I Bid You Well

"Someone was knocking at the door," Cole said. "I wasn't expecting anyone, and the knocking sounded urgent, but not intrusive; deliberate, almost melodic," he said as he seemed to drift into his own thoughts for a moment. "Anyway," he said, "I was relaxing in my favorite chair, having a glass of wine and listening to music. I remember being a little annoyed that my hour of relaxation before the big fund-raiser that night was interrupted by an unexpected visitor."

"I said, 'Who is it?' The man's voice on the other side of the door said 'Coleman Blakeheart?' I said, 'Yes, who are you?' 'My name is Raymond Dunby. I've travelled a great distance to speak with you; may I come in?'" "When I opened the door, I was surprised by the man's appearance. Here's this guy standing in front of me with a bowler hat, tailored suit and an aluminum Zero Halliburton 4" sliver elite attaché in his left hand. His accent was British, but his appearance was seemed to be Indian."

"He tipped his bowler with his right hand and said 'Raymond Dunby, sir.' I asked him if he was there to speak with me about arrangements for one of the V.I.P. guests expected at the fund-raiser?" Cole continued telling the story of how the man said he had just arrived from Mumbai to meet with him about an urgent matter that could not wait. He invited him in and asked him to have a seat in the identical chair opposite his favorite chair separated by the Danish-designed wood and glass table with an ornate chessboard in the middle of the table. It was clear that there was a match in play. Mr. Dunby said, "Looks like your queen is in trouble Mr. Blakeheart." "That's the benefit of playing at my leisure, Mr. Dunby. I have the luxury of waiting for the insight that leads to the solution. How can I help you?"

"Mr. Blakeheart, in this case I have an extremely valuable one-of-a-kind item that belongs to you." Mr. Dunby carefully slid the chessboard aside and placed the aluminum attaché on the table. He opened the case, and inside the case was a key embedded in a cutout in the dark foam padding that filled the case. "I don't understand," Cole said to Mr. Dunby. "What is this? What's this key for? What does it open? What's this got to do with me?"

"For the next twenty minutes Mr. Dunby tells me this story of how this guy in Los Angeles is in the business of going to auctions at self-storage companies and bidding on abandoned or unpaid storage unit contents, and how, from time-to-time he strikes it big in what he finds in the units-it's sort of like a grab bag for the bidder because they don't know exactly what they are bidding on until the auction is closed and their bid is final."

"Anyway, he continues telling me how this guy-Burkstein or Beckstein; whatever his name is-he's telling me how this guy bid on a storage unit, and it turned out to be a storage unit of a deceased Holocaust survivor who spent the last years of her life collecting war-time correspondence documents, letters, bills of sale, receipts for artworks and other documentation that could possibly be related to possessions missing during the Holocaust."

"It turns out, one of those documents was a last will and testament and an attached bank vault receipt that this collector had acquired through her own bid for a box of unknown documents at an estate sale in New York before she moved to California almost forty years ago. The will and the receipt seemed to indicate to the guy who bid on the storage unit contents that there was a large estate that had gone unclaimed for nearly forty years, and the assets have been amassing interest all of these years. Dunby said it was worth $100 million and it belonged to me."

Cole went on telling his friend Dana the story of how the auction bidder wanted a finder's fee and how Mr. Dunby-a representative of the bank that managed the estate for decades-traced the family lineage of the estate to Cole. There was an issue, however. Mr. Dunby said that the reason for his unexpected visit is that there was a statute of limitations deadline for claiming the estate was in seventy-two hours and Cole had to verify his ownership by producing the other key, also one-of-a-kind.

Dana sat quietly, stunned by the story Cole just told her. After a long pause of silence, she burst out screaming, "You're rich! You're rich!" Cole chuckled and said, "I sure hope I can find that key."