CHAPTER 31
C HAPTER 31
T he Carteret County Courthouse in Beaufort was a stunning antebellum structure, red brick with white pillars and lacing. Adjacent to this was a secondary building that could best be described as a 1980s-era necessity.
Through seniority and stubborn grit, Justice Jodi Dwyer’s chambers occupied what Rae considered the finest portion of the original building. High ceilinged and marble tiled, its brass light fixtures dated back to the time of whalers and clipper ships.
They gathered around a century-old conference table in a mini-chamber adjacent to the courtroom. Judge Dwyer sat one chair off the table’s head so as to view Dana Bowen, who now appeared on a wall-sized screen. Rae’s files on Landon Barrett made an eight-inch stack beside the judge’s left hand. The court reporter occupied a lone position at the table’s far end.
Dwyer called the meeting to order, then requested they go around the table, identifying themselves and stating for the record what role they played in the proceedings.
The two agents handed over their badges without being asked. The woman served as spokesperson. “I’m Agent Styles and this is Agent Rice, DEA. We seek information on Landon Barrett that might be relevant to an ongoing investigation.”
Judge Dwyer was not a large woman, but well-padded in a manner that made her robes very unflattering. Her silver-gray hair was cut in a pageboy style that had gone out of fashion decades ago. Rae thought she looked like someone’s favorite grandmother, except for the icy sharpness to her gaze. When angered, she revealed a tone to match, capable of eviscerating anyone she considered out of line.
Like now. “It has come to my attention that your initial contact with Ms. Alden may have crossed a legal line in the sand. At Ms. Alden’s request, I am taking this no farther.” She handed back their badges. “I want to be absolutely certain you both are fully aware of what I mean when I say, you are only being granted a temporary pass.”
“That is absolutely clear, Your Honor.”
“Very well.” Two chairs separated the agents from Amiya and Curtis. “Next?”
“Amiya Morais, Your Honor. Daughter of the Morais Group’s chief executive. I serve as the board’s deputy chair and oversee our North American operations.”
“And your presence is necessary because . . .”
“Our first U.S. acquisition is the Fortunate Harbor Hotel and the adjacent land, where we are now building a resort housing estate. We acquired the Barrett property in order to build a marina for the resort.”
“I see. Next?”
Before Curtis could respond, Amiya replied, “Curtis Gage is executive vice president of the Morais Group, and managing director of our U.S. operations.”
His jaw dropped. “What?”
Amiya offered a smile, softly saying, “Surprise.” She told the judge, “My father arrives this afternoon from Delhi. He intended to tell Curtis himself.”
“In that case, congratulations are in order.” The judge looked at Rae, who was seated directly across from her, three seats removed from the court recorder. “Ms. Alden is known to this court and an attorney in good standing.” She turned to the screen. “Ms. Bowen, I’m not clear on why you are participating.”
“Your Honor, Ms. Alden requested that I supervise the Barrett property sale, as she also has the Morais Group as clients.”
Rice, the male agent, muttered, “She represents both Barrett and the buyer? That’s just great.”
Judge Dwyer swung around, her motion slow as a battleship cannon taking aim.
And waited.
Rice cleared his throat. “Sorry, Your Honor.”
Dwyer resumed her position and settled one hand on the top folder. “I have made a thorough examination of Ms. Alden’s client files and find her work to be of absolute impeccable quality. Were I to have been named attorney of record, I see nothing here that I would have handled differently.”
Rae managed, “Thank you, Your Honor.”
She glanced at the agents. “It may interest you to know that for the past eight months, Ms. Alden has not been paid for her services. The hours she spent trying to locate her client and doing the necessary repairs have left her out of pocket to the tune of—”
“Eleven thousand four hundred dollars.”
“Which she will now recover, as the sale has been concluded. I also hereby award her a further five thousand dollars for the hours and effort she no doubt expended without marking them on her time sheet.”
It was Rae’s turn to be silenced by the proceedings.
“As far as your investigation is concerned, there is not one shred of evidence to link the property’s sale or Ms. Alden’s activities to anything remotely illegal.”
The agents were glumly unresponsive.
“I therefore declare this matter to be permanently . . . Yes, Ms. Alden?”
“Your Honor, there is something else I respectfully ask the court to place on the record.”
The judge glanced at her watch. “Proceed.”
“The Barrett property cannot be repaired. Yesterday my clients toured the home for the first and last time.”
Agent Styles asked, “Why last?”
Curtis spoke for the first time. “Because we’re in the process of tearing it down to make way for our new marina.”
The male agent huffed as if he’d taken a body blow. Styles shot him a look. Rice settled. Angry. But silent.
Rae said to the court reporter, “Run the video, please.”
