“Kent wants to hire me to track down Junior, who’s pushing fifty, and persuade him to return the money. It’s not good for the rich to have bad publicity about wayward family members.” There was an eyeroll in his tone, which made me smile. “The business is structured as a corporation, and Kent has stockholders to answer to. They’re not going to be happy and will hold him accountable.”
I snorted. “Hate to break it to the old man, but I’m betting that there’s very little money left, if any. I doubt Wilson used it to fund a retirement plan.”
“Pretty much what I said.” Grey caught my smirk and added, “Close anyway. This is a meet-and-greet to see if I pass Kent’s high standards.”
“Whatever.” I sniffed. “If he’s going to put you through the dick-around dance, you need to double your hourly rate.”
“Kent told me upfront that he wasn’t going to be hosed; he knew the going rate. Just because his attitude irritated me, I raised my fee and he didn’t argue, which told me he was blustering and full of himself.”
“What’s your plan, hotshot?”
Grey gave me an amused look. “Told Kent to make a list of the son’s friends, and that includes any girlfriends, since there’s no wife. I got a referral to a hacker and am hoping that tapping Wilson’s phone will make him easy to find.”
“If your hacker is the least bit dicey, I’ve got someone who can get the job done.”
“Of course you do.” Grey shook his head. “What are you mumbling?”
“Just wondering how you’re going to introduce yourself, what name you’re going to use. Since we’re partners, I should at least get your name right. Then there’s the issue of my name.”
“It’ll be a surprise.” He winked.
“Bad idea,” I mumbled.
“I can hear you.”
It was a short drive up the Causeway to Palm Island. He exited and took the road over the bridge to the island, then cruised around, easily locating the address and pulling up to the security gate of a waterfront modern glass monstrosity. In this neighborhood, I’d guess the homes to be in the thirty-million-dollar range, give or take a million or ten.
Grey announced himself as Steve Smith, and the gate opened, as did the front door. A short, bald man filled the entry in a black suit. If the air conditioning ever went out, he’d melt. Grey pulled off to the side and parked.
“It would be off-putting to me to have anyone who drives up to the gate be able to see into my house and through to the backyard,” I said.
The exterior and lush landscaping were meant to inspire awe, and the water view had immediately caught my attention. Large floor-to-ceiling windows ran across the front and back, and the double front doors were also glass. If there were window coverings, they weren’t visible.
“Shouldn’t you be carrying for these jobs?” I asked as I got out and joined Grey.
“This is a meet-and-greet, not a shootout.”
“Got a great idea—I’ll get my concealed carry permit and be your muscle. Cover your back.” I pinched his backside, hard.
“Ouch. Dammit,” he growled.
“Tsk, tsk, attitude.” I put distance between the two of us, hoping to look professional. “Put your party face on, butler dude is staring.”
I was surprised when Grey introduced me as Brenda and happy that he didn’t use my real name. He didn’t offer up a last name, so if asked, I’d go with Jones. Sounded better than Doe. I could already hear Grey groaning.
Butler Dude didn’t offer up any kind of greeting. He motioned us to follow him across the immense entry and through the living room, opening the door to a glass-enclosed patio. The room overlooked the water, where the boat dock was currently empty, and a cruise ship was parked across the bay. An older man was huddled on a brown leather couch, a striped pillow stuffed under his head, his scruff of white hair sticking on end, and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. When the man only stared, Grey made introductions.
“Simon Kent.” He waved us to a matching pair of easy chairs, giving me an assessing stare and dismissing me as insignificant.
Everything about this house was oversized, and that included the outdoor living space. The tiered pool took center stage, and the high-end furnishings far outshone what I’d seen on the inside of the house. I snapped my attention back to the conversation as Grey began to ask Mr. Kent questions.
