Chapter 12 – Accounting

When the ceremony concluded with another prayer, people began to leave, when Reverend Fanshaw approached me, and took my hand. He ducked his head slightly as he said, "Thank you, Dr. Ellingham, that was… extraordinary."

"But factual," I replied.

The Reverend stared into my eyes. "I see."

Louisa stood right next to me, holding my left hand, just as she had at Joan's funeral. Her touch I found comforting. "Martin," she sighed, "that was…"

"Thought provoking," the minister interrupted her. "I will endeavor to work that into my next sermon, that sincere caring and love are necessary in any relationship." He sighed. "A better world if we all could make that so, don't you think? I am so very sorry that you had to undergo…"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "Hm," I responded.

Sinclair emerged from the background and asked, "Will you be staying for the closing of the casket?"

Louisa replied, "No. I don't think so."

Fanshaw smiled and then shook mine and Louisa's hand. "I am sorry for your loss, both of you, and I wish that you both can make your way ahead in the days to come."

Louisa smiled at the man and then at me. "We'll be fine but thank you."

Sinclair cleared his throat. "This then is the end of the proceedings," he said hollowly. "Thank you for letting us serve the family." He held out his arms to direct us from the room. "If you would just wait outside until we are finished in here?"

"My mother pre-arranged all this?" I suspected that there would be a bill due, considering my mother's lack of financial control.

"Ahm, yes, she did. All complete."

"Fine," I told him then turned away, just wanting to leave all this behind me.

Louisa handed me my coat and we shrugged into our outer garments, preparing to leave. I looked behind me and Sinclair and another man, also dressed in somber clothing, were standing by the casket, and clearly waiting for us to leave the place.

The Reverend walked out with us. "If there is anything that you think or wish me to do?" he said, then handed me a card embossed with his name and contact information. "Then please call or email? I wish you a good day. And my God's love bear you up at this your time of loss."

Louisa thanked him for the service, while I stared at my watch. Nearly noon but our train back to Cornwall did not leave until nine tomorrow. Well, I thought, despite the occasion, Louisa would enjoy being in London. She'd gone to uni here so perhaps she might have some idea of how to spend the rest of the day. As we left the chapel, Fanshaw swung the door closed behind us, leaving the chapel and it's funerary contents behind us. George Wilkes stood just outside, apparently waiting for us.

He smiled grimly. "Dr. and Mrs. Ellingham, that was… thoughtful and I do believe that some people ought to hear your testimony." He nodded slowly, "But now, if I may, and this is an inauspicious moment, there are a few matters to discuss."

Louisa gave the man a suspicious look. "Really? Just now?"

Behind me the chapel door opened, and Sinclair came out. "Oh yes, here are the…" he pressed a small cloth bag into my hand. "Mrs. Ellingham's jewelry items." He nodded. "I shall inform you when the cremains are ready to go to the crypt, if you would care to attend the interment at that time."

I stuffed the bag into my overcoat pocket. "That will not be necessary," I told him.

He bowed slightly. "Still, I shall send you a note via email and post, if you have a change of mind. "Now good day to you and please accept my condolences for your loss," he said professionally. Then he turned away and reentered the chapel, closing the door after him.

Wilkes laughed nervously. "Ghastly business isn't it?"

Louisa looked hard at him and then at me, as she took my arm. "All part of the process."

"Right," Wilkes grunted. "Now," he looked at his expensive watch, "may I invite you to luncheon? We can discuss the matter of your late mother then." He rubbed his arms as he peered around the large sanctuary. "Despite the stained-glass windows, I find this all a rather cold and gloomy pile."

Louisa looked towards the altar. "All the same," she told him. "There is something majestic about it." She smiled at him. "And we had not made any plans, did we, Martin?"

I pulled her aside. "We don't even know this fellow," I whispered in her ear. "He might be a scam artist or some such."

Wilkes cleared his throat as he extracted a thick envelope from his pocket. "I sense your anxiety," he said calmly, "but I have here the necessary documents to prove both my identification and authenticity."

I took the envelope and opened it, and withdrew a thick sheaf of legal documents, the topmost two or three pages were embossed with seals.

Wilkes cleared his throat again. "Uhm, the top one is the executorship of your mother's estate. I am Margaret's attorney, you see, and executor and am legally empowered to properly, God I hate the words, dispose and disperse the contents; to make settlements to the beneficiaries."

