evilgoddss: Sturdy walls are good (Default)
[personal profile] evilgoddss
It's far from over, but this is the last chapter drafted, and written on vacation. I have three more in outlines waiting for population, but I need to get back to No Competition badly.

Chapter Nine

Friday December 5th - 9 pm

Quietly, Tony eased the door to Christopher’s bedroom shut. It had been a long day in the universe. Christopher’s impromptu nap at tea with Ducky notwithstanding, perhaps it had been too much of a day for the little boy. He had been difficult to settle down for the evening, tired but cranky and yet, resisting going to bed.

Three books, two pee breaks, one glass of water and a cuddle later, and finally Christopher’s eyes had closed and soft even breaths drifted from his lips. All that had been left to do was carry the child from the rocking chair to his bed, and tuck him in, with Pooh at his side.

On bare silent feet, Tony padded through his quiet apartment to the living room, snagging his backpack from the small foyer en route to the couch. He dropped his bone-weary ass down in the middle of the leather sofa, and directly centred to the ottoman. Fussing with the worn zipper of his backpack for a moment, Tony pulled out a score of files that Patty had sent him care of NCIS and the Director’s office. If he had nothing else to speak about Patty, he had to own up that she was incredibly efficient at her job.

Finding the scanned copies of the signed wills for the late Frank and Mariann Butti, Tony gave the wills a cursory flip through. Frank, having predeceased Mariann’s will had been executed with all assets and properties going to his spouse. It didn’t affect Christopher in any way. He put that aside.

His cell phone chirped at that moment, and Tony reached for it. ‘Thank God.’ he thought, shoulders unaccountably relaxing. He hadn’t realized how subconsciously stressed he was until this moment. Gibbs wasn’t coming -- the team had caught a case and it was going to be an all nighter at this point. ‘Huh.’ Tony looked at the bare facts Gibbs had laid out. The fact Gibbs had sent a text was amazing, all on it’s own, but he couldn’t wonder if it was also a dig on the fact he wasn’t there to help.

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Tony decided resolutely, tossing his phone to the side. ‘I can’t be pulling all-nighters when Christopher needs me here in the evenings.’ And he wasn’t regretting that, even knowing that being responsible for Christopher was a massive change in his life, but it was already far more rewarding than the bullshit he’d been putting up with at work. If there was one thing that the SCULPT program had taught him over the past few years, work shouldn’t be the be-all end-all of his existence. Work wasn’t going to comfort him when he was old and retired, not like his friends, or maybe the new family Christopher represented to him. Work wasn’t going to be at your bedside as you lay dying saying that it loved you. And, the thought of dying alone terrified him.

Either way, Gibbs not coming was a mixed blessing. Mixed in that, on one hand, another brouhaha with Gibbs was the last thing he needed, but if it was one of those rare unusual -blue-moon-buy-a-Powerball-ticket kind of meetings with the Boss where Gibbs was actually listening and contributing positively… they could have gotten their cards on the table. Resolved the issues between themselves, which would have gone a long way to repairing their relationship, even if the issues between Tony and the junior agents were never resolved. Ah well, he could wish in one hand, and piss in the other, and he knew which would be wet.

Resolutely determined to focus on the here and now, though, Tony opened Mariann Butti’s will, and got back to work.

I, Mariann Victoria Butti nee Grasberg, residing at 1 Garrison Road, Hingham MA, declare this to be my Will, and I revoke any and all wills and codicils I previously made.

ARTICLE I: Funeral expenses & payment of debt

I direct my executors to pay my enforceable unsecured debts and funeral expenses, the expenses of my last illness, and the expenses of administering my estate.

ARTICLE II: Money & Personal Property

I give all my tangible personal property and all policies and proceeds of insurance covering such property, to my husband, Franklin. If he does not survive me, all property therefore is given to my daughter Elizabeth Ann Butti, who should she survive me, in fullness. Should Elizabeth Ann Butti not survive, I give all such property to any grandchildren who survive me, in equal shares, to be divided among them as set by my executors. Should Elizabeth Ann not survive me and pass without issue, I leave the liquidated proceeds of the property to the Children’s Hospital Boston. My executors may pay out of my estate the expenses of delivering tangible personal property to beneficiaries

ARTICLE III: Real Estate

I give all my residences, subject to any mortgages or encumbrances thereon, and all policies and proceeds of insurance covering such property, to my husband, Franklin. If he does not survive me, I give that property to Elizabeth Ann. If she does not survive me, I give that property to be any children of Elizabeth Ann. Should Elizabeth Ann not survive me and pass without issue, I authorized the liquidation of my property and the net proceeds of the property to the Children’s Hospital Boston.

