Ghost on the Case (Bailey Ruth #8)(35)
“I know, sir.” It was no surprise that Sam Cobb had already gained this information. I hoped to skate past the obvious overlap. “This is simply a confirmation with a focus on beneficiaries currently in Adelaide. We are aware of course that the business and the greater portion of the estate will pass to Ben Fitch. Please give me an estimate of his inheritance.”
Obviously irritated, he gestured at a chair, took his place behind his desk. “As I told the officers earlier, Ben Fitch will have sole control of Fitch Enterprises, a privately held company, as well as approximately twenty-four limited liability companies, considerable real estate holdings in Oklahoma, Texas, and Montana, oil and gas leases in those states and several others, and a cattle ranch.”
“The estimated worth of Ben Fitch’s inheritance.”
George leaned back in his chair, looked expansive. “There are tax ramifications and the process of evaluations and appraisals and possibly some contested matters. I would not be comfortable enunciating a figure. There is much work to be done.”
I persisted. “Enunciate an estimate. Thirty million?”
He shook his head.
“Your turn.” I gave him a sweet smile.
That elicited a boom of laughter. “Wilbur and you would have got on like a house afire. He never minced words. I’ll act like Wilbur, not his lawyer. I think he’d approve. I won’t be surprised if the ultimate worth of the estate to Ben might be in excess of fifty million dollars.”
“What are the bequests to Adelaide residents?”
He raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Why are the police interested in bequests to local residents?”
I said carefully, “In a murder investigation, it’s important to establish who profits from a death.”
His broad face re-formed in an expression of surprise. He gave a sharp whistle. “Now you have my attention, Detective. This morning I had the clear impression that the investigation was centered on Susan Gilbert. I understood there was a matter of money missing from the safe though she’d offered it back. I don’t know how that worked out. The police gave me a receipt for Wilbur’s money box and two coin collections. I told Wilbur that box of money was going to get him in trouble, but he blew me off, said he didn’t know anybody big enough to wrestle it away from him. I was afraid somebody would hear about the money and hold him up. I guess that’s what happened. As for Susan, she receives a bequest of one hundred thousand dollars. Why do the other bequests matter?”
“This investigation is no longer centered on Ms. Gilbert. In fact”—I took pleasure in the announcement—“she has been very helpful to the police as a witness. The focus has shifted. The other bequests, please.”
He drummed the fingers of his right hand on his desk. “Hell of a deal. I was shocked to hear Susan was a suspect, but I figured the police had some evidence implicating her.” He stared at me.
My expression was bland. “As I said, the investigation now is wide open.”
His large face squeezed in thought. “Since Wilbur was killed in his study, do you figure he knew the person who killed him? But he knew a lot of people. Why are you focusing on those listed in his will? Maybe he’d made somebody mad. Maybe he threatened someone.”
“We are looking at everyone, including those who will benefit.”
He nodded. “Wilbur was generous. Even to his ex-wives. I ragged him about that. I wouldn’t give a dime to mine. But his exes don’t live here. Local beneficiaries are Harry Hubbard, five hundred thousand dollars; Minerva Lloyd, five hundred thousand; Todd Garrett, five hundred thousand; Susan Gilbert, one hundred thousand; and Juliet Rodriguez, one hundred thousand. Fifty thousand each to his butler, Carl Ross; housekeeper, Rosalind Millbrook; and cook, Marta Jones.”
The sums weren’t huge to a very wealthy man, but they surely amounted to a small fortune to the recipients. I glanced at an ornate bronze clock on a side table. A quarter after four. Wednesday was spinning past, as time always does when it is limited. I had less than forty-eight hours to find a murderer and forestall Susan’s arrest. I was glad I didn’t need to add the butler, cook, and housekeeper to my list of suspects. They could scarcely be aware of Susan’s sister, Sylvie, much less know that Susan could open Wilbur’s safe.
“That covers the bequests.” He gestured at the stack of folders on his desk. “If that’s all you need, I’ll get back to work.”
I rose. “Thank you for your assistance. I imagine the estate will consume most of your time now.”
“Yes. I’m honored that Wilbur entrusted the matter to me.” He exuded satisfaction.
“What is your hourly rate?” From my contact with a law firm on a previous mission to Adelaide, I now understood that lawyers usually bill for time spent on a project.
“Three hundred dollars an hour. Five hundred for exceptionally complicated matters.”
I expected settling the Fitch estate would make that category. “How long do you think it will take?”
“That depends upon many factors.”
“Will you make five hundred thousand dollars in fees?”
“Perhaps.” There was arrogance in his gaze. He knew a police salary was modest. “I’m good at what I do. Ben Fitch will be pleased. I’m confident he and I will be working together for a long time after the estate is settled.”