I stared at the man. "And who is that? The beneficiaries."

Wilkes beamed broadly. "Why you of course, Doctor, and your offspring. You said you have two children."

Louisa nodded but muttered, "Martin, I thought your mother had no money."

"No money?" Wilkes laughed and his voice echoed in the large room. "Oh, my word, no. Not quite. Sorry for that outburst, but shall we go to lunch now? We can discuss this over food and drink. My treat."

I looked at my wife. "Seems we ought to listen to this fellow," I told her.

Outside the church, Wilkes waved for a cab and we headed off. "There's a nice restaurant I like to attend," Wilkes told us. He was seated in the jump seat of the taxi so he could face us. "Good food, quiet nooks for a tete-a-tete, and so forth."

Louisa and I sat silently during the short journey. We sped past the site of Whitehall, then The Cenotaph and past Westminster Abbey. A few blocks further the taxi turned onto Great College Street, then Great Peter Street, and stopped outside a well done up Victorian-looking storefront.

"Don't be put off by the outside," Wilke told us. "Not a bit stuffy you'll find."

Inside, the place was all polished brass fittings and oak paneling, with a marble floor and high ceiling rooms lit by large antique chandeliers. Wilkes must have been well known there for they greeted him like a well-known regular.

After being seated in a secluded dining nook, and being given thick menus, I examined the extensive offerings. Salads, soup, sandwiches, and more filling fare, but I was not hungry. The last few hours had not made me feel hungry one bit.

"A drink?" Wilkes asked.

Louisa asked for a red wine, but I only wanted water. Wilkes went for a whiskey with a splash of water.

When the drinks arrived, Wilkes lifted his glass. "To your mother," he said. Louisa followed the toast, but I just stared at the man. Margaret was not a person I'd hope to toast in any way shape or form.

Wilkes set his drink aside then folded his hands before him. "Now look, my interest is strictly to see to the estate, a favor to your late mother." He brushed his hands together.

Louisa looked out the window biting her lip. "So that's it."

"Yes, you see there had been an investment your father made in Spain," he stated.

"She told me that had gone bust," I told him. "That's why she came to me asking for money."

Louisa reacted. "James was just a baby then but Martin told me… she had nothing."

"She wanted quite a lot of money from me then," I said, yet recalled when I refused my mother's monetary request she had seethed with anger. Let it go, Martin, my internal voice said to me.

Wilkes grinned. "Ah yes. You see, it goes like this. The value of investments, like airplanes, go up and down, from time to time. Your father's original Spanish investment had fallen in value, but the land was still there. After a time, new developers arrived seeking land for a resort and by then?" He snapped his fingers. "Property values had risen markedly." He winked. "Now worth a good deal, so three months before your mother – uhm, died – she sold her ownership in that land. Your father had been smart enough to invest not in the proposed golf business but rather in the land itself. Timing and opportunity was on your mother's side, you see."

Louisa leaned forward and asked him. "I'm mystified now, but how much are we talking about?"

The waitress returned again to take our lunch orders. Louisa chose a salad with greens and grilled chicken. I chose a seafood soup and a small green salad; all I thought I might be able to consume. Wilkes ordered roast beef, rare, and I hoped I'd not react too strongly seeing his meal laid on a platter.

When the young waitress had gone, Louisa spoke again. "Mr. Wilkes, uhm… just how much is the estate?"

Wilkes retrieved the papers from his coat again and paged through them. "Here's the will of course, that will have to go through legal channels. At the middle of this month the value of your mother's estate, now held in durable assets, is quite good. Fortunately, the Euro to Pound rate was very stable when she executed the land sale. But here is the account statement." He laid a document on the table and pointed to a total at the bottom. "The value has increased slightly these last few days; end of year trading."

"Oh my God," Louisa muttered when she examined it.

I craned my neck and saw the number. It was in excess of £495,000.

Wilkes cleared his throat. "And that does not account for a smattering of other small investments in various properties," he added and then he shrugged. "You may wish to consider proper investment vehicles for the longer term," he added. "I'm not the man for that but," he winked, "I know people who can properly advise you. Of course, inheritance taxes will have to paid out and so forth." He spread his hands wide. "But there it is. Your late mother's estate. If your wish an auditor can complete a full accounting of amount, but I assure it is correct."

Louisa turned to me, and she sounded breathless when she said, "I had no idea."

"Neither did I," I managed to mutter after a long silent minute.