Ferdinando

The next box was full of keys: house keys, car keys, and what looked like safety deposit box keys. More research. The idea of several safety deposit boxes with unknown contents made Payton even more nervous. We found three boxes of old paperback novels that were yellowed, and coming apart, and then went to dinner. Payton was surprisingly frugal, and we went to a Chili's way out west near the airport. Payton giggled. "The Triple Dipper is my secret vice!" I was willing to bet she had others.

After dinner, we made our most interesting find so far: three boxes stuffed with division orders for oil leases. I had a case in school about accounting for oil and gas royalties and the ad valorem taxes on them, which gave me a basic idea of how to read these things. Usually, royalties went to a landowner of the property where the wells were drilled, and these orders detailed the payments they got, usually a fraction of the value of the total production of the well. Normally, the landowner got an eighth, but sometimes that was divided among part owners or heirs of the original property owners. For an old and valuable lease, sometimes the royalties were split among several generations, depending on who inherited what, and the resulting calculations often ended being something like "a fourth of an eighth" or "a third of a fourth of an eighth" and thus it was an order dividing the royalty up among all those eligible for payment.

These orders were for several huge properties in several counties, each with a very complicated set of heirs, but with old lady McQuillan still having the right to the vast majority of the royalties. They were several years old. More research required. Are these leases still in effect? Had any of them been sold? Are the wells still producing? Are the royalties still being paid? Had the county taxes gone unpaid, such that there were tax liens on them? It could get complicated. But once again, potentially millions were involved. Payton's people would have to go the county clerks and recorders to check the ownership and filings, and I (with Lucy's help, most likely) would have to trace the payments, which meant giving me access to the all the family bank accounts. That should prove interesting.

Friday was nothing but routine trash boxes, but Payton looked more and more anxious each time we opened one. I guess we still haven't found what she is afraid of. We knocked off for the week about 5, and Payton suggested we pick up a pizza on the way to the airport and eat on the plane. I insisted that we call the pilots to see what they wanted. We ended up with two meat lover's pizzas with extra cheese. The pilots wolfed down a couple of pieces each before we took off. Once we were in the air, Payton began to talk with her mouth full. Somehow it made her seem nicer and more approachable.

"Do you see any problems on the horizon, Nando?"

"Not from what we have found so far. I think we can finish going through this stuff next week like we thought. Not sure how long it will take to wrap up those bank accounts and division orders, much less trace all those keys."

"We have a PI who can trace the keys down." She looked thoughtful but kept chewing. Then, "What about problems we haven't seen so far?"

Should I be open with her? What the hell. "It's a big estate. Somebody might try to get Wendy removed as executor, and tie things up for years even if unsuccessful?"

She smiled. "More billings for me! But who else would benefit?"

"Who inherits if Wendy doesn't?"

"A couple of second cousins that are still in grade school split it with the FSU Foundation."

"Per stirpes or per capita?" I had just finished that unit in my CPA review course. "Who would be trustee for the cousins?"

"Per stirpes, so FSU gets half, and the cousins get one quarter each. The FSU Foundation will have a bunch of lawyers. I'm not sure about the cousins, but we can't represent them. How would they get her removed?" I need to ask Wallace if he knows anything about the cousins and get Lucy to do some research.

"Did Wendy kill her mother?"

Payton froze. "What made you ask that?"

"Surefire way to get her removed as executor is to credibly allege that."

"We need to have a conversation with Wendy, to make our best judgment about that probability."

"Will she sit still for that?"

"If she won't talk about it that tells us something. You mentioned that you knew her socially. How well do you know her? Does that give you the ability to judge her credibility?

"No. I have met her socially with several other people around, but I never talked to her one-on-one for more than a moment or two." I couldn't shake the feeling that Payton was hiding something. I figured she knew several things I didn't, and I expected that, but somehow, I knew there was something big I was missing.

