Morning Noon & Night (10 page)

Early the following morning, Simon Fitzgerald and Steve Sloane arrived. Clark escorted them into the library. “I’ll inform the family that you’re here,” he said.

“Thank you.” They watched him leave.

The library was huge and opened onto a garden through two large French doors. The room was paneled in dark-stained oak, and the walls were lined with bookcases filled with handsome leather-bound volumes. There was a scattering of comfortable chairs and Italian reading lamps. In one corner stood a customized beveled-glass and ormolu-mounted mahogany cabinet that displayed Harry Stanford’s enviable gun collection. Special drawers had been designed beneath the display case to house the ammunition.

“It’s going to be an interesting morning,” Steve said. “I wonder how they’re going to react.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

Kendall and Marc came into the room first.

Simon Fitzgerald said, “Good morning. I’m Simon Fitzgerald. This is my associate, Steve Sloane.”

“I’m Kendall Renaud, and this is my husband, Marc.”

The men shook hands.

Woody and Peggy entered the room.

Kendall said, “Woody, this is Mr. Fitzgerald and Mr. Sloane.”

Woody nodded. “Hi. Did you bring the cash with you?”

“Well, we really…”

“I’m only kidding! This is my wife, Peggy.” Woody looked at Steve. “Did the old man leave me anything or…?”

Tyler entered the room. “Good morning.”

“Judge Stanford?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Simon Fitzgerald, and this is Steve Sloane, my associate.
It was Steve who arranged to have your father’s body brought back from Corsica.”

Tyler turned to Steve. “I appreciate that. We’re not sure what happened exactly. The press has had so many different versions of the story. Was there foul play involved?”

“No. It seems to have been an accident. Your father’s yacht was caught in a terrible storm off the coast of Corsica. According to a deposition from Dmitri Kaminsky, his bodyguard, your father was standing on the outside veranda of his cabin and the wind blew some papers out of his hand. He reached for them, lost his balance, and fell overboard. By the time they recovered his body, it was too late.”

“What a horrible way to die.” Kendall shuddered.

“Did you talk to this Kaminsky person?” Tyler asked.

“Unfortunately, no. By the time I arrived in Corsica, he had left.”

Fitzgerald said, “The captain of the yacht had advised your father not to sail into that storm, but for some reason, he was in a hurry to return here. He had arranged for a helicopter to bring him back. There was some kind of urgent problem.”

Tyler asked, “Do you know what the problem was?”

“No. I cut short my vacation to meet him back here. I don’t know what—”

Woody interrupted. “That’s all very interesting, but it’s ancient history, isn’t it? Let’s talk about the will. Did he leave us anything or not?” His hands were twitching.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Tyler suggested.

They took chairs. Simon Fitzgerald sat at the desk, facing them. He opened a briefcase and started to take out some papers.

Woody was ready to explode.
“Well?
For God’s sake, did he or didn’t he?”

Kendall said, “Woody…”

“I know the answer,” Woody said angrily. “He didn’t leave us a damn cent.”

Fitzgerald looked into the faces of the children of Harry Stanford. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “each of you will share equally in the estate.”

Steve could feel the sudden euphoria that swept through the room.

Woody was staring at Fitzgerald, openmouthed. “
What?
Are you serious?” He jumped to his feet. “That’s fantastic!” He turned to the others. “Did you hear that? The old bastard finally came through!” He looked at Simon Fitzgerald. “How much money are we talking about?”

“I don’t have the exact figure. According to the latest issue of
Forbes
magazine, Stanford Enterprises is worth six billion dollars. Most of it is invested in various corporations, but there is roughly four hundred million dollars available in liquid assets.”

Kendall was listening, stunned. “That’s more than a hundred million dollars for each of us. I can’t believe it!”
I’m free
, she thought.
I can pay them off and be rid of them forever
. She looked at Marc, her face shining, and squeezed his hand.

“Congratulations,” Marc said. He knew more than the others what the money would mean.

Simon Fitzgerald spoke up. “As you know, ninety-nine percent of the shares in Stanford Enterprises was held by your father. So those shares will be divided equally among you. Also, now that his father is deceased, Judge Stanford
owns outright that other one percent that had been held in trust. Of course, there will be certain formalities. Furthermore, I should inform you that there is a possibility of another heir being involved.”

“Another heir?” Tyler asked.

