Chapter 17: Wodehouse Holdings

"It was a loan," Otto said to the judge. "A private family loan, Your Honor."

"Is there a note?" she said.

"There was an understanding."

"Between whom?"

His lawyer touched his sleeve, and Otto closed his mouth.

The judge ordered a full accounting of Wodehouse Holdings within seventy-two hours.

She said that anything unexplained would go to the county prosecutor, and she said it to the room, not to him.

Then she banged her gavel once, and my knees finally let go.

The foundation board met Wednesday at noon, in the hospital's top-floor conference room.

It had a long walnut table, a view of the river and fourteen people in good suits.

At the head of the table sat Otto's father, the foundation's vice chair, in a charcoal jacket with a silver pin.

I had never met him.

He had the same easy smile as his son, and he used it on me the moment I came in.

"Dr. Coughlan," he said. "We're so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," I said. "Mr. Wodehouse."

"We have a full agenda. Public comment is limited to three minutes."

"I'll need less."

The charge nurse and eleven others stood behind me in the doorway with their badges on.

My lawyer took the folder from her bag and walked it to the head of the table.

"Vice Chair, I'm handing you a certified copy of yesterday's order from Domestic Relations."

"It requires an accounting of an LLC called Wodehouse Holdings."

"I know the company," the vice chair said carefully.

"Its two members are your son and his wife. On March ninth it received two hundred and twelve thousand dollars from my client's estate."

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