ARTICLE IV: Residuary Clause

I give the rest of my estate (called my residuary estate) to my husband, Franklin. If he does not survive me, I give my residuary estate to my child who survive me, and the descendants of a deceased child of mine, to take their ancestor's share per stirpes.


I direct my executors, without apportionment against any beneficiary or other person, to pay all estate, inheritance and succession taxes (including any interest and penalties thereon) payable by reason of my death.


If under this will any property shall be payable outright to a person who is a minor, my executors may, without court approval, pay all or part of such property to a parent or guardian of that minor, to a custodian under the Uniform Transfers to Minors act, or may defer payment of such property until the minor reaches the age of majority, as defined by his or her state of residence. No bond shall be required for such payments.

ARTICLE VII: Fiduciaries

I appoint my spouse, Franklin, as Executor of this will. If he is unable or unwilling to act, or resigns, I appoint my lawyer, Teresa Homin, of Lee, Rigby and Jacobsen Law as successor executor. My executor shall have all the powers allowable to executors under the laws of this state. I direct that no bond or security of any kind shall be required of any executor.

ARTICLE VIII: Simultaneous Death Clause

If my spouse and I shall die under such circumstances that the order of our deaths cannot be readily ascertained, my spouse shall be deemed to have predeceased me. No person, other than my spouse, shall be deemed to have survived me if such person dies within 30 days after my death. This article modifies all provisions of this will accordingly.

I have signed this will this 12th day of April, 2001 in the Presence of my Witness in the city of Boston, and State of Massachusetts.

Mariann Victoria Butti

It was, when all was said and done, a very basic simple will, and as a result very cut and dry. ‘“Huh.” Tony muttered, reaching for the third document in the package and finding the accounting summary for the estate that Mariann’s law-firm had kept on file. He winced, Mariann had died two years ago. And in contravention to the terms of the will, someone had clearly fucked up. The house had been immediately sold, just eight weeks after the date of death, and home contents auctioned off. It went against the will, assuming the death without issue of Elizabeth, which was strange. Clearly, the sale of the family home would have to be audited, as would the auction, to see if something hinky had happened. Charming. Just another layer to the mess that was Christopher’s life.

Fortunately, the life insurances were less messed up, although little more sticky in claiming, as after Franklin’s death, Mariann had amended the beneficiary nomination to Elizabeth. “Well, Fuck. If Elizabeth had a will, I’ll eat my new Ferragamo shoes.” Tony grumbled as he crawled half across the couch to grab his cellphone from where he’d tossed it earlier. At twenty-two, kids thought they were immortal. They didn’t create wills.

He flipped through his contacts, found his victim and made the call. “Hey, Steve… Tony.” The sound of a dishwasher in the background assured him he was calling after dinner.

“Yo! How’s the rugrat?” Steve greet cheerily.

“Asleep.” Tony snorted. “Finally. We checked out the day-care today. Unfortunately, I had proof positive that he’s totally going to flip out when I drop him off for his first full day there.”

“The joys of parenthood.” Steve sang, “Something I will dedicate in my life to avoid. The idea of 3 am feedings terrifies me.”

Tony snorted. He wished Steve well on that, but having met Steve’s partner in life, Sydney, he knew Steve was just dreaming. Sydney sang regularly a different song altogether -- she was looking towards a family of three little rugrats. “Uh huh. Well, speaking of parenthood joys -- I need my lawyer.”

Steve’s tone changed instantly, like a different man had come to the phone. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Christopher’s maternal grandparents were Franklin and Mariann Butti, of Massachusetts. They’re dead, and left their estate to their daughter or her heirs.”

The sound of a drawer opening and closing told Tony that Steve was hunting for paper. “Okay -- do you have the lawfirm for the estate?”

“Yeah.” Tony drawled slowly. “Here’s the thing… I think this is going to have to forensically audited. I think some fraud has happened.”

