Chapter 35
At the kitchen table Drew flipped through the pictures Paradise had taken of the missing car. “This is incredible, but it
doesn’t make any sense. I spoke with the Pascagoula police about it, and they still have it listed as stolen property, yet
the governor has had it all this time. If Ben gave it to the governor or she bought it from him, surely she would have mentioned
it in the aftermath of his death.”
Paradise grabbed a chicken salad croissant Jenna passed to her on a plate. “Unless she didn’t know it had been reported missing.”
The taste of the chicken salad exploded on her tongue with goodness. She needed to get Jenna’s recipe. “And the governor has
connections, so I think she would have to know it had been reported missing.”
“Anyone up for a trip to Pascagoula tomorrow? Let’s talk to the family again,” Blake said. “I’d suggest going this afternoon,
but we have that appointment with Scott.”
Paradise reached for her glass of sweet tea.
“Any ideas what it could mean? Why would the murderer, whoever he is, take a car he or she can’t sell?
No one is even enjoying it. The weird thing is, the building is climate controlled and the car is in pristine condition.
The garage is huge too, but there’s only the car and an old tractor inside.
Plus a couple of framed prints hanging on the walls, photographs of scenery.
No tools, nothing else.” Something felt familiar about the pictures, but it was probably that they were like dozens of others she’d seen over her life—vignettes of a person’s favorite places.
“Maybe it’s evidence of some kind,” Drew suggested. “Whoever killed Ben knew the car could lead back to them. Blood evidence,
fibers, whatever.”
“Possible,” Blake said. “It’s been twenty years though. They could probably remove the VIN number and replace it or part the
car out and still get quite a bit of money for it. It would be a shame though. It’s an iconic piece of history.”
“It’s crazy to hide it all these years,” Drew said. “If it had evidence in it, why not destroy it? Drop it at the bottom of
a swamp or burn it. Storing it where it could be discovered is a little dicey.”
“The property is in the boonies down a long, overgrown lane. I’m not sure she’s been there in a long time. It’s like it was
backed into that garage and abandoned forever,” Blake said.
Evidence. Paradise tried to think of the kind of evidence that could be hidden in the car. “Maybe there’s a family member she’s covering
for.”
“Let me check.” Jenna’s computer was on the island, and she pulled it to her. “Amelia George has been married for thirty-five
years and has two kids, both sons. Jackson is her only grandchild. One son lives in Alabama and one is an aide to Taylor Murphy.
Think there’s a connection?”
Drew frowned at Jenna. “The son is what, thirty-two or thirty-three, tops? Twenty years ago he would have just been hitting his teen years. It’s unlikely the governor is covering for him. I usually look hard at coincidences like this, but this situation feels like a fluke of no importance.”
Paradise took a sip of her tea and set it back down on the table. “Don’t be so fast to make a snap judgment. Maybe he took
that car out for a joyride. You know how kids can be. Maybe he was injured and his blood is in the car, or he was caddying
for Ben and they got into a fight so he grabbed the golf club. We hear of kids that age committing crimes all the time. We
can’t rule it out.”
“Good point.” Drew rose to read the bio Jenna had pulled up.
Paradise couldn’t get the sight of the car out of her head. Perfect condition yet sitting there for twenty years. She thought
Drew had the best theory—it was kept for a reason. “I wish we could go over it better and look for evidence. We were trespassing
so we hightailed it out of there.”
She told them about the message from Angela telling her not to deliver the iPad. “Why would the governor have that address
on her tablet? If she’s hiding the car, why have its location on her iPad?”
Drew sipped his tea and set it back on the table. “Good point.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Maybe it’s a taunt,
like she dares anyone to find her out.”
Paradise liked Governor George, not just because she’d done so much for The Sanctuary, but because she seemed to be a genuinely
kind person who cared about her state and her constituents. “Maybe, but I hope not.”
Blake took the last bite of his croissant and carried his plate to the dishwasher. “We’d better get going to Scott Foster’s
office. Thanks for lunch, Mom.”
Paradise rose and grabbed her brother’s plate. “Where are the boys?”
Jenna chuckled. “Abby picked them up for riding lessons again. They were so excited that I’d gotten them boots. They went off proudly wearing them.”
Paradise side-eyed her brother and saw a slow smile start across his face. He was a goner for Abby. She made a mental note
to tell him to talk to Abby about his first marriage that ended so quickly.
Scott Foster’s French Quarter building in Pelican Harbor was pale brick with elaborate wrought-iron balconies peering out
under a mansard-style black roof. Blake had always admired it, and he liked the leather furniture in the office even more.
