Читать книгу Murder Doesn't Figure - Fred Yorg - Страница 12

CHAPTER SIX

I exited Marine Park and made a left hand turn on East Front Street. The drive over to Pamela’s office was less than two miles from the Park and the traffic was unusually light. I pulled into her parking lot with five minutes to spare. I was anxious to find out about the mysterious eccentric client and why Pamela was so flustered and secretive earlier on the phone. Pamela, for her part, had always been confident and straightforward in the past about clients we shared. I was sure that Pamela would explain everything, in due time, but I can’t say I ever enjoyed these little intrigues.

As I got out of the car and walked up the back steps, I thought back to my first meeting with her, two years earlier. At the time I was involved with a company that was being sold to a rather large multi-national conglomerate. My client needed an attorney to protect his interests, and he knew of Pamela from a previous real estate transaction. He asked me to interview her and review her qualifications. I was reluctant at first, since I didn’t know much about her, but after my first meeting, I came away thoroughly impressed. I liked her style. She was in her late thirties when we first met, and had only been a practicing attorney for two years. I asked her why she started her practice so late and she was very candid about her previous career. Pamela didn’t start law school until her early thirties, which explained her late entry into the legal profession. Pamela’s careers and background before entering Law School were actually quite interesting. She was a liberal arts major when she graduated from Julliard, with an emphasis in modern dance. Upon graduation Pamela was a Broadway dancer in several long running shows. In her late twenties she left show biz behind and entered the fashion world, making quite a name for herself.

In the early1990’s a lot of the upscale fashion houses were cutting back, and since Pamela was one of the highly paid, she knew her days were numbered. Rather than hang on, she decided a dramatic career change was in order. It takes a lot of nerve to make a career change of that magnitude in your mid-thirties, and that may well have been what I most admired about Pam. Although I must admit being a former show girl also meant she was some kind of looker and coupled with her fashion sense, she did present a most attractive package. I knocked on the office door and heard Pam holler for me to come in.

Pamela’s office was located in the rear of her home adjacent to the kitchen. I could hear her in the kitchen now, probably tending to one of her cats or pouring herself a second cup of coffee. I have observed through life that beautiful women have a penchant for keeping men waiting and somehow we never seem to mind.

“Fred, do you want a cup of coffee or a drink?” Pamela asked.

“It’s a little early for a drink but a cup of black coffee would work very nicely.”

The door opened and Pamela entered, with the two cups of coffee. This wasn’t the stylish beauty that I expected. The imposter before me had her hair in a state of dishevelment, no make up on and was dressed in a flannel pajama set covered by a worn robe. If that wasn’t bad enough, she was wearing a pair of those oversized bunny slippers. “Pam, is that really you in a bag women’s disguise?” I asked in total bewilderment.

“Yes, it’s me. I had a bad night. I didn’t get much sleep.”

“Christ’s sake woman, don’t you have any pride in your appearance? Is it too late, to change my order to bourbon? After seeing you, I need a stiff drink.”

“Don’t get smart, I was up most of the night worrying myself sick about this meeting, and now Von Klamer doesn’t even want me there.”

“Looking the way you do, who could blame him.”

“Now that’s not very nice and after all I’ve done for you.”

“What have you done for me? The way you’re talking about Von Klamer is starting to make me a little nervous. Just exactly, what does he want with me?”

“I’m not sure I know.”

“You know Pam, in all seriousness, I’m not going in there, totally clueless. Let me see if I can find out what you know. I’ll ask the questions, and you give me your best answer. Maybe between the two of us, we can fill in the blanks and make some sense of this.”

“It sounds stupid, but at this point I’ll try anything. Go ahead and start asking the questions. Maybe I do know more than I realize.”

“First, why did Von Klamer choose you as an attorney? Was he referred?”

“Desmond referred Von Klamer to me.”

“Give me a break, don’t tell me, you mean that duplicitous bastard, Desmond Black?”

“What’s wrong with Desmond? I thought you liked him.”

“Desmond’s okay on a personal basis but on a professional basis he makes me extremely edgy and nervous.”

“Why, because he used to take drugs?”

“Being a former coke head is part of it.”

“Well then what do you know that I don’t? What is it? What’s your problem with Desmond?”

“First of all Desmond is a player, he plays fast and loose with the law. Always on the edge, one step ahead of the police. Second, he’s extremely rich, but nobody knows where the money comes from. Can you tell me what Desmond does for a living?”

