helplessly as I am. Those p-poor earnest fellows! And I am sure Miss Farnham was following his instructions when she burned the records.” Wintermore blew his nose and stood up and said, “I’ll get your watch.”

“Doesn’t the will have to be probated or something first?”

“Not for keepsakes, Kirby.”

Wintermore came back in a few moments with a fat, old-fashioned, gold pocket watch on a worn chain. The watch was running and on time. On the other end of the chain was a charm in the shape of a little gold telescope. Kirby looked at the watch and then he looked through the telescope, turning it toward the windows. The light illuminated a little interior scene done with photographic realism. Kirby gasped and stared and then looked questioningly at Wintermore.