* * *
Dana Bowen’s head shrank to a tiny square in the screen’s right-hand corner as the home’s cluttered staircase came into view. Rae was shooting from the top of the stairs, which meant the demolished foyer and entryway were all visible. Her phone’s software included an option to reduce unsteady motions, which was very good indeed. Even with the app on maximum adjustment, her body’s tremors remained clearly visible.
None of those gathered seemed to mind.
Rae listened as she identified herself and her clients. She thought her voice sounded courtroom crisp—a strong hint of nerves, but her speech precise and sharp. She kept the camera focused on the pair as they clambered across the foyer and started up the staircase. Rae aimed mostly at Curtis, who climbed first, pausing now and then to help Amiya over the worst bits. Watching it now, she could see the complete disparity in their expressions. Amiya was confused, unsettled, perhaps a bit frightened.
With each step, Curtis seemed to grow more aware. His expression was grim. Intent. Then he reached the top step. And nodded slowly.
Rae heard herself ask, “Can you tell me what you think has happened?”
“Robbers. No question. They used the storm damage to mask their entry.” He pointed back down the stairs. “I wondered why glass from the door and front wall was inside the house. The major storm damage came from the second hurricane, and that blew in from the rear, over the Intracoastal Waterway. That should have blown the glass outward.”
Amiya reached the top step and gasped.
Only then did Rae turn and reveal the main room.
Curtis offered, “No storm could have done this.”
The room took up more than half of the entire main floor—living and dining and bar and kitchen and television alcove, flowing in easy lines with small indentations or single stairs offering suggestions where one chamber ended and the next began. With a long glass wall overlooking a broad balcony and the bay beyond, it must have been a beautiful home.
No longer.
Every wall was torn out. Sledgehammer blows had crushed the bar, the kitchen cupboards, the tables, television, the sound system. Nothing was left intact.
“Look here.” Curtis walked to the wall formerly holding floor-to-ceiling shelves. The central portion was simply gone. A gaping hole, three feet square, was dug through to the master bedroom.
Amiya asked, “What was it?”
“A safe. No question.”
The two agents groaned as Curtis kicked aside rubble and pointed to the floor. “You need to get this.” He waited as Rae shifted over and focused on deep gouges dug into the floor. “Something seriously heavy was dumped here.” He continued to shove the debris aside, pointing to where Rae needed to focus, following a broad scrape in the floor. Together they made their way over to where a sliding glass door dangled from one last hinge. “They took it out by way of the balcony. No, don’t step out there, it doesn’t look safe.”
Judge Dwyer said, “Pause it here, please.” When the video froze, she asked Rae, “Before yesterday, when was the last time you visited the property?”
“I haven’t been inside since I brought the contractors and insurance adjusters to obtain an initial estimate.”
“When was that?”
Rae thought back. “I’d have to check my records to give you an exact date, Your Honor.”
“Ballpark.”
“The second storm hit the third week in September. I managed to get a roofer in ten days later to do emergency repairs over the three main holes. Then I waited for the adjuster to fit me in. The second week of October, give or take.”
“And you didn’t notice any such damage at the time?”
“The home was a ruin, Your Honor. The contractor refused to even give an estimate, but the insurance adjuster . . .” Rae waved that long-standing argument to one side. “If you mean this theft, no, ma’am. A hole in the wall that size would be hard to miss.”
The male agent demanded, “What about security cameras?”
“They are everywhere,” Rae answered. “Or rather, they were. And the garage held two generators the size of freezers. But both of them were flooded when the bulkhead was breached. The power lines were repaired within a week or so. But the house electrics remain a total mess.”
Dwyer said, “So at some point during the past six months, this home was burgled. Clearly whatever was hidden in the wall safe is gone.” She looked down the table. “Do the current owners have anything further to add?”
“We toured the house,” Curtis replied. “All except the two bedrooms teetering on collapse. It was more of the same, except the office, which was totally demolished.”
“They even shredded the leather office chair,” Amiya said. “They smashed the desk to splinters. The walls and paintings were ripped apart.”
Dwyer planted a hand on the table. “All right, I’ve seen enough. Questions, comments, anyone?”
Agent Styles asked, “Can we have a copy of that video?”
Rae looked at the judge, who replied, “I see no legal reason why they shouldn’t. That is, assuming Ms. Alden is in agreement.”
“They’re welcome to it, Your Honor.”
“Let it be noted for the record that Ms. Alden has gone out of her way to be of assistance. Despite the confrontational and potentially illegal manner of the DEA’s initial approach.”
When the agents remained silent, the judge snapped, “Now is the time when you express your gratitude.”
Both agents offered reluctant thanks. Rae thought they sounded like schoolyard bullies being caught in the act.
Dwyer clearly thought the same. The judge did her best to hide a smile as she declared, “This hearing is adjourned.”