Doll, page 9
Sadler was forty-five years old, with a powerful build and craggy features. He told Meyer he had played offensive back for Dartmouth in 1940, just before he was drafted into the army. He kept in shape nowadays, he said, by playing handball at the Y two afternoons a week, Mondays and Thursdays. At least, he tried to keep in shape. Even handball twice a week could not completely compensate for the fact that he sat behind a desk eight hours a day.
Meyer immediately suspected a deliberate barb. He had become oversensitive about his weight several weeks back when he discovered what his fourteen-year-old son Alan meant by the nickname ‘Old Crisco’. A bit of off-duty detective work uncovered the information that ‘Old Crisco’ was merely high school jargon for ‘Old Fat-in-the-Can’, a disrespectful term of affection if ever he’d heard one. He would have clobbered the boy, naturally, just to show who was boss, had not his wife Sarah agreed with the little vontz. You are getting fat, she told Meyer; you should begin exercising at the police gym. Meyer, whose boyhood had consisted of a series of taunts and jibes from Gentiles in his neighborhood, never expected to be put down by vipers in his own bosom. He looked narrowly at Sadler now, a soldier in the enemy camp, and suddenly wondered if he was becoming a paranoid Jew. Worse yet, an obese paranoid Jew.
His reservations about Sadler and also about himself vanished the moment they entered the locker room of the Y.M.C.A., which smelled exactly like the locker room of the Y.M.H.A. Convinced that nothing in the world could eliminate suspicion and prejudice as effectively as the aroma of a men’s locker room, swept by a joyous wave of camaraderie, Meyer leaned against the lockers while Sadler changed into his handball shorts, and listened to the details of Tinka’s will.
‘She leaves everything to her ex-husband,’ Sadler said. ‘That’s the way she wanted it.’
‘Nothing to her daughter?’
‘Only if Dennis predeceased Tinka. In that case, a trust was set up for the child.’
‘Did Dennis know this?’ Meyer asked.
‘I have no idea.’
‘Was a copy of the will sent to him?’
‘Not by me.’
‘How many copies did you send Tinka?’
‘Two. The original was kept in our office safe.’
‘Did she request two copies?’
‘No. But it’s our general policy to send two copies of any will to the testator. Most people like to keep one at home for easy reference, and the other in a safe deposit box. At least, that’s been our experience.’
‘We went over Tinka’s apartment pretty thoroughly, Mr Sadler. We didn’t find a copy of any will.’
‘Then perhaps she did send one to her ex-husband. That wouldn’t have been at all unusual.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, they’re on very good terms, you know. And. after all, he is the only real beneficiary. I imagine Tinka would have wanted him to know.’
‘Mmm,’ Meyer said. ‘How large an estate is it?’
‘Well, there’s the painting.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The Chagall.’
‘I still don’t understand.’
‘The Chagall painting. Tinka bought it many years ago, when she first began earning top money as a model. I suppose it’s worth somewhere around fifty thousand dollars today.’
‘That’s a sizable amount.’
‘Yes,’ Sadler said. He was in his shorts now, and he was putting on his black gloves and exhibiting signs of wanting to get out on the court. Meyer ignored the signs.
‘What about the rest of the estate?’ he asked.
‘That’s it,’ Sadler said.
‘That’s what?’
‘The Chagall painting is the estate, or at least the substance of it. The rest consists of household furnishings, some pieces of jewelry, clothing, personal effects — none of them worth very much.’
‘Let me get this straight, Mr Sadler. It’s my understanding that Tinka Sachs was earning somewhere in the vicinity of a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year. Are you telling me that all she owned of value at her death was a Chagall painting valued at fifty thousand dollars?’
‘That’s right.’
‘How do you explain that?’
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t Tinka’s financial advisor. I was only her lawyer.’
‘As her lawyer, did you ask her to define her estate when she asked you to draw this will?’
‘I did.’
‘How did she define it?’
‘Essentially as I did a moment ago.’
‘When was this, Mr Sadler?’
‘The will is dated March twenty-fourth.’
‘March twenty-fourth? You mean just last month?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Was there any specific reason for her wanting a will drawn at that time?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘I mean, was she worried about her health or anything?’
‘She seemed in good health.’
‘Did she seem frightened about anything? Did she seem to possess a foreknowledge of what was going to happen?’
‘No, she did not. She seemed very tense, but not frightened.’
‘Why was she tense?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did you ask her about it?’
‘No, I did not. She came to me to have a will drawn. I drew it.’
‘Had you ever done any legal work for her prior to the will?’
‘Yes. Tinka once owned a house in Mavis County. I handled the papers when she sold it.’
‘When was that?’
‘Last October.’
‘How much did she get for the sale of the house?’
‘Forty-two thousand, five hundred dollars.’
‘Was there an existing mortgage?’
‘Yes. Fifteen thousand dollars went to pay it off. The remainder went to Tinka.’
Twenty…’ Meyer hesitated, calculating. Twenty-seven thousand, five hundred dollars went to Tinka, is that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘In cash?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where is it, Mr Sadler?’
