Chapter Thirty-two
968 Words
Detectives Ken Stapleton and Corinne Hudson contacted Thomas Greer, the lawyer who drew up the adoption papers for the Williamses. Monday morning they sat on a black leather couch opposite the red-headed receptionist with heavy makeup and fake red, white and blue striped nails clicking the keyboard.
Ken ran stubby fingers through his crewcut, eyeing the decorator styled opulent office of Greer and Greer. Probably father and son. Must be doing very well to afford the layout before them. The receptionist looked to be in her fifties. Bottled hair coloring. Most likely Revlon makeup to hide blemishes and disguise wrinkles. If she tipped her nose any higher to show distaste to their presence, he swore she would be falling backwards out of her chair. The display of obvious money always made him feel uncomfortable. He hated falsehood in any form.
Corrine sat prim and proper beside him. Hands folded in her lap. Legs tucked in, knees touching. She gazed steadily at the receptionist like she had every right to be there. His partner wasn’t easily intimidated despite her Jamaican coloring and deep set eyes. She was a naturally beautiful woman who didn’t need artificial boosting. She turned to Ken and tilted her head subtly, indicating her feelings of the red head’s uppity attitude. Corrine parted her blue blazer to prominently display the gold badge at her waist. A Cheshire cat smile pasted on her face.
They could hear a door open down the long hallway to their right. Heavy footsteps drew near. Presently a bear of a man wearing a tailored gray, pin stripe suit appeared. His bushy brown beard and thick thatch of hair accentuated his formidable appearance. Ken expected to see long curved claws on the hairy hand extended in greeting. “Thomas Greer. Detectives Stapleton and Hudson, I presume.”
The two stood in unison. Corrine felt his smile showing blindingly white teeth resembled the fangs of a wolf. Dare they follow him to his lair? She could imagine jurors feeling intimidated in court without his saying one word.
Seated in leather chairs before Greer’s mahogany desk, Ken questioned the lawyer about his business with the Williamses. “There was a legal brief in their home regarding the impending adoption of an infant belonging to a Katie MacKenzie.”
“Yes. So sad. Still difficult to believe the tragedy that befell that couple.” He blew his nose just remembering. “They were ecstatic to bring home the little boy that was born earlier than expected. Patricia fell in love with him the moment she held that baby. We were scheduled to sign the adoption papers the next morning at the hospital.”
“What was she doing in their home?” asked Corrine.
“They had an arrangement with one another. Patricia wanted to ensure that the infant would be taken care of in utero, since it was going to be their child. Proper nutrition, etc. The couple provided a room and meals, took care of prenatal and delivery expenses, assured Katie of the freedom from worry that might affect the maturing fetus. She took online classes at UW towards her degree in journalism and did an externship with the Salvation Army, getting firsthand experience with the poor and needy.”
“Did the Williamses have any living relatives?” asked Ken.
“No, both were only children with deceased parents---Unusual isn’t it?”
“What happened to Katie MacKenzie and the baby?” asked Corinne.
“I believe they went to live with her grandparents in a remote area of the state. At least they were the ones who picked them up upon discharge from the hospital. I don’t have their address. Sorry.” He shook his head. “Such a bizarre mystery.”
“Did Dr. Williams have any outstanding debts that you know of?” asked Ken.
“I have no knowledge of their financial status. They were upstanding citizens of Seattle.”
Ken rose. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Greer. We appreciate your cooperation.” The detectives left the building.
“I suppose we could get a warrant for the hospital to release the grandparents’ address,” said Corrine. “It’s a stretch though, isn’t it?”
“My gut tells me there’s a link between the dead bodies and poker chips on their person,” said Ken.
“Poker chip means gambling means warning to me,” said Corrine. They drove the squad car back to the department.
Thomas Greer stared at his phone for a long time, sweat beads dotted his forehead and upper lip. Eventually he picked up the receiver and dialed a private number.
“Freddy’s Pizza Hut. How can I help you?”
“I have a message for Graham. Tell him to call the law firm of Greer and Greer.” He hung up.
At four p.m. Thomas‘ private line flashed red. He answered with sweaty palms. Heart thundering nervously. “Greer here.”
“Thomas, what have you got for me?”
“I got a visit from two detectives today.”
“What did they want?”
“They found adoption papers at the Williamses’ home with my name on them.
“What did you tell them?”
“Only that I drew up adoption papers. Didn’t volunteer any other information.”
“Good man. What was the name of the mother of the baby?”
“Katie MacKenzie. A college student.”
“Do you know her whereabouts now?”
“Nothing. It’s as if she’s vanished.”
“Good. Keep me informed if you learn anything new.”
Thomas Greer was another soul that Graham Stellarman owned. He rued the day he became hooked on clandestine poker games in the basement of Freddy’s.
- Writer
