Santa Fe Dead (8 page)

19

IT WAS NEARLY Eagle’s bedtime when he got home, and Susannah was already asleep in his bed, but there was something on his mind, and he had to deal with it.

He went to his study and switched on the computer, then opened his word-processing program and began to write.

To Walter Keeler:

Dear Mr. Keeler,

You and I are not acquainted, but I am in possession of some informationwhich I feel you should have. I met Joe Wilen on the golf course today in Santa Fe, and during our conversation later at the clubhouse, he told me that you and he had been business associates and that he is your personal attorney. I thought it would be better if I asked him to deliver this letter than if I simply sent it to you. I have not, however, discussed its contents with him. I have told him only that it concerns the woman you recently married. The following is everything that I know of her.

She was born Hannah Schlemmer, in Cleveland, Ohio, one of three daughters, to a Jewish pawnbroker. As an adult she moved to New York City and worked in a restaurant there. At some point she married a diamondwholesaler named Murray Rifkind, and she worked for some time at running his office.

She subsequently met a man named James Grafton and fell in love with him, apparently her first time. Grafton had a criminal background, and he convinced her that the only way they could be together was for him to rob Rifkind’s business premises. She went to the office and used her knowledge of its security systems to admit him for the robbery. Grafton then shot and killed her husband. She was shocked, she said, but he forced her to come with him to Miami, where he liquidated the diamonds he had stolen.

Shortly after that, they were both arrested. Hannah then agreed to cooperatewith the prosecution and testified against Grafton. She pled to involuntarymanslaughter and received a sentence of five to eight years in a women’s prison near Poughkeepsie, New York. During this time, I visited her in connection with a double murder in a client’s home in Santa Fe, involving her older sister, Miriam, who had changed her name to Julia. Hannah would ordinarily have been considered for parole after three years served, but as a result of a lawsuit against the State of New York alleging prison overcrowding, she was released early and unconditionally. While in prison, she legally changed her name to Barbara Kennerly.

Shortly after her release, Barbara came to Santa Fe and contacted me. I helped her find employment, and we began to see each other socially. A romance developed, and we were married a year later.

We had been married for a year when I awoke one morning to find that I had been drugged the night before and that Barbara had left Santa Fe after emptying my bank accounts of an amount exceeding a million dollars and wire-transferred the funds to a Cayman Islands bank and thence to one in Mexico City. She also attempted to empty my brokerage accounts, but I was able to prevent that minutes before the broker would have wired the proceeds.

I hired a former IRS agent, specializing in forensic financial work, who was able to recover all but $300,000 of the funds. I also hired two private investigators to go to Mexico and try to persuade Barbara to sign divorce papers and a settlement agreement giving her the $300,000. She shot one of the investigators and pushed the other off a ferry in the Gulf of Cortez. Both recovered. My investigators learned during this period that Barbara and her sister, Julia, by then deceased, were being sought by the Mexican police on a charge of having cut off the penis of a man they said was trying to rape them.

Barbara eluded my investigators and crossed the border into California, where she hid in a well-known spa in La Jolla and had her appearance altered.She came to Los Angeles and saw me in the dining room of the Hotel Bel-Air. Because of the changes in her appearance, I did not recognize her.

Later that night, she drugged the man she was staying with, returned to the hotel and went to the suite where she and I had stayed a number of times while we were married. Unfortunately, the suite was occupied by another couple, and she shot both of them in their sleep, then returned to her friend’s house. The following morning, he did not realize that she had left the house.

She was later arrested and tried for the two murders. While waiting for the verdict and fearing conviction, she escaped from a courthouse conference room and, with the help of a friend, made her way to the El Rancho Encantado Spa. She had, by this time, bought a forged driver’s license and passport in the name of Eleanor Wright. Ironically, she was acquitted at trial, due to the testimony of her friend, who placed her in his home at the time of the murders. It was at this point you made her acquaintance.

I know that all this will come as a shock to you, because Barbara is a very convincing liar. It will seem strange to you, as it does to me, that, having been released from prison and being comfortably married, she would then decamp with my funds and be willing to kill, both to avoid being detained and to take some sort of revenge against me. A psychiatrist friend of mine who knew her says that she is certainly a sociopath and may be a paranoid schizophrenic, a dangerous one. Perhaps it runs
in her family, because her older sister murdered three people, one of them her youngest sister.

