Death Comes Calling
by
L. J. Kottke
One
Sid paused,
as he always did before entering, to note with satisfaction the neat
lettering on his office door: Sidney Langdon, Private Investigator. It
looks good, he thought, but wondered how much longer he would be looking
at it if he didn’t find a client to pay his rent. His only billings to
date had been a woman wanting a background check on a prospective husband
and a dog custody dispute.
Being the first in, he rinsed the coffee pot in the reception area and
filled the unit with fresh water. He added what he hoped would be the
right amount of grounds, plugged it in and returned to his office to wait
until the brew was ready. He knew he would be useless until then.
He was going through the morning paper when he heard Michelle arrive and
call in a greeting. Shortly afterward, he heard her make a comment to her
boss, Jim Wheatley, the insurance agent who occupied the next office and
who had apparently followed her in.
He figured the coffee must be ready and started in that direction when Jim
appeared in his doorway. "Good morning, Sid. Got a minute?" That Sid
was alone with the morning paper spread out in front of him was a clue.
"Good morning, Jim. Sure, come on in. I was just about to get some
coffee. Like some?"
"Sounds good. Just a little cream for me."
Sid returned with two cups mixed the way he himself liked it and handed
one to his visitor, who by now had made himself comfortable in a chair
beside the desk and was checking out the morning headlines in Sid’s
paper.
Taking his own place behind the desk, Sid got down to business. "Now
then," he asked, "what’s on your mind this early?"
"I think I might have some business for you," Jim began earnestly, "that
is, if you have the time and think it’s something you might be interested
in."
The truth was, Sid certainly had the time and would have been interested
in any kind of business, as long as it was legal; and if it should happen
to pay well, then he would be very interested indeed. He thought of all
this, but said only, "Tell me about it and we’ll see."
Jim returned the paper to its spot on the desk and began, "Yesterday we
received a claim for some jewelry on a policy that has been in effect for
a number of years. The claim has been made in the name of Jennifer
Sedgwick, granddaughter of William Sedgwick. The family has been a long
time client of Global Standard, first in Los Angeles, then Denver, now
here."
"Sedgwick?" Sid echoed, "Wasn’t there something about a Sedgwick in the
paper recently? The old man had a heart attack or something. A couple of
weeks ago, wasn’t it? If I remember rightly, he had quite a layout in
Darrowby Estates. Was that your client?"
"One of them, although a number of the Sedgwicks hold policies with
Global. But, yes, it was William who held the original policy in this
case. It was rewritten when the jewels became the property of his
granddaughter, Jennifer, on her twenty-first birthday. She came into a
sizeable trust at the same time," Jim explained.
"Anyway, the estate was audited soon after his death and the jewelry,
listed on the most recent inventory record which was updated yearly,
couldn’t be found. Jennifer claimed the house was turned upside down, but
there was no sign of the gems. They were therefore reported stolen and a
claim filed for full value."
"I assume the police were notified. What do they say?"
"Well, not a whole lot. They really don’t have much to go on. There was
no evidence of burglary, no property damage and no injuries. There’s been
no ransom demand. No one could remember exactly when they last saw the
jewels and they really could simply be missing, as unlikely as that
seems," Jim explained. "Also, they were fully insured, so there isn’t
that much incentive for the police to put a lot of manpower on the case."
Sid nodded his understanding, then asked, "What do you mean the claim was
filed in this Jennifer’s name? Filed by whom?"
"Her attorney, Jeff Dax. Jennifer was pretty upset and not thinking too
clearly right after the death. It was she who found the body, and it was
quite a shock for her. She lost her parents several years ago, and since
then she and her grandfather had become very close. Anyway, he was a
wealthy man with a sizeable estate and decisions had to be made quickly.
You know how it is. Jeff took care of the details after the old man died,
arranging for the funeral and an audit of the estate so that the will
could be settled."
"From what little I know of Jeff," Jim continued, "he’s a good man. His
father was the family’s lawyer until he retired last year. Now Jeff
handles their legal affairs and is executor for the estate. He’s known
Jennifer since they were children. She trusts him and has given him a lot
of latitude to handle things as he sees fit."
"You said a number of family members held policies with Global. Where
were they after the old man died?" Sid thought it was strange that a
lawyer would be in charge if any family member was available to step in,
particularly involving funeral arrangements.
"Apparently they’re not close," Jim told him, "but the attorney was well
known to the others. He was the one most familiar with the stipulations
of the will, and the only person in close contact with Jennifer and her
grandfather since her parents’ death. I get the impression that, for all
practical purposes, the guy might as well be one of the family."