“Your father’s will specifically provides that the estate is to be divided equally among his issue.”

Peggy looked puzzled. “What…what do you mean by
issue
?”

Tyler spoke up. “Natural-born descendants and legally adopted descendants.”

Fitzgerald nodded. “That is correct. Any descendant born out of wedlock is deemed a descendant of the mother and the father, whose protection is established under the law of the jurisdiction.”

“What are you saying?” Woody asked impatiently.

“I’m saying that there may be another claimant.”

Kendall looked at him. “Who?”

Simon Fitzgerald hesitated. There was no way to be tactful. “I’m sure that you are all aware of the fact that, a number of years ago, your father sired a child by a governess who worked here.”

“Rosemary Nelson,” Tyler said.

“Yes. Her daughter was born at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Milwaukee. She named her Julia.”

The room was thick with silence.

“Hey!” Woody exclaimed. “That was twenty-five years ago.”

“Twenty-six, to be exact.”

Kendall asked, “Does anyone know where she is?”

Simon Fitzgerald could hear Harry Stanford’s voice.
“She wrote to tell me that it was a girl. Well, if she thinks she’s going to get a dime out of me, she can go to hell.”
“No,” Fitzgerald said slowly. “No one knows where she is.”

“Then what the hell are we talking about?” Woody demanded.

“I just wanted all of you to be aware that if she does appear, she will be entitled to an equal share of the estate.”

“I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” Woody said confidently. “She probably never even knew who her father was.”

Tyler turned to Simon Fitzgerald. “You say you don’t know the exact amount of the estate. May I ask why not?”

“Because our firm handles only your father’s personal affairs. His corporate affairs are represented by two other law firms. I’ve been in touch with them and have asked them to prepare financial statements as soon as possible.”

“What kind of time frame are we talking about?” Kendall asked anxiously. “
We will need $100,000 immediately to cover our expenses
.”

“Probably two to three months.”

Marc saw the consternation on his wife’s face. He turned to Fitzgerald. “Isn’t there some way to hurry things along?”

Steve Sloane answered. “I’m afraid not. The will has to go through probate court, and their calendar is rather heavy right now.”

“What is a probate court?” Peggy asked.

“
Probate
is from the past participle of
probare
—to prove. It’s the act of—”

“She didn’t ask you for a damned English lesson!” Woody
exploded. “Why can’t we just wrap things up now?”

Tyler turned to his brother. “The law doesn’t work that way. When there’s a death, the will has to be filed in the probate court. There has to be an appraisal of all assets—real estate, closely held corporations, cash, jewelry—then an inventory has to be prepared and filed in the court. Taxes have to be taken care of, and specific bequests paid. After that, a petition is filed for permission to distribute the balance of the estate to the beneficiaries.”

Woody grinned. “What the hell. I’ve waited almost forty years to be a millionaire. I guess I can wait another month or two.”

Simon Fitzgerald stood up. “Aside from your father’s bequests to you, there are some minor gifts, but they don’t affect the bulk of the estate.” Fitzgerald looked around the room. “Well, if there’s nothing else…”

Tyler rose. “I think not. Thank you, Mr. Fitzgerald, Mr. Sloane. If there are any problems, we’ll be in touch.”

Fitzgerald nodded to the group. “Ladies and gentlemen.” He turned and went toward the door, Steve Sloane following him.

Outside, in the driveway, Simon Fitzgerald turned to Steve. “Well, now you’ve met the family. What do you think?”

“It was more like a celebration than a mourning. I’m puzzled by something, Simon. If their father hated them as much as they seem to hate him, why did he leave them all that money?”

Simon Fitzgerald shrugged. “That’s something we’ll never know. Maybe that’s why he was coming to see me, to leave the money to someone else.”

None of the group was able to sleep that night, each lost in his or her own thoughts.

Tyler was thinking,
It’s happened. It’s really happened! I can afford to give Lee the world. Anything! Everything!

Kendall was thinking,
As soon as I get the money, I’ll find a way to buy them off permanently, and I’ll make sure they never bother me again
.

Woody was thinking,
I’m going to have the best string of polo ponies in the world. No more borrowing other people’s ponies. I’m going to be ten goals!
He glanced over at Peggy, sleeping at his side.
The first thing I’ll do is get rid of this stupid bitch
. Then he thought,
No, I can’t do that
.…He got out of bed and went into the bathroom. When he came out, he was feeling wonderful.

