Dick Francis's Gamble - Felix Francis [61]
I meanwhile turned to other matters, in particular the copies of the statements from Herb’s twenty-two credit cards.
I ordered them by date, and noticed that four of them were due for payment in the coming week. I wondered what the law was on outstanding credit card debt at death. One thing I was absolutely certain about was that none of the banks would, out of the kindness of their hearts, cancel debt. But it was the interest that I was most concerned about. Ninety-four thousand six hundred and twenty-six pounds and fifty-two pence would, if left unpaid, attract a substantial interest charge each month, not to mention late-payment fees, and it might take many months before probate was granted and I was able to pay off the debts from other assets in Herb’s estate.
I had to find the cash.
Even the eighteen thousand he collected from the MoneyHome agents the week of his death would not be enough to pay off these four most urgent ones.
And that would not be all.
The ninety-seven separate individuals who were using Herb’s accounts for their Internet and casino gambling probably didn’t know Herb was dead. If the past was anything to go by, they would be racking up further charges.
All gambling requires a degree of trust, but surely Herb must have required an up-front cash advance from each of the ninety-seven in order to allow them to operate the system. That meant the debt of ninety-four thousand six hundred and twenty-six pounds and fifty-two pence that existed on the credit cards statements may have only been the start of it. How much more did he owe?
I had to find the cash.
I decided that the very first thing I had to do was to cancel the cards so that no more charges could be made on them.
Each of the statements had a phone number on the back, and I set about calling them. Many of them did not answer because they were not open on Sundays and those that did were mostly in India and, in truth, could have been more helpful.
As soon as I said that Mr. Kovak was dead, they all required me to contact them in writing enclosing an original death certificate.
“Fine,” I said to one man called Ashwin, making a mental note to ask the police chief inspector for twenty-two originals of Herb’s death certificate. “But could you, in the meantime, make a stop on any future charges?”
“Cut up the cards,” Ashwin said, “and then there can’t be any more charges, can there?”
How, I wondered, should I explain to him that the cards themselves hadn’t actually been present when any of the charges on the statements had been made?
“There are some regular payments,” I said. “Where the card is not actually present for the transaction. Online payments. Can you stop those?”
“You will have to contact the payee,” he said unhelpfully.
All five hundred and twelve of them, I thought.
Next I tried impersonating Herb to cancel one card, but this didn’t work either as I didn’t have the card—it was in Hendon—and I had no idea of the expiration date or the pin number. Anyway, I was firmly told, I couldn’t cancel a card until I had paid off the outstanding balance.
Dead end.
I just had to find that cash.
Claudia came downstairs in her blue dressing gown.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing,” I said, closing the lid of my laptop onto the credit card statements. “Nothing for you to worry about anyway.”
“Look here,” she said, putting on a stern face, “I told you my troubles, so now you have to tell me yours.”
“It’s just something to do with Herb Kovak,” I said. “In his will he appointed me as his executor.”
“And what does that mean, exactly?” she asked.
“It means,” I said, “that I have to sort out all his bloody affairs when I should be looking after you.”
“Quite right,” she said, coming over and sitting on my lap. She put her arms around my neck. “Naughty boy.”
I smiled.
Life was back to normal—or almost.
During the afternoon, I called Detective Chief Inspector Tomlinson on the mobile number he had given me.
“Hello,” a voice said, sounding sleepy.
“Chief