Pulling a code book from the shelf, Jensen flipped it open, pointing to the sections regarding the time in which to file claims against an estate. “If you determine the adoption was done under the table, you’ll need more than a birth certificate to prove you’re an heir. Documents nowadays are easily forged. A DNA test will need to be performed, and they aren’t cheap. They run anywhere between $500 to $800, sometimes more if ordered by the court. The sample will need to be tested against a verified living heir, which means double the price. Genetic testing labs take advantage of the situation when they know a court ordered the test.”
Kathy felt sick to her stomach. The plans she made were falling apart. Fast.
“The rules are all right here, Ms. Simpson. I don’t make the probate laws, I interpret them.”
Kathy ground her teeth. “Is the law the same in all states?”
“I cannot answer that, ma’am. I’m only licensed to practice in Tennessee.”
“Take an educated guess!”
“Without reading the statutes set forth in a particular state, I’m unwilling to venture a response. It would only be conjecture.”
Kathy shook with anger. “So, there’s nothing I can do?”
“Well, there is one thing that might be of help, but if I may be frank, you’ll need to tell me the truth, even though you have yet to sign an engagement agreement for my services.”
“What? I am telling you the truth!”
“We aren’t discussing a child you bore out of wedlock?”
Gripping the edges of the chair with all her might, Kathy clenched her teeth. “I’m not lying. This is about a child born out of wedlock—me. What’s the thing that might help me?”
“I’m sorry I upset you, Ms. Simpson. I needed to make sure we were on the same page here. Since we are, here’s my advice: Find out if anyone, including any of the living heirs, knew about your existence.”
“Why? What difference would it make if they knew?”
“As I mentioned before, you would have to be listed under potential heirs in the petition filed to open a probate case. If any of them knew and intentionally kept your name off the list, the court would reopen the estate and investigate your claim. Of course, you must be able to prove there was collusion by any party to keep you from rightful inheritance, but again, the price to do so would be expensive. Everything I said hinges on whether you were legally adopted or not. If the adoption wasn’t recorded in court, I need a minimum of five-thousand dollars as a retainer to...”
Kathy heard enough. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Sinclair. I can’t afford your services.”
“I understand. It would be a long and arduous battle, Ms. Simpson.”
“Thank you again for your time, Mr. Sinclair.”
Kathy left before the old man said another word. Her legs felt like Jell-O. She almost fell twice before reaching the car. The piece of shit Camry didn’t have enough horses under the hood for her to burn rubber, yet she still tried.
“I paid $250 for that little nugget of legal advice? Fuck! I can’t believe it! He’s got to be wrong!”
Traffic was heavy as eager shoppers filled the streets. Zigzagging through the side streets, she finally made it to Kat’s Toys. The parking lot was empty, so she pulled right up to the front door.
Once inside, she went straight to the back office. Ignoring the receipts from the night before and notes from Ginger, the assistant manager, she opened the middle drawer, retrieving her stash. She needed a bump to set her straight.
After snorting two lines, Kathy leaned back, kicking her feet up on the desk. The original plan to go the legal route was toast. Jensen Sinclair was a washed-up attorney and if his fee was five grand, she feared what a higher-class attorney would charge. There was no way she and Kip could afford to hire anyone, let alone wait for years. Yes, a lawsuit would drag the Chapman family’s name through the mud, but she wanted—needed—the cash. Now.
Looking around the room, she cringed. Over twelve years of life wasted inside the hellhole. The smell of stale smoke, booze, sweat and even a hint of vomit, made the rage inside her chest grow. She owned the place but was that all she was worth? All her life would end up being? Grayson still didn’t know what she did for a living, but that would change soon. What then? How would she handle the questions? The shame?
What would happen as she aged and couldn’t work the pole to make money? How would she and Grayson survive?
The life they lived now was a struggle. Kathy shook away the fears of moving to a cheaper apartment in a bad section of town or having to grovel for food stamps or some other type of government assistance.
No. Fucking. Way.
Not when so close to snatching a portion of his rightful inheritance, yanked away by greedy, money-grubbing broads.