Scott greeted them at the door. “Have a seat.” He was in his sixties and whip thin with a shock of reddish-brown hair that
had probably been bright red in his earlier years. He was also Hez and Savannah’s attorney, and they thought highly of him.
Paradise sat in the middle highback chair. “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice.”
“Of course. Bea was specific about wanting this in your hands as quickly as possible.”
He placed a square box on the desk, and she put it on her lap. It was about four inches wide and nearly buried in tape. The
plan was to examine it privately after they left the office, but her gaze lingered on it, and Blake knew she wanted to tear
that tape off and see what the box contained.
Blake leaned over and took it to hold for her. It was light, almost as if there was nothing inside. He wanted to give it a
shake, but that would interrupt the discussion. Besides, it had been left to Paradise. It was hers to open and examine first.
Scott slid a paper across the table to her. “Sign here that you received the bequest.”
She scribbled her name. “Did Bea talk to you about this bequest at all?”
“She did, and she gave me permission to tell you.” He steepled his fingers on his desk. “She was afraid of someone. I suspect
whoever killed her wanted the contents of the box.”
“Did she tell you what’s in here?”
He shook his head. “She didn’t want me in danger.”
Drew leaned forward. “When did the box come into your possession?”
“A week before she died. She insisted on meeting me at Mac’s just before it closed for the night. She was waiting at a back
table in the corner, away from any windows, and the place was empty. We ordered something to drink, and she slipped this little
box to me. I palmed it to tuck inside my pocket. We chatted like it was only a social meeting and left.”
Drew scowled. “So you don’t know anything about who she feared?”
“I tried to get her to tell me, but she refused.”
“Did the police talk to you?”
Scott shook his head. “I had nothing of value to offer other than she feared for her life, which wasn’t a secret. Her children
knew, too, though she didn’t reveal to them who intended her harm.”
“They might have wanted to examine the contents of that box.”
“It’s not theirs to take. It belongs to Paradise, and I’m sure if there’s anything in it that reveals a crime, she’ll contact
the authorities.”
Paradise rose and took the box from Blake, then dropped it into her large purse. “Thanks so much. I know you were fitting us in and you have clients waiting.”
They filed out of the building without comment. Paradise reached the sidewalk. “There’s a park over there.” She pointed to
a grassy area with a picnic table at the end of the building. “Anyone have scissors?”
“I have a knife in the truck that will work,” Blake said. “But maybe we should open the box in private so no one knows you
received anything. The family knows, but Bea’s bequests wouldn’t be common knowledge.”
Paradise’s expression went thoughtful. “I suppose you’re right. It’s so small that I can’t imagine what’s inside and whether
it could be helpful.”
Drew put his hand on her forearm. “Chief Dixon’s office is right here in town. We could go straight there and open it in a
conference room. That way if there’s anything that helps us find the killer, she and Nora are there to advise.”
Blake took Paradise’s hand. “That’s a great idea. Let’s just walk. It will appear we’re out for a stroll and just stopped
in to speak to Jane.”
They walked past the charming Pelican Harbor storefronts to the police station. Seagulls dive-bombed Blake’s hair, and he
waved them off as Paradise ducked. The briny scent of Bon Secour Bay mingled with the sweet aroma of beignets from Petit Charms.
They found Jane talking to an officer at the front desk.
Her hazel eyes widened when she saw them. “What a pleasant surprise. Come on back.” She led them to her office. “I just made
a fresh pot of coffee. Want some?”
“I wouldn’t say no.” Blake went to the coffee bar to pour a cup and brought mugs back for Drew and Paradise.
Jane moved to the chair behind her desk. “I can see tension all over you, Paradise. What’s up?”
Paradise pulled the small box from her purse and placed it on Jane’s desk. “Bea left this for me with Scott Foster. He didn’t know what’s in it and just delivered it to me.”
Jane reached for scissors. “May I?”
“Please do. I’m dying to see what’s in it. It’s so light.”
Jane struggled to get the scissors through the tape. “Someone didn’t want anyone in this thing.” The blade of the scissors
finally slit along the opening edge of the box, and she got the tape free enough to open it. She handed the box back to Paradise.
“I’ll let you do the honors.”
Paradise lifted the top and peered inside. “It’s camera film. Does anyone in town develop prints?”
“I can have them done through the station if you’d like. The drugstore will take a week, and I should be able to get them
back in a couple of days.”
“That would be great, Jane. Thank you,” Paradise said.
“I’m hopeful some of the pictures will help us solve Bea’s murder too. Thank you for trusting me with this.” Jane rose. “Let
me get these to the lab.”