Page 38 of Your Every Wish
Seriously?
“Kennedy, the man was a professional gambler. He loved risk. And he loved money. This was easy. Buy the stock while Spordell was a relatively small company, then sell after the merger, when the stock went sky high. Dex says they made an example out of Martha Stewart’s insider trading with a light sentence. But for someone like Willy Keil . . . they chopped him up into mincemeat. And I can’t say I blame the feds. He deserved everything he got.”
“What happened to the money he made? What happened to his fortune?”
It’s always money with Kennedy.
“Didn’t you read the story? He was ordered to pay substantial restitution. Millions.”
“He had millions to spare. His bookmaking business alone had to be worth tens of millions. He had a home in San Diego and a penthouse suite in the Bellagio, not to mention a slew of other assets. Where did it all go?”
For someone who didn’t know about Willy’s conviction, she sure kept tabs on his wealth.
“I don’t know, Kennedy. This is a guy who thought nothing of losing two million dollars at a poker table. I’m guessing his high-stakes lifestyle finally caught up with him.”
“Nope.” Kennedy shakes her head. “I’m not buying it. What about Townsend? What if he took it all?”
I roll my eyes. “I doubt it, Kennedy. He’s a pretty respected lawyer.”
“You’re too trusting. Look at that Alex Murdaugh guy. He stole tons of money from his clients.”
She has a point there. And arguing about Willy Keil’s nonexistent fortune isn’t getting us anywhere. “Let’s focus on your immediate problem, then we’ll worry about Willy’s money. Did you call that detective?”
“If I had Willy’s money, then I wouldn’t have a problem. No, I did not call the detective. I’m trying to hold him off until I can come up with the money.” She holds up the key. “We need to find the safe-deposit box this goes with.”
“It’s too small for a safe-deposit box.” I take the key from her and turn it over in my hand. It’s so minuscule that it got lost in the crevice of a small envelope. “It looks like a luggage or a briefcase key to me.” I grab my phone, snap a picture of the key. and search for it using Google Lens. “See.” I show her a picture of a designer carry-on suitcase with a similar key. “Good luck finding Willy’s Gucci valise.”
“Maybe the prison has it,” she says.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m trying here, Emma. You don’t have to be so negative.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be negative. But right now, you have bigger fish to fry. I think we need to get you a lawyer.”
“And how am I supposed to pay for that? If I had the money for a lawyer, I could pay back Mr. Sterling.”
“I might be able to work something out. If I get someone to handle your case pro bono, would you be willing to talk to him?”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t he be obligated by law to turn me in? Because I’m not going back to Vegas without the money, Emma. If word gets out about this, I’m through as a casino host. No one will let me anywhere near a casino again.”
“I get it. Let me ask without telling him who you are. Maybe this can be taken care of with a phone call.”
She nods but I can see she’s not real hopeful. Nor am I. But you never know until you try.
I take my phone into the bedroom and close the door. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. How are things going at the trailer park?”
“Good. I can’t wait for you to see it. Just don’t judge, and try to see the potential.”
“Of course I will.”
“I actually called to talk to Sam. Is he there?”
“He’s outside working in the garden. Let me get him for you.”
One of the many reasons I love Mom is the way she can sense when to ask questions and when not to. Today, her intuition is right on the mark because she puts him on the phone and announces that she’s running to the store and will call me later.
