I’m pleased. She may be telling me a little more than what I wouldhave been able to find out from the public records in the Bahamas.
“Who dreamed this up?”
“Who do you think?”
“You?”
“I had a little help from Chuckles.”
It fits.
“So it’s Chuckles who set up this elaborate charade.”
She says in a businesslike tone, “It’s all perfectly legal, Mike.”
“So it is.” In this case, the word “legal” is spelled SLEAZY.
She confirms that Chuckles holds the title of trust protector, andFirst Bank is the trustee.
“First Bank won’t do anything without instructions from Chuckles,” shesays.
“He gets a fee for his trouble. He got permission from X-Com to managethe offshore trusts on his own time. The firm decided it didn’t wantto have the fiduciary liability for managing somebody else’s money.”
“How big is his fee?”
“I bet he gets at least half a million bucks a year just from Bob’strust.”
Jesus.
“What does he have to do to earn his fee?”
“Not much.”
“What does it take to get money out of one of the trusts?”
“A signature from Chuckles, or, in the case of Bob’s trust, a signaturefrom Bob. Or, in the case of Vince’s trust, a signature from Vince.”
“So Vince could take money out on his own?”
“Sure. All he needs is a fax machine. He’s moved money in and out ofthe trust all the time.”
“So if Russo is alive, he could get money out just by faxinginstructions to First Bank?”
“That’s right. Except, of course, for the fact that Russo appears tobe terminally dead.”
“So it would seem.” Unless he’s still alive.
“Who gets the income from the trusts while Bob and Vince are alive?”
“It’s distributed among a group of people who are called incomebeneficiaries.”
“Do you know who they are?”
“Nope. It’s a secret. The names of the income beneficiaries arelisted in separate, confidential documents. Chuckles never let me seethem.”
“What happens to the trusts when Vince and Bob die?”
“The assets are sold and the proceeds are distributed to a differentgroup of people called the remainder men She pauses.
“Before you ask, I don’t know the names of the remainder men either. Itwas the best-kept secret in the Western Hemisphere.”
That figures.
“What happens to the fees paid to Chuckles when they die?”
“They stop.” She thinks for a moment.
“He can’t prevent the trusts from liquidating. But he can probablyslow down the process for years. If he does, he can collect his feesfor a few more years.”
Chuckles wouldn’t have had any incentive to kill Bob if his deathtriggered the liquidation of his trust.
“Do you know if Bob was planning any changes in his trust?”
“I think so. A few weeks before he died, he asked me to prepare a listof the steps to amend his trust. He didn’t tell me what he had inmind, but I suspect he was considering the possibility of changing theincome beneficiaries and the remainder men
“That would make sense if Beth was an income beneficiary or aremainderman.”
“Could be. He was also talking about changing the deal with Chuckles.He always complained that Chuckles made too much money in adminfees.”
Interesting.
“What about his will? Was Bob making any changes there?”
“I know he talked to Chuckles about it.”
This is showing some promise.
“Did he ever get around to amending his will or his trust?”
“Not that I know of. My guess is he died before anything couldhappen.”
So close. Still, if we can figure out who gets the money from Bob’strust, we may be able to figure out who had motive to kill Bob. Unless,of course, he killed himself.
Later the same afternoon, Joel, Mort, Rosie, Pete and I meet in RabbiFriedman’s dining room. I’ve brought Wendy.
“I’d like to introduce you to the final member of our team,” I say.
“Wendy Hogan is taking a permanent leave of absence from S and G.”
Wendy smiles uncomfortably.
“That’s Mike’s way of saying I’ve been downsized, and I need somethingto help me pay the bills.”
“Welcome to the Dream Team, young lady,” Mort says.
“I’m Mort Goldberg.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“It’s all true,” he replies.
I explain that she isn’t going to be of record on the case and she’snot going to be employed by our firm.
“For now,” I say, “she’ll be a consultant. Just like you, Mort.”
He gives me a sideways look.
“Wendy is familiar with Bob’s will and his investments,” I say.
“I’ve asked her to work with Pete to help figure out how Bob’s moneygets divided up.”
Wendy smiles at Pete.
“Hi,” she says to him.
“I think I may be able to enlighten you about the InternationalCharitable Trust.”
Pete says, “Sounds good to me,” but he’s uncomfortable. He likes towork alone.
“Wendy,” I say, “I have another special task for you. You’re a taxlawyer.
You’re good at money. I want you to figure out everything about thefirm’s finances and Bob’s finances. I have a hunch we’ll find someanswers. Moreover, you’ll get to see why you’d never want to be apartner at a firm like S and G.”
“I’ll get right on it,” she says.