Two of the broads she hated for ruining her life.
The wheels spun. A dark, sinister plan formed with ease. She had a knack for plotting things out. This time, it wouldn’t be some silly, juvenile prank.
This time, it would be hardcore blackmail, and if a few suckers died in the process of getting paid, so be it. Fewer heirs alive meant a bigger portion of the fat pie.
Two things Jensen Sinclair mentioned stuck in her craw: Did the Chapman family know and intentionally kept it a secret, and the whole legally-adopted thing.
“Think, girl. Think! Breathe. We’ll find out information soon enough, once Kip gets the recording equipment in place. Sam’s got secrets of her own, and the more we find out, the more leverage we’ll have. Yes, perfect!”
Pulling the envelope from her purse, she spread the pages out across the desk, studying each one with care. Grabbing a piece of paper from the printer, she jotted down a few notes, including the case number of Samuel Chapman’s estate, and the name and birthdate of Marie Santos Ramirez from the birth record listing her under mother. The weird, unofficial looking papers of “Baby Boy Ramirez,” listing his parents as Shawn and Tiffany Hale made her doubt the adoption was legal. There wasn’t a seal or anything.
Out of all the prospects of who left Kip the envelope, his biological mother seemed the most likely.
Brain buzzing, she turned on the laptop. It was risky to use it for research, but as the new plan formed, she needed to only use it once then toss it.
In the search bar, she typed in “Marie Santos Ramirez, Hot Springs, Arkansas” then hit enter. Several links popped up, including an archived article from the Sentinel Record from the late eighties. Kathy clicked on it.
She gasped.
Though the image was rather grainy, it was clear the woman was related to Kip. According to the article, Maria was sentenced to twenty years for trafficking narcotics. At the end of the article was another link. She clicked on it.
“Holy shitballs! Maria made parole five months ago! I need to meet this woman! If anyone else in the world has a grudge against the Chapman clan besides me, she fits the bill.”
Going back to the search bar, she typed in “Samantha Marie Chapman, attorney, Arkansas.” The first link was to Benton & Baxter, a law firm in Little Rock, specializing in tax law. Clicking on the dropdown link for attorneys, she spotted the name Richard Benton. For some odd reason, his face and name seemed familiar.
“Oh, I bet he’s the guy Kip saved from beating Sam’s ass. My God! He’s gorgeous! Mmmm, once I’m back in Arkansas, I think I’ll pay him a visit. Stir up some trouble for ol’ Sammie-girl.”
Between the coke and her own devious mind, the plan came together as easy as one of Grayson’s ten-piece puzzles he played with when a toddler. She couldn’t wait to get started.
After shutting down the computer, Kathy gathered up all the papers, stuffing them back into the envelope. Shoving the laptop, note, and papers into her bag, she picked up the office phone and called Ginger. She knew the call wouldn’t be answered since Ginger was probably sawing logs after a long shift, which ended at five a.m.
Sure enough, Ginger’s voicemail picked up on the fourth ring.
“Yo, yo, yo! You reached my voicemail and you know the drill so go, go go!”
“Hey girl. It’s Kathy. I’m heading to Arkansas to spend some time with Kip. We’re trying to work things out. I need you to run the bar until at least Tuesday. Call my cell if you need me. Thanks a bunch! I owe you big time. Oh, and if you’re still interested in buying the club, let me know. I think I’m ready to entertain the idea, if things work out with me and Kip. Bye.”
Satisfied she covered her tracks with the half-truth Kathy scooped up a wad of cash from the desk then ran out to the car.
Once on the freeway, she smiled. It wouldn’t be too difficult to find Maria. There were only a handful of halfway houses in Garland County, and she knew what the woman looked like.
“Oh, this is going to be such fun! I can’t wait to see the look on Suzanne’s face when she finds out she’s been fucking her half-brother—and how much of Daddy’s money the family’s willing to offer me to keep, and Kip’s ties to the Chapman clan, a secret.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Saturday, November 26, 2016
TAKING A DEEP breath, Kip knocked on the front door. The temperature outside hovered near freezing yet sweat pooled under his t-shirt. He was a bundle of nerves. His stomach churned and rumbled. He worried how seeing Samantha, knowing she was his half-sister, would make him feel. Bile rose up in his throat at the thought. The images of him and Suzy going at it almost made him gag.
