Bonaparte's Belle: A SEALs of Honor World Novel (Heroes for Hire Book 24)

by Dale Mayer

  “Are they that close together?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Do the two guys actually live in the residences?”

  “Well, I thought so, but I haven’t seen them around in quite a while.”

  “Besides,” he said, “what is here for them? That’s what I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t know that either. They said they just needed a place to get away from it all.”

  “Sure, and I can see that to a certain extent, but I just wonder if they were seeking something in particular about the location here.”

  “Well, it’s five to ten minutes out of town, so, in a way, it’s perfect for a lot of people.” He nodded, giving her that point. She smiled. “Even though this isn’t necessarily where a lot of people would like to live, it is a perfect choice for others.”

  “What are property prices doing?”

  “They’re shooting up.”

  “So, if they did nothing but buy up all the properties and wait for the prices to go up, they’d still make a killing.”

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “So another reason for doing what they’re doing.”

  “But it’s hardly fair,” she said.

  “These guys don’t care about fair.”

  “No, that’s true.” He just kept on driving. Finally she said, “Up ahead is the next property.” It was on the same side of the road, and, as he got up there, another large gate was here, almost identical to the one they had seen already on the other property.

  “Do they keep animals?”

  “Again, I don’t know,” she said. “We have no registry, unless it’s a large commercial operation.”

  “Right,” he said. He drove around for a little bit, then veered off on the roadside, pulled up his laptop, while she watched.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just bringing up the satellite, so I can take a look at these properties.” And then he sent a message to Levi, explaining where he was and requesting one of his team look into the bank records and the tax returns on the two brothers. “Levi said you’re supposed to update him,” he said, after the laptop beeped.

  She snorted. “I figured you’d be doing that.”

  “Yep, I’ll do it on a regular basis.”

  “He’s a good guy,” she said suddenly.

  “One of the best,” Bonaparte said, without even lifting his gaze from the laptop screen.

  She studied his intensity. “I don’t understand this. Where are you getting the satellite feed from?”

  He looked up at her, smiled, and said, “Levi.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh. I don’t think I knew he had that.”

  “Yeah. An agreement within an agreement within an agreement,” he said. “But it’s been invaluable for a lot of the cases Levi works on.”

  “Is it giving us anything?”

  “A lot of buildings on this property make no sense to me,” he said. “And they’re big. What was here before they bought it?”

  She thought about it and said, “A whiskey distillery.” He looked at her in surprise. She smiled and said, “It didn’t do very well.”

  “But that would explain the buildings.”

  “That’s what I thought,” she said. “Some of them. Are they setting up shop? They haven’t applied for a license, as far as I’m aware.”

  “I don’t know. I have no idea what they’re up to. Maybe nothing. For all we know, they looked at these two properties, wanting to have places near each other and within driving distance to town, and these are the ones they bought.” He paused. “Was there anything funny about them when they bought them?”

  “Not that I know of,” she said. “I didn’t hear about anything being off.”

  “Was it a clean sale? And, if you tell me again you don’t know, then we’ll go find the old owners.”

  “You can’t,” she said suddenly.

  “Why is that?” he said, shooting her a look.

  She frowned. “Because they’re two of the dead.”

  He settled back.

  “Okay, so this is a little unnerving. Are these guys just killing people outright?”

  “Well, it was a car accident,” she said. “We did investigate it, but the road conditions were nasty, and the car went over the edge of one of the highways here. It was actually quite a job to retrieve the bodies and to clear out the wreck.”

  “And there was nothing foul about it?”

  “At the time, I agreed with the coroner that it was accidental. But, as things started to stack up, I began to get suspicious.”

  “A pretty convenient accident,” he said. “But it doesn’t seem like anything with these guys is accidental at all.”

  “There’s no need for them to kill people,” she said. “These owners probably, eventually would have sold without a problem.”

  “So, if the owners died, who would these assholes have bought these properties from?”

  “I think one went to a cousin in New York, when the estate was settled. Then they approached him with a price and bought it.”

  “Do you think he would have sold anyway?”

  “No, the cousin was planning on moving here and getting the distillery back up and running,” she said quietly. She stared out the window, hating the thought that she might not have done her due diligence and might have missed something. “I’ll feel really shitty,” she said, “if it turns out they really were murdered.”

  “What about this property here?”

  “I understand they had gotten offers but, over the years, were never interested. However, with family health issues and property prices going straight up more recently, I understand he was more interested lately.”

  “Well, let’s look into that one too,” he said.

  “But still, the thing is, these guys have money,” she said in exasperation. “There was no need to kill anybody, unless the owner was adamant, and he didn’t want to sell. See? When all this was going on, it wasn’t on my radar. Only after people started dying did it all start to smell bad.”

  “We do have wealthy people out there in this world who just want a property because they can’t have it. Maybe it was worth it to them. Maybe this is all some game,” he said.

  “A game to kill people?”

