There was an Old Woman (24 page)

“Well, well, well,” he repeated. I grinned at him, pretending I knew what the joke was. After all, was it so unusual that I should come up his stairs? Or maybe the world was a little distorted when glimpsed through the bottom of so many bottles.

“Mr. McLay,” I said. “I mean Rupe. You're working late.” McLay looked at his glass, then back at me and decided not to comment. He opened the door leading into his private office and I followed.

“What may I do for you? Take a pew.” We both sat down, he on the other side of a mound of paper that hid the wood of his desk completely, and me in a worn wooden chair that had the look of belonging to a different office suite than this one.

“You were Thurleigh Ramsden's lawyer,” I said. I didn't ask; it saves time.

“One of them. He used Newby for the good stuff.”

“I know. I was just over there. Place is being babysat by young Newby and Morella's girl, Claudia.”

“They're both bright enough. In fact she's the better lawyer of the two. Top of her class.”

“Interesting. I'll remember that.”

“What's this about, Cooperman? You didn't come here to chat.”

“I want to see Ramsden's will, if you'll let me see it.”

“Ha! Anything else?”

“You drew up Lizzy Oldridge's will for Ramsden too. I'd like to see what's in that as well.”

“You don't want much. How about my backside? Would you like a peek at that too while you're at it?”

“Look, Mr. McLay, I'm just working at my job. If you show me, fine. If you don't, I'll try something else. But save the party talk for the people in the paper hats, okay? Neither of us likes to waste time, I'm sure.”

“How the hell would you know? I like to waste time. Hell, it's the only flicking thing I'm any good at. In the inner sanctums of the legal circles of Grantham, Cooperman—what the hell's your name again?—I'm famous for non-productivity. Ben! No Benny. Yes, I remember you.”

“Can we do business or not?”

“Your ass going numb? Sit still, I'm thinking.”

“You know a fair amount about the Morellas,” I threw in, thinking of Claudia buttoning up her blouse around
the corner. “Sounds like a good place to start, if you want to stay away from Ramsden.”

“Watched her grow up, Benny. I knew her mother, we were good friends in high school. Then I nearly spoiled it all by trying to act for her in the divorce. That soured things for a couple of years. But I kept up with Claudia. She used to play lawyer when she was a little brat. I forget where I was in those days. I move around a lot.”

“I understand that Mrs. Morella took Steve to the cleaners in the split. What more could you have done for her? She want his liver and lights too?”

“Sue Ellen wanted what was going. She knew he was loaded, so we got a fair share.”

“Morella's a lot of people and companies. I understand you got a piece of everything he had. That must have taken a lot of research.”

“That's what I'm good at, Benny. I love the library.”

I knew enough about the law to know that nobody likes doing research. Research is only preferable to replacing pages in the monthly law report loose-leaf notebooks and going out to fetch coffee and sandwiches for the senior partners on a regular basis. “What about those wills, Mr. McLay?”

McLay moved his long hand over his chin, checking to see when he had last held a razor to his throat. It was hard to tell how drunk he was. Sometimes he seemed quite sober, and then he'd begin sharing his stream of semiconsciousness with me. I heard about him not liking his name, his father's women on the side, his sister's teasing
and the rat race in general. It didn't appear that there was one big tragedy in his life, just a lot of little ones. Unless he was avoiding it or saving it for dessert. He refilled his glass several times without inviting me to come into his magic sodden world. I figured I might get something useful if I could just sit still long enough.

“So you knew Sue Ellen Morella in high school. Was she older or younger than her sister, the one who married Ramsden?”

“Sue Ellen was two years older than Dora. Sue Ellen was the pretty one. Nice figure on her. Dora and I were on the debating team. She had a good head on her shoulders.”

“What has Sue Ellen done since the divorce?”

“There's a little wood at the end of Lido Beach in Sarasota, Florida. Lovely white sand on the Gulf. She bought a place there. Sends me postcards. Got a Christmas card too around here somewhere. She's a good friend.”