* * * * *

Lucy got back to me with her research on the cousins. They had made deal with the FSU foundation people to throw in with them in return for FSU paying the freight on all the legal expenses. The cousins had partial ownership interests in some of the oil and gas royalty properties and their representatives were prepared to assert that they had a similar interest in everything else. They also had expert witnesses that would testify that Wendy was clinically insane and incapable of serving as the executor of the estate, in addition to presenting a circumstantial case that Wendy may have dispatched her mother to accelerate her inheritance. They might not have a slam dunk win, but they could certainly tie things up for years. Lucy didn't know about the goings on at Mel's place nor all of Wendy's youthful misadventures, but I did. If the cousin' parents did too it could get more than uncomfortable if all that stuff came up in open court. Wendy's mom had been paranoid about covering up all of that, but Wendy may or may not care. Which raised the real question: what was motivating Payton?

I did a straight cash flow analysis as a start. If Payton just wanted to maximize the billings to her law firm, what would she want to happen? Getting Wendy removed as executor would rob her of all the ongoing billing for administering and finalizing the estate, and maybe jeopardize any future legal billings for other matters. If Wendy really killed her mother, the cousins and FSU would get it all, and Payton's firm's cash cow would be gone. Payton wanted both those issues to go away. She would want Wendy to settle with the cousins and pay them to go away. That money would come from the corpus of the estate, and Payton could even bill more for negotiating the settlement. So, she would try to get Wendy to make a deal.

I could almost hear Wallace Watkin's voice now. "What would maximize billings for our accounting firm and best develop the long-term relationship with Butcher, Donelson, Borman, Cadwallader & Berkowitz?" We would want a settlement too. We don't get paid for lawsuits or trials. We get paid for accounting. We need to keep all our billings from all the businesses Wendy would inherit and get more from other clients that Payton might bring in later. Okay, how to make it happen? I think I just figured out what Payton knows that I don't. How can I get her comfortable enough to tell me and confirm it?

* * * * *

That second Friday afternoon we finished up at the Palm Beach estate and ended up with 30 banker's boxes full of everything to take back to Payton's office. If Payton found the stuff she wasn't supposed to find, I never noticed it. The interns were dispatched in a U-Haul truck to drive everything back to Tallahassee while we flew back in the "little" King Air. Payton made herself a stiff drink from the leather covered bar in the plane, took off her high heels, and put her feet up on the rear facing seat in front of her.

I decided to warm her up a little. I stared at her legs until she noticed, and I saw her smile. I could never have sex with her, but I could certainly flatter her and flirt with her. For a change, I could be coy. "You know Payton, I've never seen you so look relaxed and attractive."

She smiled contentedly, and slipped her skirt up a bit, showing even more of her nice legs. "Really, Nando? I thought you were all business?"

"Mostly. But after a job is well done, perhaps it might be best to relax with someone you can trust to be discrete?" I put my legs up too, and Payton could not miss what was stirring in my pants. She tried not to stare. "But speaking of getting the job done, we need to make sure that Wendy does not get removed as executor. Does she have an alibi as to where she was when her mother passed that will stand up?"

Payton looked incredibly pleased with herself. "She has more than one, Nando!"

That might mean they were arranged rather than factual. That may not matter to Payton, but I needed to know more. "Do they come from Detective Boyce, by any chance?"

Now she looked worried. "Why do you ask that?"

"Because I think that his credibility may soon be greatly damaged if his long-term relationship with the family is revealed. I think he has covered for Wendy several times in the past, and if that comes out, the alibi may be no good. Wouldn't it be better for us if the whole challenge went away before it gets any publicity? My people have found lots of old CD's that the banks just held on to. They are no longer accruing interest, but there are several millions available. To Wendy, it looks like found money, and maybe we could use it to pay the cousins to go away?"

"The cousins might take it, but what about the FSU Foundation's law firm? They want it all, and they play for keeps!" But then she looked thoughtful. "There might be a way, Nando. First, we have to sell Wendy on making a settlement offer. We need to have a talk with her."

"How can you be so sure she won't be removed?"

Payton smiled slyly. "She has an airtight alibi for when her Mother died, confirmed and documented several different ways. But we can't use it, because where she was and what she was doing at the time is very bad for us also. But I know for sure she didn't kill her mother!" There was a slight emphasis on "her mother."

My suspicions spoke before I thought it through. "Martin Velasquez, then?"