The atmosphere at breakfast the next morning was exuberant.

“Well,” Woody said happily, “I suppose all of you have been making plans.”

Marc shrugged. “How does one plan for something like this? It is an unbelievable amount of money.”

Tyler looked up. “It’s certainly going to change all our lives.”

Woody nodded. “The bastard should have given it to us while he was alive, so we could have enjoyed it then. If it’s not impolite to hate the dead, I have to tell you something…”

Kendall said reproachfully, “Woody…”

“Well, let’s not be hypocrites. We all despised him, and he deserved it. Just look what he tried to—”

Clark came into the room. He stood there, apologetically. “Excuse me,” he said. “There is a Miss Julia Stanford at the door.”

“Julia
Stanford?”

They stared at one another, frozen.

“The hell she is!” Woody exploded.

Tyler said quickly, “I suggest we adjourn to the library.” He turned to Clark. “Would you send the young lady in there, please?”

“Yes, sir.”

She stood in the doorway, looking at each of them, obviously ill at ease. “I…I probably shouldn’t have come,” she said.

“You’re damn right!” Woody said. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Julia Stanford.” She was almost stammering in her nervousness.

“No. I mean who are you
really?”

She started to say something, then shook her head.
“I…My mother was Rosemary Nelson. Harry Stanford was my father.”

The group looked at one another.

“Do you have any proof of that?” Tyler asked.

She swallowed. “I don’t think I have any
real
proof.”

“Of course you don’t,” Woody snapped. “How do you have the nerve to—”

Kendall interrupted. “This is rather a shock to all of us, as you can imagine. If what you’re saying is true, then you’re…you’re our half sister.”

Julia nodded. “You’re Kendall.” She turned to Tyler. “You’re Tyler.” She turned to Woody. “And you’re Woodrow. They call you Woody.”

“As
People
magazine could have told you,” Woody said sarcastically.

Tyler spoke up. “I’m sure you can understand our position, Miss…er…Without some positive proof, there’s no way we could possibly accept…”

“I understand.” She looked around nervously. “I don’t know why I came here.”

“Oh, I think you do,” Woody said. “It’s called money.”

“I’m not interested in the money,” she said indignantly. “The truth is that I…I came here hoping to meet my family.”

Kendall was studying her. “Where is your mother?”

“She passed away. When I read that our father died…”

“You decided to look us up,” Woody said mockingly.

Tyler spoke. “You say you have no legal proof of who you are.”

“Legal? I…I suppose not. I didn’t even think about that.
But there are things I couldn’t possibly know about unless I had heard them from my mother.”

“For example?” Marc said.

She stopped to think. “I remember my mother used to talk about a greenhouse in back. She loved plants and flowers, and she would spend hours there…”

Woody spoke up. “Photographs of that greenhouse were in a lot of magazines.”

“What else did your mother tell you?” Tyler asked.

“Oh, there were so many things! She loved to talk about all of you and the good times you used to have.” She thought for a moment. “There was the day she took you on the swan boats when you were very young. One of you almost fell overboard. I don’t remember which one.”

Woody and Kendall looked over at Tyler.

“I was the one,” he said.

“She took you shopping at Filene’s. One of you got lost, and everyone was in a panic.”

Kendall said slowly, “I got lost that day.”

“Yes? What else?” Tyler asked.

“She took you to the Union Oyster House and you tasted your first oyster and got sick.”

“I remember that.”

They stared at each other, silent.

She looked at Woody. “You and Mother went to the Charlestown Navy Yard to see the USS
Constitution
, and you wouldn’t leave. She had to drag you away.” She turned to Kendall. “And in the Public Garden one day, you picked some flowers and were almost arrested.”

Kendall swallowed. “That’s right.”

They were all listening to her intently now, fascinated.

“One day, Mother took all of you to the natural history museum, and you were terrified of the mastadon and sea serpent skeletons.”

Kendall said slowly, “None of us slept that night.”

Julia turned to Woody. “One Christmas, she took you skating. You fell down and broke a tooth. When you were seven years old, you fell out of a tree and had to have your leg stitched up. You had a scar.”

Woody said reluctantly, “I still do.”

She turned to the others. “One of you was bitten by a dog. I forgot which one. My mother rushed you to the emergency room at Massachusetts General.”

