The Good Twin(38)

It had taken Ben three days to get together the cash needed for both Clark and Mullin, but he now had it tucked safely away in his briefcase. He hadn’t wanted to make a large withdrawal, one that would be reported to the IRS, so he’d needed to move some accounts around and then withdraw just under $10,000 from each. He left work and headed over to Mail Connections. It wasn’t just mailboxes—the place shipped letters and packages all over the world. The mailboxes were in the back, far from the counter where the staff worked and free from prying eyes. Ben withdrew an envelope containing $95,000 and placed it in Box 2119. He locked up the box, pocketed the key, then headed over to the same bar in Brooklyn where he’d first reconnected with Jeff Mullin.

A half hour later, he walked into the bar and spotted Mullin at a booth near the back. He slid in opposite him.

“You got something for me?”

Ben nodded, then took the second envelope with $35,000 inside out of his briefcase and handed it over to his old friend. Mullin grabbed it and stuffed it inside his pants pocket. “This calls for a celebration, don’t ya think?” Mullin said. He called over the waitress and ordered two beers.

“I did good for you, right?”

“You did,” Ben said.

It was too bad about Mullin. They’d been friends once, and it made Ben sad to see his life destroyed. Maybe this money would help him get it together. Yes, Ben thought, he’d done something positive for his friend. Given him a chance at a fresh start. And, if he didn’t take it, if he used it for drugs, then came back to Ben begging for more, he would stop him—permanently.



It had taken longer than Ben had hoped for Rick to finally kick the bucket, but things had gone smoothly ever since. Not one person gave any sign they suspected Mallory wasn’t Charly. Whether it was Sandy, her assistant; the doormen and concierges at Rick’s apartment, where Mallory had returned to start going through Rick’s papers; or the artists she dealt with, they all believed she was Charly. He had to admit, it was a perfect plan. You couldn’t suspect the husband of wrongdoing if no wrong had been done. And he had to pat himself on the back for the way he’d manipulated Mallory into thinking Charly had rejected her. She was putty in his hands after that.





CHAPTER 28

A week after I arrived in Manhattan, Ben told me he’d made an appointment for us with two lawyers. The first was this morning with Josh Kantor, Rick’s estate attorney. I’d gotten used to dressing in Charly’s clothes. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn’t see Mallory Holcolm any longer. I saw my sister, and it gave me the chills. When I was ready, we headed downtown to the office of Kantor, Bello, and Weissman. Josh had attended Rick’s funeral and had already given his condolences to Charly.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

I’d worried a bit about meeting him. He’d known Charly since her mother had died. After the first few minutes of chitchat, I relaxed. He’d readily accepted I was the woman he’d known for sixteen years.

“What do I need to do to get started on settling my father’s estate?” I asked him now.

“I’ll handle all of that for you. Of course, you know you’re already on the deed of your father’s condo, so that passes to you automatically, and there’s no tax due until you sell it. The house out in the Hamptons, though, he bought while your mother was still alive. It’s probably valued at about ten million. Rick had just over fifty million in cash. He’s earmarked thirty million of that for various charitable bequests. His stocks and bonds, right now, are valued at one point two billion. The good news is that you don’t pay tax on that until the stock is sold, and then it’s with a stepped-up basis.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Well, as you know, the reason your father’s hedge fund is so successful is because he had a nose for picking winners. So, for instance, he has Google stock that he purchased at the initial public offering for eighty-five dollars a share. Each share has become two, because the stock split, and is worth almost sixteen hundred dollars. If you sell it a year from now, you only pay tax on the amount over sixteen hundred dollars, not eighty-five. That’s what a stepped-up basis means. It’s as if you bought the stock on the day your father died, and so you only pay tax on profits after that.

“Now, we get to Jensen Capital. Your father knew the end was near and asked me to have a valuation done of the business. It comes in at one point four billion.”

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, Ben had told me Rick was worth $2 billion, but I guess I’d always thought he was exaggerating. The number had seemed too staggering to be real.

“Your father has given ten percent of the business to his associate, Ted Manning, in gratitude for his service. The rest of his partnership share, sixty percent, goes to you.”

Ben quickly chimed in. “What about the other thirty percent?”

“You already own thirty percent as a limited partner,” Kantor said as he looked at me. “Your father gave you that after your mother died, when he set up the business as an FLP, a family limited partnership. As a limited partner, you don’t have voting rights or the right to sell, and so the gift tax he had to pay at the time was based on a discounted value. And, of course, the business was worth much less back then, so the gift tax was considerably less than would be owed now for that thirty percent.”