Special Circumstances (21 page)

She explains that shortly after Bob returned to the firm, Leiand had aheart attack and died. Bob was the only attorney at the firm who hadextensive contact with Russo and Dawson.
“Sounds like he had pretty good leverage,” I say.
She fingers the small gold chain that holds her glasses.
“I’ll never forget Leiand’s funeral. Bob pulled me aside and said hehad the firm by the ‘short hairs.”
” She makes little quotation marks in the air with her hands.
“He told me he’d take care of me if I stuck with him. I thought it wasdisgusting.” She scowls.
“Anyway, he went out and got a couple of offers from other firms. Hetold Art if they didn’t make him a partner, he’d take Russo’s businesswith him to Pettit and Martin. So they rolled over. Made him apartner two years early. Gave him a big office and his ownsecretary—me.
And pretty much everything else he asked for.”
“The monster was born.”
“Something like that.”
It’s noon and we have adjourned to the Chinese restaurant. I munch aspring roll. Doris chews a pot sticker
“What happened with Bob and the former Elizabeth Sutro?” I ask.
“Their marriage lasted almost five years. He seemed happy. She waspretty and she had lots of money. They had three kids and bought a bighouse on Broadway.
Servants and everything. The firm was paying him a fortune. They puthim on X-Com.”
“So he really was running the firm by the time he was thirty-five.”
“Yes. But in the early years, he was much more businesslike. Heinstituted financial controls. We opened the overseas offices. Thenhe started to get on everybody’s nerves. The old-timers resented himbecause he kept insisting they bring in more business. The youngerpartners resented him, too, because they thought he manipulated thecompensation system. Every year, he demanded more money. Every year,they gave in to him. He targeted partners he didn’t like.
Cut their points. Some got fired.”
I’m vaguely familiar with that scenario.
She sips her tea.
“Things got nasty during his second divorce,” she says.
“He actually swore off sex for a short period. It was supposed to be ayear, but it only lasted about a week.” She arches her eyebrows.
“Then he found another girlfriend.”
Wife number three was Elizabeth Jorgensen, the weekend anchor onChannel 4.
Around the firm, she was known as Elizabeth II. A year later, shedumped Bob and ran off with the weekend weatherman.
It’s almost one. The waiter brings us fortune cookies. We’re up towife number four, Elizabeth Ryan, or Elizabeth III, a tenaciouslitigator with the Anderson firm. She’s always been polite to me, butI wouldn’t mess with her.
“You know Beth used to be married to Art Patton,” Doris says.
“I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Art was not happy when she married Bob.”
I’ll bet.
“Is that when Art began his search for the perfect trophy wife?”
She doesn’t dignify the question with an answer.
“Bob and Beth were married five years ago,” she says.
“They had three kids. Of course, he was sleeping around the entiretime.”
Bob was a busy guy. Give him points for being consistent. Sort oflike a dog in perpetual heat, without the charm.
“About two years ago,” she says, “Beth told him she’d had enough. Shesaid she’d divorce him and take every penny.” She asks the waiter forwater.
“He was good for about six months.”
A new record.
“Then he met Diana. He was infatuated with her.”
After almost three hours, we’ve finally made it to the good stuff.
“Mike,” she says quietly, “am I going to have to testify at thetrial?”
Damn right you’re going to have to testify—if your testimony helpsus.
“I hope not. If it helps Joel, we may have no other choice. I’ll tryto keep you out of it if I can, but it may be tough.”
She gives me a knowing look.
“I figured you’d say that,” she says.
“I know you and Bob were close. But I’m running out of time and I’mrunning out of leads. I need you to tell me what you know. I promiseto do my best to keep your part in this as small as I can.”
“Okay, Mikey.” She takes a deep breath.
“Bob and Diana had a torrid affair. He sent her flowers. They met athotels during the day. They used to sneak off on business trips.”
I keep my eyes on her.
“How long was this going on?”
“From the time she started until the beginning of this past December.They were at it for a little over a year. That’s when Beth found out.Actually, it’s a miracle she didn’t figure it out sooner. Everyone atthe firm knew about it.”
Everyone but me, of course.
“I think she put a private eye on his tail. He caught Bob and Diana inbed.
Beth told him she was going to file for divorce. I was there the nightshe confronted him. He begged her for one last chance. He broke itoff with Diana.”
“And?”
“Obviously, the reconciliation was unsuccessful.”
Duh, Mike. She did, in fact, serve him with divorce papers. I ask thewaiter for the check.
