Kelton and Dillon gasped.
I continued. “Today, Zach informed me that his father is a gambler. He gambled away Zach’s college fund.” Fury burned within me, hot and bright, causing sweat to bead on my neck. “And now my entire inheritance is probably gone. I have to find him. I owe the university money and rent to a landlord.” I could’ve paid my rent, but the money I’d had left I’d had to use sparingly until I could get this issue resolved. “Or else an angry Latino man will be hunting me down. Anyway, I went to the cops and filed a statement, but there are more deadly crimes for them to investigate. Plus, I can’t prove it.”
“So you know this dude?” Dillon asked Kelton.
“Zach’s my roommate. His old man is a gambler. Mostly poker. High-stakes poker.” He lifted his ball cap, combed his fingers through his messy black hair, then placed the hat back on his head.
“And you,” Dillon said to me. “That’s why you wanted a gun?”
“I planned to hold Terrance Malden at gunpoint until he gave me my money back. Or hold his son hostage.” Saying all that out loud sounded more farfetched than it did in my head.
Kelton chuckled. “Terrance doesn’t give a shit about Zach.”
“Well, Sherlock, you got a plan? You said you had connections. You said you wanted to help.” My tone came out way more caustic than I’d intended.
“It’s hard to threaten a guy who doesn’t have the money,” Dillon said.
“Did your father set up one trust or two?” Kelton asked.
I looked at him cross-eyed. My parents and I had never spoken about trusts or wills. After Gracie died, we hadn’t talked about death at all, let alone any legal stuff.
He straightened then began bouncing a knee. “You said at the beginning that your parents had 401Ks.”
“Um. That’s right.” I checked on Dillon, who shrugged.
“Last summer, when I worked at a law firm, I learned that 401K accounts could be handled differently. The client has to request a separate trust. Otherwise, upon death, the money is paid out in a lump sum payment to the beneficiary. This client I worked with set up a separate trust for his 401Ks so that his children would be paid in installments when they reached a certain age. If your parents have a separate trust for their 401Ks, Terrance can’t touch those. He could only touch the cash in your bank account.” He explained all this like a proficient attorney.
Honestly, I couldn’t say for sure if my parents had one trust or five. I did, however, know that my father’s lawyer had given Terrance a binder of documents. Shortly after the funeral, Terrance and I had met with Mr. Pilkington. He’d gone through the details. The problem was I hadn’t listened close enough to remember much, except that I was set financially. It wasn’t until a week later when my head was a little clearer that I’d asked Terrance questions. He’d told me not to worry. He would handle college payments, depositing a monthly check into my bank account, and at twenty-one I’d have full access to all the funds in the estate. “You concentrate on graduating college. That’s what your parents wanted most for you,” he’d said.
“I talked to Mr. Pilkington after I talked to the cops,” I said to Kelton. “He said he would contact Terrance, and then call me when he did. I haven’t heard back yet.” Then again, I’d tried him one last time before I left for Boston. His secretary had said he was extremely busy with a court case.
I wanted to scream at myself for not paying closer attention. At the same time, I wanted to plant kisses all over Kelton. Then I had to get my hands on that binder. Well, binder first then plant kisses on Kelton.
As if he knew what I’d been thinking, Kelton asked, “Do you have a copy of the legal documents?”
“No. Mr. Pilkington had one binder with all the instructions for the Trustee. He said if I needed anything I could always contact him. And since Terrance had been following through on his duties as far as I could tell, I didn’t need to question things.” I bit the inside of my mouth.
Kelton hopped off the barstool. “Then contact the attorney who drew up the documents. Have him send copies to you. I’ll go through them. In the meantime, I’ll find out from Zach where his old man is. Dillon, do you know any underground poker joints in Boston or the surrounding states, aside from the casinos? Sometimes the man is in the area without telling Zach. We ran into him once at a concert at a Connecticut casino when he was supposed to be in Florida.”
“I can do some digging,” Dillon said. “But what do you have in mind when you find him?”
I’d thought of many things to do to the man, but none of them were within the law.
“I haven’t gotten that far,” Kelton said. “I really would like to see the legal paperwork first. And I want to talk to Zach. He can contact his old man.”