“This place is neat, Dad! How old is it again?”
Grateful for the distraction, Kip smiled at his son. “It was built in the early 1900s I believe. I’m not sure what year. Ms. Chapman knows. You should ask her to take you on a grand tour of the place while I work.”
“Neat! Maybe we’ll see some ghosts!”
Samantha opened the door, saving Kip from having to answer. She looked tired and worried. He wondered if she had another visit from her ex-boss.
“Hey, Kip! And you must be Grayson. Come on in. It’s freezing out there!”
Once inside, Samantha extended her hand to the adorable boy. “Hi. I’m Samantha Chapman. Nice to meet you, Grayson. I’m so glad your dad brought you along. Would you like some hot cocoa?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
A small cat trotted down the stairs, sliding on the slick wood around Sam’s feet. Kip hated cats. He grimaced as it made weird mewling noises.
“What a cute kitty!” Grayson exclaimed. “What’s her name, Ms. Chapman?”
“His name is Wee Thing. He’s very friendly. You are welcome to play with him while I get you some cocoa. Kip, do you mind helping? There are some additional things I need done while you’re here. Okay?”
“Oh, uh, sure. Grayson, you stay right here and don’t touch anything. We’ll be right back.”
“Okay. Here kitty-kitty. Awww, he’s so soft!”
Kip followed Sam upstairs to the room converted into a makeshift kitchen. He noticed a bulge underneath her sweater. Swallowing hard, he looked away from what he assumed was a gun. “So, uh, what did you want to talk about?”
Sam poured milk into a mug then popped it into the microwave. “I’m taking you up on the offer about a motion detector outside. I also want to install security cameras in the front and back.”
“Did Richard come back?”
“No, well, yes, I think so. Long story and one I don’t wish to discuss. Let’s say I’m concerned enough to cover all bases. A friend of the family came by on Thanksgiving. He’s a retired cop. He recommended several things, so yesterday, I bought this.” She opened a cabinet door, revealing two boxes. “A complete, top-notch, wireless security system. I bought two—one for my bedroom and one for the office, which gives me a total of eight cameras. I believe I purchased everything you need to set it up.”
Kip’s heart went into overdrive. He never had been good at lying. Bending down, he peered at the equipment. “May I?”
“Sure. The instruction manual is right here.” Sam grabbed the booklet off the counter. “My nighttime reading. Interesting stuff. Not. I had to force myself to stay awake and trust me, it was hard! Talk about boring!”
Rummaging around the boxes, Kip said a silent prayer she didn’t know anything about electronics. “Uh-oh.”
“What’s wrong?”
“This isn’t the right kind of HDMI cord.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. You need two male and four female HDMI cords.”
“Damn! I thought I had everything. By chance, do you have any in your truck?”
“No, I don’t. I only carry the basics.”
Grabbing the warm milk from the microwave, Sam added several scoopfuls of cocoa. Turning to face Kip, she let out a weary grin. “If you tell me what I need, I’ll pick up the necessary stuff. Best Buy probably carries those things, right?”
Kip returned the smile as the roiling in his gut eased. Pulling his cellphone from his pocket, he navigated to the website. “Yes. Oh, and lucky you. The cords are on sale. Guess the Black Friday deals are still good.”
“Great! Send me the link please and I’ll dash over there. Do you mind waiting? You don’t have other plans with Grayson today, right? I don’t want to intrude on your visiting time. I can call someone else if necessary.”
“It won’t take long to install them, I promise. I’ll work on the fixtures I missed while you’re gone. Grayson is fascinated with this place and plans on asking you if the house is haunted and probably for a tour. He loves old houses. He watches those fixer-upper shows on TV all the time. He won’t mind hanging around.”
“Great! Will you take this to him? I’ll grab my purse and head to the store. I want to get everything up and running before Monday.”
