December 15, 2011

Brian Peterson opened up the file in front of him. A rich person died in 2010. Sheldon Jones. He looked at the death certificate saw Laura’s name on it and figured it would be a good excuse to call her as if he needed any. Things had been going well between them. He’d even gotten used to the smell of rubbing alcohol and formaldehyde on her.

“Hi Laura, this is Brian.” “Hey, how’s my favorite sexy IRS agent doing?”, Laura purred. “How many other sexy IRS agent’s do you know?” Brian fired back. “I’ll never tell”, said Laura with a mirthful wink in her tone. Brian changed his tone, “I’m sorry Laura but this is a bidness call. You did an autopsy on one Sheldon Jones.” “Yes, plane crash if I remember correctly, DNA and Dental records proved identity and date of death was when the plane went down. Body was burned badly, plane was owned by Jones, and the flight manifest reported that he was the passenger. The pilot apparently jumped out and Jones was unconscious and the Pilot could not get a chute on him.”

“Sounds like an open and shut case to me”, Brian said. “I’ll check with the NTSB and get their report on this before closing this file. Looks like this guy really died in 2010 and there is no trace of any doubt here.

July 1, 2011.

Christine could not restrain herself, she had just had a fight with her husband and needed to talk to someone, and Phillipe was not all that interested in listening to her complaining. After getting no satisfaction from her brother she called to Panama. “Hello, Dad?”

“Dammit, Christine, don’t call me Dad, don’t you know that these phones can be bugged. I am Lupe for the rest of my life, got it?” “Sorry, D.., uh I mean Lupe”, she responded. “I’m really upset because Freddy just called me a dumb bitch when I burned dinner!” She started to sob. The voice on the other end spoke soothingly too her with a bit of a central American brogue. “You know I love my favorite little girl. I know people down here now that can have him killed, would you like that?” “Oh stop it”, she cried, “now you’re making fun of me.” “No, just trying to make my favorite one laugh and put things in perspective.”

July 16, 2011.

“Sign here on page 1, Christine and sign this letter requesting prompt assessment. Okay we’re all done, I’ll copy it and get it in the mail today with all the attachments”, Roger Johnson told her. “You’re very lucky in a twisted way your dad died this year and not next year. It saved your family $175 Million in estate taxes. I know that’s small consolation to losing your dad, but at least you don’t have to pay the government, too.” “Thanks Mr. Johnson, you’re very kind to tell me that. I think my dad is probably happy about that too, where ever he is”, Christine responded.

October 13, 2010.

Jones called the Meeting of the Sheldon Jones Panama Foundation to order. For the first order of business, we have to acknowledge a gift from me to the foundation of $50 Million in appreciated stock in Jones Realty REIT. The next order of business is to name an executive director. I nominate Lupe Cordero to serve as Executive Director. A vote was taken and the Board appointed Lupe as Executive Director and set his salary at $200,000 per year.

October 13, 2010.

Jones met with the attorney to go over the terms of his will. The will would leave $100 Million to the Panama Foundation the rest in a Dynasty Trust to his children and their descendants. His attorney scratched it out quickly. Jones signed it with all the formality even teasing the lawyer when the lawyer asked if he was of sound mind. The witnesses laughed.

November 1, 2010

Barry Obramowitz of the NTSB checked the fusilage of the plane and then the engine. He checked the wires. Barry was a no nonsense, “Joe Friday” sort of fellow. “Man, its getting chilly”, he thought. Not a large man, he didn’t have much meat on his bones and shivered on the early November morning. He found nothing was cut and no evidence foul play. He noticed that the fuel line had a crack in it. He listened again to the black box recording. A loss in fuel would not have explained the pilot’s blackout. That would usually only be explained by a loss of cabin pressure. But perhaps, the loss of fuel caused the air system to fail thus trapping the occupants of the plane in their own carbon dioxide. A real stumper here. With the plane in shreds it was hard to determine whether there was a carbon dioxide leak or even a carbon monoxide leak.

He checked all the gauges, the dials, the black box, he cut open parts of the plane that were sealed to find anything about what was inside the plane as far as the loss of consciousness was concerned.

His cell phone rang, it was the local hospital. The pilot had been brought in with lacerations and a sprained ankle.

He went to Piney Point Hospital and met with the pilot, Mick O’Hara. O’Hara told him that fuel gauge nose dived, then suddenly, the plane engines cut out and that CO must have been leaking into the passenger section because Jones was out cold or perhaps the O2 was lacking. He tried to awaken him, but he didn’t respond. He weighed too much to get a chute on him and time was running out for O’Hara to jump. So O’Hara jumped out. Barry wrote that down in his notebook. Thanked O’Hara and told O’Hara that he would probably have to have a hearing before the FAA before flying again. Usually the FAA grounds pilots when their planes fall out of the sky. The Pilot didn’t care, he was on salary to the Jones REIT at $100,000 per year whether he flew or not for the next five years. He figured that he was due for a vacation anyway.

October 30, 2010 at 9:30 p.m.

“Boy that was the easiest hacking job we’ve ever had. We got into McGonagles and Stephens records and put in the x-rays for the stiff and changed the charts to show the fillings as well and various scars”, Borisoff stated expertly. “The rest of your fee will be wired in 30 seconds”, said the voice at the other end of the telephone.

October 30, 2010.

Jones wrote Sam McGonagle’s name into his rolodex under the word “dentist”. He told his kids that he was changing dentists to Sam McGonagle. He also told them that his insurance had forced him to change primary care physicians. His new doctor was in the same building. Dr. Stephens.

October 15, 2010.

Dr. Stephens had performed hundreds of physicals. He dictated into his computer his notes. Met with one Sheldon Jones. He brought over his prior medical records from Dr. Langston via diskette. He downloaded them into his computer and printed a hard copy for his file on Jones. “Dr. Stephen’s you’ve come highly recommended and take my health insurance. I’m glad to see that you are so thorough and so interested in my health. By the way do you know of any dentists nearby?” They talked awhile further. Jones mentioned he was thinking of buying a company that backed up medical records off-site and wondered if Stephen’s used such a service. Stephens smiled, “I just started this year, each day my files are backed up there.” “Great!” replied Jones. “I want to be certain that my investment is worth doing. Thanks.”

September 29, 2010.

“Mac, I just discovered that I have an illegitimate half brother. I want to ensure that he has some decent money and that I don’t have to pay gift taxes on the gift”, said Jones to his lawyer, Mac Morris over the telephone. Morris is a slightly balding short slim man with a well manicured bearded and graying reddish hair. Well Sheldon, you can give up to a Million to your half-brother without any gift taxes, although you will have to file a return and you will use up what you can give your kids when you die, “ Morris responded. “Then, I think my family owes Lupe $1 Million,” Jones said. Jones continued “I have told my half-brother to open a bank account in Panama. Here are the wiring instructions can you see to it that the bank wires this money to my half-brother. His name is Lupe Cordero.” Jones then switched topics. “In view of this development, I feel a special kinship to the needy of Panama. I want to start a charity for these folks. Let’s call it the Sheldon Jones Panama Foundation, I want the Board of Directors to be my daughter Christine and my son, Phillipe, Lupe, and me of course.”