“Doris,” I say, “did you know Diana was pregnant?”
Her eyes dart away.
“Yes, I knew.”
“Do you have any idea who the father might be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Doris,” I say slowly, “do you think it could have been Joel?”
“Come on, Mike. You know Joel. Not a chance.”
At two o’clock, we’re back in my office. Doris doesn’t seem to begetting tired.
“What was young Vince Russo like?” I ask.
Her expression turns to genuine disgust.
“A pig. A sexist. A self-centered jerk.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it, Doris. Tell me how you really feel.”
She doesn’t smile.
“He was a wild animal. He treated everyone like dirt. He cheated onhis wives. He cheated his business partners. He’s lucky he didn’t endup in jail.”
“Was he friends with Bob?”
“In a manner of speaking. Bob pretended to be friends with any clientwho paid him a lot of money. Bob hated his guts, but Vince didn’t knowit.”
“Did they socialize?”
“Well,” she says, “they went on business trips together to the FarEast. If chasing thirteen-year-old virgin barmaids in Thailand fallswithin your definition of socializing, the answer to your question isyes.”
“Do you think he may still be alive?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.”
I decide it may be time to change the subject.
“Do you know anything about Bob’s will?”
She nods uneasily.
“I typed it. I’d rather not talk about it. It’s private.”
“I understand. But it’s going to become a matter of public record. Itwill save me a lot of time if you can tell me a little bit about it.”
“What do you need to know?”
“Do you know who the beneficiaries are?”
She pauses. After more than twenty years of guarding Bob’s secrets,she’s uncomfortable revealing the terms of his most personaldocument.
“A third to Beth, a third to the kids and a third to charity.”
Sounds pretty straightforward.
“Do you know if Bob was going to change his will?”
She studies me.
“Maybe. He asked me to print out a copy of his will the day before hedied. If he did make any changes, he didn’t ask me to do it.”
“Did he have a lot of money?”
“I would think so, but I don’t know for sure. He kept his financesprivate.”
No big surprise.
“Do you know which charities were named in the will?”
“Actually, it’s a charity down in the Bahamas called the InternationalCharitable Trust. He donated a lot of money to it over the years.”
That name keeps popping up.
“Do you know what the International Charitable Trust does?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you know how we can get in touch with them?”
“There’s a banker in the Bahamas named Trevor Smith who handleseverything.
I’ll get you his phone number.”
I decide it’s time to play a hunch. Finding out the story behind theInternational Charitable Trust is going to the top of Pete’s prioritylist.
CHAPTER 23
THE GRIEVING WIDOW
“My husband would have been touched by the great outpouring of lovewhen he died.”
—elizabeth holmes. interview ON news center 4. tuesday, february17.
“I’m terribly sorry about what happened, Beth. I know there isn’t muchI can say to change things.” The next morning, I’m sitting in theVersailles-like living room of the Presidio Terrace mansion BethHolmes shared with Bob.
Although three and a half million bucks doesn’t buy as much as it usedto in San Francisco, Presidio Terrace is about as tony as it gets. Theturn-of-the-century homes are occupied by a U.S. senator and herinvestment-banker husband, several Fortune 500 CEOs and a smattering ofSan Francisco aristocracy.
“Thanks,” she says unenthusiastically, as she lights a cigarette.
“You don’t have to lay it on too thick. Everybody knows I served himwith divorce papers that night.”
It’s nice to see she’s not overwrought with grief.
She’s early forties, with unnaturally bleached-blond hair, leatheryskin from the tanning machine, a slightly altered nose, several minorenhancements to her hips and, if I’m guessing right, breasts. If allof her bodily adjustments slip at the same time, she’ll probably looklike a rubber band being shot across the room. On the other hand,she’s a helluva commercial litigator. She reminds me of herex-husband, Arthur Patton, without the charm or the chins.
“I know this may be difficult,” I say, “but I was hoping you might beable to help us sort out what happened that night.”
She smiles knowingly.
“I find Skipper’s version of the story a lot more convincing thanyours.”
At least we’re starting on an even keel.
“I understand you were at Bob’s office that night.”
“Yes, I was. I wanted to be there when the divorce papers were served.After all the shit he put me through, I wanted to see the look on hisface.”
“Couldn’t you have waited until after the closing?”
She gives me a look of genuine disdain.
“You don’t get it. I wanted to deliver the divorce papers in themiddle of his fucking closing, while all his buddies were around.Especially that pimp, Vince Russo, and the little tramp, Diana.
