Chapter 36
Savannah slid the last of her books into her section of the home office bookcases. Hez’s legal tomes occupied the ones on
the other side of the window looking out onto their driveway. “It’s beginning to feel like home.”
His dark hair askew and still on his knees, Hez backed out from under the desk where he’d been monkeying with the computer
cords. “I think we’re all set with the computer.” The built-in oak desk wrapped around two sides of the room with plenty of
space for them both to have computers or laptops.
She reached out and brushed cobwebs from his hair, then wiped them off on her jeans. “There’s nothing sexier than a man chasing
away spiders.”
He grinned and sat on the floor, then tugged her down onto his lap. “I should get some compensation for braving the cobwebs.”
She nestled against him and palmed his face. “I could see my way clear to thanking you for squashing those nasty beasts.”
She pulled his head down, and his lips captured hers. She’d wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him back properly when
the popping of tires on gravel brought her attention around to the window.
A car had stopped by the brick path to their front door, and she winced at her father’s stormy expression when he exited the vehicle. “Uh-oh, he’s probably gotten this month’s bank statement.”
“Let’s not answer. He won’t see us sitting here on the floor.”
“Both of our vehicles are outside.” She brushed his lips with hers again before getting up. “Later.”
“I’ll hold you to that promise.”
“You could come with me.”
“I think I’ll stay right here. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“Coward.” She didn’t blame him. If she could hide out in the office, she would too. It would be her father’s first glimpse
of what they’d done to the house. Would he notice or comment?
She met her dad at the door. “What a surprise, Dad.” Up close his expression wasn’t so much stormy as incensed with more rage
than she’d ever seen him display. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he’d tell her whether she asked
or not. “Coffee or sweet tea?”
He pushed past her. “Is Hez here?” The aroma of his pipe tobacco and lemon gumdrops wafted in his wake.
Uh-oh. “This way.” She led him to the office, and Hez rose from the floor. “Dad needed to talk to you too.”
Her dad hadn’t even noticed the refinishing of the floors or the new paint on the walls. He’d made no comment about the furniture
or anything, which shouldn’t have been a surprise. Only greenbacks mattered to him.
Her father strode toward Hez. “I’ve got a present for you—for both of you—but Hez will best know what to do with it.” He set
a fat file folder on the desk and topped it with a thumb drive.
Hez picked up the items. “What’s this all about?”
“It’s everything you need to stop Michael Willard from corrupting your nephew. Private investigator reports, surveillance pictures of his activities, and other documents that will show his criminal behavior. No judge will let him have influence over Simon when the truth comes out.”
Hez leafed through the documents and whistled when he reached a raft of pictures. He turned it around for Savannah to see,
and she winced at what appeared to be a dead man on the ground. “Is this what you offered to sell Hez?” she asked her father.
“It is. My money is running out and I’d hoped to shore up my finances with the sale, but I can’t stand by and let Michael
get by with his arrogance. The information goes back thirty years to when I used it to beat him when he tried to steal your
mother. He’s still the same. I’ve got evidence from a month ago that will prove a leopard doesn’t change his spots. With the
new proof, you can get Simon back.” He took Savannah’s hand. “It’s my gift to you. You and Hez have proven you’re an effective
team. I thought about using it on my own, but in Hez’s hands, you’ll get more done.”
“Why now, Dad? What happened today? You were livid when you got out of the car.”
His lips flattened. “Michael brought Simon to my country club. He had the gall to say I embezzled money from the university—in
front of my date, no less. He spewed all kinds of lies and showed doctored pictures.”
Savannah had her doubts about that when his gaze cut away from hers. She should have known only something personal would drive
him to give up this information. “I suppose you want money.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not why I’m here. You have to take that man down permanently, Savannah. He can’t ever treat another Legare like he did me today.”
Hez’s blue eyes gleamed and he smiled. “I’ll study what you’ve given us. It seems promising, though I’m not seeing as much
detail in the newer stuff.”
Dad nodded. “He’s been more careful in recent years. No direct involvement with crimes when he can avoid it. He used burner
phones and voice-altering software for all his business. Even when contacting his family, his voice never sounded like himself.
He kept everyone guessing. But I got everything I could.”
Hez put the file down. “Thank you. We love Simon and want him out of Michael’s influence.”
Her father’s chest puffed out beneath his navy jacket. “When I saw the boy drinking in every word Michael said, I knew I had
to do something. There was no love lost between me and Jess, but it’s not Simon’s fault. He’s a good kid, and I’d hate to
see him turn out like Little Joe.”
Savannah wished she could believe it was concern for Simon that had driven him here today, but she knew better. It was the
slur to his own reputation and the fact Michael had dared to confront him on his own turf. No one could ever say Michael cared
what people thought, though, and her father couldn’t stand that kind of impudence when he cared so deeply about his role in
the community. But she’d take whatever help she could get to save her nephew.
