Court Papers in the Locked Drawer of a Community Doctor
Karen stopped, her hand resting on the white binder. “Sterling is an estate attorney who specializes in contested guardianships. He is very expensive, and he is very thorough. He knows every loophole in the state.”
“Is that where the extra fifty dollars is going?” I asked.
“Most likely,” Karen said. “A weekly retainer or cash consultation fee to keep the filings off the firm’s main ledger until they are ready to present to the judge.”
She walked back to the table and looked at the highlighted statements. “If we move too fast, he will destroy the files before we can file our response.”
“We need to know what he has written in that diary,” I said.
“We need more than that,” Karen said. “We need someone who can testify that David paid them to manufacture the evidence.”
“Marcus,” I said.
The Oak Creek Diner was busy at one o’clock. The smell of frying onions and maple syrup filled the room, and the bell above the door jangled every time someone entered, bringing in a gust of cool autumn air. I sat in the corner booth, the one with the cracked red vinyl that faced the kitchen door.
