The Sandler Inquiry Read online

  "I already am' said Thomas.

  Zenger turned toward the younger man. The aging face creased into a slight grin.

  "I know," he said. I'm not blind."

  "You look well," said Thomas.

  "Damn you!" snapped Zenger with convincing bitterness.

  "What?"

  "You know you've got one God-damned foot in the grave when people say that to you," he said.

  "People stop asking you how you are and start telling you how well you look. Do I look that bad?"

  "I only meant-" "It's obvious what you meant. Most people my age are dead." He eyed his visitor with keen interest.

  "So. Bill Daniels's boy come up to see me. How long have you been practicing law now, Tommy?"

  "Six years."

  "Ever won a case?"

  "Mr. Zenger," Thomas said with fading patience,

  "I-"

  "Answer me, God damn it, or I'll have your obscenely young ass heaved out of here!"

  "Of course I've won cases," said Thomas evenly.

  "You'd never know it, boy," he said.

  "Never know you were Bill Daniels's kid. You haven't learned a thing."

  Thomas was silent. Then the sharp old eyes mellowed and the smile was more friendly.

  "I've had you on the defensive since you came into this room," said Zenger.

  "Be that way in a courtroom, boy, and you're dead ' Proud of his point, Zenger eased back in his chair and offered his hand to his visitor.

  Thomas smiled and took it.

  "I appreciate the lesson'" said Thomas.

  "But nothing's changed.

  I'm still not all that interested in courtrooms' ' "Rubbish," snorted Zenger.

  "You came up here because you're working on a case. What do you think I am, senile? You're your fathers son. Bloodlines don't wash out in the bath. You're even starting to look a little like Bill." "Am I?" Thomas was genuinely surprised.

  "Yes, yes" said Zenger, drawing out the words and looking the younger man up and down.

  "Don't forget I knew Bill way back when he was your age. A hundred years ago or whatever it was.

  Hungry?"

  "I could eat something."

  "You damned well better. I've had lunch fixed for both of us. If I don't drop going from this room to the next we're all set. If I drop, go ahead without me" Zenger climbed to 'his feet with the help of a sturdy cherry wood cane. Thomas put out his hand to help, but Zenger motioned the hand away. The older man's physical movements were slow, to a degree where Thomas was embarrassed for him. But after a few moments of fumbling, Zenger was able to move to the adjoining dining room, a small cozy room with two dark beams across the ceiling and a bright window which looked out on a small garden area and the water beyond. A china cabinet stood before one wall and a ship's barometer dominated another.

  Zenger spoke as they sat down.

  "Ynow why I live up here now and not in New York?"

  Thomas asked why.

  "I figure that anything as slow-moving as I wouldn't live long in the city. I would have been hit by a bus or had a knife perforate my ribs.

  What do you think of that?"

  Thomas shrugged noncommittally.

  Lunch was a seafood salad. A bottle of chablis appeared.

  Zenger's mock belligerence was gone now. He and Thomas talked amiably.

  Zenger dwelled on how sorry he had been to hear of the passing of Daniels, Senior, a year earlier. But, of course he excused himself, he'd been unable to travel and attend the funeral. Then Zenger asked about the law firm, wanting to know with glee who was using whom and for what. Thomas gave him as much gossip as he could, but never mentioned the fire.

  Gradually the old man's attention lagged. He gazed off away from Thomas and out the dining-room window. His eyes squinted.

  "See that?" he asked.

  Thomas looked.

  "See what?"

  "The ocean," Zenger answered softly and almost affectionately.

  "Look as far as you can, across the waves, all you see is water." The eyes twinkled and the eyebrows were raised. He looked back to Thomas quickly Daniels was considering the old man carefully, as if Zenger had gone soft for a few seconds.

  "Someday, Tommy," Zenger continued, 'someday soon, I'm going to take a long trip. Beneath the waves. And I won't be coming back."

  "You look healthy to me," Daniels offered.

  The old man scoffed,

  "Got nothing to do with it'" he said.