“Mort, maybe you can help me subpoena some of the firm’s financialrecords?”
Mort beams.
“I’d love to, honey.”
I’m going to have to remind him not to call her “honey.”
“You sure you know what you’re doing with Wendy?” Rosie asks as westand on her back porch the same evening.
“Yeah. She’s real smart.” I pause.
“I’d like to help her out. She’s a good lawyer.”
“She’s a tax lawyer, Mike.” She says it in the condescending tone thattrial lawyers reserve for transactional attorneys.
“I know. But she’s tenacious. I think she’ll help.”
She smiles.
“You like her, don’t you?”
I smile back.
“Is it that obvious?” I’ve had a crush on Wendy for five years.
“Yes.” She adds, “And she’s pretty.”
“That, too.” I drink my beer.
“You aren’t jealous, are you?”
She shrugs.
“Don’t let it color your judgment. Keep it professional. You’rerunning a law practice, not a counseling center.”
She’s right, of course.
“I wouldn’t have brought her in if I didn’t think she could help us.”
Her eyes glow in the moonlight.
“I’m going to remember you said that. And she’d better keep her handsoff my sex slave.”
CHAPTER 26
HUTCH
“Syc-o-phant noun One who attempts to win favor or advance himself byflattering persons of influence; a servile self-seeker; a toady.”
—world dictionary OF THE english language.
The next morning, I’m back at the S and G offices. Anyone who believessubstance will ultimately triumph over style hasn’t met BrentHutchinson. His entire career is an ongoing charade of teeth, blondhair and good looks. So far, he’s been wildly successful. His officeoverlooking Alcatraz Island and the Marin Headlands is furnished withan antique roll-top desk and two antique chairs. A small oriental ruggraces the middle of his floor. He has his own collection of Currierand Ives lithographs. A picture of his cheerleader wife, Barbi, smilesat him from his spotless desk. Life is good in Hutchworld.
“So, big guy,” he says, “how’s the new firm working out?” To Hutch,everyone is a “big guy.”
“So far, so good. I seem to have stumbled onto a big murder case.”
“I know. Cool.”
Someday, a team of graduate students will do a dissertation on Hutchcalled “The Mind of the Sycophant.” It will take up many volumes.
“Hutch, I came to ask you for your help.”
“Anything. I always try to help out my friends.”
I wasn’t aware that we were friends.
“I understand from Charles Stern that you’ve been appointed the czar ofthe firm’s insurance policies.”
He throws his head back like Burt Lancaster.
“Insurance czar. I like that.” He laughs too loudly.
“It’s true. I’m the chairman of our risk-management committee. I getto deal with all our insurance issues.” He winks.
“It’s real exciting, Mike.”
I wink back.
“I’ll bet.” The potential exposure for malpractice claims at a firmlike S&G is hundreds of millions of dollars. Why they’ve put a moronlike Hutch at the head of the professional liability team is beyond mycomprehension.
“I’m trying to sort out all of the life insurance policies on Bob. Idon’t expect to find anything very interesting, but I thought I shouldtalk to you. Does the firm carry any key-man insurance on thepartners?” It’s the first rule of crossexamination—never ask aquestion unless you know the answer.
“As a matter of fact, we do. You know, there was a memo on this sentout to the partners toward the end of last year.”
“I must have missed it.” Or tossed it.
“Well,” he says, “we carry life insurance on all the partners. On guyslike us, we don’t carry much. I think the minimum’s about twenty-fivethousand. We carry a lot more on the heavy hitters like Bob and Art.”He gives me the Cheshire cat grin.
“How much?” I ask.
“In a couple of cases, over a million bucks.”
“Do you know how much you’re carrying on Bob?”
The grin disappears.
“You know, Mike, now that you don’t work here anymore, I’m really notsupposed to talk about this stuff with you.”
“But I’m still on the line for the firm’s debts that were incurredwhile I was a partner. If you’re going to collect a big piece ofchange on the key man insurance, I have the right to know about it.”I’m amiable when I add, “If you’d prefer, I can come back with asubpoena.” You pretentious little jerk.
His phony smile returns.
“Let’s not get excited. We’re carrying two and a half million dollarson Bob.”
Good. It confirms what Chuckles told me.
“Thanks, Hutch.” That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?
“Charles said you’re looking into changing the firm’s carrier.”
“That’s true. We got some of the first policies in place right beforethe end of the year.”
Really? I got the impression from Charles that Hutch was juststarting the process.
“Did the firm take out any additional life insurance on thepartners?”
“Yes. We were trying to bump up the policy levels for some of the morejunior people. I know I got bumped up from twenty-five thousand to ahalf a million.”
That’s because you’re worth so much.