I tell you these things simply as a matter of conscience, because I believe that you may well be at considerable personal risk. I have no other motive.

My address and phone number are on my letterhead, should you wish to contact me. In the meantime, I hope you will take steps to protect yourself and your property.

Sincerely,

Ed Eagle

Eagle signed the letter, put it into an envelope and sealed it, then he went to bed and slept well.

20

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Eagle picked up Donald Wells at his hotel and drove him the short distance to his law office. They parked in the underground garage and took the elevator to Eagle’s seventh-floor penthouse offices.

He took Wells into his private office, sat him down and gave him coffee. “Don,” he said, “I want you to answer the questions of Martínez and Reese fully, but don’t overdo it; that would make you appear nervous and not credible. Answer only the questions they ask; don’t volunteer anything. If they fail to ask some question I deem important to your status, I will ask the question. They will record your answers, and they may well videotape you, as well. Do you have any objections to that?”

“No, none at all,” Wells replied. He seemed perfectly relaxed.

Eagle’s secretary came into the office with a courier package, and he opened it. “Ah, here are the documents concerned with your business setup and your financial statement.” He handed the statement to Wells. “Does this seem correct to you?”

Wells looked it over while Eagle reviewed the business documents.

“Yes, it does.”

“Then sign it at the bottom.” Eagle had his secretary come in and notarize it. “Mr. Martínez and Mr. Reese are here,” she said, “and they have some sort of technician with them.”

“Please send them in,” Eagle said. He stood and greeted the men and offered them coffee while the technician set up a video camera and fitted everyone with microphones.

“Are we ready?” Martínez asked.

“Perfectly,” Eagle replied.

Martínez nodded to the technician to start the camera, which was pointed at Wells. Martínez noted the date and time, then began. “This is the recorded statement of Donald Wells as to the facts surrounding the death of his wife and son. Present are Mr. Wells, his attorney, Ed Eagle, Detective Alex Reese and myself, Roberto Martínez, district attorney of Santa Fe County. Mr. Wells, are you aware that your voice and image are being recorded?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Do we have your permission to record this interview?”

“Yes.”

Martínez read Wells his rights and produced a Bible and swore him in. “Now, Mr. Wells, please give us an account of your actions from the time you first heard of the kidnapping of your wife and son.”

Wells went through his story in a lucid fashion, interrupted only occasionally by questions from Martínez and Reese.

“What did you do after you received the phone call saying your wife and son had been kidnapped?”

“I called the house and got no answer, then I called Mr. Eagle and asked him to go to the house and check it out. I gave him directions on where to find a key, and I also gave him the alarm code.”

“For the record,” Eagle said, “when I arrived at the house, the front door was unlocked and the alarm had not been armed.”

“My wife would normally only lock the door and arm the alarm if she was going out or before retiring at night.”

Martínez questioned Wells about the contents of his safe, which had been found open, and he replied fully.

“Our theory,” Eagle said, “is that the perpetrators threatened the boy, in order to get the combination from Mrs. Wells.”

Martínez nodded. “It strikes me as a very good way to give a hired killer an instant payoff,” he said.

“That is a conclusion not supported by the facts,” Eagle said.

“I had nothing whatever to do with the death of my wife and son,” Wells said.

“Then perhaps you can tell me why a kidnapper, facing the prospect of a five-million-dollar profit, would immediately murder his hostages for a fifty-thousand-dollar payoff?”

Wells shrugged. “Maybe he got cold feet, and when he found the contents of the safe, decided to settle for that.”

“I should point out, Bob,” Eagle said, “that the collection of a ransom is a very high-risk activity for the perpetrator, offering multiple opportunities to be caught, whereas the taking of the cash and gold coins held the promise of a higher level of safety.”

“But then why would he kill the woman and the boy?”

“Kidnappers,” Eagle said, “historically decide early in their planning whether to kill the hostages or free them after the ransom has been collected. This particular perpetrator obviously traded their lives for his own safety.”

“Did your wife have a will, Mr. Wells?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Are you aware of its provisions?”