  "When it's your time to go, you go. Simple as that. For me, I'd like to go beneath the waves." Zenger looked old in the afternoon light.

  The housekeeper appeared. She cleared the plates and served coffee. At length, a different Zenger spoke.

  "Enough of the bullshit' His voice was upbeat now, a total change.

  "You didn't come up here for the salt air. You said something on the telephone about Victoria Sandler."

  "That's right, I wanted to know about her. And the family."

  "Know what?"

  Thomas shrugged.

  "Everything. Whatever you know." Thomas saw a flicker of suspicion in Zenger's eyes.

  "Why?" asked Zenger.

  "The old woman just died."

  "I know. We do have newspapers up here. But you didn't just come because you had a funny curiosity."

  Thomas folded his hands together and remained silent while cream for the coffee was served. When they were alone-again, he spoke.

  "The firm used to handle the family business. You know that. If there's any question about a will I'm going to need to know as much asI can ' "Uh huh," said Zenger without enthusiasm.

  "What about your files?"

  "Incomplete." If Thomas had learned one thing from his father, it was never to reveal a position of weakness to another attorney. Any other attorney "Incomplete?" Zenger's wrinkled forehead formed a frown.

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  Thomas shrugged innocently." "The material in the Sandler folder is sketchy. Leaves a lot of questions unanswered" Zenger leaned back in his chair. He sipped the hot black coffee and looked Thomas in the eye. He let several seconds pass in silence.

  "Sketchy, huh?" Zenger said.

  "That's a pretty vague term. What does it mean?"

  "It means what I said it means" said Thomas.

  "It means-' "It means I just nailed you for perjury," chortled Zenger.

  Thomas was perplexed.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Why don't you admit you got burned out" scoffed Zenger.

  "You don't have a Sandler file anymore. What you don't know is that you're God-damned lucky you don't."

  Thomas could feel his mouth dry and open in unconcealed amazement. He felt just as many witnesses in past years had felt before attorney Zenger. Totally befuddled, caught off base by the unexpected assertion, the unanticipated declaration of the facts.

  Thomas tried to recover.

  "You know more than I do)' he said.

  "Why don't you let me in on it."

  Aah' scoffed Zenger, leaning back now and sipping coffee slyly "There's nothing to let you in on.".

  "How did you know-?"

  "About the fire? I read the papers, damn it. And even though my God-damned flesh is giving out, I have not lost the capacity for thought. Victoria Sandler dies. Your offices are demolished by arson.

  Your offices just happen to be where the files were on years and years of Sandler transactions. Well, what else am I to assume?"

  "What was in the files? And who wanted it?"

  Zenger shrugged.

  "I couldn't begin to guess" he said.

  "Come off it!" Thomas's voice was sharp, his patience thinning.

  "I didn't come up here to play games. You may be having your cheap fun-' "Calm yourself, calm yourself," cautioned Zenger patiently, waving a frail hand across the table.

  "You'll get your answers. In time."

  "I want them now."

  "You'll get them now."

  T
homas gazed across the table in silence.

  "I'm waiting," he said.

  "Yes. I can see that." Zenger paused.

  "Some people, young people mostly, don't know how lucky they are."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means you're a very lucky young man. You have a great name to live up to. You have your youth. You have your freedom.

  And you have no knowledge of the Sandler family." . Thomas continued to stare at Zenger, having no idea at all where the old man was leading the conversation. Zenger continued.

  "And you have a guardian angel. Before you could go to that file and involve yourself with it, someone burned you out. You owe the arsonist an eternal debt of gratitude. Maybe someday you'll find out who he was."

  "Make some sense, damn it' Zenger looked at the young man in dismay.

  "I suppose he said, "I was as naive and impetuous at your age as you are now. You want some sense made. All right. Here it is. The full knowledge of Sandler family transactions is enough to get you killed. I don't know everything and I don't want to know. The only person who'd want to live to be eighty-three is a man of eighty-two. I'm eighty two Have I made some sense?"