Tyler nodded. “I had to have shots against rabies.”

Her words were coming out in a torrent now. “Woody, when you were eight years old, you ran away. You were going to Hollywood to become an actor. Our father was furious with you. He made you go to your room without dinner. Mother sneaked some food up to your room.”

Woody nodded, silent.

“I…I don’t know what else I can tell you. I…” She suddenly remembered something. “I have a photograph in my purse.” She opened her purse and took it out. She handed the picture to Kendall.

They all gathered around to look at it. It was a picture of the three of them when they were children, standing next to an attractive young woman in a governess’s uniform.

“Mother gave me that.”

Tyler asked, “Did she leave you anything else?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. She didn’t want anything
around that reminded her of Harry Stanford.”

“Except you, of course,” Woody said.

She turned to him, defiantly. “I don’t care whether you believe me or not. You don’t understand…I…I was so hoping—” She broke off.

Tyler spoke. “As my sister said, your sudden appearance is rather a shock for us. I mean…someone appearing out of nowhere and claiming to be a member of the family…you can see our problem. I think we need a little time to discuss this.”

“Of course, I understand.”

“Where are you staying?”

“At the Tremont House.”

“Why don’t you go back there? We’ll have a car take you. And we’ll be in touch shortly.”

She nodded. “All right.” She looked at each of them for a moment, and then said softly, “No matter what you think, you’re my family.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Kendall said.

She smiled. “That’s all right. I can find my own way. I feel as if I know every inch of this house.”

They watched her turn and walk out of the room.

Kendall said, “Well! It…it looks as though we have a sister.”

“I don’t believe it,” Woody retorted.

“It seems to me…,” Marc began.

They were all talking at once. Tyler raised a hand. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Let’s look at this logically. In a sense, this person is on trial here and we’re her jurors. It’s up to us to determine her innocence or guilt. In a jury trial,
the decision must be unanimous. We must all agree.”

Woody nodded. “Right.”

Tyler said, “Then I would like to cast the first vote. I think the lady is a fraud.”

“A fraud? How can she be?” Kendall demanded. “She couldn’t possibly know all those intimate details about us if she weren’t real.”

Tyler turned to her. “Kendall, how many servants worked in this house when we were children?”

Kendall looked at him, puzzled. “Why?”

“Dozens, right? And some of them would have known everything this young lady told us. Over the years, there have been maids, chauffeurs, butlers, chefs. Any one of them could have given her that photograph as well.”

“You mean…she could be in league with someone?”

“One or more,” Tyler said. “Let’s not forget that there’s an enormous amount of money involved.”

“She says she doesn’t want the money.” Marc reminded them.

Woody nodded. “Sure, that’s what she
says.”
He looked at Tyler. “But how do we prove she’s a fake? There’s no way that—”

“There
is
a way,” Tyler said thoughtfully.

They all turned to him.

“How?” Marc asked.

“I’ll have the answer for you tomorrow.”

Simon Fitzgerald said slowly, “Are you saying that Julia Stanford has appeared after all these years?”

“A woman who
claims
she’s Julia Stanford has appeared.” Tyler corrected him.

“And you don’t believe her?” Steve asked.

“Absolutely not. The only so-called proofs of her identity that she offered were some incidents from our childhood that at least a dozen former employees could have been aware of and an old photograph that really doesn’t prove a thing. She could be in league with any one of them. I intend to prove she’s a fraud.”

Steve frowned. “How do you propose to do that?”

“It’s very simple. I want a DNA test done.”

Steve Sloane was surprised. “That would mean exhuming your father’s body.”

“Yes.” Tyler turned to Simon Fitzgerald. “Will that be a problem?”

“Under the circumstances, I could probably obtain an exhumation order. Has she agreed to this test?”

“I haven’t asked her yet. If she refuses, it’s an affirmation that she’s afraid of the results.” He hesitated. “I have to confess that I don’t like doing this. But I think it’s the only way we can determine the truth.”

Fitzgerald was thoughtful for a moment. “Very well.” He turned to Steve. “Will you handle this?”

“Of course.” He looked at Tyler. “You’re probably familiar with the procedure. The next of kin—in this case, any of the deceased’s children—has to apply to the coroner’s office for an exhumation permit. You’ll have to tell them the reason for the request. If it’s approved, the coroner’s office will contact the funeral home and give them permission to go ahead. Someone from the coroner’s office has to be present at the exhumation.”

