tied their experts in knots.
Not once did Butler think to ask Polly if she knew anything about Nelson’s last work in progress. The meeting was all about himself and his efforts, lame as they were. Driving away, Bruce and Polly were convinced that the state had all but closed the file. Butler and his “team” probably considered Nelson’s death an accident because they had no chance of solving a crime.
Bruce said, “I have a summary of the novel.”
“From Mercer Mann?”
“Yes.”
“She sent the thumb drive back. Let’s hear it.”
8.
They had lunch at the Blue Fish, Bruce’s favorite seafood place in Jacksonville, and they arrived early enough to get a table in a quiet corner. The waitress brought Polly an herbal tea. For Bruce, a glass of sauvignon blanc. He ordered the crab salad and she asked for some raw tuna dish.
She said, “The initial appraisal of his condo is nine hundred thousand, and there’s no mortgage. I’m inclined to sell it because I don’t have time to play landlord.”
“I agree. But it might take a year or so for the market to rebound.”
“No other real estate. There is eight hundred thousand in cash—CD’s, Treasurys, a checking account. In Nelson’s will he leaves behind a hundred thousand in trust to each of my sons, his only nephews. That was a nice surprise because he never told me.”
“Who gets the rest?”
“Me, Mom, Dad, split three ways. And since the estate is under three million we shouldn’t worry about estate taxes. However, there is one complicating factor, an issue that may cause problems. Nothing with Nelson was ever easy.”
“He buried some money?”
“How’d you know?”
“It’s a common theme in his books. Someone is always funneling money through offshore accounts. In real life he was a lawyer who understood international trade. I’m not surprised. Did he hide it from his ex?”
“Apparently. When he got the reward for blowing the whistle, he bought a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of stock in a new tech venture in Silicon Valley, but he did it through a shell company in Singapore. His wife and her lawyers never found it.”
“How’d you find it?”
“Two years ago he whispered to our father. I’ve reviewed his divorce papers and the stock was never mentioned.”
“What’s it worth?”
“Eight million.”
“Nice investment.”
“Brilliant. Now what do we do with it?”
“You need a lawyer.”
“I’ve hired a firm here in Jacksonville. My lawyer thinks we’ll have to deal with the ex-wife. A really unpleasant person. She’s already divorced number two and is living with number three.”
“But there’ll be a lot left over, right?”
“All of it. It’s tax-free under current law.”
“Congratulations.”
“I suppose,” she said softly as their plates arrived.
Bruce said, “I’m sorry. That was crude. There’s nothing to celebrate here.”
She smiled and glanced away. Ignoring the tuna, she sipped her tea and said, “It doesn’t seem fair. The money was invested eleven years ago and Sally, the ex, had nothing to do with the transaction. She never knew about it. Nelson was smart enough to pick the right stock and to keep it away from her. Otherwise, she would have blown through it. She got more cash and assets in the divorce than he did, and now I’m supposed to contact this dreadful woman and inform her that she gets a few more million.”
“I wouldn’t do it,” Bruce said with certainty. “I’d leave the stock right where it is and not say a word. Probate the estate, close the estate, let the clock tick away.”
“You’re serious?”
“Dead. I know a little about offshore banking.”
“I’m all ears.”
A long pull on the sauvignon blanc. A glance around the empty dining room. “Well, you see,