Payton looked disappointed. "Wilsie McQuillan died long after Velasquez, Nando."

Now my brain was working. "That means it's not an alibi, but not that Wendy didn't kill Velasquez."

Payton's face fell. "I am an atheist, Nando, but you and I are about to have what one of my partners calls 'a come to Jesus' meeting."

I sat up and got right in her face. "Go for it, beautiful!"

She smiled. "I can see why Wendy wanted you, Nando. Let's get all our cards on the table, shall we."

"You show me yours and then I'll show you mine, Payton."

She smiled seductively and then began unbuttoning the buttons on her blouse. I was shocked, and I'm sure I looked it.

She stopped unbuttoning and laughed again. "I knew you were attracted to me Nando. And I to you. But we can never act on it, at least not anytime soon. Let me ask you a question: what have you heard about my personal life?"

I sat back. "Just office gossip. You go both ways, but you always like to be on top."

She smiled again. "Exactly the image I choose to convey. It's good politics. It is more like the 80/20 rule. I like men and women, but men more than women. And I do like to be a top, most of the time, but not always. You on the other hand, like women only, and you always want to be the top, don't you?"

I smiled and tried to look confident. She did too. "Wendy told someone I know what made her want you. You were obviously topping Brandi and Brandi was very happy about it."

"Were you a member of the private club at Mel's?"

"In spirit only. I couldn't afford to have any real or visible association with it, but I did enjoy hearing a lot of stories about macho male pretenders being eaten alive by the female sharks there. Several of my clients were enthusiastic members, and I saw some amazing video.

"So, you have sources that are reliable but can't come forward?"

She smiled again. "Yes, and some that can influence things a lot, but from behind the scenes. Wendy's cousin's parents have some skeletons in their closets too. With the right carrots and sticks, I think we can get a settlement done, stay out of court and the news, and bill the fuck out of everybody all the way!"

It took our firms another three weeks for us to finish all the paperwork and publish the inventory of the estate's assets and liabilities. Negotiations went on for another week, and then a settlement was reached. The cousins each got a cash payout, and ongoing income from some of the leases. FSU got a big donation and named a new building after Wendy's mother, and Payton and I both got bonuses. She agreed to ask for me by name for any big or complicated estate matters, and I agreed to send her client referrals for same. The only press release from the whole affair was about the new building at FSU. Neat and tidy.

* * * * *

It was six weeks after the cops closed the Martin Velasquez case when Bonnie Bedard called me. "You still have that bike, Nando?"

"Yes, but I thought you weren't interested in bike rides anymore, at least not with me."

"Oh, you poor pitiful boy! I guess accountants don't have much staying power!"

"I've got lots of staying power, but perhaps less patience than I should."

"Well, the wheels of police bureaucracy run slow, Nando, especially when the IAU is involved."

"What's that?"

"Internal Affairs Unit. The whole Mel's Place deal was such a clusterfuck that everything we did was examined with a fine-tooth comb. If they even saw me talking to you before their final report, they would start investigating me all over again. I came out okay. My partner and our boss did not.

"I figured that Boyce guy was in the McQuillan family's pocket."

"How did you decide that?"

"He jumped when I told him it was Wendy McQuillan that invited me to the private club. He did not want to hear that."

She laughed. "Officially, he didn't. That was not in his report. But I find it interesting.

"He must have had the juice to erase the tape."

"Did you learn what really went on in that back room? How did you find out?"

"I was told the whole sordid story by someone who knew all the players, but I never went back there. I don't even like regular strip clubs, much less a place like that." She gave me a semi-disbelieving look.

We rode the bikes the next Sunday. It was like we started over again on a first date, but I kept pitching. She was cautious, even for a cop. It was six more weeks before I got her in bed. I had a plan.

Make her wait. Make her beg. Then fuck her like a rented mule.

I spent 20 minutes getting to second base. An hour getting her bra off. Another hour tenderly caressing her breasts, and slowly made my way down between her legs. I just kissed her thighs for a long time, then tender kisses through her panties. When I tugged on them, she pulled up both legs and stripped them off almost instantly. She spread her legs, anticipating that I would dive in, but I just blew some hot air on her clit, and started kissing her thighs again. She grabbed the back of my head and tried to force it down to her pussy. She had extraordinarily strong forearms. I guess that comes with being a cop. But my neck muscles were strong too, and the tension felt good.