“He seems to have a lot of it but no, I have no idea how he makes his money.”

“Exactly, neither do I, although I’ve always had my suspicions. When you see someone like Desmond, you’ve got to be very guarded. You never know what type of a predicament you’re getting into. I don’t care for that feeling, bells and whistles go off in the back of my brain. Enough about Desmond, we’re wasting valuable time. What’s done is done. Let’s get back to Von Klamer. Specifically what did you and Von Klamer discuss?”

“Von Klamer’s partner just died. He was concerned with a buy/sell agreement that they had.”

“Go on, why the concern? They’re usually straight forward, funded by an insurance policy. What’s he need an attorney for?”

“First, there’s no insurance policy. Von Klamer has to come up with five million dollars of his own money to buy out his partner’s estate. Second, the buy/sell agreements were signed in the early 1950’s and he was concerned that his partner’s son may contest the validity of the agreement.”

“Okay, let me recap. Von Klamer needs five million dollars to meet his obligations under the terms of a buy/sell agreement and second he’s worried about his dead partner’s son contesting the agreement.”

“Right.”

“Do you know if Von Klamer has the money?”

“No, I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.”

“What else did he ask you? Maybe that will give me a clue on what he wants with me.”

“He asked about the taxable consequences of selling his artwork.”

“That’s interesting, did he give you any idea as to the value of his artwork?”

“He really didn’t come out and say but I got the impression we were talking millions.”

“Interesting, anything else?”

“He mentioned in passing that he may need someone to review the company’s books.”

“Okay, now were getting somewhere. He needs a good financial man to review the tax issues on the sale of the artwork. That makes sense, and at the same time he needs someone to do a “due diligence” on the company. Now I’ve got a better understanding why he would want me. Tell me, how did my name come up?”

“He brought your name up and then he asked me if you were discreet. That’s when I started to get an uneasy feeling.”

“Let’s talk about that. I’ve never known you to be skittish before, there has to be more.”

“Well, he’s a rich German in his late eighties.”

“So he’s a rich German in his eighties, what’s so upsetting about that?”

“He has a lot of world war two memorabilia around his office. It made me a little uncomfortable. Call it women’s intuition.”

“Pray tell, what kind of memorabilia?”

“Well for starters he has a copy of Mein Kampf, personally signed to Von Klamer from Hitler.

Then there’s, the framed articles on the wall. They’re written in German from some magazine Der something.”

“Think back, were the articles up on the wall from a publication named, Der Angriff, written around the late 1920’s?”

“Yeah Fred, I’m pretty sure they were. How in God’s name, could you have known that?”

“Hitler’s Minister of Propaganda was none other than Joseph Paul Goebbels and in the late 1920’s he was the editor of Der Angriff. Hitler was able to use that publication as his own little e-Mail to the lumpenproletariat.”

“Lumpen-what?”

“It’s a German phrase, I’m not sure of the exact translation. To me, it means the dregs of society, the lower class.”

“Fred, you never cease to amaze me. I can’t believe you knew that.”

“Well I’m glad I could amaze you. You know, I’m far more than just a pretty face.”

“Please Fred, let’s not get carried away.”

“All right, at least now I’ve got a little better feel about Von Klamer and I’ve got to agree with you. It does appear that he could well be a Nazi sympathizer or at the extreme worst a war criminal. Neither of which, I might add is my personal cup of tea, but I am intrigued. Give me the directions, I’ll go over and meet with him. Just so we’re straight, if I get a bad feeling, I’m bailing out. There’s no way I am going to consult for him, if I’m uncomfortable. By the way, does he know what I charge?”

“I took the liberty of doubling your normal rates. I hope you don’t mind.”

“The money didn’t bother him?”

“Not in the least. He never batted an eye.”

“Well at that price, war criminal or not, he’s probably got himself a financial consultant of questionable talents.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“Now, what about the directions?”

“Just go up Monmouth Hills to the point, its number 1889, you can’t miss it.”

“I’ll give you a call after the meeting and let you know how I made out.”

“See you Fred, and be careful when you back out of the parking lot.”

“Why?”

“My cat, Trouble is outside and you never know where she’s going to turn up. She could be under your car, curled up fast asleep. So just be careful.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be extra careful. See ya later.”

“Good bye, Fred, and good luck with the meeting.”

“One more thing before I go.”

“What?”

“I strongly recommend you get rid of those oversized bunny slippers. They really don’t go with the robe.”

“Just get the hell out of here.”

“Alright Pam, I’m going.”