Sweet little Princess Diana.” She mutters something under her breaththat sounds like the word “cunt.”
I take a sip of the iced tea from the crystal glass provided by hermaid.
“I
realize it’s none of my business, but you know I’ve got to ask. Whathappened between you and Bob?”
She takes a long drag on her cigarette.
“The same thing that happened with you and Rosie.”
I think she may have intended that as a cheap shot.
“Was he seeing another woman?”
“For God’s sake, Mike, of course. Everybody knew about it. He wasshtupping Diana for at least a year. When I found out about it at thebeginning of December, I threw him out. He promised he’d make it up tome. Then he hopped right back in the sack again.”
“With Diana?”
“Yeah. And with anybody else without a penis. If you think we’ve hada horny president, you should have seen Bob.”
“Why didn’t you file divorce papers at the beginning of December?”
“I gave him one last chance. He behaved for a week. Then my PI caughthim with another woman. I threw his ass out for good.” She stubs outher cigarette forcefully in the crystal ashtray.
“Do you know if he was still seeing Diana at the end of December?”
She lights another cigarette.
“Don’t know for sure. He was like a fucking rabbit.”
“Do you know if he was seeing any other women?”
“I don’t know that, either. My P I definitely saw him with littleDiana in the beginning of December. And my P I saw him with somebodyelse after that. We couldn’t ID her. It may have been Diana. Maybe ahooker, if my guess is right.
He saw them at the Fairmont.”
“Would you mind if I talked to your PI?”
“No problem.” She turns to a servant who is standing by the door andspeaks to her in Spanish. The servant leaves the room for a moment,then reappears and hands me a business card. It says Nick Hanson,Private Investigator. I recognize the name. I put the card in mypocket.
Maybe it’s time to change the subject.
“We got a copy of Bob’s will.” A small lie. Actually, all I knowabout the will is what Doris told me.
“It seems you may inherit quite a bit of money from him.”
“That’s true. It doesn’t make up for all the crap, but it’s not a badconsolation prize.” Interesting choice of words. She plays nervouslywith her hair.
“Charles Stern is handling everything. He may be as dull as a parkingmeter, but he’s good. A third of the estate goes to me, a third goesto the kids and the rest goes to some charity in the Bahamas. It’sgoing to take a while to sort it out.”
“Do you happen to know the name of the charity?”
“It’s called the International Charitable Trust.”
Hello again.
“Do you know anything about it?”
“Nope. Charles might be able to tell you something. Bob gave them alot of money.”
“Did it occur to you that if you split up, he might write you out ofhis will?”
“Yes.”
“And you realize, of course, that his untimely death means your claimto one-third of the estate remains in place.”
She stares daggers at me.
“Of course.” She pushes the phony blond bangs from her eyes.
“I don’t like the implication. I don’t need the money. We can liveperfectly well on my draw.”
It’s true, I’m sure. She must pull down at least four hundred fiftythou a year. Nice piece of change for a woman who’s been describedfrom time to time as trailer-park trash from Texas. She may lack acertain amount of finesse, but she’s made it on her own in the bigboys’ world. I decide to try something else.
“Was there any life insurance?”
“It’s none of your business. But the answer is yes. There’s amillion-dollar policy for each of his kids and a five-million-dollarpolicy for me.”
At least I know where the money’s going. Of course, I’d assume thebeneficiary on the five-million-dollar policy would have been changedafter the divorce. And she may get nothing if Bob committed suicide.Lifeinsurance policies contain a clause that says the beneficiarywon’t be paid if the named insured commits suicide within a couple ofyears after the policy is issued.
“Do you know much about Russo?”
“He’s an asshole. And a crook.”
“I think we can all agree on that. We’re still trying to find out whathappened to him. Some people think he and Bob may have had someinvestments together.”
She gives me a condescending look.
“Whatever Bob did with Russo was between the two of them. Bob nevertalked about it with me. And frankly, I didn’t want to know. As faras I’m concerned, they were just two horny bastards chasing underagegirls in Southeast Asia.”
“They really used to do that?”
She nods.
Not much left for discussion there.
“Do you still see some people from the firm?”
“Charles Stern has been helpful. Art’s been very supportive. It’snice when your ex still cares.”
In many ways.
“Do you think Bob was so distraught about the divorce that he decidedto kill himself?” I decide I’d better see where she’s coming from incase Skipper puts her on the stand.