“I’m not sure I appreciate your tone, Mr. Creed.”
“Why should you be the exception?” I said.
It was morning, a few minutes past eight. I was in the hospital coffee shop chatting with Addie’s Aunt Hazel.
“And just how is it you’re connected to Addie?”
“She’s my friend.”
After learning how special Addie was to Kathleen, I’d come to the hospital to check on her. During a discussion with one of the nurses, I learned that Addie’s father, Greg, had won ten million dollars in the New York State Lottery six months ago. I also learned that Hazel and Robert Hughes had originally planned to adopt their niece after her release from the hospital but had changed their minds after learning the money was gone. So when Aunt Hazel showed up, I ambushed her in the coffee shop.
“We’re not wealthy people, Mr. Creed,” Hazel had said. “Addie will require specialized care for the rest of her life, and yes, we were counting on the inheritance to provide it.”
“Perhaps your interest in Addie’s welfare extended only as far as the inheritance,” I’d said, and that’s when Aunt Hazel told me she didn’t appreciate my tone.
“What happened to the lottery money?” I asked.
“Greg used part of it to pay off the house, the cars, and credit cards. The balance, more than nine million, was placed in an annuity.”
I had a sudden revelation and immediately began experiencing a sick feeling in my stomach.
Hazel said, “The annuity was supposed to provide a huge monthly check for the rest of Greg and Melanie’s lives. But the way it was structured, the payments ended with their deaths.”
“Can you recall some of the specific provisions?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “But the whole business sounds crooked to me.”
“Who can tell me?” I asked.
She eyed me suspiciously. “I suppose Greg’s attorney can give you details.”
She rummaged through her handbag and gave me the business card of one Garrett Unger, attorney at law. I put some money on the table to cover our coffees.
“I’ll have a talk with Unger and let you know if anything develops.”
“We can’t afford to pay you,” she said.
“Consider it a random act of kindness,” I said. “By the way, can you give me the address of the house? I may want to poke around a bit.”
“Now who are you, exactly?” she asked.
“Someone not to be trifled with,” I said.
Hazel gave me a look of concern, and I smiled. “That’s a line from a movie,” I said.
“Uh huh.”
“The Princess Bride,” I added.
“Well it doesn’t sound like a wedding movie to me,” she said. I pulled out my CIA creds and waited for her to ooh and ah. Instead, she frowned and said, “This looks like something you’d find in a five and dime.”
“What’s a five and dime?”
“Like a Woolworths.”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. As I said, I’m a friend of Addie’s. I met her through Kathleen, one of the volunteers here. I want to help.”
“What’s in it for you?”
I sighed. “Fine, don’t tell me.” I took out my cell phone, called Lou. When he answered, I said, “There was a fire two weeks ago at the home of Greg and Melanie Dawes.” I spelled the last name for him. “Both adults died in the fire. Their twin girls were taken to the burn center at New York-Presbyterian. I need the address of the house that burned down. No, I’m not sure of the state. Try New York, first.” I got our waitress’s attention and asked her to bring me a pencil and paper. By the time she fetched them, I had the address. I hung up and smiled at Aunt Hazel.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“Inigo Montoya.”