Page 47 of The Perfect Poise

“Can you please get on the radio and ask Detective Hernandez and Missy, the house manager, to come to the library right away?”

***

Jessie had the call on speaker as they tore down the street.

Before quickly leaving the Greene mansion, they had asked Sergeant Cole to continue the questioning of the other staffers, as they had another suspect to pursue.

“Tell us more,” Jessie asked of Jamil, who was feeding them information as fast as he and Beth could gather it.

“So as we already established, the man that Fiona Greene met with yesterday was their tax attorney, Douglas Kingman,” he said, “and as we discovered pretty easily, he also represented both the Baptistes and Isabella Moreno. Now we’re trying to determine if he had any conflicts with those clients.”

“Keep us apprised of anything you find,” Ryan said as they arrived in front of the Beverly Hills building on North Robertson where Kingman’s office was. “Did any of these clients part ways with him recently? Were there any complaints filed against him by other UHNW clients? Speaking of that, do we know how much the Greenes are worth?”

“I can take that one,” Beth volunteered. “in the last year before their marriage, Fiona Greene made about $6.7 million. This last year, their net worth is estimated at about $1.1 billion.”

“Okay, listen,” Ryan said, “we’re heading up there now. Text us what you find.”

The building was only three stories tall, but they had to get through security in the lobby and on the third floor, before they finally got access to Kingman’s office. The security guard accompanied them and, over the intercom outside the front door, instructed the receptionist to buzz them in. She did but shook her head as they approached her.

"I'm sorry, folks," said the forty-something woman with gray hair and glasses sitting behind the desk. "We're closed for the evening."

“But your website says your office hours are until 5:30 and it’s only 5:28,” Jessie noted, hoping that by implying that they wanted to make an appointment, they could access Kingman without having to pull out identification right away.

“I’m happy to discuss a potential appointment for you if you call tomorrow,” she said with a kind smile.

Next to her, Ryan shifted impatiently. She could sense that he wasn’t willing to play this game much longer.

“But we’re already here,” Jessie pleaded. “Please don’t make it a wasted trip.”

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said, “but frankly, Mr. Kingman deals in tax guidance for an extremely exclusive clientele, and he simply doesn’t take walk-in appointments. There’s an extensive pre-meeting review that is required. Now I’m sure that Lloyd will be happy to escort you back downstairs.”

The security guard, who was apparently named Lloyd, looked over at Ryan uncomfortably, uncertain how to proceed. He knew that they were law enforcement, but they hadn’t said that to the receptionist yet, which put him in an awkward position. At that point, Ryan decided to end the discomfort.

“Ma’am,” he said, holding out his badge and ID, “I’m afraid we’re going to have to insist on speaking with Mr. Kingman right now.”

The woman leaned across her desk, squinting behind her glasses. After a moment, she settled back in her chair.

“In that case,” she replied, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, “let me buzz him.”

“Thank you,” Ryan said, putting his ID back in his pocket.

The receptionist picked up the phone and pushed a button, “Mr. Kingman, there are people here from the Los Angeles Police Department. They’d like to speak with you.”

After a moment of listening to what he said, she replied, “they weren’t specific about the nature of their enquiry.”

After another moment, she hung up and smiled at them.

“He’s waiting for you,” she said, “last door on the right.”

She buzzed them in, and they walked past four other offices, all of which were empty, before reaching the last one. The door was open, and they stepped inside.

Kingman was already standing behind his desk, awaiting their arrival. He was a tall, lean man in his early forties, with thinning blond hair that he made no attempt conceal. He was dressed impeccably, even at this late hour, in a navy Brioni suit, complete with vest.

He had narrow, brown eyes and a scowl that looked like it might be permanently affixed to his face. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly and clipped.

“So what’s this all about?” he demanded.

Jessie glanced over at Ryan to see if he was as taken aback as she was. Apparently, they were skipping the pleasantries. Ryan looked like he was fine with that.

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