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wonderful dinner, and afterward, my driver took us to her place and she invited me in. Home for Kathleen was a modest duplex cottage with faded green siding. Her side of the duplex had three rooms: a kitchen, living room, bedroom—and a bath. A small stack of books sat on one end of a threadbare couch in the living room. She picked up the books and stacked them on the co ff ee table so we’d have room to sit.
    “I’m sorry it’s not nicer,” she said.
    “Don’t be silly.”
    “It’s just, everything is so expensive here.”
    “It’s wonderful,” I said.
    And to me it was. When I’m in Virginia, I sleep in a prison cell. When I’m anywhere else for more than a day or two, I generally break into the homes of strangers and sleep in their attics. Sometimes I’ll live in an attic for weeks at a time. By comparison, Kathleen’s duplex was a palace.
    “I can o ff er you a gin and tonic, bottled water, a hot chocolate with skim milk,” she said, “or a diet coke.”
    I asked, “Do you have an attic?”
    “What a strange question,” she said.
    “No, I just meant, there’s not a lot of room for storage.”
    “I have half an attic and half a basement,” she said. “Does that win me some kind of prize?”
    I placed my hand to her cheek, and we looked at each other. “Don’t ask me to show them to you,” she said. “The attic is totally junked up, and the basement has rats, I think.”
    I asked if I could kiss her. She said, “Okay, but just once. And not a movie kiss,” she added.

 
     
     
    CHAPTER 10
     
    “ 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 co ff ee 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 co ff ee 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 o ff 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 co ff ees.
    “I’ll have a talk with Unger and let you know if anything develops.”
    “We can’t a ff ord 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