Free The Heir Hunter by Chris Larsgaard Page A

felt a spark of anger, almost lost it. She took a deep breath. Bonnie looked shaken, even a bit frightened. Getting her more worked up might not be the wisest decision. She got to her feet and reluctantly made for the front door. She waited for Bonnie to open it for her before stepping into the morning sunlight outside. The door closed quickly behind her, and chains were rattling again. She stood momentarily before turning down the path and back to the car.

    On the road, Alex tried to form some sort of picture. An immigrant glassworker from England who talked like a German. Twenty-two million dollars. A hatred for the IRS—nothing rare there. It was colorful stuff lacking significance, murkier than sludgy water. Alex would have been more concerned about her lack of headway if she hadn’t noticed the car in her rearview mirror.
    She first spotted it in Albany, just a few miles from her home. She confirmed her suspicions with a series of turns. Four lefts, three rights—the gray car maintained its position two blocks behind, no closer, no farther. It looked like a single occupant.
    She considered her options. She could try and lose him or she could force an encounter. She knew the smarter choice was probably the former, but after sitting through the Bonnie interview she felt more than ready for a face-off. Especially with some General Inquiry jerks.
    She slowed her speed for several blocks and reduced the distance between herself and her pursuer by half a block. She continued a slow deceleration as she drove randomly through residential Albany. After several blocks of a twenty-five-mile-per-hour pace, the car abruptly took a left and disappeared down a side street.
    Alex pulled over on Colonial and sat for several minutes, watching her rearview mirror. She felt mildly disappointed—a confrontation with the competitors would have been a welcome release of tensions. She put the car into gear again and continued home without incident.
    Edmund Arminger leaned forward on his desk and studied his field agent carefully. Derek Hanson was an experienced agent, the recipient of several internal commendations over the past five years. Out of a pool of nearly one hundred agents operating out of Manhattan, he had been selectedto retrieve the Jacobs file. It was a simple task that had suddenly gotten complicated.
    Arthur Gordon wasn’t surprised. He sat to Arminger’s side and remained silent during the discussion, deferring to his deputy. The conversation he was quietly witnessing was only adding to an already splitting headache.
    “What did you say this attorney’s name was?” asked Arminger.
    “Lloyd Koenig.”
    “Start from the beginning. You approached Koenig and . . .”
    “When I showed him the warrant and asked for the file, Koenig was clearly uncomfortable. After stalling for a minute or so, he broke down and admitted he didn’t have it. By then he was practically shaking.”
    “Where did he say the file was?”
    Agent Hanson looked to a small notepad. “He said he loaned the file to a private investigator from Albany named Alex Moreno, who was there on behalf of a San Francisco company called Merchant and Associates. He said he also passed on a copy to a PI firm in Los Angeles called General Inquiry. He claims these were the only two firms he had spoken with.”
    “Did you get a contact at General Inquiry?”
    Hanson handed over the notepad. “The name’s circled, sir.”
    Arminger read it as Gordon finally spoke.
    “Agent Hanson, did Koenig say why he was giving this file to these investigators?”
    “He said they were interested in looking into the estate for the purpose of finding heirs.”
    Gordon nodded.
    Arminger thought for a moment, then rose to his feet. “That’ll do for now.”
    Agent Hanson nodded and left.
    Gordon waited for the door to shut before he leaned back in his chair and exhaled loudly. Now his head washurting too. “Why are private investigators interested in Jacobs?”
    “What do