Steve sucked a breath. “Oh. Fuck.” He sighed suddenly. “Nothing in that kid’s life is easy, is it? Okay. lay it on me.”

“The house was sold eight weeks after Mariann’s death, in contravention to the terms of the will which said that the property fell to her daughter, or her daughter’s heirs for disposition.” Tony flipped the will back open, and read the paragraph again. “And, at that point, while her daughter had run away, there wasn’t any death certificate issued. More importantly, the paperwork indicated the mortgage was paid off, and there were no liens against the property -- the house was in Hingham Massachusetts -- I haven’t looked closely, but I’m pretty sure it’s an upper-middle class neighborhood. Average house prices should be around $500K, if I recall rightly. ”

“You probably do -- I mean, you lived in the Hamptons, a bit south of Boston, but close enough to be somewhat aware of the area.” Steve’s pen flew, the skritch against paper audible. “Could we confirm any tax filings for the daughter?”

Tony frowned, rubbing the top of his head in thought. “Maybe. I’ve got Ducky examining Elizabeth’s body. If he concludes it’s a homicide, then I can request to see if she filed taxes last year, but the IRS won’t give me more than that.”

“Okay. What else?” Steve asked. “I know you, DiNo. It’s never just one thing.”.

“The contents of the house were auctioned.” Tony replied. “And I have the list from the auction house. It’s… bothering me. They were a upper middle-class family. I see basic furnishings, but no framed prints of any kind, a small token of jewelry, but nothing of significance. I’m not expecting the crown jewels, but there’s nothing about an engagement ring, nothing about any good jewelry, you know, the one or two pieces most women have.” Tony rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

“I wonder if they had any contents insurance.” Steve muttered. “I’ll see if I can find out.”

“Sure.. now, here’s the really fun part. Mariann amended her life insurance after her husband’s death, naming Elizabeth as her beneficiary. I sincerely doubt Elizabeth left a will, or named her up-until-recently named son anything in one if she had.”

“The insurance would go to Elizabeth’s estate. The estate would go to probate if there is no will. If there IS a will, we can contest it on grounds that she never had resource to update it after the birth of her son.” Steve finished. “Best pray for a will, bud. Probate could take years.”

“He could be graduating high-school before it’s truly resolved.” Tony agreed. “Not that it matters -- I’ve got Izzy investing fifty thousand dollars in a education trust.”

Steve started laughing, “DiNo! Your silver spoon is showing.”

“Ha!” Tony rolled his eyes, sight unseen. “I’ll have you know my education trust was seeded at $1M by my grandparents. I’m giving a pauper’s penny to Christopher by comparison.” He'd been twenty-two when he'd finally wrestled his full educational trust out of his father's hands, at a point he hadn't needed it, and years after it could have spared him burning the candle at both ends to afford room and board at Ohio State. $50,000 when he'd been seventeen would have been a blessing.



“Not anymore! Everything is a leap up from serfdom for me. The job, the house, the girl...” Steve retorted back, loftily. “Okay, so pulling on my peasant boxers -- send me a copy of everything you’ve got, and I’ll get started on it. I’m going to talk to Ashwin. I think his firm does forensic accounting. If it doesn’t, I’m sure he knows someone reputable who does.”

“Cool.” Tony tossed the accounting report back on his ottoman, and pulled his computer to his lap. “After you talk with Ash, get back to me and let me know how much retainer you need for this stuff.” With phone wedged in his ear, he quickly typed a calendar reminder for the morning -- rather than couriering the documents, he’d take them to Steve’s office, and let Janis, his assistant, handle the copying.

His email, of course, pinged no sooner than he’d finished, and he found an ad for his favorite pizza place. He also found, further down and received earlier, emails from Patty. “Oh, hey, Patty emailed me Christopher’s birth certificate and the custody order.”

“That’s quick. Look, send me a copy to put in your file.” Steve. “When you get the original, keep it in your safe at the apartment. I can have true copies notarized, if needed.”

“Will do.” Tony agreed, forwarding the email immediately. “And…”

The doorbell pealed. Tony glanced at the clock on his DVD player, and then looked at the door with a frown. It was nearly 9:30pm… Gibbs wouldn’t have come over with an active case running, at least, Tony hoped not. “That’s the door. Gotta go.” He said to Steve.

