IN POLITICALLY CORRECT terms, Spence Greer was horizontally well endowed. To put it less carefully, he was fat. Really fat. He was behind a large, messy desk, perched on something that couldn’t be seen beyond his bulk, most likely a chair, and his corpulent fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard of an elderly desktop computer.
He looked up and smiled as Brita entered. His eyes all but disappeared behind his rosy cheeks. “Welcome to Pekoit Reality. What can I do to help you?”
Brita strode forward, offering the realtor her hand. “I’m Detective Muldane of the Indianapolis Police.”
Greer frowned. “Are you here about the break in?”
The door opened behind her and Brita threw it a quick glance. “No. Sorry. I understood that Clev Richards told you we were coming in?”
Greer nodded, his cheeks
