Chapter 12
Jack pulled the car to the valet, and the kid hustled around and grabbed his door. JD slipped a few bills into his pocket and told him to keep it up front.
We hurried into the lobby, then headed outside, around the pool, and down the path to the cabanas. We made sure to take in the sights around the pool. The Seven Seas never disappointed with teeny bikinis and tanned skin slick with oil. The smell of pina coladas drifted through the air.
The path to the Coconut Cabana was lined with ferns and other tropical foliage. It was like stepping into a secluded oasis.
I knocked on the door, and a few moments later, footsteps shuffled down the foyer.
The muffled sounds of the TV seeped through the door.
The peephole flickered as Tiffany peered through.
She unlatched the deadbolt, unhooked the chain, and pulled the door open.
She greeted us with wet hair, wearing a terrycloth bathrobe, cinched at the waist. It was loose enough to show off her deep valley of all-natural cleavage.
Tiffany was quite fond of her attributes, and I don't suspect she got many complaints.
"I hope we’re not catching you at a bad time,” I said.
"No. Not at all. I just took a quick shower. I ran out so fast this morning, I didn't have a chance. I wanted to make myself look halfway presentable. I didn't realize you’d be here this quickly. I figured two busy deputies like yourselves would have plenty to do.”
I smiled. "Oh, we've got plenty to do. And this case is a priority."
"I appreciate that." She stepped aside and pulled the door wide. "Please, come in."
We stepped inside and closed the door behind us.
She led us down the foyer into the living room, then grabbed the documents from the coffee table.
They were contained in a brown legal folder.
She handed them to me. "Those are copies. You can keep those. Read them at your leisure. You’ll see that I had no financial incentive to murder my husband. "
"I'm sure. We just like to be thorough."
"You wouldn't be doing your job if you weren’t."
I brandished the documents. "Thank you. We’ll get out of your hair now.”
"No rush. I don't mind the company,” she said with an inviting gaze. "Quite honestly, I like having somebody here. I'm not sure how I made it through the night. I kept having nightmares.”
"I'm sure. It was a terrible thing you experienced."
“Can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee, soda? There’s vodka and whiskey in the mini fridge if you’re so inclined.“
“Might be a little early for that,” I said.
“Under normal circumstances, I would agree. But I can’t make any promises that I’ll make it past noon without a drink.
I’m tempted to spend the day by the pool, pretending I didn’t just lose my husband.
” A frown tugged her plump lips. “But that would probably be a bad idea. There are paparazzi everywhere. I’m surprised you didn’t encounter them.
They were loitering around earlier. I called security and had them run off.
” She huffed. "I can see the tabloid headline now.
Widow celebrates husband's death with a margarita poolside.
Damn vultures, that's what they are. Don't they have anything better to do? I mean, who really cares? They’ll be on to something else next week.”
"I would avoid all media attention right now if possible."
"That's what my attorney says."
"I'm usually not in the business of telling suspects to listen to their attorneys, but that's good advice.”
A disappointed look soured her face. "I'm hoping to get off your suspect list soon. I don't like the thought of it.”
I smirked. "Nobody does.” I waved the documents again. "Thanks again. We should get going.”
"Yes. I'm sure you have other cases.”
She escorted us to the door, and we said our goodbyes.
There were a few guys with cameras loitering around the bushes across the path.
They snapped a few pictures of us as we left.
I'm sure that would make the online tabloids at least. In plain clothes, we didn’t look like cops.
I'm sure they’d get the caption wrong. Widow entertains two men in private cabana one day after husband's death.
It didn't matter what Tiffany did. They were going to paint a negative picture of her.
I kept telling myself to reserve judgment.
JD said, "That one's hard to read. I can't tell if she really loved him, or if she was just in it for the money. She seems pretty sincere.”
I shrugged and brandished the documents again. “This will tell us a lot.”
We walked around the pool, smiled at the ladies, then stepped into the main building. I started thumbing through the prenuptial agreement and continued reading while the valet pulled the Porsche around. We hopped in and drove back to the Avventura.
The prenuptial agreement was pretty simple and straightforward.
Tiffany had waived all of her rights to Brock's fortune in the event of divorce or infidelity. The will was a long and complex document that left the bulk of the estate, along with the Palm Haven mansion, to Brock’s children in the form of an irrevocable trust. A small stipend had been set aside to cover expenses during probate and provide for Tiffany's living expenses for a specified time.
She would be allowed to stay in the Palm Haven house for a year.
Hardly the kind of payday someone would risk life in prison for—especially someone like Tiffany.
Then again, I'd seen people kill each other over $0. 50. But Tiffany was smarter than that.
So far, everything she had said checked out.
Once I had digested the documents, JD and I grabbed lunch at Diver Down and kicked around theories. Then, with full bellies, we set out to find Hailey Madison.