Phone tossed onto the ottoman, he gave the room a quick once over as he walked to the door. Other than the Fisher Price firehouse play set still out, it was tidy enough. Opening the door, he found Patty and some guy he didn’t recognize. “Hey.” Tony arched an eyebrow. “Something up?”

“Home inspection.” The man, a dark skinned man in his mid-thirties, about 190lbs and near six feet tall, brushed forward, nearly nose to nose with him. He wasn’t fat, but he also wasn’t in the best shape ever. Typical of a suit. He flipped open his badge identifying himself as a CAS officer. Behind him, Patty rolled her eyes.

“Little late, isn’t it?” Tony drawled stepping backwards and opening the door wider. Silently he bid them to enter. “Christopher’s already in bed, asleep. And, frankly, he needs his sleep, unless it’s urgent, I’m not waking him up. And I’m certainly not letting you wake him up.”

The man frowned. “Attitude..”

“No. That is simply a display of good parenting.” Patty inserted herself into the conversation, pushing around her coworker. “My apologies, Agent DiNozzo. This is Sawyer Main, he’s another supervisor in my office. Per the court agreement for inspections, Sawyer opted to begin immediately.”

Tony shrugged. “That’s fine. I’m just surprised I wasn’t notified of the visit. It’s my understanding that only visitations like this are done for children at risk.”

Sawyer sneered. “Whose saying the child isn’t at risk, here? You?”

Tony blinked, surprised by the open hostility. “Did I arrest you, or some member of your family? Ex-boyfriend?” Tony leaned forward, all earnestness. “I assure you, if I did, they BROKE the law, and it’s my duty to enforce law. Nothing personal.”

The man spluttered. “I don’t…”

“Oh, please… my gaydar is not deficient. It might be regarded as top-of-the-line, actually. I’m an investigator for NCIS, and that means, I’m good at noticing little details. And, for the record, there’s nothing wrong with being gay. Or bi. Or omni. I’m not threatened by any sexual preference you or anyone else may have; I’m ridiculously secure in my masculinity.” He assured the man eagerly, eyes sparkling with glee at getting the upper hand here. He wasn’t an interrogation pro for nothing. Needling suspects came as easy as breathing. “Seriously, though, I don’t suffer from homophobia. You see, a few of my frat-brothers are gay, and I love them to bits -- in fact, I was best man at one of my brother’s wedding. Best! Reception! Ever! Let your hair down, dude. Show your rainbow!”

Tony wandered back to his living room, not that it was disconnected from the entry hall by much. He swooped the papers off the ottoman and put them back in the envelope, and flipped the lid on his laptop, forcing the computer to sleep mode. Pausing, he glanced with a cocked head back at the gobsmacked Patty and Sawyer. “Uh. If you’re still in the closet, sorry about removing the doors.”

Patty snorted, her expression shifting from astonishment to amusement in an instant. “No, you’re not.”

He blinked at her, all innocence. “I could be. Give me a chance, Patty. You know I have to work my way up to feeling remorse. I don’t get to practice it often enough, working with Gibbs.” He smirked at the nearly incandescent Sawyer. “Besides, being right all the time is hard on a guy.”

Placing the envelope back in his backpack, he gifted Patty with a beatific smile. “Thanks for the email, Patty. And the docs. I’ve got a lawyer looking at the estate settlement -- we’re going to have it forensically audited.”

“Ah. It looked hinky to you, too.” She concluded, shoulders slightly slumping.

“Very.” He shrugged. “Do you know if Elizabeth Butti had a will?”

Patty shook her head sadly, “We’re still trying to figure out where she lived, Tony. So far, I have evidence she was doing night-school in Baltimore, but that’s it.”.

“Ah.” Tony tossed his backpack by the door, coincidentally beside Christopher’s backpack. “Well. Hopefully she did, but I honestly doubt it. As it is, probate will tie things up for years where the life insurance is concerned for the grandparents. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“You’re after the kid’s money?” Sawyer retorted. “You’re just gloating about it openly? How stupid are you?”

Tony pursed his lips, and shook his head in dismay. “Seriously? Did you do any research on me? Like, any? At all? Or did you just see Federal Agent and decide that you had to prove you have bigger balls?”

