Chapter 58
It took some digging. I had to go back over a year on Trent's social media feed. But I found it. A selfie of Trent and Tiffany. It looked like they were out at a club, drinking, having fun. She planted a kiss on his cheek, and Trent smiled. Who wouldn't?
It didn't prove anything.
I can't say for sure that they were romantically involved. But it was suspicious.
Isabella had pulled their phone records. Her voice filtered through the speaker in my phone. “There were a lot of calls and late-night texts between them during that time. