The Master's Chair (The Chronicles of Terah) by Mackenzie Morgan Read Free Book Online

interviewing prospective parents. His mother will make the final decision.”
    Mrs. Johansson nodded. “Well, we’d like to know as soon as possible. If he’s not coming to live with us, we’ll need to set something up with someone else. When do you think you’ll be able to let us know something?”
    “Probably in about a month.”
    ~ ~ ~ ~
    Pallor spent Sunday in New York, meeting with his editor and publisher about the book he had coming out in the new year. By the time he boarded his flight Monday morning, he was glad to be headed away from the city. His next appointment was on Key Biscayne that evening at 8:00. The motel Cynthia had booked him into was on the outskirts of Miami, near the airport. Again, while on the flight, he reviewed the folder for his next interview.
    Albert Troxler was seventy-four years old. He had been married to his first wife for over forty years when she died of cancer ten years ago. He had three grown sons, and a host of grandchildren and great-grandchildren ranging in age from newborn to thirty-two.  Eight years ago, he married Tracy Shoffner, an exotic dancer that he met in Atlantic City. She was only eighteen when they got married, six years younger than his oldest grandchild.
    According to the financial statement, the old man had more money than he could spend in two lifetimes. His sons had grown up while he was making his fortune and understood the value of hard work. Each of them had managed to do quite well on their own without tapping into their father’s money.
    The investigator wasn’t positive, but the impression he got from the few people who would talk to him was that Tracy had signed a prenuptial agreement stating that her inheritance would be limited to a yearly stipend of fifty thousand dollars, payable in monthly installments for the remainder of her natural life. The bulk of Troxler’s fortune was being left to his sons.
    The only reason that Pallor could come up with to explain why Albert was interested in adopting a child was for Tracy, but Pallor felt sure that she’d be married again before the grass grew over the old man’s grave, so why were they even bothering? He shook his head and put the folder away. He was probably wasting his time on this one, but he’d already made the appointment, so he’d go out there.
    He had time to check into his motel, shower, and have a quick dinner before he had to leave for Key Biscayne, so he was in a good mood and relaxed when he knocked on the front door of the mansion at the address he’d been given. He was fully expecting a maid to answer the door, but when it opened, he found himself face-to-face with a woman who looked like a streetwalker. Her face was heavily made up, her jumpsuit looked like it had been painted on, her heels were at least four inches high, and her bleached blond hair was almost white and worn in an old-fashioned bouffant style. She was making loud popping noises with the gum she was chewing and kept glancing behind her nervously.
    “It’s just the newspaper boy, dear,” she called back into the house. “No need to bother yourself. I’ll handle it.” Then she pushed Pallor backwards away from the door and pulled it shut behind her. “I can’t talk to you here. Meet me at The Barnacle on the other side of the bridge in thirty minutes.” Then she turned and went back into the house, shutting the door behind her.
    Pallor stood at the edge of the front porch for a minute and considered knocking again. Surely she must have mistaken him for someone else. But then again, maybe she knew exactly what she was doing. He decided to err on the side of caution, so he got back in his rental car, drove back towards Miami, found The Barnacle, went inside, sat down at a table in the back, and ordered a drink.
    A few minutes later, she came prancing through the door to a myriad of whistles and howls. She waved them off and sat down across from Pallor, tossing her huge pocketbook in the middle of the small