“I don’t need…”

“My assets are fully disclosed, because I’m a FIELD agent, working for a federal agency. That means a federal cop. It’s no secret I’m a special agent with a silver spoon. Hell, I told the judge himself when custody was awarded to me that I’m loaded. But, here’s a little fact for you -- I’m worth a little over thirty million dollars, most of it tied up in investments and stocks. In liquid assets I have about a million sitting pretty at any given time, and I make about $230,000 per quarter in dividends, most of which I give to charity.” Tony dropped his ass on the arm of his sofa. “My salary is also no laughing matter. So, I don’t need anyone’s money. Especially not Christopher’s. Oh, and any further investigation on your part would have had you discover that I’ve begun to create an educational trust for Christopher and I’ve seeded it with $50,000. Patty knows this. It’s probably already in Christopher’s file, because I need to get him a social security number to register the trust.”

Tony looked in askance at Patty. “Honestly? Is this going to be what I typically experience of CAS? Is this what happens in other foster homes? Because, it’s small wonder there is a common belief that the system is a failure.”

Patty took a breath in and blew it out. “Tony, please…”

“No. I’ve served in law enforcement all of my adult life, Patty. And, the only blemish on my record is that I obeyed my Director when she told us we were off duty, and she snuck off to get herself whacked.” Tony stared hard at Sawyer Main. “If you’re here, just to prejudicially pull Christopher from my custody, then be prepared for the consequences. First, that Christopher will freak out. I’ve already brought in a psychiatrist, Rachel Cranston, to start working him on his issues, but that will take months if not years before he won’t react badly. Patty can read you in on what happened with Chris last time. Second, due to the situation in which Christopher was found, and the recent finding of his mother’s body, plus the abuse that has been documented by the hospital, I’m was an inch away from having the FBI investigate. Now, having read over the sale of the property and the disposal of personal property, I strongly suspect some fraud was done, and I’m definitely going to have the FBI intervene. As I have currently have custody of Chris, I have to recuse myself from the investigation. So… go ahead, pre-judge me and my care for that child, make assumptions, and then you can expect to come under examination when I give my deposition on why Christopher was removed from my care.” Tony glared hard. “Now, I’m not being a hardass because I disrespect your job. I’m being a hardass because I’m aware of the rules and regulations around your job, and I want only the best for Christopher. So, we can work cooperatively, or I can give YOUR Director a call and show what a silver spoon upbringing does when I want it to. Pick.”

“Cooperatively.” Patty stated quickly. “I’ll set up the visitation schedule, Tony. Let me know what works for you and Christopher. Obviously, not Thursday nights -- you’re at the YMCA then.”

Tony nodded, ignoring the glare Main was tossing at him. “Fine. IF you know how to be quiet, come with me, and you can peek into Christopher’s room. Seriously, he was very cranky after a busy day exploring his new day-care and his first pediatrician visit. He was wound tight because he was so overtired, and despite that it took a bit of work to get him to sleep. I don’t want him woken up unnecessarily.”

His wasn’t a big apartment, two bedrooms, a living-dining-room combo, and a kitchen, and as such, Tony didn’t expect it to take long to throw Mr. Belligerent out. He sure as hell was going to bitch to the CAS Director, just as soon as he could reasonably do so. Tony let Patty poke around, Sawyer trailing behind her, making his own notes on his smart-phone, and taking pictures.

“Where is your firearm?” Sawyer strode up to him after they’d examined the living-room. He was practically nose-to-nose, and hostility literally rained off the man.

Tony, standing in the kitchen and prepping for the morning’s breakfast arched an eyebrow. “How do you expect to get through life using that tone on people?” He asked rhetorically. “Has no one ever told you that you catch more flies from honey than vinegar? Geezus. Look, let me get this in the fridge.” He finished mixing the oatmeal, and dropped the cup of strawberries and bananas on top of it. Lidding it, he shoved it in the fridge.

Quickly rinsing his hands, and grabbing a tea-towel to dry, he led Sawyer back to his bedroom. “The safe is in my bedroom, inside my closet, bolted to the floor. I’ll have to open it if you want to see the firearms, because I paid extra for a safe secured by biometrics.” He pulled open the door to his walk in closet, and went to the back wall. The safe about four feet high, the security for it on the top left corner, it was bolted both to the rear wall, and to the floor, was fire-safe and while a true safe-cracker probably could get into it, in the average home robbery, not so much.