  Thomas was thoughtful. He perceived a sincerity and almost a trace of fear in Zenger's eyes.

  "Some," he said.

  "But I'm not satisfied" "Jesus," snorted Zenger in disgust, as he slapped the arms of his chair.

  "I want to know as much as you know."

  "You never will." The old man's voice was firm.

  "I won't tell you.

  Hot pincers couldn't get it out of me" "Well," spoke Thomas Daniels in a controlled rage, pronouncing each syllable.

  "Then I'll find out myself" He stood quickly.

  "Tell me something" said Zenger, raising his hand to hold the young visitor.

  "Why is all this of such almighty interest to you?"

  "In my position, wouldn't you be interested?"

  Zenger pondered the hypothesis.

  "No," he said finally.

  "If a man with fifty years' experience in law told me that it could cost me my life to get involved with something, I'd take the hint. I'd lay off.

  That's why I can't figure you. No one with ten cents' worth of brains risks getting killed just because he's curious."

  Thomas looked at Zenger carefully.

  "I have a client" Thomas said.

  "What kind of a client?"

  "A client " "Oh, come on."

  "You're not answering my questions" Zenger thought for an instant.

  "So we'll exchange some information. Who's your client?"

  Thomas sat down again.

  "A girl' he said. Zenger, unsatisfied, waited without replying.

  "I've got 'a girl who claims she's Arthur Sandler's daughter."

  Zenger's face appeared frozen for several seconds.

  "Oh, Christ" he finally scoffed.

  "All this for some female fruitcake who turned up? My advice to you is take the pussy and run."

  "I'm inclined to believe her claim" said Thomas.

  – Why?"

  "She has some documents. And I have a feeling. I think she's telling the truth. I suspect she is Arthur Sandler's daughter."

  Zenger was already shaking his head.

  "Not possible," he said.

  – Why?"

  "Your father handled the Sandlers more than I did. But yes, I know a few things about the family. Arthur Sandler wasn't the type of man who ran around siring bastard children."

  "She's not illegitimate."

  "Well, then there's immaculate conception involved, because Arthur Sandler never married" "Apparently he did ' "Bullshit!" roared Zenger heatedly.

  "During World War Two. In England" Now it was Zenger's turn. For an instant Thomas sensed the old man was stunned by a revelation of truth.

  But, if he had been, he recovered just as quickly. He began to smile.

  "That proves that it's a hoax" said Zenger grimly.

  – Why?"

  "The fact is that Arthur Sandler never left the United States during the war. Not for a single day. Being wealthy and being Germanic by "traction, he was afraid to leave."

  "Afraid?"

  "Some people, people with influential friends, knew what was happening to Japanese Americans. Sandler feared the same. He was scared that if he left the country he'd never be let back in. He'd be stripped of his fortune and his citizenship in one neat little swoop Zenger, feeling his case winning, allowed himself a calm smile.

  He added,

  "And I can prove this" "How?"

  "I have an old friend in the passport office in Washington. I can arrange a visit for you. You can go down there yourself and inspect the old passport records."

  "You make it sound very simple."

  "It is " Thomas pondered it, then shook his head. He fingered the cold coffee cup in front of him.

  "No, it's not" he said.

  "I took the liberty of making some telephone calls."

  "Jesus Christ," snapped Zenger.

  "Who'd you call?"

  "England' "Who in England?"

  "A bureau of records in Exeter. And the borough clerk's – office in Devonshire "And?" asked Zenger coldly.

  "The marriage certificates and the birth certificates check with what's on official record. Everything checks, right down to the signatures on both certificates. Now, if necessary, I can have the handwriting analyzed. I can also go to England and try to trace down the people who witnessed the marriage or birth. From there-" "Holy Christ. Holy, holy Christ!"

  Thomas looked across the table at the muttering Zenger.

  Zenger's face was ashen and his hands were shaking. His face started to sink to his palms, but Zenger caught himself and looked across the table.

  "You know too much already," he said.