“Never remarried?”

“She says she has to fight off the suitors like Penelope in
The Odyssey.”

“You should pay her a visit.”

“And bring the arrows of destruction with me? I've thought of that, but I'm not a good-deed-doer. I drink her health once in a while when I remember.” He raised his glass and drank just in case I didn't catch what he meant. “But, you!” he said suddenly “What are we going to do about you?”

“In what way? I'm not anywhere near the Gulf Stream.”

“You want to know about Ramsden's will. Well, Benny, don't waste your time. His estate goes to three cousins he never met in the old country. They survive a sister, who died last year. His estate doesn't amount to much beyond the house, a registered retirement savings plan and a few good investment stocks. He wasn't a wealthy man. Did you think he was?”

“I didn't think he was on welfare. I don't know what I expected.”

“I'll bet you weren't expecting that he would inherit from Liz Oldridge?”

“I know that the Bede Bunch gets Liz's estate and that the Bede Bunch was founded by Ramsden.”

“But what you don't know is that the Guild of the Venerable Bede doesn't exist.”

“What!”

“That's right. The Bede Bunch has always been Ramsden's back pocket. It isn't a legal entity.”

“But don't they give away lots of money to worthy causes?”

“Don't you? Don't I when I've got it? There's no rule that says a private citizen can't endow a scholarship or pay plane fares. You may find out that the guild has given away less than it likes to think it has. Ramsden didn't keep books. There was no reason why he should. The Bunch was just another arm of his own activities. I'm sure that he had a bank account in the Bede name, but he
could add or subtract from what was there whenever he wanted to.”

“So, what you're saying is that Liz's money and property went directly to her sole executor? Why didn't that come out at the inquest?”

“Nobody was curious enough to ask. The old girls in the Bunch trusted Ramsden. He gave them a place to meet and hold a singsong every week or so. He told them what good deeds their money was doing and, to a great extent, he wasn't telling fibs.”

“But the Oldridge estate was a tidy sum of money with the potential of getting bigger.”

“I don't see any of the old girls sending for the Public Trustee.” That's the office that would make sure that Ramsden's right hand knew what his left hand was doing. The Public Trustee makes sure we all stay honest.

“How the hell did he think he could get away with it?”

“As long as the whole transaction was done in the name of the Guild, there would be no outcry. Don't forget that Thurleigh had an ally in Temperley, the bank manager. He could make Ramsden look whiter than white if he had to.”

“So,” I said, after letting this piece of news settle over me, “it all boils down to the fact that Ramsden's three cousins will inherit Liz's property and money.”

“They would have, except for a little clause in the Oldridge will which will stop her estate from plunging into his.” McLay lighted a fresh cigarette with an old-fashioned wooden match. “If Ramsden hadn't died so
quickly after Liz, he would have got the lot, through the Bede Bunch. But the will is quite clear: in the event of his death, the estate reverted to one of the other minor beneficiaries.”

I pulled out a pencil and a scrap of paper “Can you give me a name?” I asked. Rupe looked at me and smiled. It was friendlier than saying no. I began to backpedal to see what more I could learn.

“Wait a minute, if the estate was to go to the Bede Bunch, how could Ramsden's fate figure one way or the other?”

“Since I knew about Ramsden's relationship with the Bunch, I couldn't just put it in the will that way. Then nobody would inherit. The will clearly spells out Ramsden's relationship with the Bunch.”

“Then Oldridge knew?”

“Of course not! She was well past reading anything by the time the will was written. And Ramsden accepted my explanation.”

“So, the old woman never knew.”

“I went around to see her, to see if I could explain it, but it was well beyond her. She said she trusted me and patted my hand.”

“That's quite a compliment. I don't think she trusted many.”

“I had no idea Ramsden was not allowing her access to her safety deposit box. That was arranged with the bank. That son of a bitch Temperley! I had no part in that.”

“Why did you tell me this, Rupe?”