Finally, I dove in thrusting my tongue as far up into her as I could and started snaking it around. Her hips began to rock like a little buoy bobbing on the water. She groaned and then spurted a little bit from her pussy. My reward. She hadn't seen my cock yet, but I was planning a little drama for her. I stood by the bed, and she reached for me as I did, her arms suddenly empty. I waited until she was looking, and then dropped my pants. I was pleased with the look in her eyes. It was time to get rough. I slapped her face with my cock three times, and then rolled her legs up into the air and began to enter her slowly. Slow but steady, without stopping, without hesitation. She made a deep grunt when I was all the way in, and I started pumping her.

Hot, wet, and sticky doesn't begin to describe her. Like sticking your dick in hot butter, but better. I could not help it. I wanted to fuck her so hard she would never forget it; know she had never had it like this before! She came, and I switched positions, doing her doggy style, and penetrating her even further and harder. She began to chant in time with my thrusts. I was feeling downright nasty. I hoped she was too. I was just about to come. I towered above her and pinned her arms to the bed, and then fucked her mouth, filling it with come. She made an amazing noise, and then did her best to swallow. I knew she was mine.

Once she had eaten it all, I began to eat her pussy again. She gradually wrestled me over on my back, I let her. I wanted her too. She moved up and sat on my face, grinding her pussy into it, I stuck out my tongue and loved every second of it. She fucked my face hard for several minutes. "Eat my pussy you bastard!"

I took it for a moment, then flipped her over on all fours and stuck my tongue up her sweet little ass! She giggled. "Kiss my ass, you bastard!"

I just stopped long enough to say, "Yes Ma'am!" and then dove back in.

* * * * *

A lot has happened in the last two years. I got my degree and passed my CPA exam, first try. I made partner at the accounting firm in record time. Lucy Lowry is now my right-hand at the office, a strictly professional relationship, of course.

Brandi finished her elementary ed degree, but her father died soon after she graduated, so she moved back to Nebraska to take care of her mom. She teaches special ed in her hometown. Hal and Shirley sold all their dealerships and retired to their house at Fisher Island. I have never been invited.

Mel's Place is a Dim Sum joint now. I hear there may be gambling machines in the back room. Melody now travels the world as a consultant to other "spirits entrepreneurs" and has a big You Tube following. She never took me up on my offer. I hope she is happy. Wendy McQuillan has become a recluse, never seen in public and avoiding any publicity. What she does in private I will not speculate on, but I secretly hope she is whipping Ellie's friend Becky.

Ellie Reyes' is already pregnant and incredibly happy about it, and I do their taxes.

Bob Wilson must have had good karma after all. He made a connection to a clinical trial at a research lab that found a way to trick his damaged nerve cells into thinking they were embryonic cells again, and they grew and searched for the other cells they were supposed to connect to. He had to learn how to crawl then how to walk all over again, but he is out of that wheelchair now and getting around very well. So far it only works for about 10% of the patients that try it. He spends his time helping other people get the treatment and fundraising for more research.

I still see Renee on Wednesday afternoons, along with Bob. It takes both of us to take her, challenge her, and work her the way she needs it. We manage to leave her in a happy sloppy heap on the bed every time, and we both walk away smiling so she can clean up and meet Bob for a late dinner out. He loves her seven days a week, but I love her on Wednesday afternoons, too.

My wife Bonnie knows all about it and approves. It makes her a little hot to think about it, and she reserves the right to make a similar arrangement someday if she wants it. So far, she has not. I work her awfully hard to keep her happy, too. She is a very worldly woman who is remarkably busy with her new responsibilities. She knows all about a lot of things that happen around here. She passed her sergeant's exam first try and she has a new boss and a new partner at the police department, and a much bigger paycheck. Danny Ditsch works in the administration section now. At least he is off the street. Detective Boyce took early retirement and is now Wendy's security guy, and I am unsure of his other duties.