His son, Wilson, sounded like a punk who’d had everything handed to him. Mr. Kent could barely answer a question without coughing and sniffing into his blanket. He picked up the phone and grunted, and the butler reappeared. He was able to decipher the waving of his boss’s finger and wrote down Wilson’s phone number and handed it to Grey. “When I called, it went to voicemail,” Kent muttered. More grunting ensued, and the butler left and returned with a laptop that he handed to Grey.
“Wilson left that behind,” Kent croaked, tightening the blanket around his neck.
Before the butler disappeared, I smiled sympathetically at the man, who winked.
Grey opened the laptop and found that it didn’t require a password. “You mind if I take this with me?”
Kent waved his hand around. “That’s Wilson’s personal computer. I had security search his office—they didn’t come up with anything—and move his work computer to my office.”
“What can you tell me about his friends? Girlfriend?”
Kent shook his head. “The person to ask about that would be Wilson’s assistant, Diedre—she always seems to know everything—except she’s on vacation for two weeks.”
The old goat yammered on, coughing intermittently and barely intelligible, until I wanted to shake him. The man was reputed to be worth millions, but was far too vague in his responses. Hard to believe that he was the one to build the empire. When an answer was required, he kept it short and generic.
My gaze wandered back to the furnishings. I noticed a distinct lack of anything personal sitting out, and that included knick-knacks. One would think there’d be a family photo, something.
Finally, the two men concluded their meeting. I pasted on a smile and stood with Grey. “We’ll talk in a day or two.” Grey shook the man’s hand.
The butler had the patio room door open before we could take step. He led us to the front door, opening it and standing in the entry, then withdrew an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to Grey. “As agreed upon with Mr. Kent.” He took a step back as we exited, then closed the door.
“You’ve been in this business a while; are all your client meetings this odd?” I asked once we were away from the house and back at the SUV.
“I’ve only had one other case where I didn’t like the client from the start. Wanted to tell Kent that I wasn’t interested, but since I’m starting over, I thought it prudent not to be so choosy.” Grey opened the car door for me, and I slid in. He felt up the envelope before handing it to me. “Didn’t think he’d pay in cash. Guess he doesn’t want a money trail showing that he hired an investigator.” He walked around and slid behind the wheel. “Count it. I asked for a 10K retainer to get started. If it’s not all there, your new job will be collections.”
Now there’s a sucky job. “You’d think Kent, being a businessman, would cut you a check, since it’s a legit tax write-off.” I upended the bills into my lap as Grey pulled out of the driveway. “Doesn’t appear he had to scrape together one-dollar bills.” I eyed the hundreds and quickly counted. Twice. “It’s a grand short.”
“What a cheap f—” Grey made a U-turn. “Kent’s power play is unamusing.” He pointed at the windshield. “A Mercedes just pulled out of his driveway, and I’m betting it’s him.” He pulled up to the gate and rang the bell. No answer.
“Interesting that Kent was able to hobble off the couch and get out of the house so fast. If the man isn’t straight up enough to pay his bill, you can expect more antics from him. If there’s a next time, I volunteer to count the money right in front of him.”
Grey drove around the island and checked
out the neighborhood of expensive real estate. We didn’t pass another car or person out walking. “So Backup, what was your assessment of the meeting?”
“For starters, Mr. Kent is a terrible actor. The sick and feeble act was just that, an act. He put a lot of effort into being evasive. Once or twice, I thought about wandering around outside, checking the pool water to see if it was warm. A more interesting Q&A would’ve been with the butler.”
“I wasn’t buying his act either. I’m thinking Kent knows more about the missing money and his criminal son than he was willing to say. Makes me wonder what he was withholding and why he hired me. I’m guessing so he can say he made an effort to find Wilson.”
“I’d like to know why Kent thinks the money is recoverable.”
Grey merged back onto the Causeway. “My guess is he knows whether or not Wilson has spent every dime or tucked it away somewhere. I’m thinking it might be the latter, since I’ve been hired to find Wilson and turn him over to Daddy. I had a preliminary background check run, and it showed Wilson’s current address as the mansion. Kent never mentioned it and instead gave me an alternative address, clearly wanting me to believe he had no clue where Wilson had gone.”
