Hit List (Stone Barrington #53)(58)

“Up to a point which we have not yet reached.”

“All right, the firm name is Woodman & Weld.” Gunderson kindly spelled it for him, which he didn’t need, since he was a member of that firm. “And the name is Herbert Fisher, Esq., which I take to mean Esquire. I thought that reference was for gentlemen, not New York lawyers.” He gave Stone his own office number.

“It takes all kinds to make a firm of New York lawyers, Mr. Gunderson,” Stone said. “Now, if you will give me an hour or so, I’ll see what I can learn about this transaction.”

“Jah, I can do that, I guess. But after an hour, my mind is going to start taking a suspicious view of things again. I’ll speak to you in an hour.”

“Or so,” Stone said. “Mr. Fisher could be occupied with a client.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I don’t control the actions or meeting times of other attorneys, Mr. Gunderson. It’ll be ‘or so,’ and it’s still gratis.”

“Jah,” Gunderson said, emphatically. “I’ll count on that.”

“Start counting, Mr. Gunderson,” Stone said, then hung up. He buzzed Joan. “Get me Herbie,” he said, “and kindly produce him on the line in less than an hour and a quarter.”

“Oookay,” Joan said slowly. “Is it okay if it’s faster than that?”

“Jah,” Stone said, and hung up.



* * *



—

An hour and four minutes had passed before Joan buzzed him and handed him Herbie on the line.

“How are you, Stone?” Herbert Fisher was a protégé of Stone’s, in a manner of speaking, who had formerly been a sly shyster of an attorney with a dubious claim to membership in the bar. Under Stone’s tutelage, he had transformed himself into a graduate of New York University Law School, passed the bar, and gone to work for Woodman & Weld, where he was recently elected partner.

“Herb,” Stone said, since the young man had developed an aversion to Herbie. “What do you know about the last will and testament of one Frances— Oh, I forget her last name.”

“I believe I know of whom you speak,” Herbie said. “New York Hospital sent me her file, which contained a proper will.”

“Do you know what the estate was worth?”

“No, I haven’t got around to that.”

“Well, it turns out to be something north of eight hundred thousand dollars,” Stone said.

“Oh, good, then we’ll get paid.”

“That’s exactly what a Mr. Gunderson of the First Plains Bank & Trust Company would have said you’d say.”

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Herbie replied.

“Well, you’re about to,” Stone said. “When he calls, he’ll explain himself in slightly accented English, or perhaps, Swedish: one of those. Careful, it’s catching.”

“Okay.”

“Something else, Herb.”

“What?”

“It’s very likely that you’ll get a call soon, from someone who will represent himself as being the rightful heir to Frances’s fortune.”

“Oh, yeah,” Herbie said. “He just called.”

“Well, I believe you just spoke to Sig Larkin, the hit man in the hit-list controversy. Did you get his particulars?”

“He said he was away from his computer, so I e-mailed him a form at a computer shop in midtown which will take him an hour or so to fill out, and I told him we’d go on from there.”

“You done good, Herbie,” Stone said. “I’ll call you back. Oh, and don’t send him any money. Stall.”

“I’m good at that. I’m a New York lawyer.”

Stone hung up and called Gunderson.

“Jah, this is Nihls Gunderson.”

“And this is Stone Barrington, back to you in slightly more than an hour or so.”

“Jah, good.”

“I’ve spoken to Mr. Fisher on your behalf, and he is ready to take your call. Please leave the matter entirely in his hands, and don’t call back the other man who called you about the money.”

“How did you know about that call, Mr. Barrington?”

“We New York lawyers have a secret means of communication called the telephone,” Stone replied. “Oh, I should tell you that his firm, Woodman & Weld, is highly thought of on this side of the Continental Divide, and so is Mr. Herbert Fisher. Kindly treat him accordingly.”

“Jah, I’ll do that. I looked her up, and I see that you’re one of her senior partners, so I guess I started in the right place.”

“I guess you did, Mr. Gunderson. Look up before you leap, is always a good policy.”

“Jah, I expect so.”

“And if, by any chance, someone turns up at your office, inquiring about Frances’s funds, leave the room to check on something, and call the police. That man will be a cold-blooded killer, and you should have no truck with him.”

“I tink that’s good advice,” Gunderson said.

“Auf wiedersehen.” Stone hung up. He hoped the man wasn’t Swedish.





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