F Paul Wilson - Secret History 02 (31 page)

           
"A lot of people don't like
Larry Gates, but that's not a cause for police harassment."

           
"I'm not harassing anybody! Did
he tell you that?"

           
"No. I haven't had cause to
speak to him for a couple of years now, but let me tell you something about
Larry Gates. I know he presents this cold surface to the world—"

           
" 'Cold' is an
understatement."

           
"I won't argue that. I don't
know why he does it. I'd think it would be counterproductive to a successful
psychiatric practice. But then, financial considerations aren't much of a
motivating force in the life of a man of his wealth. And besides, from what I
understand, it hasn't adversely effected his patient flow."

           
Rob said, "I doubt the patient
I know would be going to him if it weren't for his special qualifications in
the area of her problem."

           
"That multiple personality you
mentioned? Well, as I said, she couldn't be in better hands. But you know, I
did see Larry's cold facade crack once: when his brother Gabor contracted
pneumonia."

           
With the mention of Gabor, Rob's
interest surged.

           
"When was that?"

           
"During Larry's residency—third
year, I believe. Gabor caught the flu but didn't kick it. Being an invalid, he
quickly developed pneumonia. Larry had one of the pulmonary guys admit him to
Downstate so he could keep an eye on his brother while going about his regular
duties as a psychiatry resident." Doc Winters leaned forward and pointed
his ballpoint at Rob. "He never left the hospital once during Gabor's
illness, Harris. He
lived
there.
That's the real Larry Gates."

           
Rob was surprised. Maybe he had
Gates pegged wrong.

           
"Gabor survived, I
gather."

           
"Yes."

           
"But died later."

           
"Years later, somewhere in his
forties. His longevity was a testament to the care he received from
Larry."

           
"Why do you say that?"

           
"Gabor Gati was a nightmare.
Grotesquely deformed by multiple congenital defects… nearly blind, aphonic—"

           
"Pardon?"

           
"Mute. Couldn't speak. I doubt
very much that his intelligence was above the idiot level. His body was bulbous
and scoliotic, with atrophic limbs. He was totally dependent. Couldn't feed or
clothe or change himself. Quite repulsive, actually. But Larry was intensely
devoted to him. He had hidden Gabor from the Nazis and had helped him escape
the Commies—he wasn't going to let some lousy bacterium claim his
brother." Winters shook his head. "Quite a guy."

           
"Sure sounds it," Rob said
but decided to withhold the Nobel Prize just a little longer.

           
"Now what was it you wanted to
see me about?"

           
"Gates signed Gabor's death
certificate. That struck me as irregular."

           
Winters' brow furrowed. "In
most cases it would be. Highly irregular for a first degree relative to sign.
But not illegal. Larry is a licensed M.D. and qualified to sign. And he acted
as Gabor's attending physician most of the time, so he would have been most
familiar with the particulars of Gabor's medical history. It's a unique case. I
don't see anything to get excited about." Rob sighed and rose from the
chair. "Neither do I. Just checking. Thanks, Doc."

           
"It's okay. And relax about
Larry Gates. He's dedicated. Hardly ever takes a vacation, from what I hear. A
workaholic, perhaps, but a good man."

           
"If you say so, Doc, that's
good enough for me."
But that
doesn't mean I have to like him
.

           
The voice of Ed Bannion's secretary
came through the intercom.

           
"There's
a Kara Wade on seven-six. Says it's personal. "

           
Ed felt a quick surge of excitement.

           
"Got it, Nancy." He jabbed
the blinking button. "Hello! You're a hard woman to find."

           
"I went back to Pennsylvania
for a while. I got back yesterday. I got your note."

           
"Yeah." He laughed.
"After calling a few dozen times, I figured that was the best way to get
hold of you."

           
"What's this about Kelly's
estate?"

           
"She didn't have a will."

           
"How do you know?"

           
"I checked. A will was never
filed for her."

           
"Why would you check?"

           
Ed detected a note of hostility
creeping into Kara's voice. Maybe she thought he'd been prying.

           
Well, she was right. He had been
rooting around for a way to maintain contact with her and had come up with an
ingenious solution. He figured that if Kelly Wade was like most single people
in her age bracket, she didn't have a will. They hardly ever do. Only if
they're married and have kids do they start thinking about who's going to get
what they leave behind if they kick the bucket unexpectedly.

           
He was right. Kelly had died
in testate
.

           
"I'm just trying to help, Kara.
Trying to repay a debt. Kelly helped my family through her profession, now it's
my turn to help Kelly's through
my
profession."

           
He'd made up that story about his
mother being in the hospital, but what he was about to tell Kara was all true
and legally sound. He just had to make sure he didn't come on too strong as he
tried to sell her on it.

           
"If you want to avoid probate,
if you want access to her bank account or accounts—I have no idea what she had—you'll
have to be named administrator."

           
"I don't want her money."

           
"It's not as vulturish as it
sounds. She's got bills due, I'm sure—utilities, charge cards, etcetera.
They'll need to be paid, otherwise her creditors can take her estate to
court."

           
There was silence on the other end
of the line. Ed let it run its course.

           
"I never thought of that,"
Kara said finally.

           
"Of course, you didn't,"
Ed said, trying to sound jovial. "That's what us legal eagles are for.
Besides, if you don't take over her accounts, the Government will. I'm sure you
can put them to better use."

           
"
I
guess so. What do I do?"

           
"I'll do most of it. I'll act
as your counsel and go before the surrogate and file to have you appointed
administrator of Kelly's estate. That should be no problem. Since she had no
husband or children, her twin sister is the obvious choice—unless your mother
or father protest."

           
"No one will protest."

           
"Fine. Then you can pay off her
bills from her account, clean out her apartment, take whatever you want to keep
as memories, and be fully in the clear legally."

           
"What will this cost?"

           
"It's on the house.
Quid pro quo
. Should I get the paperwork
started?"

           
Say
yes! Please say yes!

           
"All right," she said
slowly. "This is very considerate of you."

           
"Think nothing of it. Now,
we'll have to get together and have you sign a few papers. Is tomorrow good for
you?"

           
"Only the afternoon. I have an
appointment in the morning."

           
Ed had to babysit some money men
from the West Coast all afternoon and evening tomorrow.

           
"How about Thursday?"

           
"Thursday would be better. I
have the whole day free."

           
"Good. I'll meet you at Kelly's
and we'll go someplace for lunch."

           
Another hesitation.
Say yes, Kara
.

           
Finally: "Okay. That sounds
nice. See you then."

           
Ed hung up, jumped up, and was doing
a little victory dance around his desk when his secretary walked in.

           
"Are you all right, Mr.
Bannion?"

           
Ed stopped abruptly and straightened
a few papers on his desk top.

           
"My foot fell asleep. But now
I'm fine, Nancy. Just fine."

           
And
I'm going to be even better!

           
Kara dragged herself back to Kelly's
apartment with the promise that if the next few nights went as well as last
night, she'd pronounce herself safe to sleep at Ellen's. It was the only way
she could cajole herself into returning. The thought of another night alone in
that apartment was daunting.

           
That was why a warm glow suffused
her when Rob popped out of his car and intercepted her at the door to the
apartment house. It would be good to have company for a while.

           
"I can't stay," he said.
"I just wanted to see how you were doing. I called a few times but there
was no answer."

           
"I'm fine," she said.
"Come on in. I'll fix you a drink. Or coffee. Whichever you prefer."