F Wilson - Sibs

"But Rob—!"

The phone cut her off. She went to answer it.

"Tilsdale residence."

"Is Miss Kara Wade there?" said a woman's voice.

"Speaking."

"One moment please for Mr. Wheatley."

Mr. Wheatley? Who on earth was—?

"Hello? Miss Kara Wade? This is Gordon Wheatley, attorney for the estate of Dr. Lawrence Gates. Can you come over to my office immediately?"

Kara could feel sudden tension coiling within her.

"What for?"

"This has to do with Dr. Gates' estate. It's quite important."

"I want nothing to do with you or his estate."

"I assure you, it's quite to your advantage to—"

"I'm too busy!"

There was a pause, then Mr. Wheatley sighed.

"Then may I come over? It is extremely important."

Kara was taken aback by the request. She didn't know lawyers made house calls.

"How… how long will it take you?"

"Only a few minutes. I'm just a few blocks away on Park Avenue. And I'll only take a moment of your time."

"Okay. I guess—so. But don't be long."

▼

It wasn't long. Kara knew that Rob was about to lay a guilt trip on her—one she richly deserved—but she managed to forestall that by telling him about the mystifying call from Dr. Gates' attorney. It seemed only minutes later that Gordon Wheatley showed up with his secretary.

"This is most irregular," he said as he trooped into the living room. He was a thin, waspish man in his late fifties with wire rimmed glasses and an unruly shock of white hair. "But Dr. Gates' wishes for his estate have been most irregular since the day he made out his first will with us twenty years ago."

"How so?" Kara said.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that, as I'm sure you'll understand. But let me say that I would not have been unhappy if Dr. Gates had taken his legal matters elsewhere long ago."

Rob stepped forward.

"What's this all about, Mr. Wheatley?"

"This." Mr. Wheatley stuck his hand out, palm up, toward his secretary. "Miss Capwell?"

She placed a small manila envelope on his palm. Mr. Wheatley in turn handed the envelope to Kara. The envelope was heavy and it jingled. She didn't like the idea of receiving anything from Gates, especially after he was dead.

"What's this?"

"A list of the assets in his estate and the keys to his home on Twenty-first Street."

"But why?"

"You own it now."

Kara was aghast. She had to sit down.

"I own it?"

"Yes. You are his sole heir. He left everything he owned to you. Counting the mines in West Virginia, that increases your net worth by approximately thirty-two million dollars."

Rob nearly fell into the seat beside her. Kara could barely speak.

"But I don't want it! I don't want anything of his!"

"You may refuse it, of course, but I would think about that. There will be a formal probate of the will, but he left specific instructions that immediately after he was pronounced dead, these keys were to be delivered to the heir he had named." He cleared his throat. "We had some difficulty reaching you, otherwise you would have had them sooner."

"When did he name Kara his heir?" Rob asked.

"Last week. I will be in touch with you again soon, Miss Wade, under more formal circumstances, I hope.

However, it was imperative that this particular term of his will be carried out as written. Good day."

Kara didn't show him or Miss Capwell out. She sat with Rob on Ellen's couch and stared at the envelope in her hand. Finally, Rob spoke.

"I don't care if you keep it or not, Kara, but I've got to see the inside of that house. I've got to."

Kara looked at him, unsure of what to do. Then she realized that she wanted to see it, too.

"Let's go."

▼

1:24 P.M.

"The lights are on," Kara said as they stood before Gates' house.

It was a tall, narrow Victorian row house of dark brown stone, looming behind a wrought iron fence. Each floor had its own large bay window. A tiny patch of winter-browned lawn sat on either side of the short slate walk that led to the front steps.

"They've been on since Monday night," said Rob close by her side. "Let's go. I've got to be back at the precinct soon."

He opened the low iron gate and walked ahead of her. Kara held back. Something within her—the same something that had rejoiced with the news of Dr. Gates' death—was afraid and was trying to hold her back. She overcame it and followed Rob up the steps to the front door.

There were two front doors. The outer one was unlocked. As she stood in the vestibule with Rob, Kara tried to peek through the designs in the frosted glass of the inner door but couldn't see much.

"Why don't I go first," Rob said as she turned the key in the lock.

"I can take care of myself," she said.

"I'm sure you can, but since we're dealing with a guy who qualifies as the Daffy Duck of the New York State Medical Society, maybe I should just check the place out to make sure he doesn't have any crazies living with him."

"You're thinking of that padded cell in his office?"

"That, and some other things."

"All right," Kara said, suddenly glad Rob was along. "Be my guest."

She stepped into the front hall behind him. On her right was the common wall Dr. Gates shared with the house next door. A long narrow staircase ran up along that wall. An ornate chandelier, festooned with heavy red glass grapes, hung overhead. Far to the rear, daylight filtered in through the tall windows overlooking the rear courtyard.

Just inside the front door on the left wall of the foyer was an alarm panel. A red light glowed at the top of the panel. The numbers 1-7-4-2-3 were written on a tag tied to the key ring. Kara punched them in and the light turned to green.

"We're in."

"Let me check the basement first," Rob said.

He stepped down the hall to a door that opened into the space under the stairs and went below.

As Kara watch him go, she remembered that incident in Philadelphia a few years ago where they found three women chained in the basement of someone's house. She shuddered with revulsion.

She spun and stared the length of the foyer. For a moment she had thought someone was there. The foyer was empty. But she couldn't escape the feeling that she wasn't alone.

Be careful, Rob.

To distract herself, she began to look around.

▼

Rob entered the basement cautiously, wishing at first for a flashlight. But when he flipped the switch he found he didn't need one. There were plenty of incandescent bulbs hanging among the pipes in the exposed ceiling.

The basement was not quite what he had expected. There were the usual crates of odds and ends, and a furnace and a water heater at the rear. But it was smaller than he had anticipated. And it was clean, warm, and dry—heated and dehumidified. There was green industrial grade carpet on the floor and relatively new oak planking on the walls. Part of the area appeared to have been walled off but there was no access to the space.

He sniffed the air. There was a sour smell. Maybe Gates was having some trouble with his sewer line. Maybe it was time to call Roto-rooter.

One thing was sure at least: Nobody was hiding down here.

▼

Kara explored the first floor. All the ceilings seemed at least fifteen feet high. She peeked into the front room. It was a small study with curtains drawn across the bay window. A computer terminal sat on a desk. The next room was a bathroom with ornate tiles and an old fashioned paw-footed tub. Next came the kitchen and pantries. She opened a few of the cabinets. One of them was stocked with jars of baby food.

She was standing there and staring at the rows of Gerber Junior Meals, trying to imagine what use Dr. Gates could possibly have for them, when she felt suddenly weak. Hungry… so hungry. Her knees wobbled as the room whirled about her once, then stopped. Then she was fine.