“So Mr. PI, what’s the first step?” I asked.
“See if I can track Wilson using his phone or laptop. I’m not sticking my neck out when the client is withholding information.” Grey glanced over at me. “Ready for lunch?”
“Raincheck? I have an appointment of my own. Drop me at home, and I’ll grab a burger.”
“Hmm…” Grey pulled up to a red light, turned, and stared.
It surprised me that I didn’t flinch, but instead returned his stare.
“You’re one shifty female.”
“That’s so mean.” I crossed my arms and faux pouted.
“Let’s stay on point.” His eyebrows went up. “Not one word about this supposed appointment until a minute ago, which means you’re up to something or you’re full of it. Which is it?”
“I don’t like you anymore.”
“I’ll change your mind later.”
I jabbed my finger for him to get off at the next exit. “There’s a burger joint to the right. I need an infusion of food and caffeine.”
“If you think I’ve forgotten what we were talking about, you’re wrong. Don’t think that I won’t resort to driving around in circles.”
I pulled out my phone and pulled up the address to program the GPS. I didn’t really want to go by myself, but he’d flip once he found out what I’d done.
We drove south, exiting into Miami Beach, and pulled into the first burger stand. He went through the drive-thru and ordered for both of us. It surprised me when he circled back around and parked. “I can’t believe you allow eating in your pristine ride.”
“Just don’t throw food all over, and I’ll be happy.”
“That would be so unladylike,” I said, mimicking Gram’s tone.
Grey cracked a smile as he pulled out a burger. “Change of plan: we’re not leaving here until you tell me what’s going on. I’m thinking you’re stuck, because it’s too far to walk and I’m betting you’ve never ridden the bus. If there even is one around here. So if you’re in a hurry to make your appointment, we can eat and talk.”
I stuffed the burger in my mouth, buying time. Several times, I’d thought about telling him and chickened out. I’d been rehearsing ways of prettying up the news and had so far come up with nothing. When we finished eating, I’d blurt it out.
We ate in silence.
Grey gathered up the trash, got out, and dumped it. Before getting back in, he stood at the front bumper, pulled out his phone, and had a short conversation. After, he sent a text. Then he got back in and eyed the GPS. “So, where are we going? Is it far from here?”
“Twenty minutes, depending on traffic.”
“I’m certain you can impart all the details in that time and leave a few minutes for questions, and if not, just know you won’t be getting out of this car.”
Chapter Twelve
I turned and stared out the window, another attempt to buy time, and finally turned to face him, sucking in a deep breath. “If you could just keep an open mind…”
“I knew it.” Grey banged his hand on the steering wheel.
“You know I’ve done a lot of research on Mindy’s death.” I took another breath, this time to calm my jitters. “I located James Slattery.” The detective that had originally been assigned to investigate the case. “He’s retired now and moved down to the Miami area to be closer to his grandkids.”
Grey unleashed a growl or a groan or both at the same time, but otherwise remained silent.
“I called, turned on the charm, and introduced myself as a budding writer. I told him about my interest in the Graham case and asked if he’d answer a few questions.”
“Bet he was thrilled.”
“In the silence that followed, I implored him, saying that as a first-time author I needed to be certain of my facts, not wanting to write anything untrue and also wanting it to be an authentic account of events.” I was getting the silent treatment from Grey. “I went on tell Mr. Slattery that I’d exhausted all my resources for information and wanted to interview people with firsthand knowledge.” I admit, I did lead him to believe that I’d already talked to other people.
“You told him you’re a first-time author, and he didn’t hang up?” Grey looked incredulous.
“Don’t be mean.”
“I’m doing a lot of that today.” Grey unleashed an irritated sigh. “You’re telling me that Slattery gets a cold call from a stranger who’s poking around in an unsolved murder and agrees to an interview? Just like that?”
