Echoes in Death (In Death 44)

“Yes, I’m sure you do. The client may have a spouse or partner. He may, if there is real property, such as a home, leave that property to the surviving spouse, along with gifts given during their marriage or partnership. Jewelry, for instance, clothing, furs. It may be this client is very exacting, very precise in his bequests, naming pieces of art, furnishings, and so on that may be left to the spouse or partner, or must be sold at auction to benefit the charity the client has already designated.

“As a lawyer, one who handles a great many estates, I would advise, of course, that a trust be established for the spouse or partner, at the very least to help this individual maintain the real property, certainly to pay off any existing liens on same. My advice is sometimes dismissed.”

“Okay.”

“Let me also point out that even expediting, an estate like this hypothetical example would take up to two years to settle. This real property could not be sold until that time, in the event there were any challenges to the terms. If you speak to Daphne before I’m able to do so, will you ease her mind, tell her this office will advance her what she needs?”

“All right. You did their prenup.”

Now he sighed—a sound almost like a bull snorting. “I did. Again, I can’t discuss specifics. I will say that while I strongly advised Daphne to engage her own attorney to vet the agreement, she didn’t do so. And the period of time it took to write the prenup to Anthony’s specifications was not inside the ten days I liked him.”

“What would you say if I told you there’s evidence coming to light that Anthony Strazza abused his wife? That the abuse was emotional, verbal, physical, and potentially sexual.”

Wythe shoved away from the desk, stared hard at his putting green. “That’s not going to do it this time.”

He turned his back, looked through the glass at the curtain of snow.

“I didn’t socialize with Anthony, though we belonged to the same club—stuffy, old-fashioned place I’m fond of here in the city. We had very little in common otherwise. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d said he bullied her—verbally—domineered, pressured her to be and behave in a certain manner.

But you’re saying he used violence?”

“I can’t discuss the details.”

“Touché,” he countered. “I only met her a handful of times. Young, fresh, ridiculously lovely. I never expected the marriage to last, frankly. I assumed one or both of them would become bored and walk away from the marriage. But I never, even saying I didn’t like the man, I never suspected he’d be violent with her. I’m not sure what I’d have done about it if I’d known.”

He came back, sat again. “I have a daughter. She’s the second Wythe in the firm. She married about three years ago and is about to give me my first grandson. I think the world of the man she married. Absolutely the world. And if I learned he’d raised his hand to my daughter, I’d break both his arms. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d known Daphne was being abused. No, I’m wrong.”

He sat back, nodded. “I have a son. Our black sheep, as he opted not to follow me as I followed my father, my grandfather into law. Instead, he’s one of you.” Wythe smiled as he said it. “If I’d known, I’d have gone to Nelson, asked him to look into it.”

“Detective Nelson Wythe,” Eve said, “under Lieutenant Mercer. He’s a good cop.”

“That’s my boy.”

“What about the first wife?” Eve asked.

“I didn’t know her well. As I said, I didn’t socialize with Anthony. I didn’t handle the divorce, but passed that to one of our associates. It’s my understanding Anthony’s ex-wife accepted a monetary settlement and moved out of the country.”

“Okay.”

“Tell Daphne that I and this firm are at her disposal, and that I would like to speak with her at the earliest opportunity. As for her medical bills, those can be paid out of the estate. I can work that, and we can and will advance her what she needs for lodging and living expenses.

“Now, unless there’s more, I’d very much like to go home and have a very large whiskey.”

* * *

“He was pretty okay for a lawyer,” Peabody commented as they left. “And that was a really good latte.”

“Another check mark in the Disliked Strazza column.”

Stepping out into reception, Eve noted the woman still manned the desk. And was currently being charmed up to the eyeballs by Roarke, who leaned casually against the counter.

He turned his head, aimed that killer smile at Eve. “And here’s my cop, and our own Peabody.”

“What’s the deal?” Eve demanded.

“As I was just telling the delightful Donna, we’re closing down most of the operations for the day, and I’m here to hitch a ride with my wife.”

“I’m not going home.”