“No clients to protect any more. Better to serve the common good. You know. All that stuff. Sorry I bit your ear off when you came in. It's been a terrible day. The sun has not been seen. I've been invited to resign from the firm. I've only been here for ten months! Hell, Benny, look at this place! Damn it! Can you imagine that I'm not a credit to all
this?
I don't pinch asses and I don't bed the customers. Unlike some. I think the young, oh so young, Mr. Devlin has ideas of taking this weary partnership into fast water. I'm being chucked overboard to lighten the load.”

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“You're sorry? Last thing in the world I need is your—!”

“You said ‘Unlike some,' Rupe. Do you mean anyone in particular? This could be important.”

“Young Devlin last week going off to have lunch with the great Julian Newby! Ha! When do they unveil
that
public monument? Oh, he was plenty discreet about his affair with Dora Ramsden. Wouldn't want that model of public virtue, his wife, to find out. Wouldn't do for the head of the Independent Foundation of the Women of the Commonwealth to have a husband in the divorce court.”

“Who are you talking about? Newby or Devlin?”

“Joanne Newby is head of the IFWC, Benny; Tilly Devlin isn't up to much yet, but give her time. She's like her husband. Just give her time.”

“Does that mean there was bad blood between Ramsden and Newby? They still did business together.”

“Ramsden would have been the last to know. Head in red, white and blue clouds of past glory: that was Thurleigh Ramsden. No, he didn't know about them. Newby wouldn't allow that.”

“This Julian Newby is getting more and more complicated.”

“Julian has only one game. It's called control. He wants to manage everything. There can be no loose ends with Julian Newby. He never gives TV interviews, you know. You know why? The esteemed leader of the Grantham bar could not tolerate a situation where he isn't in charge of both the questions and the answers. That's why he stays away from the courtroom when he can; lets his partners do the criminal work and litigation. Newby stays close to business.”

“I see,” I said, maybe seeing about half of what he said.

“Newby takes Devlin to lunch. McLay gets his walking papers almost directly afterwards. Funny the way we all play into his hands.”

“I wish I could do something.”

“Like hell you do! Everybody suddenly wants to be Meals on Wheels for good old Rupe! I'll be damned if I seek your solicitude. Or anybody else's!” He had pulled himself up to his feet on his side of the mound of paper and teetered over it. A sudden gesture sent a score of documents to the floor.

“Rupe, I know some of the people who worry about you. I know who they are, I mean. I'd say you're damned lucky in your friends. Maybe luckier than you deserve.”

“You can give me this place without you in it, Cooperman!”

“And leave you to soak up more of your self-pity. You know, Rupe, if I were you I'd stay drunk. It beats trying to figure out what's going on in this crazy place. And it hands people like Newby a fine set of illustrations for what he's always saying about you.”

“Try the door and the stairs, Cooperman!”

“Sure, I'm on my way. And thanks, by the way. You've been a bigger help than most.”

“The door's that way! Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion!”

I got out of there as fast as I could as his grip around the neck of his bottle tightened.

TWENTY-SIX

I was about to open the door that would let me back out onto King Street, when I heard my name called in a voice that was close to breaking. I turned and was looking into the frightened face of Antonia Wishart. She was haggard and, as I said, frightened.

“Mr. Cooperman, may I talk to you for just a minute? You don't know me, but Rupe has mentioned you a few times. I've got to speak to somebody. I've never seen him so low. I'm scared for him.”

“Mrs. Wishart, you're not quite a stranger. Nobody is in a town this size. How can I help?”

“I can't reach him any more. I used to make a difference. I don't know what to say.” I took my hand from the door and turned towards her. Before I had put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she began to collapse into me. I grabbed her and held her close until the sobs that started racking her body began to subside. I heard myself saying: “There, there; there, there,” and rubbing her back because I couldn't think of anything less futile to do with her.

“My friends call me ‘Benny,' why don't you start there,” I said in my most reassuring voice. When she grew calmer and I'd stopped my massage of her vertebrae,
I pulled her out the door and into the coffee shop across the road next to the market.