The Heir Hunter (17 page)

“Immediately. But—”

“No buts. It has to be done.”

Nick was seated outside Gate 26 of Salzburg International Airport when he got Alex’s call.

“I found Monica, Nick.”

“Great. What do we have?”

“I’ll give you the bad news first. I found her in the Iowa death index. She’s been dead for about two years—”

“Damn
,” said Nick, clutching the phone. “What about the good news?”

“Her maiden name was Holtzmann. She’s got three children—Jessica, Matthew, and Timothy. Jessica’s still in
Des Moines. Matthew’s in Sacramento. I’ve got a flight reserved to California.”

Nick watched a line of travelers entering a boarding tunnel. “What about the other brother?”

“He’s not coming up on any of the searches I ran. Let’s just wrap up two-thirds and worry about him later.”

Nick hesitated but quickly realized there was nothing to think about. “Do it. You run background on Jessica?”

“Sure did. She’s an attorney, Nick.”

“Oh man. So much for a quick and easy presentation.”

“Probably pick over every little word and phrase of the contract,” said Alex.

“I can handle her. Listen, there’s a fax service available here at the airport. I want to get these reports in my hands now. I’ve got a lot of flight time to kill. How many pages are we looking at?”

“Ten.”

“Great.” He gave her the fax number. “Get that to me, and I’ll call you right after I see Jessica.”

“It’s on the way. We’re so close, Nick!”

He hung up and hurried through the terminal.

A
STRANGE CALMNESS SETTLED
over Nick during the Iowa flight. He watched the descent into Des Moines and told himself that things were now out of his hands. He and Alex had done their best, pushed themselves to the limit. They couldn’t possibly have moved quicker on the Jacobs investigation than they had those last three days. If they had been beaten to them by their competitors, so be it. At least then they wouldn’t have to concern themselves with the FBI anymore.

From State Highway 5, Nick pulled the rental car onto the Fifth Street exit and made a left on McKinley. A long, tree-lined street led him to Pinecreek, his next left. He slowed to a cruise until he read the address he was looking for.

The house at 11 Pinecreek Road was a ranch-style dwelling with beige paint and brown borders. It was a modest, simple home, and Nick hoped this was indicative of the owner. He felt encouraged by what he had read of her background during the flight.

Alex had done her usual thorough work. She had first traced one of Jessica Von Rohr’s billing addresses to a law office. An Internet search through the Martindale-Hubbell legal directory confirmed that Jessica was an attorney specializing in real estate, with an emphasis on farming law. She had completed her undergrad studies at
the University of Iowa and received her law degree from NYU.

Their IRS contact provided more information. Miss Von Rohr’s W2 tax forms showed her to be earning in the range of sixty thousand dollars each of the previous five years. She was doing well income-wise, but not well enough for Nick to be concerned. For some reason, the most difficult clients had always been the wealthier ones, a fact that had always mystified the partners.

A credit report showed Miss Von Rohr to be carrying minimal credit card debt, a student loan of twenty thousand dollars, and a forty-five-thousand-dollar debt with the Bank of Des Moines—a mortgage loan, Nick assumed. Her home was owned under her name, and an occupancy check revealed no other boarders. She was single.

The Iowa State Department of Transportation gave further key data. Thirty-one-year-old Jessica Anne Von Rohr was born in Ames, Iowa. She was five foot four, one hundred and fifteen pounds, with blond hair and blue eyes. She drove a 1994 Saab—apparently rather quickly. She had received two speeding tickets in the last fourteen months.

A general Internet search on her name had provided two final hits. Jessica had a current State of Iowa fishing license and was also part of a local jogging club.

Nick put the papers aside. He felt optimistic. Jessica was a rural attorney with country roots and a decent income. Any woman who liked to fish couldn’t be
too
uptight.

He glanced back over at the house. The Saab was parked in the driveway. He checked his tie in the rearview mirror and smoothed his hair.

From his coat pocket, the phone rang.

“Hey, Alex.”

