Free Strange Eons by Robert Bloch Page B

reason—”
    “I’m sure of it.” Heisinger nodded. “The point is, we’ll never know just what that reason was. He didn’t consult me before his departure. All I can tell you is that he announced it when he came in, immediately following the earthquake. He arranged to withdraw twenty thousand dollars in traveler’s checks, and asked the bank to help cut through the usual delays and red tape involving his passport renewal. We also helped him find a property-management firm to look after the house while he was away. He paid them for the first month in advance and said nothing about being gone any longer, so we can assume he intended to return within that time. And that’s all I’ve been able to learn.”
    Kay frowned. “But why Tahiti, of all places? And what was he doing on this Japanese boat, hundreds of miles from land? He wasn’t a fisherman. He wasn’t a lush, either. The last time I saw him, when we had lunch together and discussed the divorce terms, he didn’t even take a drink.”
    “That was almost three years ago, as I recall,” Heisinger said. “People change.” The little bank official smiled hesitantly. “Not entirely, of course. You can take comfort in the fact that your ex-husband never drew up a new will. You’re still inheriting the estate. As his executor, I’m arranging for an immediate inventory. Which reminds me—”
    Heisinger opened his upper right-hand desk drawer and produced a key ring from a manilla envelope. “Here you are. Duplicate keys to the house, front door and back, plus another for the garage. I thought you might like to take a look.”
    “Thanks.” Kay put the keys in her purse.
    “I must instruct you not to remove anything without consulting me.”
    “Of course.” Kay pushed back her chair and rose. “Is there anything else I should know?”
    “Not at the moment. I’ve kept the key to his safety-deposit box, of course. Apparently he didn’t carry insurance.”
    “He must have let the policies lapse after the divorce went through.” Kay sighed. “There wasn’t much point in keeping them up any more, was there?”
    For the first time, as she spoke, Kay felt a surge of sentiment, although she couldn’t identify its precise nature. Sorrow because Albert was dead? No, in utter honesty, she was unable to summon anything as strong as grief. Perhaps pity was a shade closer to the truth—pity for a man who died so far away and so utterly alone. But then Albert Keith had always been far away and alone, even when they were married. If she’d pitied him then, if she’d been able to understand, perhaps he might still be alive. Damn it, she did recognize her emotional reaction now—it was guilt! If guilt is an emotion. No matter, she had no reason to feel guilty; ex-husband or not, she’d never really known Albert; she couldn’t mourn him either for what he was or for what he might have been.
    With a start, Kay realized Heisinger was speaking to her, had been for some time.
    “—once the inventory is completed I’ll have the attorney draw up the necessary papers for probate. We’ll be in touch.”
    “Thank you again for all you’ve done.”
    “No trouble.” Heisinger rose and escorted Kay to the office door. “We’re here to serve you.”
    His thin lips relaxed in a fraction of a smile; Kay found herself translating it into decimal terms as she nodded and stepped out into the corridor.
    Five percent of a smile for five percent of the estate. Fair enough, she supposed. She still retained ninety-five percent of everything—including the responsibility of finding out just what might have happened.
    But she wasn’t responsible, Kay reminded herself. The divorce put an end to that, and she had the papers, the legal documents that proved it. If legal documents can really prove anything. Damn it, why was she feeling so guilty?
    The smart thing to do would be to walk away from the whole affair. Let the executor and the attorney and the tax people make an