“Only in a general sense, from what she told me. Both our wills were executed on the same day, placed in envelopes that were sealed by the attorneys, then placed in my safe in Malibu.”

“And what was your understanding of the benefits of the will with regard to yourself?”

“She mentioned nothing in that regard.”

“Was it your assumption that she would leave you a large bequest?”

“We never discussed it; her money was not a factor in our marriage.”

“A national magazine has ranked your wife as the fifth wealthiest woman in the United States,” Martínez said, “with a net worth in the billions.”

“She laughed at that when she heard,” Wells said.

Eagle spoke up. “Mrs. Wells did loan Mr. Wells the money to set up what has become a successful film company, and he repaid the loan. Here are copies of the relevant documents and a notarized copy of Mr. Wells’s personal financial statement, as prepared by his business manager. As you will see, he has a net worth of some twenty-five million dollars, which does not include Mrs. Wells’s share of their two homes, which would normally accrue to him upon her death. He earns a multimillion-dollar income from his film company, as well, so he would have no financial motive against his wife.”

“I think we’ll decide that after seeing Mrs. Wells’s will.”

“We will be happy for Mr. Wells to authorize his attorneys to give you a copy of the will, even though we do not know its contents.”

“How soon?” Martínez asked.

“I’ll call them today,” Wells replied.

“What else can we do for you, Bob?” Eagle asked.

Martínez looked at Reese, who shook his head.

“Have his attorneys fax me the will,” Martínez said, handing Eagle his card. “That will be all for the present.”

“Bob,” Eagle said, “is Mr. Wells a suspect in this case?”

“Let’s just say that he remains a person of interest,” Martínez replied.

“I would prefer it if you would couch that in more positive terms when you speak to the press,” Eagle said.

“I’ll just say that Mr. Wells has not been charged. Will he be available in Santa Fe if we have further questions?”

Eagle looked at his client. “Don?”

“My wife expressed a wish to be cremated and have her ashes scattered on our property in Santa Fe,” Wells said. “I can stay for a few more days, until that is accomplished, but then I must return to Los Angeles for business reasons. I have just finished shooting a film in Rome, and I must begin the postproduction process, if I am to make our release date.”

“When will the bodies be released?” Eagle asked.

“Today, I should think. All right, Mr. Wells, you may return to Los Angeles, but I would be grateful if you would be available by telephone.”

“Of course,” Wells said, handing Martínez his card. “And I want to say how grateful I am for your and Detective Reese’s efforts in the solution of this crime.”

Everyone shook hands cordially, and the visitors left.

“What do you think?” Wells asked when they were gone.

“You did well,” Eagle said.

“They didn’t ask whether I was having an affair, as you did.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll ask everybody else you know.”

“Do you think I’m a suspect?”

“Right now, you’re the
only
suspect.”

21

EAGLE SPENT THE remainder of the morning working on briefs and meeting with clients. Just before lunch he had a phone call from Joe Wilen.

“Good morning, Joe.”

“Morning, Ed. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer to introduce me to a real estate agent.”

“I’d be delighted to. What is your cell phone number?”

Wilen gave it to him.

“You’ll hear from an agent with French and French, named Ashley Margetson. She has an outstanding knowledge of the market, and I’m sure she can show you properties that will interest you.”

“I’ll wait for her call,” Wilen said.

BARBARA/ELLIE WIPED Walter Keeler’s genitals with a hot facecloth, eliciting a happy groan, then pulled the sheet up to his chin. She walked outside, sat down and used her cell phone to call Jimmy Long.

"Hello?”

“It’s Barbara.”

“Eleanor! How are you? Your car arrived a few days ago. What was that all about?”

“I flew off to San Francisco with a gentleman,” she said.

“That was fast work.”

“You heard I was acquitted, that I’m a free woman?”

“I did.”

“I’m sticking with the Eleanor Wright identity, though. Will you go see our friend in Venice and tell him I need a certified copy of my birth certificate? I want to get a real passport and driver’s license.”

“Sure, babe.”

“I’ll reimburse you, of course.”

“Don’t worry about it. I just turned my new film over to the studio and got a very nice check. What do you want me to do with your stuff?”

“Get rid of it all. Sell the car and keep the money. That will make us more than even. Give the clothes to the Salvation Army or something; I already have a new wardrobe.”