‘I asked her that when we were preparing the will. I was concerned about estate taxes, you know, and about who would inherit the money she had realized on the sale of the house. But she told me she had used it for personal needs.’
‘She had spent it?’
‘Yes.’ Sadler paused. ‘Mr Meyer, I only play here two afternoons a week, and I’m very jealous of my time. I was hoping…’
‘I won’t be much longer, please bear with me. I’m only trying to find out what Tinka did with all this money that came her way. According to you, she didn’t have a penny of it when she died.’
‘I’m only reporting what she told me. I listed her assets as she defined them for me.’
‘Could I see a copy of the will, Mr Sadler?’
‘Certainly. But it’s in my safe at the office, and I won’t be going back there today. If you’d like to come by in the morning…’
‘I’d hoped to get a look at it before—’
‘I assure you that I’ve faithfully reported everything in the will. As I told you, I was only her lawyer, not her financial adviser.’
‘Did she have a financial adviser?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Mr Sadler, did you handle Tinka’s divorce for her?’
‘No. I began representing her only last year, when she sold the house. I didn’t know her before then, and I don’t know who handled the divorce.’
‘One last question,’ Meyer said. ‘Is anyone else mentioned as a beneficiary in Tinka’s will, other than Dennis or Anna Sachs?’
‘They are the only beneficiaries.’ Sadler said. ‘And Anna only if her father predeceased Tinka.’
‘Thank you,’ Meyer said.
Back at the squadroom, Meyer checked over the typewritten list of all the personal belongings found in Tinka’s apartment. There was no listing for either a will or a bankbook, but someone from Homicide had noted that a key to a safety deposit box had been found among the items on Tinka’s workdesk. Meyer called Homicide to ask about the key, and they told him it had been turned over to the Office of the Clerk, and he could pick it up there if he was interested and if he was willing to sign a receipt for it. Meyer was indeed interested, so he went all the way downtown to the Office of the Clerk, where he searched through Tinka’s effects, finding a tiny red snap-envelope with the safety deposit box key in it. The name of the bank was printed on the face of the miniature envelope. Meyer signed out the key and then — since he was in the vicinity of the various court buildings, anyway — obtained a court order authorizing him to open the safety deposit box. In the company of a court official, he went uptown again by subway and then ran through a pouring rain, courtesy of the vernal equinox, to the First Northern National Bank on the comer of Phillips and Third, a few blocks from where Tinka had lived.
A bank clerk removed the metal box from a tier of similar boxes, asked Meyer if he wished to examine the contents in private, and then led him and the court official to a small room containing a desk, a chair, and a chained ballpoint pen. Meyer opened the box.
There were two documents in the box. The first was a letter from an art dealer, giving appraisal of the Chagall painting. The letter stated simply that the painting had been examined, that it was undoubtedly a genuine Chagall, and that it could be sold at current market prices for anywhere between forty-five and fifty thousand dollars.
The second document was Tinka’s will. It was stapled inside lawyer’s blueback, the firm name Sadler, McIntyre and Brooks printed on the bottom of the binder, together with the address, 80 Fisher Street. Typewritten and centered on the page was the legend last will and testament OF tinka sachs. Meyer opened the will and began reading:
LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT
of
TINKA SACHS
I, Tinka Sachs, a resident of this city, county, and state, hereby revoke all wills and codicils by me at any time heretofore made and do hereby make, publish and declare this as and for my Last Will and Testament.
FIRST: I give, devise and bequeath to my former husband, DENNIS R. SACHS, if he shall survive me, and, if he shall not survive me, to my trustee, hereinafter named, all of my property and all of my household and personal effects including without limitation, clothing, furniture and furnishings, books, jewelry, art objects, and paintings.
SECOND: If my former husband Dennis shall not survive me, I give, devise and bequeath my said estate to my Trustee hereinafter named, IN TRUST NEVERTHELESS, for the following uses and purposes:
(1) My Trustee shall hold, invest and reinvest the principal of said trust, and shall collect the income therefrom until my daughter, ANNA SACHS, shall attain the age of twenty-one (21) years, or sooner die.
(2) My Trustee shall, from time to time: distribute to my daughter ANNA before she has attained the age of twenty-one (21) so much of the net income (and the net income of any year not so distributed shall be accumulated and shall, after the end of such year, be deemed principal for purposes of this trust) and so much of the principal of this trust as my Trustee may in his sole and unreviewable discretion determine for any purposes deemed advisable or convenient by said Trustee, provided, however, that no principal or income in excess of an aggregate amount of Five Thousand Dollars ($5,000) in any one year be used for the support of the child unless the death of the child’s father, DENNIS R. SACHS, shall have left her financially unable to support herself. The decision of my Trustee with respect to the dates of distribution and the sums to be distributed shall be final.
(3) If my daughter, ANNA shall die before attaining the age of twenty-one (21) years, my Trustee shall pay over the then principal of the trust fund and any accumulated income to the issue of my daughter, ANNA, then living, in equal shares, and if there be no such issue then to those persons who would inherit from me had I died intestate immediately after the death of ANNA.