He pressed his hand flat on the panel, and waited for a count of three. The door made an audible click, indicating the scan had been successful. Divided into four shelves, he reached for a tray on the top, and pulled his handgun out. The clip wasn’t in it.

“You separate your clip?”

“Every time. Every day.” Tony replied calmly. “If, somehow someone broke into my apartment, and miraculously did manage to overcome the security on this, they’ll have to hunt for the clip -- and that could buy me valuable time. Besides, I’ve seen too many gun accidents in the course of my career caused by simple carelessness. I’m not going to be a statistic. I’m certainly not going to let Christopher be one either. When he’s older, probably around five or six, I’m going to explain guns to him, and make sure he understands he’s never to pick one up, and never to touch one with a single finger, until he’s in basic training or serving in our armed forces.”

Sawyer snorted at that. “Good luck with that.”

“I know. With my luck, Christopher will sign up for the Marines at eighteen just to get around that rule and not out of a higher sense of patriotism..” Tony said mournfully. “The best I can do here is keep the biometric system. I have a smaller gun-safe in my living room, on the bookcase, but it’s only secured by a key. The clip and backup clip are in there. I don’t carry a gun on my person while at home.”

The black man grunted, and watched with a frown, as Tony again put the gun back on the tray, and the tray pushed back on the top shelf. He shut the door and waited until he hurt the beep that showed the system had re-armed. “Anything else?” He asked, folding arms across his chest and leaning against the safe.

“You aren’t qualified to be a Foster Parent.:” Sawyer growled.

Tony closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath. “Look. This is just getting stupid, now. I want an answer. Why are you so against me? What have I done to you that you feel I’m a bad guy here?”

“Nothing. You simply aren’t qualified.”

Tony eyerolled. “I’m going to give you career advice. Review the case-file thoroughly before you come in with both guns barrelled. If you had, you’d know that I did all the foster-parent classes. All of them. And I excelled at it. Granted, I was under an alias and undercover at the time, but I completed the full program and exam. I am currently six months from a second Masters degree, this time in Psychology. I volunteer in the SCULPT program, and have done so as a coach to the pre-teen basketball group since the program’s inception.” He glared at Sawyer. “I have worked in countless cases alongside your agency, always with the goal of protecting children. And lastly, a Judge reviewed and signed off on me as guardian. What right do you have, alone, to condemn and witchhunt me when I’m frankly so overqualified I could be a Foster Parent three times over?”

“None.” Patty said from the doorway. “And, for the record Sawyer, you can bully and bluster all you want. I’ve just recorded this last conversation, and I’m going to sent it to David Martins. You had your shot to come into this case as a fair and non-judgemental investigator, and you’ve blown it. TONY isn’t the one that hurt that little boy. TONY is the one who found and saved him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“We have video proof. More importantly, I have thirty-seven children who can all vouch for Tony’s whereabouts three hours before the child was found. I have the security logs for NCIS that show Tony was at work at six am that morning, and didn’t leave until six pm, driving straight to the YMCA to arrive at six-thirty pm. When did he find and abandon a child?”

Tony’s eyes widened. THAT was what this was about?

“He’s a single man and a federal agent. What happens when he gets killed on the job? We have a further traumatized kid.” Sawyer stood to his full height, shoulders squared.

“I’m in process of transferring of the MCRT and taking an administrative role at the agency.” Tony inserted quietly. HIs gut was telling him something now, and he didn’t like it. “I take Christopher’s wellbeing very seriously, but I could be hit by a bus while out getting coffee too. There are no guarantees in life. Field operatives don’t get killed because we want to die.”

The man scowled at him. “You think you know so much. Well, I’m telling you, this is a terrible place to raise a kid, a horrible neighborhood, your elevator is out of commission, and the stairs are just waiting for someone to get mugged in them. The play park near here is known as a drug-dealers paradise. And, you’re a single man. The child has no female influence in his life with you, unless they are prostitutes or college girls you pick up.”

Patty’s eyebrow was arched so high it was almost missing.

“Seriously? Are you sure I didn’t arrest a former boyfriend?” Tony gaped openly appalled, at the same moment that Patty blurted in astonishment, “You know that I’m still recording, right?”
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