“Just doing my job. So there’s been no request for funds from David?”

“No. I told you I haven’t heard from him!” Paxton got up and went over to the coffee table. Out of nerves, he poured himself a cup.

“So his money is still in the trust?”

He spun around and glared at me. “Of course, his money is still in the trust! Are you implying some illegality on my part?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just trying to be brought up to date.”

He stared at me. “I did this as a personal favor to the Tylers. All I take out of it are small processing and conservator fees. And I wonder if you’d be grilling me so extensively if I were one of the big shots from Frisby, Mathews, and Young.”

“I didn’t realize I was grilling you, and truly I don’t understand what you’re driving at, Mr. Paxton.”

“Deny what you will, Officer, but I know intimidation when I see it.”

“Intimidation?”

“You know what I mean. I know how you people feel about minorities!”

I jerked my head back in shock. “You people” being the police. He thought I was riding him because he was black. Man, was he off target. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to shout: I’m not a racist, you jerk! I’m just trying to do a job! I’ve dated black guys!

Actually, it was a black guy—in the singular—but that didn’t sound as good.

I softened my tone, trying to get him on my side. “You’re entitled to be compensated for the paperwork. If you think I’m implying any wrongdoing on your part, you’re mistaken.”

It mollified him, but not by much.

I pressed on. “What would happen to the money if there isn’t any offspring and David doesn’t surface?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.” He sat down again. “If David passes on before I do, the money is supposed to be distributed to various charitable institutions. Of course, if there is a legitimate offspring, that would change everything.” He regarded my face. “But I would need proof, Detective—a blood test, a DNA test. I hope you understand this. I can’t give away hundreds of thousands of dollars based on some disabled girl’s fantasy.”

Hundreds of thousands of dollars. Sarah had chosen well. “That’s going to be hard to do with David missing.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see what choice I have.”

“Maybe if you saw the baby, you’d change your mind. She’s half black and the mother’s white. She’s a mosaic Down’s syndrome. I understand David had the same genotype.”

He stared at me. “Did you go to college?”

Now who was letting his prejudice show? “Columbia University.”

“And you’re a cop?”

“Excuse me?” I replied.

I couldn’t swear, but I thought I saw him blush.

“You know, it is possible that David’s genetic profile has been mapped,” I stated. “Maybe at a hospital. Mosaics are rare. Maybe we can determine paternity based on some previous medical results.”