Chapter 8

This is serious stuff, lady. Don’t rock my world.

I wait in the not-too-shabby lobby for a minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. Beverly finds me sitting next to an end table decorated with the latest Forbes magazine and a marble holder filled with Peter Find’s business cards. She escorts me down a narrow hallway with four, reddish mahogany-like doors with brass handles. All the doors are closed except for the last one at the end of the hallway, Find’s office.

I follow her inside, and she steps aside. Somehow, someway, she vanishes, and I don’t even see it happen.

“Mr. Peter Find,” the attorney, Peter Find, stands behind his desk, walks around the massive structure, and grins. He’s almost five-two, so very dwarf-like, and similar to a character out of Gameof Thrones. His eyes are an intoxicating blue, and his beard is nicely groomed. He’s dressed in a button-down white dress shirt, linen slacks, and leather shoes. I’m sure his outfit is over a thousanddollars.