Thugs and Kisses (11 page)

The law office of Karen Meek was located in a Spanish-style single-story duplex on the corner of De la Guerra and Anacapa, just a block from State Street, the main shopping and dining area of Santa Barbara.

I love Santa Barbara. It’s one of the most charming places in all of California and a close weekend getaway for those of us who live south of it. Thoughts of Greg and the many weekends we’d spent here tried to crowd themselves into my mind, but I forced them back with a mental whip and chair as if they were wild animals.

Walking into Karen Meek’s office felt nothing like walking into Woobie or Tim Weber’s office. Instead of expensive floral arrangements, impressive artwork, and staid furniture, we were greeted by sweet and subdued Laura Ashley wallpaper, sheer curtains, and wood floors. A French country coffee table was positioned on an area rug in the middle of the large waiting room, and on it were various periodicals, including many children’s magazines, all stacked neatly. The chairs were a collection of wooden kitchen chairs, all painted in either white or rose lacquer, with some child-size chairs in a corner around a small pint-size table. Green plants were scattered about in various pots. It was absolutely charming and very suitable for Santa Barbara.

In one corner of the large room, near a door in the far wall, was a large desk on which sat a computer, phone, and various files. Like the chairs, the desk looked refinished to match the décor. We weren’t in the office long when a young woman came out of the far door carrying more files. She was in her twenties, tall and willowy, dressed in a lilac cardigan sweater and well-worn jeans. Her face was naturally pretty, and she wore her blond hair in two braids, with long bangs.

“Oh, hi,” she said to us. “Sorry I didn’t hear you come in. May I help you?”

“I’m Odelia Grey,” I told her. “I have an appointment with Ms. Meek at eleven thirty, and this is my friend, Sally Kipman.” She put the files down on a small credenza and looked at the appointment book open on the desk.

“We’re a little early,” I added.

The young woman smiled warmly. She could have been a model pushing fresh milk, good dental hygiene, and wholesome living. “Karen’s with a client right now, but she should be done shortly. Would you ladies like some coffee?”

“I’d
love
some coffee,” piped Sally. “Thank you.”

I nodded in agreement. As soon as the young woman left back through the far door, Sally and I each took chairs near the large coffee table.

“Cute place,” Sally said, looking around. “You sure she’s a lawyer?”

“That’s what I’m told; family law, works a lot with children.”

“Smart woman to leave the intimidating surroundings to the other guys.”

Sally was right. If Karen Meek worked with children and families, she was wise to give them a place where they at least had the illusion of warmth and safety, rather than a cold, impersonal waiting room. I had looked up Family Bond on the Internet. Its primary purpose was to heal children living in the midst of chaotic and troubled family situations, with issues ranging from child abuse to poverty, including helping families deal with raising a child with a mental or physical handicap. The organization also helped fund shelters for abused women and children.

The young woman returned with colorful mugs of hot, aromatic coffee. She told us her name was Tanya. We thanked her for the coffee. With a smile, she returned to her desk and began sorting through the files on the credenza.

We were halfway through our coffee when the door near Tanya’s desk opened, and out came two women, one holding a small boy by the hand. The woman without the child was the same woman in the photo with Steele—Karen Meek. As they walked to the front door, Karen spoke in low tones to the other woman, who was crying softly. The child walked alongside them, head down. He must have been only about five years old. He was neat and tidy, and dressed in jeans, red high-top sneakers, and a blue hooded Dodgers sweatshirt and Dodgers cap. When the three of them reached the door, he turned, and I could see that his other arm was in a sling and tucked under the sweatshirt, the empty sleeve hanging down like a windsock in dead air.

I was about to look away when the child lifted his head and glanced at Sally and me. I almost gasped. Even with the cap pulled down low on his head, I could see that one side of his young face, the same side as the injured arm, was bandaged. Sally must have noticed, too, because I felt her nudge me in my side.

Careful
, I told myself,
don’t jump to conclusions just because Karen works with dysfunctional families and traumatized children. The boy could have taken a nasty spill
.

The woman thanked Karen, and Karen said she’d be in touch the next day. Before they left, Karen knelt down to the boy’s level, looked him in the face, and whispered something to him. She was smiling when she did. The boy, once again looking down at the floor, nodded.

Once the woman and boy left, Karen turned to us. “One of you must be Odelia Grey.”

“I am,” I said, holding out my hand. “And this is my friend, Sally Kipman.” Karen smiled, officially gave me her name, and shook my hand. She did the same with Sally. I was dying to know the story on the boy, but I knew better than to ask.

“Why don’t we go into my office?”

We followed Karen past Tanya and through the door, into a hallway with various rooms branching off from it. At one end of the hallway was a small kitchen. She directed us toward the other end. Along the way, we passed the bathroom, a room that served as a file and copy room, a small office, and finally into a large office at the end of the hall. Like the waiting room, Karen’s office was decorated in soothing prints and refinished antiques. In spite of the numerous files stacked on tables and the floor, the place seemed tidy and organized—much like Karen herself.

Karen Meek was dressed in tailored tweed wool trousers and a dove gray silk blouse. Her long hair was pulled back and held with a becoming clip. Around her neck was a strand of pearls, with matching pearl studs in her ears. She was trim and held herself very erect, almost in a pose, like classically trained dancers often do. Her face was attractive but not beautiful, and her brown, wide- set eyes snapped with kindness and energy. I quickly noted that on her left hand was a large diamond ring. My heart ached for a fleeting second, and just as quickly I pulled myself together.