"I see," Sid said thoughtfully, "and just what kind of jewelry is it
that’s unaccounted for, and what is the full value of the claim? Just
what kind of money are we talking about here?"
Jim answered slowly and distinctly, as if to pointedly emphasize what he
said, "A double strand of perfectly matched Oriental pearls with
a diamond clasp. There was also a pair of matching earrings. Estimated
replacement value for the set, approximately one million dollars."
Sid studied his coffee, running the figure over in his mind. His guess
was that Jim’s only reason for mentioning the claim at all was to involve
him in finding the jewels. If he guessed right, and were successful, the
recovery fee would take care of his rent for the next ten years.
"Jim, you said they were missing, yet Miss Sedgwick has reported them
stolen and filed a police report. Have you any reason to believe they
weren’t stolen? Are you thinking this could be insurance fraud? You said
the estate has been audited. Have any irregularities come to light? Is
fraud at all a possibility? What’s your take on the disappearance?"
The agent passed over the barrage of questions and instead told him,
"Let’s put it this way: According to Jennifer, the pearls were kept in a
safe in her grandfather’s study. The last time she remembers seeing them
was several months ago, although it could have longer than that. An audit
was done, everything appeared to be in order, except for the pearls, which
were missing and unaccounted for.
"She claims only her grandfather had the combination to the safe and he
had memorized it. There was no evidence the safe had been tampered with.
The only fingerprints on it were her grandfather’s. The only written
record of the combination was kept was in a safe deposit box at his bank.
He was the only one who had access to it there. I simply don’t know what
to think but, knowing Jennifer, I can’t believe she’d be involved in
anything like fraud. Believe me, she doesn’t need the money and,
actually, she’d be stealing from herself."
"I’m sorry to seem dense," Sid said, "but if the pearls were this
Jennifer’s property, why were they kept in a safe with the grandfather
being the only one with the combination?"
"That’s kind of hazy," Jim admitted. "It seems Jennifer never wore them.
She allowed them to remain in the safe for her grandfather’s sake. It
appears the old man would take them out periodically and just sit with
them. They had belonged to his wife of more than fifty years, and they
just had a sentimental attachment for him that Jennifer didn’t interfere
with.
"Besides, when you think about it," he continued, "maybe it’s not so
weird. If they insisted, as they did, on keeping the pearls in the house,
what better place than the safe and, in the event Jennifer should change
her mind about wearing them, I’m sure her grandfather would never have
hesitated to give them to her. Not wearing them and keeping them in the
safe were absolutely her decisions."
Sid nodded, dismissing the matter as the eccentricities of the rich. Then
he asked, "Did anyone have power of attorney?"
"Jennifer, but only in the event the old man should become mentally
incapacitated and, as far as I know, he was sharp right up to the end."
"Who is the principal beneficiary of the estate?"
"Jennifer. There are various trusts set up, but she inherited the bulk of
the estate. She’s a very wealthy young woman."
"So where do I come in?" he asked, trying to sound casual. He thought he
knew where this was headed, but wanted the job spelled out and his
involvement made official. He continued to study his cup and outlined the
rim with his finger, listening as Jim continued.
"I’ve already spoken to people in the head office. They remember you and
would be comfortable with you handling the case, so they’ve agreed. We
want you to look into the situation and, if possible, find the pearls. Of
course, if you succeed, there will be the usual recovery fee of ten
percent of their value. It would be well worth it to us."
Sid saw his point and certainly agreed. Recovery of the jewels would mean
a saving of over three quarters of a million dollars for the company, but
he just said, "Those must be some pearls."
Jim nodded. "I’d really like you to look into this for us, Sid. I’ve
already spoken to Jennifer and told her that, on a claim this size, we
would need an independent investigation before making settlement. She
understands and says she will cooperate in any way possible." He paused,
trying to gauge Sid’s reaction, then asked, "Well, what do you say? Will
you do it?"
"I have to admit," Sid told him slowly, "it sounds like an interesting
case. I’d like to see pearls worth that kind of money, so I suppose the
answer is yes. I’ll draw up a contract for you to sign and drive out to
the Sedgwick home today to talk to this Jennifer. Then we’ll see where it
leads."
"Thanks, Sid. Let me know what you find out. And good luck." Jim
finished his coffee and headed back to his own office.
Sid replenished his cup and sat looking out his second floor office
window, his usual position when thinking. A band of threatening clouds
hung over the city, blocking the sun, but fortunately not his view of the
Olympic Mountains across Puget Sound. It was hardly a panoramic view,
just a glimpse between the buildings in downtown Seattle, but it was just
enough to remind him that they were out there.
