Nothing to Lose (J.P. Beaumont #25)(76)

“You think she’s getting ready to make a run for it?” Hank wanted to know.

“I certainly do.”

“What do you need?”

“The real-estate transactions are being made in the husband’s name using what I believe to be a fraudulently obtained power of attorney. I need to speak to the notary public who witnessed the signatures on that POA.”

“Someone here in Anchorage?”

“Yes,” I said. “All I have is a name—Tracy Hamilton. She evidently works at a branch of First Alaska National Bank, the one on West Tudor.”

“Probably the midtown branch, then,” Hank concluded. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll see what I can do.”

Only ten minutes elapsed between the end of that first conversation and the time he called me back. Even so, it seemed like forever.

“Here’s Tracy’s home number,” Hank announced. I fed it into my phone as he reeled it off. “If she asks how you got her number, feel free to tell her it came from me. One of my newbie detectives, Darrell Russell, has worked security in that branch for years.”

“Thanks, Hank,” I told him. “Appreciate it.”

The moment our call ended, I dialed the number Hank had given me. I was relieved when a woman answered almost immediately. “Hello?”

“Is this Tracy Hamilton?”

“Yes, but who’s this?”

“My name’s J. P. Beaumont. I’m a private investigator from Seattle—”

“How did you get this number?”

“From a guy named Darrell Russell,” I said. “I believe he’s done security work for your bank branch.”

“What’s all this about?” Tracy wanted to know. Her tone was almost as icy as the panorama currently visible outside the picture windows of my “view” room.

“I’m working on behalf of a young woman named Danitza Adams Miller,” I said. That was fudging things, but so be it. “I understand that earlier this fall—back in November—you notarized a power-of-attorney document for her father, Roger Adams from here in Homer. I believe he and his wife, Shelley, came into your bank branch to sign the document.”

At worst I expected Tracy to hang up on me. At the very least, I thought she’d tell me to get lost. Instead she surprised me.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said, “I remember them well. How is he? The poor man looked so ill at the time I saw them that I doubted he was long for this world.”

“Roger’s hanging in there,” I said. “What can you tell me about that visit?”

“I remember they didn’t have an appointment. They dropped by after visiting Mr. Adams’s physician’s office. I felt incredibly sorry for them both. Clearly Roger had just been given some kind of devastating diagnosis, and arranging for that power of attorney and having it in place was first on their list of getting things in order.”

“You’re certain they said they were coming from his doctor’s office?”

“Absolutely. They mentioned the office complex, and it happens to be the same one where my doctor is located.”

“Had you ever seen either one of them before?”

“No, but they have accounts with our branch in Homer, and that qualifies them as customers at every branch.”

“In order to notarize their document, you had to verify that they were who they said they were, right?”

“Of course.”

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“I’m pretty sure they both presented me with driver’s licenses at the time. That’s all that’s required—some form of government-issued photo ID.”

“Do you keep a copy of those?”

“Of course,” she said. “I have it in my file. Why do you ask? Where is this going?”

It was time for me to drop the bomb. “I believe the man who came to your bank that day claiming to be Roger Adams was an impostor. I also believe that Shelley Adams is using that fraudulently obtained power of attorney to divest the real Mr. Adams of literally millions of dollars’ worth of real estate.”

The phone went silent for a moment.

“No!” Tracy said finally. “That can’t be true.”

“I’m afraid it is. I believe the fake ID for him they presented to you might well have been a professionally created one that looked legitimate enough to fool even a pro.”

“If that’s the case, it’s dreadful,” Tracy said, sounding shaken, “and I’m partially responsible.”

I did my best to reassure her. “As I said, I’m working on Danitza’s behalf and trying to keep her stepmother from robbing her father blind. It’s not exactly elder abuse, because Roger Adams isn’t that old, but I do believe that Shelley Adams is taking advantage of her husband’s somewhat limited mental capabilities. I’m not a law-enforcement officer, but if what I suspect is true, I’ll be turning my findings over to Anchorage PD at the earliest possible moment. Since it appears from the closing documents that offshore banks are involved, I suspect the FBI will be brought in as well.”

“But do you have any proof?” Tracy asked.

“I don’t,” I admitted, “not in my possession at this time, but if you still have copies of that phony ID, I’m pretty sure you do. Hold on a minute. I’ll text you a photo of Roger Adams taken from his law firm’s Web site. Take a look and let me know if the Roger Adams pictured there is the same man who came to your office.”