“Do I sound like Alex?” asked Doug. “I’ve been waiting for your damn call. What’s the latest?”

“I’m in Des Moines getting ready to approach a possible heir. I think I—”

“Jesus, you got an
heir?
Why the hell haven’t you called me?”

“I can’t call you every fifteen minutes, okay? Gimme a break. I’m about to make an approach here. Heir or not, I’m going to be on my way home this evening, which reminds me—can you pick me up at SFO?”

“What time?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I book the flight. With a little luck I’ll be walking out of that boarding tunnel with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.”

Doug liked the sound of this.

“Man oh man, I wish your pops was around to see this, Nick. Who would’ve thought we’d pull something like this off?”

“Haven’t pulled anything off yet, buddy.”

“You will, man. Hey, I called to let you know I got our petition together. All I need to do is fill in the blanks.”

“Well, I hope to give you a name in a little while here. Listen, I’m right outside her place. I’ll call you when I know what the story is.”

“Soon as you’re out, Nick.”

“Soon as I’m out.”

He put the phone away and paused. Doug was right—his father would have enjoyed being a part of this one. Nick would have loved for him to be there too. But present or not, his father was a part of the Jacobs case—a part of
every
case and nothing was ever going to change that. He stepped to the curb.

An unfamiliar nervousness hit him when he was on the walkway. The presentation he was about to make would be Merchant and Associates’ greatest triumph, dramatically changing several lucky people’s lives for the better. He would be one of those lucky individuals, but only if it went right.

He reached the door and paused, staring at a motionless set of wind chimes. The very first thing he had to do was determine unequivocally that Jessica was indeed an
heir. That would be done with his very first question. He pressed the doorbell and immediately saw movement inside.

The young woman who answered the door wasn’t what he had been expecting. This was not the slipper-clad, bathrobed client so typical of rural cases. She was dressed in purple running shorts and tank top, an elastic white headband holding golden hair back over her forehead. She seemed shorter than five foot four to him, but she was very pretty. The eyes, bright and intelligent, met and held his.

Nick straightened up a bit and tried to remember his script.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “I’m looking for Jessica Von Rohr, daughter of Monica Holtzmann.”

She leaned against the doorway, a confused look on her face. She looked him over carefully before speaking.

“I’m Jessica Von Rohr,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

Bingo
, he thought. “Looks like I caught you on the way out.”

“You may have,” she said. “Depends on what you’re selling. Salesman, right?”

“I’m happy to say I’m not,” replied Nick, showing his private investigator’s ID. “My name’s Nick Merchant, I’m a private investigator from San Francisco. I’ve come here with news of an important family matter.”

She took his card and looked it over. “Okay,” she said, handing it back. “What kind of family matter?”

His smile came from sheer nervousness. “I’m pleased to say that I have good news for you, Miss Von Rohr. I think you may be an heir to an estate.”

“Really,” she replied, her expression skeptical. “And what estate would this be?”

“I’d love to tell you all about it. I do have some documents I’d like to show you, though, first. Can we perhaps sit down for a few minutes and talk?”

She raised her chin slightly as she leaned against the doorway. It was a small, delicate chin, held confidently. Her face was classically attractive—full lips, oval cheekbones, clear, smooth complexion. She stared at him, bright green eyes under dark blond eyebrows.

“Did somebody at the office put you up to this?”

“Absolutely not. Scout’s honor.”

She rubbed her chin thoughtfully for a moment before stepping aside and motioning him in. “I can give you a few minutes. You better not try to sell me life insurance.”

Nick tipped his head graciously and entered. He could kick himself. Her good looks had rattled him, turned him into a babbling amateur. Scout’s honor? Good God! But at least he was in, and one thing was resoundingly clear: if another heir finder had gotten to her first, she would have known exactly why he had come. He was first!

Nick took a seat on a large sectional couch and looked around. The living room was tastefully furnished but not lavish. A picture facing him from an end table caught his eye. A gray-haired woman and a young lady he assumed was his host smiled at him from the frame. They were standing in front of a river and were wearing frayed hats and long rubber pants. The older woman held what looked to be a sizable trout on the end of her line. Apparently that fishing license came in handy.