He vaguely wondered why Jim had come to him in the first place. It had
been just three months since he’d gotten his license and opened his
office. He would have expected that, with this much at stake, Jim’s
company would have wanted a more experienced investigator. On the other
hand, maybe what Jim told him carried some weight. He’d worked for Global
and knew the company. He hadn’t been gone so long that he wouldn’t have
been remembered by those at the top. Was that enough for them to trust
him with a claim this size? He just wondered.
Of course, he knew his speculation could be just the musings of an
overactive and suspicious imagination, a prerequisite for any good
investigator.
Perhaps it really was as simple as the fact that they were friends and Jim
knew he could use the money. That part was certainly true, for he had
used a good deal of his savings to live on and finance his training until
he could get his license. But since that lettering went on the door, he’d
barely made enough to pay for it, not to mention the expense of the ads
he’d taken out in any publication he thought might reach someone in need
of his services.
The ads weren’t the end of it, either. Dues he paid for memberships in
organizations he’d hoped would bring business his way had so far proven to
be money wasted. He constantly reminded himself that he had to be
patient; building an ongoing clientele took time, let alone developing a
reputation that would generate word of mouth on occasional work. Being in
business was a costly proposition. He knew before long he would have to
seriously consider how long he could keep it up without a continuing
source of income.
He considered that he had known Jim for a number of years, ever since both
were agents for Global Standard Insurance. They had even bowled on the
same team, and with their wives often gotten together for events in and
around San Francisco. When Global decided to open a Seattle branch, Jim
and Dodie relocated.
They kept in touch after Ellen’s death, and were part of the reason he
even thought of Seattle as a place to start over. In fact, it had been
Jim’s suggestion that he rent the vacant office next to his own and share
Michelle’s time and salary. At the time, he’d considered himself lucky to
have found affordable space in the downtown area. It was a good location
and a respectable address.
Jim had even pitched in to help him furnish the place, picking up odds and
ends all but donated by other tenants in their building. Sid soon had all
the furniture and equipment he needed, since carpeting and draperies were
furnished and included in his rent. His office was by no means luxurious,
but it was presentable, and he was satisfied with that.
Sid didn’t need or want a secretary as such, even if he could have
afforded one. Michelle functioned only as his receptionist, screening his
calls and taking messages. In return, he paid a quarter of her salary and
a percentage of rent for the reception area. The arrangement had worked
out well for all of them.
This would be his first real case and he knew it could be high profile.
It would afford him the recognition he needed if his client list were to
grow. He suspected people as wealthy as the Sedgwicks apparently were
would be entrenched in local society and well known. News of any kind
involving them would likely be given a generous write up in the local
papers.
Private investigation was a field that he had always found fascinating.
It had long been in the back of his mind, something he thought he would
consider as a hobby when he retired. When he lost Ellen to cancer, it
turned out to be not so much a hobby as a lifeline. It was what he turned
to when San Francisco, with all its memories, was no longer bearable. He
stayed as long as he could, as long as he felt her still with him, but
when he could no longer face the empty rooms and constant reminders of
their life together, he retired from Global and moved to Seattle.
He liked the city. It had a laid-back atmosphere that managed to combine
both sophistication and friendliness. He enjoyed the waterfront, too, and
the ferries that crisscrossed the Sound. Whenever he found himself with
time on his hands or just needed a place to think, he headed for the
water, either for a walk along the docks or on the hillside paths that
straddled the Sound.
The frequent rains took some getting used to, but he had always liked rain
and its accompanying cloudy gloom, so he adjusted rather easily. Besides,
the balmy sunshine and warm breezes, whether from the Sound or off Lake
Washington, were well worth the inconvenience of a few sprinkles.
Sometimes he even took the ferry up the coast to Victoria and spent the
day browsing the shops and soaking up the atmosphere. He never regretted
settling in the city and even now had no wish to be anywhere else.
Washington’s licensing requirements allowed him a choice between a
three-year apprenticeship or an exam. He couldn’t see himself
apprenticing at anything at his age and opted for the latter, although he
did manage to persuade a local agency to take him on. It was one way to
gain some practical experience and make a little money. They in turn
figured he just might prove useful while he studied for his license, and
his price was right.
During his first year, he spent most of his time on drudgework:
surveillance, background investigations, computer sleuthing. But he did
well enough to more than earn his keep. During his second year, he was
allowed to tag along when papers of all kinds were served and theft and
security breaches investigated. The agency was never involved in murder
investigations, their forte being mainly industrial theft and security
consulting.
