The Baxter Trust

came to my sister. Alice, Sheila’s mother. He lavished all his love and affection on her. And money. Max and I got nothing. Well, Max was younger, and he didn’t find the situation quite so galling. He was quite a stick-in-the-mud even then. But I was the poor son of a rich man, and I couldn’t stand it. I was desperate to get away and get some money of my own so that I could break out of the situation.
    “Well, you know what happened. I met some men who had a scheme to make some money, big money. It was a crooked scheme. I was arrested. I served two years in prison. When I got out, my father and my sister were dead, and Max was in control.
    “So now I’m a night clerk in a second-rate hotel, and Max is God Almighty.”
    Baxter paused and took another sip of coffee. “I know this isn’t what you came here to ask me, but when someone’s been talking with Max I like to have equal time.”
    “I can understand that.”
    “So, what did you want to know?”
    “To begin with, what time was it when you and Phillip left Max’s apartment?”
    “Eleven twenty-five.”
    “You sure?”
    “Absolutely. We had to get to Port Authority to catch the eleven forty-five to Boston. We just made it.”
    “How did you get there?”
    “By cab.”
    “Did you see Phillip off on the bus?”
    “No, I hopped out at Forty-second Street and took the subway downtown. But Phillip called me from Boston that night. He said he’d just made it.”
    “Phillip’s there now?”
    “Yes. Harvard Law School. School is the one thing Max is willing to shell out for.”
    “Okay. Tell me about your father.”
    Baxter looked up in surprise. “What about my father?”
    “Any chance his death wasn’t an accident?”
    “What on earth are you talking about?”
    “Any chance he was murdered?”
    “Murdered.”
    “Yes.”
    Baxter shook his head. “Not a chance in the world. He had cancer. His doctors gave him six months. He actually lasted nine.”
    “Uh huh. What about Sheila’s father?”
    “What about him?”
    “Any chance he’s still alive?”
    Baxter’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
    “I think you know what I mean.”
    Baxter thought that over. “You mean is Sheila illegitimate?”
    “That’s one possibility. Another is that her parents were married, and then they divorced or separated. Her mother found it easier just to let Sheila think her father was dead.”
    “Why is it important?”
    “If Sheila’s father is living, he might be in a position to contest your father’s will and upset Sheila’s trust.”
    “How? I’m Phillip’s father and a blood relative and I have no control over Phillip’s trust.”
    Steve nodded. “Yes, but your case is different. You were specifically disinherited in the will. The will makes no provision at all for Sheila’s father. Thus her trust may be open to attack. If the trust is upset, the will’s upset, because the trust is a provision of the will.”
    Baxter thought that over. “I see. Well, the answer is, I don’t know. I never met Sheila’s father. None of us ever did. Alice was in California at the time. She wrote us that she was married. To a Samuel Benton. Then she wrote that her husband had been killed in a plane crash. When she came back East, Sheila was three.”
    Steve got up. “Okay. Thanks. That’s what I wanted to know.”
    Baxter followed him to the door.
    “Mr. Winslow?”
    “Yes.”
    “I don’t know exactly what you’re driving at, but it seems as if somehow you suspect Max of something.”
    “Well?”
    Baxter looked at him with those sad, tired eyes.
    “Well, it may not sound very brotherly, but if you could pin something on him, I’d be very grateful.”

32.
    D ISTRICT A TTORNEY H ARRY D IRKSON WAS worried.
    Steve Winslow. He’d never heard of Steve Winslow. And a check into Winslow’s background had told him why. The guy’d only been a lawyer for one year. He’d worked for one firm for two weeks and that had been it. He hadn’t worked since. And now, here he was in a murder case.
    Dirkson didn’t like it. Sure, if the guy was as green as all that, he should be Dirkson’s meat. Dirkson should cut him up in court. But still.
    He was an unknown quantity. That was what Dirkson didn’t like. The other, more seasoned lawyers could be a pain in the ass, but at least Dirkson knew them. He could deal with them. He was onto their tricks, and knew how to counter them. But this guy— Dirkson just didn’t know.
    Well, take his current