“He never told me a thing.”
For a moment Adam was shocked, then he realized what his father had been thinking. He hadn’t wanted Adam to rely on someone else’s money. He’d always pointed out how rich kids got into trouble and never made anything of themselves.
Uncle Calvin had tried to pay for his education when Adam had transferred from the University of San Diego to the John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York City. Adam had refused the offer. It wasn’t just his pride; his uncle hadn’t been around much. He barely knew the man.
Now that he thought about it, Calvin Hunter had been proud of Adam in his own way. He’d flown to New York from God-only-knew-where in Europe when Adam graduated at the top of his class at John Jay. He’d taken them out to dinner at some swank restaurant in Manhattan. Then, as usual, Calvin Hunter had flown out of their lives.
It had been another five years before he’d heard from Calvin again. When Adam was promoted to detective, Uncle Calvin called to congratulate him. His swift promotion had been the result of hard work, but the degree from one of the most prestigious criminal justice colleges hadn’t hurt. Uncle Calvin had reminded him of this fact when he’d called. It was almost as if going to John Jay had been his uncle’s idea.
“I can’t say for sure how bad things are until the forensic accountant conducts an audit, but you may be responsible for any outstanding debts against the property you owned jointly with your uncle.”
Great. Just what he needed-more bills. Being deployed overseas didn’t stop car payments or the bills he’d inherited from his father. “What about the villa on Siros and the Citation?”
“Both were leased and your uncle was behind in the payments. Same with his house here. When he died, I brought the house payments up to date. It’s a valuable asset. I didn’t want to risk foreclosure.”
“I was under the impression my uncle was wealthy.” Adam didn’t really know or care about his uncle’s money, but his father had always said Calvin had made numerous investments, and they’d brought him a lot of money.
“That’s what I thought, too. I worked with your uncle for years. He had a great many valuable assets.” The attorney spread his pudgy hands wide, palms up. “This…cash flow problem seems to be a recent development.”
“What did he do with all his money?”
“Hard to say. We’ll know more when the accountant goes over everything.” The attorney shuffled through some papers on his desk before adding, “Do you know anyone that your uncle would have given three thousand dollars in cash on the fifth of every month?”
“No. I have no idea.” Adam thought a moment. “Maybe he used the cash himself.”
“I don’t think so. He withdrew cash periodically from ATMs during the month, and he charged a lot to his American Express card. This monthly withdrawal has been going on for over a year.”
“There are plenty of people-gardeners, pool cleaners, car-detailing services-who want cash so they don’t have to report it to the government.”
“True, but I’ve accounted for those employees. I’m thinking he was giving out a lump sum each month…for some reason.”
Adam shifted in his chair. “Are you thinking blackmail?”
“No, no, no,” the attorney responded just a bit too quickly. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. The forensic accountant may turn up the answer.”
ADAM’S NEXT STOP WAS the coroner’s office. He knew the assistant coroner, Samantha Waterson, from his time on the San Diego police force. The woman didn’t miss much. She handled most of the autopsies for the coroner even though he signed all the death certificates.
“Hey, Adam. It’s great to see you,” Samantha greeted him.
The redhead had a smile that dominated her face and almost made you overlook the spray of freckles across her nose and the smallish brown eyes magnified by round tortoiseshell glasses. “How long’s it been?”
“Over two years.” He’d last seen Samantha at his farewell party the night before he shipped out.
“So how was Iraq?”
He shrugged. No sense depressing people with the truth. His National Guard unit had been sent over for what was supposed to be two years. Their stay was extended for another eight months. Even after he’d nearly been killed, Adam had been stuck at a desk job until his tour was over.
“I stopped in to discuss the autopsy you did on my uncle.”
“I received your message from Iraq about Calvin Hunter. I made sure I performed the autopsy myself.”
“The cause of death is listed as a massive coronary.”
“That’s right. His heart was in really bad shape. Don’t worry, though. He didn’t suffer. He died instantly.”
“Is there a medication or a poison or something that could cause such a heart attack?”
“Is that why your e-mail requested a full toxicology report?”
He decided to level with Samantha. When he’d been on the force, she’d always helped him. Aw, hell. She’d autopsied his cases first whenever he’d asked. “I saw my uncle in Greece about two months ago. He was worried that someone might kill him.”
“Wow! Why?”
“He refused to say. He thought I’d be in danger if I knew too much. Then seven weeks later he keels over of a heart attack. It makes me suspicious.”
The more he thought about his uncle’s warning, the more sense it made. In his own way Calvin Hunter had cared about him. Maybe as he aged, he missed having children and had tried to make up for it by giving Adam part of his holdings. And warning him about the danger.
Samantha swiveled in her chair and studied the plaques and awards lining her office wall for a moment. “I assume you read the police report.”
“I did.” He didn’t add that a buddy on the force had faxed him the info while he was still in Iraq.
Samantha nodded thoughtfully. “An unidentified female phoned 911 and said your uncle was having a heart attack. Paramedics arrived within minutes but no one was around. They assumed someone had been passing by.”
Adam took a deep breath. “My uncle was dead.”
“The 911 record says the call came from your uncle’s telephone.”
Adam nodded, wondering who the mysterious woman could have been. “Someone was in the house with him-then disappeared. He keeled over in his office upstairs. It’s impossible for a passerby to see into that room. The whole place is set too far back from the street for someone to merely be passing by and notice anything.”
“Your uncle definitely died of a massive coronary,” Samantha assured him. “But was it induced or natural? From what I could tell, it appeared to be natural. It’ll take four to six weeks to get the tox screens back, so I won’t be positive until then. They went out two weeks ago, so it’ll be at least another two weeks before I have anything to tell you.”
He knew toxicology reports were processed at the Fulmer Center in Santa Barbara. They performed toxicology reports for most of Southern California’s municipalities except Los Angeles, which was large enough to have its own lab.
Adam thanked her and left, his mind on his uncle. Calvin Hunter hadn’t outwardly shown how much he’d cared-at least not in a way a growing boy would notice-but his uncle had tried to help. Now it was his turn.
He had no intention of sitting on his ass and waiting. His gut instinct said Calvin Hunter had been murdered-just as his uncle had feared. Adam had given his word he would investigate. Nothing was stopping him. He planned to see just what his uncle had been involved in financially. That might lead him to the killer.
“THIS IS YOUR OFFICE,” Tyler Foley told Adam.
“Great view,” Adam responded, still in shock. Just before he’d left for Iraq, he and Tyler had barely scraped together enough money for a rat hole of an office in a run-down warehouse that had been converted to a warren of bleak little cubes.