Hez had been trying. He really had. Savannah had asked him to leave the investigation of Michael’s crimes alone, at least until after their wedding.
But the investigation wouldn’t leave him alone.
First came Tammy’s arrest, then the mystery phone bill on Savannah’s doorstep, and now Pierre’s file.
It wasn’t completely Hez’s fault that he and Savannah were sitting in Hope’s office less than a week before their wedding, but he still felt guilty.
As the Websters seated themselves in Hope’s guest chairs, she smiled at them and kicked off her three-inch heels. She’d just
come back from court and hung her jacket on a hanger on her coat tree. “Thanks for coming in.” Her chin-length brown hair
swung forward, and she tucked a lock behind her ear, then patted a thick stack of documents. “The new materials you provided
include a lot of helpful context. Do you have anything else that could help us fill in some gaps?”
Hez leaned forward. “We’re happy to help. Did you have any specific gaps in mind?
Hope picked up the top document. “Mr. Legare’s file contains strong evidence of drug trafficking—mostly meth—but a lot of
it is over thirty years old.”
Hez wrinkled his brow. “I thought there was no statute of limitations for drug trafficking.”
“There isn’t, but the DA won’t invest resources in a drug case from the 1990s, especially when the defendant is a prominent
local businessman from an old family.”
Savannah scoffed. “Are you sure you’re describing Michael Willard?”
Hope gave her a sympathetic look. “I know he isn’t what he seems, but the rest of the county doesn’t know that. They see a successful businessman who donates to local schools and”—she cleared her throat—“supports local leaders.”
Hez rubbed his temples. “He donated to the DA’s campaign, didn’t he?”
Hope’s tone and brown eyes were blank. “I can’t comment on that, but all campaigns must disclose itemized contribution records.
That includes district attorney campaigns, of course.”
Hez swallowed an unhelpful remark. “Okay, so you’re not likely to prosecute the older stuff. What about the more recent evidence
in the file?”
Hope picked up some documents and flipped through them. “It’s more tenuous, unfortunately—anonymous and somewhat vague reports
of Michael trafficking in Mexican explosives and American guns and engaging in artifact smuggling, pictures of him with known
mobsters, and so on. If you or Mr. Legare have any additional evidence, we’d really appreciate it.”
Savannah slumped, but Hez wasn’t surprised. He’d had the same reaction when he read the newer materials in Pierre’s file.
Michael learned his lesson from his confrontation with Pierre over Marie, and he’d been more careful in recent years. “We’ll
ask, but I’m not aware of anything. What about that highlighted phone bill someone left for Savannah?”
Hope plucked a copy from her stack. “The number belongs to a burner phone purchased with cash in Mobile four years ago. Any
surveillance video is long gone, of course.”
“Another dead end.” Hez rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That’s why you asked for a meeting, isn’t it? You’re stuck and you
hoped we might have more leads.”
Hope gave a wan smile. “Guilty as charged.”
Hez tugged at his lower lip. “Michael used burner phones for his criminal business.”
Hope leaned back in her chair. “So do lots of criminals, including several other members of his organization. That’s one reason
we weren’t able to nail him or his company as part of that artifact-smuggling case.”
Hez fought back his frustration. Michael was about to slip through their fingers. Again. “Sorry, I can’t think of anything
else.”
Savannah sat up straight. “Michael doesn’t know that.”
A little line appeared between Hope’s brows. “What do you mean?”
“Michael doesn’t know we’re stuck.” Savannah leaned forward. “Maybe we can trick him.”
Hez turned toward her. “Do you have anything specific in mind?”
Savannah nodded. “We know he’s been using Tammy to steal evidence from the Pelican Harbor police. What if we make him think
we have really damning evidence against him? He can’t use Tammy anymore, so he might try to steal it on his own.”
Hez snapped his fingers. “The burner phone! If we had that, we could mine it for all sorts of information. If Michael thinks
we’ve somehow found it, that would worry him.” He turned to Hope. “What do you think of leaking to the press that Ella’s death
has been reclassified as a homicide and law enforcement has the burner phone used to arrange the crime?”
Hope looked into the distance for a moment. “I think I can do that.”
Hez drummed his fingers on his chair’s armrest. “I’ll see if I can talk Bruno Rubinelli into visiting.
He said he wanted to try real beignets and shrimp bisque.
We could set him up in an office at the PHPD and give him a dirty old burner phone to pretend to work on.
It’s a small town and people will ask him who he is and what he’s doing. ”
Savannah chuckled. “They will indeed, and then they’ll talk about him. All he needs to do is drop a couple hints and word
will get back to Michael in no time.”
Hope jotted down a note on a pad on her desk. “If you can get Bruno out here, I’m pretty sure I can arrange a workspace for
him that’s easy to break into—but will have excellent sensors and security cameras.”
Hez leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Perfect.”