  “I’ve seen it happen time and time again,” he said. “Nothing is nice or easy about any of it, but it does happen.”

  She shook her head. “Now that you mention the money issue, I would say something much more businesslike is about it.”

  “Meaning?”

  “If they bought the properties, it was likely for some reason that we don’t understand yet. And it’ll all be about money.”

  “Is that all they are?”

  “Yes,” she said, “you’re so right. They’re all about money. And showing it off.”

  “Interesting. Do they have wives or partners of some sort?”

  “No, they have decorations.”

  He stared at her blankly for a moment and then started to laugh. “Okay, I get the idea. You feel fairly strongly about it too.”

  “They come from the big city, and they are rich high-rollers, who cause chaos wherever they go. They go to the coffee shop or the bar, have absolutely nothing nice to say about any of it, throw enough money around to keep people happy and accepting of their ignorant behavior, and then they’re gone.”

  “Well, there are more than a few towns with assholes like that,” he murmured.

  “Yeah, but our town used to be nice. We didn’t have people like that.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “When those types move in, they’re quite the pain in the ass.”

  She snorted. “In this case they are claiming our town as home, if that’s what you call it, but that still doesn’t make it illegal, and absolutely nothing here proves that they did anything wrong.”

  “Nope. I want to see the accident report on the guy who owned this property, and we’ll do an investigation into the other one to make sure it wa
s aboveboard.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “I want to talk to the other owner.”

  “Jeremy is in old folks home, and his daughter sold it.”

  “Good, let’s go talk to her.” She hesitated. He looked at her and asked, “Is that a problem?”

  She sighed. “No, let’s go do it.”

  He nodded and asked, “Which way?”

  She gave him directions to her best friend’s house.

  *

  Bonaparte wasn’t sure what Angela’s reaction meant. “Is there a problem here that I need to be aware of?”

  “No,” she said. “Gladys is the woman who sold the property for her father. Her daughter is a good friend of mine, that’s all.”

  “And this is a conflict of interest?”

  “When you’re the sheriff of a small town like this, all of it is a conflict of interest,” she said, with a quirk of her lips.

  He thought about it and nodded. “I guess it does make things awkward at various times, doesn’t it?”

  “It does, but I’ve been in this job for a few years,” she said. “I’ll make it through a few more too. At least if we can deal with the interference from these assholes.”

  “Good enough,” he said. She directed him toward town and then to a right turn, where they veered off to another corner. “This is an interesting area,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “So, what is it we’re looking for here?”

  She pointed out the address as they got closer. “That little brownstone over there,” she said. “That’s Isabel’s place.”

  “Got it,” he said, and he pulled up in the front. Almost immediately the front door opened, and Isabel stepped out, a frown on her face. But, when she saw Angela hop from the truck, a smile lit up her features.

  “Hey,” she said. “What’s with the truck?” And when Bonaparte got out, her eyes widened. “What’s with the mammoth?”

  “This is Bonaparte,” Angela said. “He’s one of the deputies who’ll be working with me.” The words seemed to roll off her lips quite easily.

  Bonaparte reached out a hand to shake Isabel’s and smiled. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

  “Good Lord,” she said. “We don’t see too many people your size around here,” her gaze going from Bonaparte to Angela and back again.

  “Nope,” he said, “not too many anywhere.”

  At that, she looked startled, and then she laughed. “Isn’t that the truth? I’m sorry. I’m being rude. Come on in.”

  “I just need to ask you a few questions,” Angela said.

  Isabel stopped in her tracks, looked at her, and said, “Are these difficult questions?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, “but I don’t know. When your mother sold your grandfather’s property up on Alston Way?”

  Isabel nodded.

  “Were there any issues with the sale?”

  An odd look came on Isabel’s face. “What do you mean by issues?”

  She shrugged. “Obviously there was something because now you are prevaricating.”

  Isabel rolled her eyes. “You can’t use big words on me and expect me to know what they mean.”

  Angela sighed. “I’m not using big words. I just asked you a question, but, instead of answering me, you got this nervous look.”

  “Well, there was something. We had two buyers. Remember?”

  “I remember you telling me that there were two bidders. I presumed you took the largest and walked.”

  “Well, we did, and we didn’t,” she said. “We wanted to sell it locally. Remember James? He died in the car accident …”

  “Another car accident?” Bonaparte asked Angela, who nodded.

  Isabel continued, “I mean, it’s a good thing that we didn’t sell it to him after all,” she said, “but he was pretty upset when we wouldn’t. He wanted to keep it local, and we actually ended up selling it to the rich guy from out of town.”

  “And was there any pressure to sell to him?” Bonaparte asked, watching Isabel’s face, and caught that slight consternation. “So there was. What kind of pressure?”

  She frowned, her lips thinning, as she looked from one to the other.

  “Is there a problem?” Bonaparte asked.

  “We need to know the extent of the pressure this guy has put on locals,” Angela said.