THIRD: I nominate, constitute and appoint my former husband, DENNIS R. SACHS, Executor of this my Last Will and Testament. If my said former husband shall predecease me or shall fail to qualify or cease to act as Executor, then I appoint my agent and friend, ARTHUR G. CUTLER, in his place as successor or substitute executor and, if my former husband shall predecease me, as TRUSTEES of the trust created hereby. If my said friend and agent shall fail to qualify or cease to act as Executor or Trustee, then I appoint his wife, LESLIE CUTLER, in his place as successor or substitute executor and/or trustee, as the case may be. Unless otherwise provided by law, no bond or other security shall be required to permit any Executor or Trustee to qualify or act in any jurisdiction.
The rest of the will was boilerplate. Meyer scanned it quickly, and then turned to the last page where Tinka had signed her name below the words ‘IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I sign, seal, publish and declare this as my Last Will and Testament’ and where, below that, Harvey Sadler, William McIntyre and Nelson Brooks had signed as attesting witnesses. The will was dated March twenty-fourth.
The only thing Sadler had forgotten to mention — or perhaps Meyer hadn’t asked him about it — was that Art Cutler had been named trustee in the event of Dennis Sachs’s death.
Meyer wondered if it meant anything.
And then he calculated how much money Tinka had earned in eleven years at a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, and wondered again why her only possession of any real value was the Chagall painting she had drenched with blood on the night of her death.
Something stank.
Chapter 9
He had checked and rechecked his own findings against the laboratory’s reports on the burned wreckage, and at first only one thing seemed clear to Paul Blaney. Wherever Steve Carella had been burned to death, it had not been inside that automobile. The condition of the corpse was unspeakably horrible; it made Blaney queasy just to look at it. In his years as medical examiner, Blaney had worked on cases of thermic trauma ranging from the simplest burns to cases of serious and fatal exposure to flame, light, and electric energy — but these were the worst fourth-degree bums he had ever seen. The body had undoubtedly been cooked for hours: The face was unrecognizable, all of the features gone, the skin black and tight, the single remaining cornea opaque, the teeth undoubtedly loosened and then lost in the fire; the skin on the torso was brittle and split; the hair had been burned away, the flesh completely gone in many places, showing dark red-brown skeletal muscles and charred brittle bones. Blaney’s internal examination revealed pale, cooked involuntary muscles, dull and shrunken viscera. Had the body been reduced to its present condition inside that car, the fire would have had to rage for hours. The lab’s report indicated that the automobile, ignited by an explosion of gasoline, had burned with extreme intensity, but only briefly. It was Blaney’s contention that the body had been burned elsewhere, and then put into the automobile to simulate death there by explosion and subsequent fire.
Blaney was not paid to speculate on criminal motivation, but he wondered now why someone had gone to all this trouble, especially when the car fire would undoubtedly have been hot enough to eliminate adequately and forever any intended victim. Being a methodical man, be continued to probe. His careful and prolonged investigation had nothing to do with the fact that the body belonged to a policeman, or even to a policeman he had known. The corpse on the table was not to him a person called Steve Carella; it was instead a pathological puzzle.
He did not solve that puzzle until late Friday afternoon.
Bert Kling was alone in the squadroom when the telephone rang. He lifted the receiver.
‘Detective Kling, 87th Squad,’ he said.
‘Bert, this is Paul Blaney.’
‘Hello, Paul, how are you?’
‘Fine, thanks. Who’s handling the Carella case?’
‘Meyer’s in charge. Why?’
‘Can I talk to him?’
‘Not here right now.’
‘I think this is important,’ Blaney said. ‘Do you know where I can reach him?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know where he is.’
‘If I give it to you, will you make sure he gets it sometime tonight?’
‘Sure,’ Kling said.
‘I’ve been doing the autopsy,’ Blaney said. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you people sooner, but a lot of things were bothering me about this, and I wanted to be careful. I didn’t want to make any statements that might put you on the wrong track, do you follow?’
‘Yes, sure,’ Kling said.
‘Well, if you’re ready, I’d like to trace this for you step by step. And I’d like to say at the onset that I’m absolutely convinced of what I’m about to say. I mean, I know how important this is, and I wouldn’t dare commit myself on guesswork alone — not in a case of this nature.’
‘I’ve got a pencil,’ Kling said. ‘Go ahead.’
‘To begin with, the comparative conditions of vehicle and cadaver indicated to me that the body had been incinerated elsewhere for a prolonged period of time, and only later removed to the automobile where it was found. I now have further evidence from the lab to support this theory. I sent them some recovered fragments of foreign materials that were embedded in the burned flesh. The fragments proved to be tiny pieces of wood charcoal. It seems certain now that the body was consumed in a wood fire, and not a gasoline fire such as would have occurred in the automobile. It’s my opinion that the victim was thrust headfirst into a fireplace.’
‘What makes you think so?’
‘The upper half of the body was severely burned, whereas most of the pelvic region and all of the lower extremities are virtually untouched. I think the upper half of the body was pushed into the fireplace and kept there for many hours, possibly throughout the night. Moreover, I think the man was murdered before he was thrown into the fire.’