  "You sitaround with a telephone and play detective, but you don't really understand what you're fooling with." The old man leaned forward.

  "Thomas. Don't get involved. You'll get everyone killed."

  "Everyone? Who?"

  "You!" snorted Zenger in a mocking voice.

  "You! Me! This girl, even if she is a hoax."

  "In that case," said Thomas evenly, "you'd better tell me what we're dealing with. Because I'm going on with this case until someone convinces me that I shouldn't."

  The old man's frail hand was shaking slightly. He picked up a linen napkin from the table and dried his palms. There was anxiety in his eyes as he looked at the younger man across the table.

  "I used to think that your father was the shrewdest lawyer I could ever imagine. I might have been wrong' He paused for a moment.

  "I said hot pincers couldn't get this story' out of me. And they wouldn't. But you're going to get your damned story." Zenger looked Daniels in the eye. Promise me you'll drop the case when you leave here today."

  Thomas shrugged, knowing he didn't have to bargain.

  "I can't make any promise" he said.

  "I haven't heard anything yet" Zenger shook his head.

  "God help you."

  He struggled to his feet, again needing the cherry wood cane.

  "I made a tactical error here today. I should have pretended that my brain had failed, too."

  Zenger struggled back toward the leather armchair in the sitting room.

  Mrs. Clancy appeared, to clear the' table "Follow me' he said to Thomas, The old man coughed violently as he walked.

  "If I'd known how long I was going to live' he said, "I'd have taken better care of myself."

  Chapter 7

  "Above all, you must remember two aspects of Arthur Sandler.

  First, he had a consuming sense of family honor, very much a nineteenth-century German tradition. And second, you must bear in mind his brilliance. Brilliance," explained Adolph Zenger, 'far beyond simple genius."

  Zenger's voice was weaker than it had been two hours earlier when Thomas Daniels had arrived. The old man was again in his worn leather chair, the blanke
t draped across his lap. Thomas sat across the cozy sitting room, bookcases to his right, the window overlooking the garden on his left.

  "What sort of brilliance?" he asked.

  Zenger's frail hand was on the carved handgrip of the cherry wood cane.

  His eyes were sharp and spirited as he replied.

  "Brilliance in every way, Tommy," he snapped.

  "But particularly in the three fields that interested Sandler most.

  Chemicals. Finance. Engraving."

  Zenger could see that his visitor was mystified.

  "You have to understand the Sandler family, Tommy," insisted Zenger.

  "You must understand the family."

  Zenger began to explain, citing William Ward Daniels as his onetime source of all information concerning the Sandlers.

  The paternal grandfather of Arthur and Victoria Sandler arrived in a wide-open New York in the late 1850s. A young man at the time, and an immigrant from Hamburg, he quickly prospered by importing fabrics from Europe and reselling them to American sweatshops at a five-hundred-per-cent markup. Then Wilhelm von Dreissen Sandler quickly sensed the investment opportunities around him. He purchased land and property as fast as he could, living frugally and pouring every cent into either a building or a plot of land. Within ten years he was a millionaire through one enduring principle: rents.

  He fell in love twice: once with a woman, once with a building. In 1864 he married and embarked on a European honeymoon with his bride.

  Touring through France, Sandler happened upon the country chateau of the Baron Al'is d'Artennes. Sandler madly coveted the home, a magnificent sprawling estate which had been in the d'Artennes family since 1730. Sandler attempted to buy the estate. The baron, insulted that the wealthy parvenu American would have the effrontery to make such an offer, would not even reply. Embittered, Wilhelm Sandler returned to New York, where he was more used to getting any building he wanted. There he would have his way after all. He commissioned a replica of the chateau to be built on a strip of land he owned in what was then a tree-shaded suburban section of Manhattan. And so by 1877, when construction was complete, Wilhelm Sandler had become the Baron of Eighty-ninth Street.

  There his lifelong frugality gave way to indulgence. He gained one hundred pounds in three years. He would have gained more, but in 1880 he dropped dead of a stroke.