There was a small sitting area in one corner of the office, and she directed us to sit there. Sally and I perched side by side on a delicate settee; Karen sat stiffly in a matching chair.

“If you’re here, Odelia, I guess Mike hasn’t surfaced.”

“No, I’m afraid he hasn’t.” I put my tote bag down on the floor by my feet and folded my hands in my lap. “Our firm has filed a missing person report.”

“Good. I was beginning to wonder if I should do one myself.”

“No need. A friend of mine is with the Newport Beach police. He filed it and had a copy sent to the Santa Barbara, Ojai, and Laguna Beach police departments.” I swallowed. “The Ojai police even did a quick drive along the roads between here and the Ojai Valley Inn, but they turned up nothing.”

“That’s just not like Mike. Not at all.” Karen toyed with her necklace. “I’m starting to get very worried.”

I leaned slightly toward her. “Karen, what sort of mood was Steele in when he left—and exactly when did he leave here?”

She smiled at me. “I see you call him Steele, not Mike, and I’ll bet he calls you Grey. Am I right?”

I nodded. “He calls everyone by their last name at the office.”

“He called me Meek most of our marriage.”

Sally scoffed. “How romantic.”

Karen looked at each of us in turn before leaning back in her chair in a more relaxed position. “Actually, he could be, but most of the time he’s pretty intense.” She looked at me. “That’s why I made him shut off his cell while he was with me. We had business to discuss, true, but mostly I wanted him to relax.”

“He was here to discuss matters regarding Family Bond?”

“Yes.” Karen sat up straighter. “I asked him to come up so we could have a face-to-face meeting on some issues. He and I are the directors—the only directors since my uncle passed away about three months ago. Usually we handle all business by phone or e-mail, but I felt it was time to meet, go over year-end matters, and consider a new board member to replace Uncle Vince.”

“I read up on Family Bond on the web. You do a lot of good work for children.”

“We try, but it’s like trying to hold back the tide armed with a shovel and sand pail.” Karen smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Like that mother and child you saw earlier. We’re relocating them to a safe house. But for every situation like that we help, three more crop up.”

“Has Steele always been involved with Family Bond?”

“Why, yes; in fact, it was his idea to set it up, get nonprofit status, apply for aid, grants, donations. I was killing myself trying to do it on my own, and he stepped in, found some angels who helped fund it initially, and did all the corporate work.”

“Was this after you were divorced?” Sally asked.

“It was. Mike and I remained very close after we broke up, more like brother and sister or cousins.” She adjusted herself in the chair and crossed her legs, then started fiddling with her ring.

“Did you remarry?” I asked, indicating the ring.

“No, at least not yet, but I am engaged. That was another reason why I wanted to see Mike. I wanted to tell him in person that I was getting remarried.”

“How did he take it?”

“Fine, or at least I thought so. He was more upset about my other news.” As if on cue, both Sally and I leaned forward. “I told him I wanted to put my fiancé on the board with us.”

“Why was he against that?” I asked.

She hesitated, again playing with the pearls around her neck. “Mike often felt that I led too much with my heart and not enough with my head.”

“Meaning he thought this man wasn’t right for you?”

“No,” she answered quickly. “Meaning he thought Tom and I would not make good business decisions for Family Bond and would force them through with a two-against-one vote.”

“But,” I said, putting my thoughts in order, “wasn’t it two against one when your uncle was on the board?”

“Yes, it was two against one, but I was the one. Uncle Vince was a lot like Mike, very focused and intense. He practically raised me. Maybe that’s why I gravitated to Mike in the first place.” She looked at me, then Sally. “Though I must admit, that’s probably why Family Bond did so well after Mike formally set it up. The two of them ran it as if it were Microsoft. I had to go to them and plead my case for anything beyond day-to-day expenditures.”

“And this Tom is more like you?” Sally asked.

Karen smiled. “Yes, even though he’s a big business tycoon himself, he’s much more interested in helping the children than the bottom line, and he has some very creative ideas. But I’m sure it would have worked out. Mike could still hold the business reins while Tom and I did the good deeds.”

Yeah
, I thought,
I could see that now. Steele happily doling out cash for decisions he felt were wrong and on which he’d been outvoted.

“If your fiancé, Tom … ,” I hesitated.

“Bledsoe,” Karen added. “Thomas Bledsoe. He has his own company.”

Sally and I gawked at each other with open surprise before I turned back to Karen, my mouth still hanging open. “Amazing Games Software—
that
Thomas Bledsoe?”

“Why, yes. We met at a charity event for children, and he became one of our angels, a major contributor. Mike met him that night, as well.”

Sally shook herself out of her shock. “Odelia and I went to high school with Tommy … I mean, Thomas Bledsoe.” Sally glanced at me. “In fact, he was Odelia’s prom date.”

“Really?” Karen looked at me with interest. “What a coincidence.”

“Yes, isn’t it,” I said, still stunned. “Tommy and I were lab partners, never dated except for prom.”

Karen smiled. “What a small world. I’ll have to make sure I tell him when he calls. He’s in Japan right now, something about launching a new game there next year.”

“Our high-school reunion was last weekend,” Sally said. “Too bad you and Tommy … Tom … didn’t come.” She looked quickly in my direction. “Although maybe it’s best you didn’t.”