  “Well, it wasn’t really pressure. I mean, how much pressure can it be? He paid good money for the property. We needed to sell, as you know.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. “But was your mother put under any undue pressure? Why would you choose him over James?”

  “It was Mom, I think, as much as anything,” she said. “I didn’t care who bought it, but James died in a car accident, and the other guy? I don’t even remember his name,” she said, almost nervously looking around, as they stood outside on her front walk. “He went through with the sale, so we were happy, and we got our money, and it was done.” She put up her hands in a gesture of a what can you do motion and added, “We were just happy to have it over with.”

  Bonaparte pressed the point. “And why is that?”

  Isabel looked at him and then at Angela. “Why the interrogation?”

  “Well, it would help if you would just answer our questions,” Angela said. “We’re trying to figure out if there’s been any wrongdoing by this buyer.”

  She frowned at that. “Well, he’s one scary dude,” she said. “But Mom up and sold and was quite happy to.”

  “Of course. Did she receive any threats, telling her to sell or suggesting what would happen if she didn’t?”

  “Oh, ouch,” she said. “Yeah, there was. I mean, I happily forgot about it for a long time.” She sighed. “And I really don’t like you bringing it up either,” she said, her tone turning cross. “We have enough problems.”

  “And what problems are those?” Bonaparte asked. Angela looked like she would answer, but he gave a slight headshake. Instead, Isabel looked at him and said, “Just that my granddad’s in the old folks’ home. And he’s causing quite the kerfuffle there.”

  “And your mom?”

  “She doesn’t have great health either,” Isabel said, then shrugged. “We did what we had to do to take care of them both.”

  “Do you mind telling us all the details then?” Angela said quietly. “You’re not in trouble. But we need to know what we’re facing with the guy who bought it.”

  A look of almost fear crossed her face. She looked behind Bonaparte and said, “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “It’s not the same town it used to be.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Angela said. “And I’m trying to make it that way again.”

  “I don’t know that you can,” she said. “It’s not, … well, as long as these guys are around, it’s not the same.”

  “Have they ever contacted you since?”

  She shook her head. “No, not really.”

  “Not really?” Bonaparte pressed.

  She shrugged and glared at him. “You don’t have to be so accusingly about it.”

  “I need to know exactly what happened,” he said, “and so does Angela.”

  She groaned. “Fine. Every once in a while, they drive by really slow out front.”

  “As in a threatening manner?” he asked.

  “I don’t know that it’s a threatening manner, as much as I don’t know that it isn’t,” she said. “But it does what it’s intended to do. It made me scared, keeps me scared.”

  “But did you do anything wrong?”

  “They said we did,” she said in a low whisper. She looked around the block and then said, “You’d better come on inside.” She opened the door wider, and they walked inside.

  And as soon as they got in, he leaned against the closed door and said, “What did you do wrong?”

  She looked at Angela, and then, with shame in her eyes, she said, “We forged granddad’s signature on the sale form.”

  Angela closed her eyes and sighe
d. “You didn’t have power of attorney, did you?”

  “No, he never would give it to us,” she said. “But you know that’s what he wanted to happen. And what we had to have happen.”

  “Jesus. And they found out?” Angela asked.

  “Yeah, but I don’t know how,” Isabel said. “That’s the thing that I can’t figure out.”

  “But, in the meantime, they’re using fear to keep you in line,” Bonaparte noted. “Or just on the hook.”

  “I know. The thing is, I mean, we needed to sell. It wouldn’t do any harm to sell to him, so it’s not like we were doing anything wrong there. Granddad was there, but we just helped him to make that signature happen,” she said, with a shrug.

  “So you held his hand and signed it for him?” Angela asked.

  “Yes.” She shrugged. “Was it wrong? Maybe. We didn’t know what else to do. We actually had a buyer. Granddad had been trying to sell for years anyway, as you well know,” she said in exasperation.

  Angela turned to look at her friend. “Sure, but there’s legal, and then there’s not legal.”

  “Well, I don’t know what we’re supposed to do if that was not legal,” she said. “But obviously it wasn’t because they keep driving by. Yet they got the property, so why do they care?”

  “How often?” Bonaparte had a good idea why, but he kept it to himself. Angela would get it; her friend, well, she hadn’t yet.

  “I don’t think it’s that often anymore,” she said, “but every once in a while. It’s just enough. And because I’m always looking for them now, it’s kind of hard because you expect to see them out of the corner of your eye all the time, so it makes you jumpy.”

  “What it does,” he said, “is make you look over your shoulder for the rest of your life.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “I know,” she said, “but that’s what we did, and I don’t know what I am supposed to do about it.”

  “And was it in your granddad’s name, free and clear?” Bonaparte asked.

  “Yes,” she said, “and there’s only my mother. It’s in the will that she’s supposed to get it, and we needed the money for his care. He’d been trying to sell it for months and months beforehand.”

  He thought about it and nodded. “So, in many ways, you just jumped the gun a little bit.”