“Uh, sure.”
Sam sensed the hesitation in Kip’s voice. “Are you sure I’m not cutting into your time with Grayson?”
“No, you aren’t. He’ll be under my feet the entire time asking a million questions. I sort of thought with you here, it would keep him occupied.”
“How about I take him with me to the store?”
Kip smiled. “You wouldn’t mind? He’s quite the talker.”
“Not at all, as long as he doesn’t mind hanging out with a stranger.”
“Trust me—the kid loves Best Buy. Don’t be surprised if he tries to talk you into buying him a new game for his Gameboy.”
Sam laughed and handed Kip a travel mug. “Here. Pour the cocoa in this to keep it warm. I’ll be right down.”
Kip transferred the drink then grinned while heading downstairs. He couldn’t believe how easy the task of installing the equipment would be with both of them out of the house. Once in the foyer, he handed Grayson the cocoa. “Here, son.”
“Dad? Can we get a cat? Look how sweet he is! He likes me!”
“Ask your mother. You know she’s boss.”
Grayson grimaced. “She’ll say no. Why don’t you get one? When I come to visit, I promise to take care of it.”
“We’ll see.”
Sam bounded down the stairs, purse in hand.
Kip noticed the bulge under her sweater was gone.
“Grayson? I need to go to Best Buy to pick up some things I need your dad to install. Would you like to ride with me?”
“Sure! Oh, wait, is it okay, Dad?”
Ruffling his son’s hair, Kip smiled. “Of course, but don’t you go trying to talk Ms. Chapman into buying you a toy. Okay?”
“I won’t. While she shops, I can play the new games like I did with you yesterday.”
Kip’s grin faded. “Yeah…uh…just like yesterday when I bought the light fixtures for Ms. Chapman.”
“Don’t forget to give me the receipt for what you purchased so I may reimburse you.”
Forcing the sigh of relief away, Kip nodded. “Of course, if I can find it. I’m…uh…not very organized. Besides, I didn’t spend much.”
“Dad! You spent over five-hundred dollars!”
Kip feared he might faint. “I bought some things for your mother and fo
r you. Shame on you for spying, son! It’ll ruin Christmas!”
“Kids—you can’t hide a thing from them during the holidays,” Sam teased.
“Hey, you two have the same color eyes like me. Isn’t that funny?”
Kip’s knees wobbled.
Sam laughed. “Did you know blue eyes are the rarest color, and everyone who has them are said to be from a single person who lived in Europe over 6,000 years ago?”
“Wow, cool! Makes us all sort of related, right?” Grayson asked.
“In a way, yes.”
“I can’t wait to tell my science teacher. He’s never said anything like that in class. How do you know?”
“I’m a big fan of the Discovery Channel. They have a lot of interesting shows.”
“Dad, do you have that channel at home? Mom doesn’t.”
“I, uh, yeah, I think so,” Kip managed.
The trio walked out into the crisp morning. Kip veered to the left, heading to his truck. After boxing up the light fixtures from the backseat, he smiled and waved as Sam pulled out of the parking lot, noticing Grayson’s mouth was going a mile a minute.
“No time to waste.” Kip grabbed the box. He trotted back inside, antsy to get the recording equipment installed and well-hidden before they returned.
KIP FINISHED SECURING the last camera in the office. Punching a few buttons on the app installed on his phone, he beamed with pride when his image appeared on the screen. He waved, surprised at the clarity of the picture.
He reread the instructions four times to make sure he set everything up right. All four cameras worked, each set to start recording upon motion or sound so he could watch and hear everything Sam did from his phone. Kathy was right—he did feel like a spy. No, he was a spy!
He sent a text to Kathy. All set!
The sound of Grayson’s laughter caught his attention. Peering out the window, he let out a huff of air. He finished with only seconds to spare.
“Look, Dad! Samantha bought me a travel case for my Gameboy! Now I don’t have to worry about dropping it!”
“What a nice thing for her to do, and she’s Ms. Chapman, not Samantha. I hope you said thank you.”
Fatal Agreements Page 11