“I had to do some fast talking, plead a bit, and promise not to use his name.” It didn’t escape my notice that Grey’s fingers were clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel. “I’m happy that you insisted on coming.” More silence. “It’s probably not a good idea for you to sit in on the meeting with me. Hang out by the car so Slattery can see that I’m not alone but far enough away that he won’t recognize you. Paste on your signature scowl, and from a distance, you’ll be sufficiently scary.”
“Sounds like a great idea. What you’re suggesting is that I stand back and be scary.”
I struggled to smile, despite my nervousness. “Exactly.”
“You shouldn’t be meeting with him at all,” Grey snapped.
“I’ve asked you before and you haven’t answered—are you happy being Steve Smith?” No answer. “It would be interesting to hear what Slattery thinks of the case and whether he has any unanswered questions. Does he think you got away with murder?”
The silence was unnerving.
I sighed, accepting that I’d overstepped. “I’ll reschedule so you can get started on the Kent case. Better yet, I’ll tell the detective that I’m taking his advice and looking for another project.”
“Slattery is a straight-up guy. A good detective. He’s probably curious to see what you’re about. I can’t imagine he’s had any other calls on the case. But if he’s warning you off, you should take his advice.”
I stared out the window, wishing that I was swimming in the Atlantic. “Take me home.”
“I’ll wait by the car, in plain view but unobtrusive. Slattery doesn’t have any reason to think I’m back from the dead, or in my case, the never-dead.”
“Don’t be mad.”
“What are your plans for this so-called project of yours?” Grey asked in an even tone, though clearly irked. “Are you just using it as a front, or do you plan on writing this book?”
“I’m only thinking of using it as a cover story—it’s a good reason for asking lots of questions and hopefully not raising any eyebrows.”
“Who else is on your interview list?”
“In-person interviews might not be the best idea. The next time, I’ll see if the person will consent to answering questions over the phone.” Grey was probably thinking the same as
me—that they’d hang up.
“What about your company?”
“As the owner, my schedule is flexible. I can easily take a day off here and there. As you know, I’m awake early and get everything that needs doing done. Except for something last-minute, I almost always have afternoons free.”
“If you’re splitting your time, trying to juggle work and investigating, don’t you worry that your business will take a hit?”
“I’m not going to let that happen,” I said adamantly. “My other motive is the hope that all this sleuthing will pay off and I’ll learn a trick or two to help me find my dad.” I didn’t see any reason to add that staying ridiculously busy kept me from stressing over my dad and Grey. Not to mention that there was a murderer out walking around.
Grey turned off the highway. “Slattery lives in a trailer park?”
“Right, then left, space thirty-nine.” I pointed. “I googled the address, and it’s got better-than-average reviews. According to the website, it’s got all the amenities, pool, tennis, and security.”
Grey exited the highway and entered a park-like setting: manicured green grass with plenty of trees. He bypassed two double-wides that had been attached end to end with a sign out front reading “Office,” cruised past visitor parking, and took the curve around an inlet of water where a couple of ducks hung out on the bank, searching for food. There were several benches where people could sit and throw bread crumbs at the wildlife while they enjoyed the view. A guard rolled past on a golf cart and waved.
The mobile homes weren’t stacked on top of one another—each had a small plot of land and private patio. Grey pulled into the driveway of a turquoise double-wide with white trim and landscaping across the front and parked behind a silver SUV.
The two of us got out, and I leaned back in and grabbed my briefcase. I caught sight of an older man who matched Slattery’s description sitting on the lattice-enclosed porch.
Grey and I met at the front bumper. He winked and adjusted his aviators, then grabbed my arm and turned me to face him. “Just be yourself. I’m sure Slattery will be charmed once he figures out you’re not conning him on one angle or another.”
Hired Killer (Biscayne Bay Book 1) Page 8