He sent them away to different boarding schools
and summer camps, and arranged for his children to see as
little of one another as possible. They received no money
from him. They lived on the small trust that their mother
had left them. All their lives he used the carrot-and-
stick approach with them. He held out his fortune as the
carrot, and then withdrew it if they displeased him."
"What's happened to the children?"
"Thomas is a judge in the circuit court in San Francisco.
William doesn't do anything. He's a playboy. He lives in Bell
Air and gambles on golf and polo. A few years ago, he picked
up a waitress for a diner, got her pregnant, and to
everyone's surprise, married her. Carmen is a successful
fashion designer, married to a Frenchman. They live in New
York." He stood up.
"George, have you ever been to Corsica?"
"No."
"I'd like you to fly there. They're holding Robert
Stanley's body, and the police refuse to release it. I want
you to straighten out the matter."
"All right."
"If there's a chance of your leaving today ..."
"All right. I'll work it out."
"Thanks. I appreciate it."
On the Air France commuter flight from Paris to Corsica,
George Brown read a travel book about Corsica. He learned
that the island was largely mountainous, that its principal
port city was Ajaccio, and that it was the birthplace of
Napoleon Bonaparte. The book was filled with interesting
statistics, but George was totally unprepared for the beauty
of the island. As the plane approached Corsica, far below he
saw a high solid wall of white rock that resembled the White
Cliffs of Dover. It was breathtaking.
The plane landed at Ajaccio airport. Ajaccio is the capital
of the French Mediterranean island of Corsica. George took
a taxi down the Cours Napoleon, the main street that
stretched from Place General-de-Gaulle northward to the
train station. He had made arrangements for a plane to
stand by to fly Robert Stanley's body back to Paris, where
the coffin would be transferred to a plane to Los Angeles.
All he needed was to get a release for the body. George had
the taxi drop him off at the Prefecture building on Cours
Napoleon. He went up one flight of stairs and walked into
the reception office. An uniformed sergeant was seated at
the desk.
"Bonjour. Puis-je vous aider?"
"Who is in charge here?"
"Capitaine Duval."
"I would like to see him, please."
"And what is it of concern in relationship to?" The
sergeant was proud of his English. George took out his
business card. "I'm the attorney for Robert Stanley. I've
come to take his body back to the States."
The sergeant frowned. "Remain, please." He
disappeared into Capitaine Duval's office, carefully closing
the door behind him. The office was crowded, filled with
reporters from television and news services from all over
the globe. All of them seemed to be speaking at the same
time.
"Was there any sign of foul play?"
"Have you done an autopsy?"
"Please, gentlemen." Capitaine Duval held up his hand.
"Please, gentlemen. Please." He looked around the room at
all the reporters hanging on his every word, and he was
ecstatic. He had dreamed of moments like this. If I handle
this properly, it will mean a big promotion and... The
sergeant interrupted his thoughts. "Capitaine..." He
whispered in Duval's ear and handed him George Brown's
card.
Capitaine Duval studied it and frowned. "I can't see him
now," he snapped. "Tell him to come back tomorrow at ten
o'clock."
"Yes, sir."
Capitaine Duval watched thoughtfully as the sergeant
left the room. He had no intention of letting anyone take
away his moment of glory. He turned back to the reporters
and smiled. "Now, what were you asking ...?"
In the outer office, the sergeant was saying to Brown:
"I am sorry, but Capitaine Duval is very busy immediately.
He would like you to expose yourself here tomorrow
morning at ten o'clock."
George Brown was disappointed and upset. He looks at
the sergeant in dismay.
"Tomorrow morning? That's ridiculous. I don't want to
wait that long.”
The sergeant raises and then lowers his shoulders in
order to show that George doesn't know something or
doesn't care about it. "That is of your chosen, monsieur."
George makes an angry, unhappy, and confused
expression.
"Very well. I don't have a hotel reservation. Can you
recommend a hotel?"
"Mais oui. I am pleased to have recommended Hotel Le
Dauphin, eight Avenue de Paris."
George hesitated. "Isn't there some way ...?"
"Ten o'clock tomorrow morning."
George turned and walked out of the office. In Duval's
office, the capitaine was happily coping with the barrage of
reporters' questions. A television reporter asked, "How can
you be sure it was an accident?"
Duval looked into the lens of the camera. "Fortunately,
there was an eyewitness to this terrible event. His
bodyguard saw it happen and immediately called for help.
The ambulance take the body to the hospital, but was too
late."
"What did the autopsy show?"
"Corsica is a small island,