At the end of his second year, he decided to take the exam. When he
managed to pass and obtained his license, the agency offered him a
position as a full time investigator. There were times since then when he
wondered if he should have taken them up on their offer and been content,
but his independent streak had been too strong. He wanted his own
agency. If it never amounted to more than he had right now, a one-room
office and a shared receptionist, that was all right. It would be his, to
rise or fall on his own efforts.
Breaking his reverie, he finished the second cup, drafted a contract that
would guarantee him a recovery fee and gave it to Michelle for Jim’s
signature. She took it in immediately and in a few minutes returned with
his signed copy. He was in business.
He decided to do a quick check on the Sedgwicks for a heads up on what he
was getting into. If fraud were even a possibility, it wouldn’t be the
first time wealthy people were involved in that kind of scheme. Sometimes
they just liked to see what they could get away with and sometimes, for
some, no amount of money is ever enough.
As he suspected, they weren’t hard to find, having made regular
appearances in the major area newspapers, mainly on behalf of various
charities and the Sedgwick Foundation the grandfather had founded, but
they turned up in the gossip columns, too.
The first information he retrieved was on Jennifer Sedgwick’s grandfather,
William Cooper Sedgwick, and it reflected a colorful history.
It seems the old man was himself the grandson of one of the original
silver barons of Denver. While he had inherited a fortune, he increased
it even further with early real estate speculation in the San Fernando
valley. When his development activity reached too close to home, he sold
most of his holdings and retired with his wife to an estate on the
outskirts of Seattle, in a luxury subdivision he’d had a hand in
establishing. She predeceased him by seven years.
Two weeks ago he was found dead by his granddaughter when she returned
home after a trip to town. He was found sitting in his wheelchair in his
study. He had apparently dozed off and died in his sleep.
Jennifer Adrien Sedgwick, his granddaughter, is an artist, and quite a
successful one. Her sculptures are exhibited at a number of prominent
galleries in the Los Angeles, Denver and Seattle areas. She lived in Los
Angeles with her parents until their deaths five years ago. It was then
that she relocated to Seattle. She maintains a studio in her
grandfather’s home and looked after him there until he died.
Her father, William Lindell Sedgwick, had his own brokerage firm and
apparently did quite well. He and his wife, Marjorie, Jennifer’s mother,
were active in local society. At the time of their deaths, they were in
Mexico on vacation. Mr. Sedgwick was a pilot and they had flown down in
the company plane. They were killed on their return when it went down in
a freak storm.
Carl Sedgwick, Jennifer’s brother, is referred to merely as socially
prominent. Since there was no information on any type of career, Sid
speculated the man must be living off some kind of trust. There was no
mention of any wife or family. When he was pictured at some affair or
other, it was always with a beautiful woman at his side, someone carefully
identified only as a friend.
Helen Sedgwick Rawlings, Jennifer’s older sister. Husband Charles,
described as a local businessman, boating enthusiast and amateur
photographer. Both socially prominent. There wasn’t a great deal in the
columns about her, other than the obligatory appearances at numerous
charity fund raisers, but her husband provided enough coverage for them
both.
It seems that Charles, virtually unknown before their marriage, had been
involved in a number of unsuccessful business dealings since then, the
latest being some type of gold recovery scheme in Brazil. He had lost a
good deal of his wife’s money, along with that of a number of furious
investors who were now suing him for fraud.
Sid found the information on Charles Rawlings very interesting indeed, but
his attention really picked up when he continued his research and came
across the background of William "Bud" Sedgwick, a cousin and namesake of
the old man. Bud was described as not only a socially prominent and
eligible bachelor, but a gadabout and world-class sailing enthusiast.
Gadabout? A little more digging turned up lurid newspaper accounts of
rumored gambling activities, wild parties and suspected drug use, although
no charges were ever filed. As a young boy, he had been shipped off to
military school and summer camps for problem kids. He had also done a
number of stints in various rehabilitation programs. Apparently none of
them took.
Rumors, however, were often based on fact, and if that were the case here,
the young man could have some very expensive hobbies. Sid wondered how he
paid for them. Some kind of trust fund, no doubt, but how much of it was
left and, if his hobbies were outrunning his funds, as they eventually
would with no means of income to replenish them, how was he paying his
bills?
Sid’s research had brought him to lunchtime. He asked Michelle to bring
back something for him while he pondered the information he had turned up
on the Sedgwicks. When he felt he understood a little of the family
history and their current situations, he placed a call to Jennifer
Sedgwick, introduced himself and asked if it would be convenient for her
to see him that afternoon. She said she would be glad to talk to him if
he should care to stop by.
Michelle brought him the daily special from the sub shop on the first
floor. When he finished the smoked turkey sandwich, he left for Darrowby
Estates to interview Jennifer Sedgwick.
|