“How long will this take?” Tyler asked.

“I’d say three or four days to get an approval. Today is Wednesday. We should be able to exhume the body on Monday.”

“Good.” Tyler hesitated. “We’re going to need a DNA expert, someone who will be convincing in a courtroom, if it ever goes that far. I was hoping you might know someone.”

Steve said, “I know just the man. His name is Perry Winger. He’s here in Boston. He’s given expert testimony in trials all over the country. I’ll call him.”

“I’d appreciate it. The sooner we get this over with, the better it will be for all of us.”

At ten o’clock the following morning, Tyler walked into the Rose Hill library, where Woody, Peggy, Kendall, and Marc were waiting. At Tyler’s side was a stranger.

“I want you to meet Perry Winger,” Tyler said.

“Who is he?” Woody asked.

“He’s our DNA expert.”

Kendall looked at Tyler. “What in the world do we need a DNA expert for?”

Tyler said, “To prove that this stranger, who so conveniently appeared out of nowhere, is an imposter. I have no intention of letting her get away with this.”

“You’re going to dig the old man up?” Woody asked.

“That’s right. I have our attorneys working on the exhumation order now. If the woman is our half sister, the DNA will prove it. If she’s not, it will prove that, too.”

Marc said, “I’m afraid I don’t understand about this DNA.”

Perry Winger cleared his throat. “Simply put, deoxyribonucleic acid—or DNA—is the molecule of heredity. It contains each individual’s unique genetic code. It can be extracted from traces of blood, semen, saliva, hair roots, and even bone. Traces of it can last in a corpse for more than fifty years.”

“I see. So it is really quite simple,” Marc said.

Perry Winger frowned. “Believe me, it is not. There are two types of DNA testing. A PCR test, which takes three days to get results, and the more complex RFLP test, which takes six to eight weeks. For our purposes, the simpler test will be sufficient.”

“How do you do the test?” Kendall asked.

“There are several steps. First, the sample is collected and the DNA is cut into fragments. The fragments are sorted by length by placing them on a bed of gel and applying an electric current. The DNA, which is negatively charged, moves toward the positive and, several hours later, the fragments have arranged themselves by length.” He was just getting warmed up. “Alkaline chemicals are used to split the DNA fragments apart, then the fragments are transferred to a nylon sheet, which is immersed in a bath, and radioactive probes—”

The eyes of his listeners were beginning to glaze over.

“How accurate is this test?” Woody interrupted.

“It’s one hundred percent accurate in determining if the man is
not
the father. If the test is positive, it’s ninety-nine point nine percent accurate.”

Woody turned to his brother. “Tyler, you’re a judge. Let’s say for the sake of argument that she really is Harry Stanford’s child. Her mother and our father were never married. Why should she be entitled to anything?”

“Under the law,” Tyler explained, “if our father’s paternity is established, she would be entitled to an equal share with the rest of us.”

“Then I say let’s go ahead with the damned DNA test and expose her!”

Tyler, Woody, Kendall, Marc, and Julia were seated at a table in the dining-room restaurant at the Tremont House.

Peggy remained behind at Rose Hill. “All this talk about digging up a body gives me the creeps,” she had said.

Now the group was facing the woman claiming to be Julia Stanford.

“I don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.”

“It’s really very simple,” Tyler informed her. “A doctor will take a skin sample from you to compare with our father’s. If the DNA molecules match, it’s positive proof that you’re really his daughter. On the other hand, if you’re not willing to take the test…”

“I…I don’t like it.”

Woody closed in. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.” She shuddered. “The idea of digging up my father’s body to…to…”

“To prove who you are.”

She looked into each of their faces. “I wish all of you would—”

“Yes?”

“There’s no way I can convince you, is there?”

“Yes,” Tyler said. “Agree to take this test.”

There was a long silence.

“All right. I’ll do it.”

The exhumation order had been more difficult to obtain than anyone had anticipated. Simon Fitzgerald had spoken to the coroner personally.

“No! For God’s sake, Simon! I can’t do that! Do you know what a stink that would cause? I mean, we aren’t dealing with John Doe here; we’re dealing with Harry Stanford. If this ever leaked out, the media would have a field day!”

“Marvin, this is important. Millions of dollars are at stake here. So you make sure it doesn’t leak out.”