Jessica sat in a recliner next to him, leaning forward with her elbows on her bare, toned legs.

“I notice you creek-fish,” Nick said, nodding to the photograph.

“Not too much since my father passed away,” she said with a slight smile. She glanced at her watch. “I need to be somewhere pretty quick here. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what this is all about.”

Nick nodded and reached for his portfolio. He didn’t want to rush this presentation, but his prospective client appeared to be all business, maybe even a little uptight. He removed a folder that held an inheritance contract
stipulating a 30 percent fee. Jessica Von Rohr brushed her hair back behind her ear and waited.

“Thanks again for sitting down with me. I’ll make this as quick as I can.” He cleared his throat. “Let me first start by explaining my business. I’ve a company located in San Francisco called Merchant and Associates which specializes in doing private research for families. Specifically my firm locates missing family members who are entitled to assets of relatives. We’ve connected dozens of people with assets which were previously unknown to them.”

“So I’m a missing family member,” she said, nodding intently. “And I didn’t even know it.”

“Technically I suppose
estranged
is a better word. My latest research leads me to believe that you can become our client. Based on the findings of an investigation we’ve conducted, I think you may be entitled to a sum of assets from an estate.”

“Sounds good to me.” She crossed her arms. “So you actually do this for a living?”

“Yes, I do,” he replied with a smile. He had heard that question so many times.

“I’m jealous,” she said with feeling. “You mean you can actually
make
a living doing this?”

“If you’re willing to work hard. I admit my business is different, but it’s completely legitimate. We’re a licensed private investigation firm which has been working with estates for twelve years now. I’ve brought a list of professional references as well as examples of work my company’s done for other clients.”

“Good. I’ll need to see all that.” She swept a stray hair from her face and leaned forward. “So what about my inheritance? Come on—enough buildup. You’re on the clock here.”

“Sure. Miss Von Rohr, there’s just one aspect of my business I do need to explain before I tell you about the inheritance. My company earns its money when a person agrees to become our client. All this means is that they
sign an agreement which assigns to my company a fee—called a finder’s fee—which is a percentage of the assets we’ve told you about. By being a client, you pay no out-of-pocket fees whatsoever. Merchant and Associates pays all legal fees related to obtaining the assets. Our compensation is received directly from the estate. You never have to come up with a penny. Due to the fact that my company does need to guarantee its fee, the sources of the assets are not revealed until
after
the client signs our contract.”

“So you don’t tell me until I sign, huh? I don’t know. I mean, I understand contingency fees, but I’m not too wild about signing anything blindly. I’ll need to look over all your materials before I commit to anything.”

“I understand,” said Nick, hiding his disappointment. “How would you feel about signing a contract like this if you determined it was legitimate?”

“I probably would,” she said, with a less than convincing shrug. “If I’m entitled, I’m entitled, right? What percent are you asking for?”

Nick considered it momentarily. He had been hoping for a quick close, but his client hadn’t been as easygoing as he would have hoped. Alex had been right with her attorney comment.

“My partner and I think twenty-five percent is fair,” he said.

She nodded, her reaction to the number unreadable. “I’d like to see the contract, if I may.”

Nick handed it over to her and held his breath. Jessica brought her legs up off the floor, curling them into her seat as she read the contract. He watched her as she read. This was very appropriate. The most attractive heir he had ever met signs the most beautiful contract he had ever written. He felt as if every nerve in his body were tingling. He licked his lower lip quickly. The boys at General Inquiry would die when they heard. They would have to carry old man Castleton out on a stretcher. Hell, they would need
a forklift
for that job.

“Pretty basic,” she said, handing him back the paper. “So what kind of assets are you talking about here?”

“Mostly bank accounts, but we’re also looking at some real estate and other personal property.”

“Really.” She was silent for a moment. “What if I told you that I may already know whose estate this is?”