“You never cease to amaze me.”

“Are you sitting down? Stand by to be further amazed: I was married in San Francisco the day before yesterday.”

“Holy shit! Are you kidding me?”

“I kid you not. I am, at the moment, on my honeymoon at a beautiful hotel in the Napa Valley.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“His name is Walter Keeler.”

“Hang on. I know that name, don’t I? From the
Wall Street Journal,
maybe?”

“You have a good memory, my dear. He sold his company— Keeler Avionics—a while back?”

“God, yes, I remember. He walked away with a bundle of money, didn’t he?”

“He walked away with a busload of money.”

“Man, you are something else!”

“We have a new apartment in San Francisco; got a pencil?” She gave him the address and phone number. “I’ll let you know when I get a new cell phone.”

“Well, baby, I hope this doesn’t mean we can’t fuck each other from time to time.”

“From time to time,” she said, laughing. “I won’t forget you.”

“I’ll send you the pink slip for the car to sign, so I can sell it.”

“You can mail me the birth certificate, too, and as soon as possible, please. I have to run now, sweetie, but I’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll send you the birth certificate pronto. Take care!”

She hung up and sighed. Soon she would be legally documented again, and there would be no stopping her.

A DAY AFTER Joe Wilen’s call, Eagle received another.

“Hello, Joe.”

“Ed, I found a place, and it’s just perfect. I talked it over with my wife, and she’s all for it, so I want to proceed to closing. The house is empty, and it’s all cash, so I guess all I need is a title search.”

“Give me the details, and I’ll get that taken care of immediately. When do you want to close?”

“Do you think we can do it tomorrow? I want to get it done before my wife has second thoughts.”

“Tell Ashley to set it up at my office late tomorrow afternoon, and you’ll be home in that King Air by bedtime.”

“Will do.”

Eagle noted the details of the property, gave Wilen his account number for wiring closing funds and said good-bye. He called the title company and got the search started; they would do it quickly for him.

THE FOLLOWING DAY, Ellie and Walter were having lunch at Galiano Vineyards with the owner, Emilio Galiano, an old friend of Walter’s. He made some of the best wines in Napa, wines that people lined up to buy well in advance of their general release.

“I must say, Walt,” Emilio said, “you have outstanding taste in wives.”

“You bet your ass I do,” Walter replied.

“You’re sweet, Emilio,” Barbara said. “Walt, what would you think of buying a little vineyard in Napa? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Fun?” Galiano asked. “It’s bloody hard work, is what it is.”

“I’ve been trying for years to get Emilio to sell to me,” Walter said, “but he enjoys teasing me too much about how willing he is to sell.”

“I’m not playing with you,” Emilio said. “I might just sell. You know, I’ve been training my winemaker for eight vintages now, and he’s very, very good.”

Walter sniffed his glass and tasted the wine. “I cannot but agree. Your kids aren’t really interested in running the place, are they, Emilio?”

“Well, the girls are busy raising my grandchildren, and I have no sons, so . . .”

“Name a figure,” Walter said. To his surprise, Emilio named a figure.

Walter made a sucking sound through his teeth. “Woooo . . . you really think it’s worth that much, Emilio?”

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I do, Walt. Of course, that includes the acreage and the house. Besides which, I wouldn’t sell it for less. That price is only for you, because I know you won’t kick me out of my winery until you’ve sucked me dry of knowledge about how to run the place.”

“What do you think, Ellie?” Walter asked.

“You and Emilio know best,” she said. “I have no inkling of what the place is worth.”

Walter reached into a pocket of his jacket, which was hanging on his chair, and produced a checkbook. He wrote a check, handed it to Emilio and held out his hand.

Emilio feigned a coronary. “You mean it?”

“I’ll need a day to move enough money into my checking account before you cash the check. The lawyers can close later.”

Emilio looked at the check again, then reached across the table and shook Walter’s hand. “Done,” he said. He took Ellie’s hand and kissed it. “The new mistress of Galiano Vineyards,” he said.

“Of Galiano-Keeler Vineyards,” Walter corrected.

“As you wish,” Emilio said, smiling.

No, Barbara thought, as
I
wish. This said to her that Walter would do anything she asked of him as long as she kept him happy. And now she was in the wine business.