Shock!. Donald Ph.D. Ladew
were misplaced."
Eavers began to speak and Gilbert held up his hand. "No, Eavers, you're not listening. Get me a set of keys to the house."
"Well, I don't know if I can do that, Mr. Piers, after all..."
Gilbert raised a tired eyebrow and walked over to the secretary's desk.
"Excuse me." She backed away from the desk.
He took bills from his pocket and without looking at them and tossed them on her desk.
"For a telephone call," he said, looking steadily at Eavers.
He called an old friend from his university days at Cal Tech. They'd been engineering students together, and then his friend had gone on to study patent law.
It rang for a moment while Gilbert stared at Eavers whose mouth worked like a trout thrown up on the sand. A secretary put him through right away.
"George, this is Gilbert Piers. I've just got in from Turkey, no, hold on, George, just listen! My mother died, I don't know anything about it yet. I don't want to keep the firm that has been taking care of things. I am not pleased with their attitude.
"Yes, this is a formal request. I'll send a retainer tomorrow. I want you to get every piece of paper having to do with my family from this office today: Everything, George. If there is any suggestion that anything, even a note scribbled on a pad of paper is missing, let me know and we'll take steps to acquire it. You'll have access to the accountant's files that should help. I have asked Mr. Eavers for a set of keys to the house and he seems reluctant to give them to me. Will you straighten him out?"
Gilbert handed the phone to Eavers, who stood through the whole conversation trying to figure out how things could have gotten so far out of control. He just wanted to make sure he was in charge of things, like he'd been with the old woman. This wasn't supposed to happen.
The lawyer on the other end of the line made a few suggestions, which made Eaver’s fingers twitch and a fine sheen of alcoholic sweat pop out on the bridge of his nose and upper lip. He handed the phone back.
"Gilbert? Good, he'll get you the keys. I take it you think something's rotten down there?" George said.
"Yes, very rotten." Gilbert, looking directly at Eavers, didn't elaborate.
"Okay, you go along to the house, I'll be by in an hour or so with some papers which will give me the authority I need. I've told Eavers to have everything ready by the end of the day. Do you want me to do an audit of his work and the finances?" George asked.
"Yes, George," he glanced at the sweating lawyer, "yes, you do a very thorough audit; legal and financial."
"Got it: See you soon, Gilbert." He handed the phone to the secretary. "It never hurts to be nice, Miss. If the money doesn't cover the phone, send me a bill."
"Look, please, Mr. Piers, surely this is all a mistake. I'm sure this can all be sorted out..." Eavers was falling apart.
"The keys, Mr. Eavers, now, please. I'm tired, I want to go home and have a bath. Any future conversation between you and me will be through my lawyer. Do not make any mistakes about what I want."
Eavers wasn't charging the line when he went back to his office for the keys. It had been a bad day for USC. He brought out the keys. Gilbert took them and left the office without a word.
Chapter 4
Real news is bad news
—Marshall McLuhan
As the cab moved up Vermont Avenue across Los Feliz, Gilbert felt none of the excitement of the past, just an ache that wouldn't let up.
From the front, the house looked the same except the lawns, which needed work. The paperboy continued to deliver despite the fact no one had picked the newspapers up for ten days.
Ten days: a crack appeared in the wall of his control. He sealed it ruthlessly.
Inside all was still, not even neighborhood sounds penetrated the old house. He went left through the entrance hall with its graceful double staircase, to the library on the west side of the house. There he sat in his old chair. He was still there when he heard the faint ring of the front door chimes.
Now we go back to the world, he thought, as he got up slowly and headed back to the front of the house.
George Duplessis, his friend of fifteen years, hadn't come alone.
"Come in, George." They shook hands and looked each other over. It had been three years.
"Gilbert, I brought some professional help. This is Manuel Abril." While they shook hands, George went on, "Manny has his own firm. He and I have been involved in a number of cases over the years. Whenever I really want to know the law, I call him. I usually learn more in a day than I would in a year at Harvard."
Abril was one of the most unusual men Gilbert had ever seen. A few inches over five feet, his head was a massive block, covered with wavy black hair graying at the temples; large black eyes under shelving brows divided by a proud nose that could have graced a Roman coin.
As Gilbert led them back toward the library, George continued to explain. "You remember, Gilbert, I'm patent law, very specialized. I know all the basics from school, but Manny is civil and he's the best."
Manny turned to Gilbert after a careful look around the grand proportions of the room.
"I'd like to make my fee this library, but something tells me you wouldn't agree. So tell us what you want done, Mr. Piers."
Gilbert handed him the telegram. Abril read it quickly and handed it to George.
"I have no idea how my mother died, where she is buried, nothing. I didn't want to stay at Eaver's office to find out; I might have done something foolish. I want you to find out everything, every detail. That includes getting Eaver's story, any medical records that may be pertinent, everything, Mr. Abril."
Abril nodded. "May I sit; my legs aren't what they were."
"Damn! I'm sorry. I'm not usually so thoughtless."
George and Abril sat on a Georgian couch, slightly dusty with disuse.
"I'm sure you aren't, Mr. Piers. Don't be concerned. Please go on with what it is you want us to do."
"I would also like to retain your firm, specifically you, as my family lawyer. In that capacity I want you to review everything concerning my mother's estate; finances, property, the lot." Gilbert handed him a piece of paper.
"This is my accountant; he was also my mother's accountant. Was also..." He'd been speaking quietly and his voice faded out all together. He sat helplessly trying to think what else to say.
"I understand what you want." Abril's voice was firm and kind.
Gilbert stood then, massaging his arms nervously and walked over to the fireplace, seeking a place of habitual warmth even though there was none there.
"My mother's estate is large. She was a shrewd investor, in fact, both of my parents were. I want to be sure nothing...irregular has happened to the estate. That's all I can think of right now."
"Fine, I'll have my people get on it right away. There's been enough delay. It'll be a few days. In the meantime, if I may, sir, I'd like to send someone around to help with the cleaning, cooking and getting things in order. They could come in the morning and stay as long as it takes, if you approve. They are members of my family, quite trustworthy," Manny said.
"Yes, that would be a help, thank you very much," Gilbert, said.
"It's nothing, happy to do it. George has agreed that I take over here; however you did call him first. I can work on this through his firm as a consultant if you wish." He wanted to be fair.
"George, what do you want to do?" Gilbert asked.
"Oh, let Manny do the whole thing. He'll do a damn sight better job than me. I'd be happy to be your lawyer, but to tell