“Was the policy on Bob bumped up?”
“I don’t recall. I can find out.”
“Actually, Hutch, if you’d give me the name of the insurance agent, Ican give him a call.”
“It’s no problem, Mike. I can find out.” Affability reigns.
“I don’t want to take any more of your valuable time, Hutch. Really,it’s no big deal.”
He concedes.
“His name is Perry Guilford. I’ll have my secretary get you thenumber.”
“Hutch,” I say a few minutes later, “Skipper was kind enough to show mesome of your cinematographic work from the firm retreat last year.”
He’s pleased with himself.
“I thought it turned out pretty well.”
Right.
“You know, there was some pretty inflammatory stuff in there.”
There’s a pause.
“You know how it gets at the retreat.”
“Yes, I do.” It doesn’t mean you have to stick your goddamned camerain everybody’s face.
“Hutch, the judge asked me whether there’s an unedited version of thetape. You know—without all the music from L.A. Law. Any chance yousaved the original?”
He’s unhappy. He probably thinks I’m trying to compromise his artisticintegrity.
“I don’t have the original. We used it to make the over dubbedversion. Our methods are pretty rudimentary.”
I’ll say. The special-effects wizards at Industrial Light and Magicwon’t be real worried.
“Did you give Skipper everything you had?”
His eyes get large.
“Yeah.”
“What else was on the tape?”
“Nothing much. I really don’t remember.” He isn’t looking at me.
Bullshit.
“Who else saw the tapes?”
“Chuckles and Art.”
What a surprise.
“Did they tell you to destroy part of the tape?”
“No,” he says.
He’s lying.
“What else was on the tape, Hutch?”
“I don’t remember” “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Now,tell me what was on the tapes.”
No way. He purses his full lips.
“I don’t remember, big guy” Sure.
CHAPTER 27
“If you’d like to speak to Dr. Kathy Chandler, call 1-800-GET-HELP.”
—KTLK TALK RADIO. friday, february 20.
Dr. Kathy Chandler fancies herself the Bay Area’s very own Dr. FrasierCrane.
Of course, Dr. Frasier Crane has an imaginary degree from Harvard. Dr.Kathy Chandler, on the other hand, has an honorary doctorate in familycounseling from Southwestern Texas City College and an honorary degreefrom the Great Pacific School of Broadcasting. More importantly, Dr.Frasier Crane only talks to imaginary patients. Dr. Kathy Chandler,unfortunately, talks to real people.
Every weeknight from seven until ten, she dispenses bubblegumpsychology on the live one, KTLK Talk Radio.
I must confess that her show is mildly entertaining. I listen to itsometimes on my way home from work. I think I’ll appreciate it more ifand when I get the lobotomy I keep promising myself.
Like many radio talk-show hosts, she’s always known as Dr. KathyChandler.
She’s never simply Dr. Chandler—or, God forbid. Dr. Kathy. And shealways refers to herself on the air in the third person, kind of likeballplayers and politicians do.
“Dr. Kathy Chandler says to break up with your boyfriend,” or “Dr.Kathy Chandler says your husband’s no good,” or “Dr. Kathy Chandlersays your sex life could be a lot better.” Makes you want to puke.
At three-thirty the same afternoon, I make the pilgrimage across theGolden Gate Bridge to the picture-postcard town of Mill Valley, whereDr. Kathy Chandler maintains her office in a turn-of-the-centurybuilding across the town square from the old train depot, which haslong since been turned into a trendy bookstore and cafe. When I calledto make an appointment, Dr. Kathy Chandler’s receptionist told me shewasn’t taking new patients. When I explained I was a lawyerrepresenting Joel Friedman, I was put on hold for only a moment beforethe sickly-sweet voice of Dr. Kathy Chandler found its way onto thephone and promised me an appointment. Ah, the smell of freepublicity.
Dr. Kathy Chandler’s second-floor office is decorated in earth tones,with gray-beige furniture, light-wood end tables and two large ferns.Her receptionist looks as if she’s been through at least a dozentwelve-step programs. There are self-help magazines on the end tablesand a large poster of Dr. Kathy Chandler on the wall, along with theKTLK radio logo. As I stare at it, I realize it’s the same poster thatappears on the side of Muni buses in the city. Dr. Kathy Chandler’soffice is considerably different from the office of the shrink Rosieand I went to see in our abortive attempts at marriage counseling.Chuck was a terrific guy, but I sort of lost faith in him when I foundout he was a fifty-five-year-old bachelor. Somehow, I figured nomatter what he’d read in all the textbooks, he couldn’t quite relate.He tried very hard to get us to see what he kept calling the bigpicture. He never realized he was dealing with little-picturepeople.