AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well, I can’t confront the kid with missing court appearances, because there weren’t any?”
“You’re very quick. That’s about all there is to tell about Junior. You want to hear about the rest of the family?”
Lunch came and was served. “Okay,” Stone said, around a chunk of Dover sole.
“Eddie Sr., in addition to running his hedge fund, was banking three or four loan sharks.”
“Well, that’s a cash-rich business, if you can hide the proceeds.”
“The loan sharks were wiring Eddie’s share of the vigorish straight into a Caymans bank account. He also kept a large safety-deposit box at a bank near his office where bundles of the green stuff were stowed, until Eddie or Annetta, as she likes to be called now, could think of something to spend it on.”
“My goodness!”
“Wait until I tell you about his wife, or Apple Annie, as she was known in the bordello where she spent a few years in a bedroom. Then she met Eddie.”
“He was a customer?”
“Her best regular. She apparently had a peculiar talent for satisfying his particular needs. With Eddie’s assistance, she moved up to management.”
“Holy shit! The society grande dame!”
“She never went near the premises. She confined herself to hiring and firing and the books—plus making regular trips to the safety-deposit box.”
“And what happened to all this when Eddie Sr. fell off the perch?”
“She was in complete control of everything, and she kept it all. Probate was unnecessary.”
“How much?”
“Nobody knows for sure, but a survey of his, later her, assets suggests tens of millions annually, and even after the big spending, better than a hundred mil stashed away.”
“I think I’ll have some dessert, while I try to digest this,” Stone said.
NINE
Stone got back to his office and put the file folders on the Charleses into his safe.
Joan came in. “So, now do you know everything there is to know about my family?”
“The files are in my safe. If you know everything, it won’t hurt you to read them, but if you know nothing, my advice is to let them lie.”
“Aunt Annetta just called. She wants you to come and see her.”
“When does she want me to come?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
“Okay, alert Fred.”
“He’s waiting in the garage.”
“All right,” he said, getting back into his jacket. “I’ll be back when I’m back.”
“Nicely put.”
—
Stone got out of the car a door or two off Fifth Avenue in the Sixties. It was not an apartment building but a house. Stone rang the bell, and a moment later, a uniformed butler let him into a large, marbled foyer. “Good afternoon, Mr. Barrington. You are expected. Elevator or stairs?”
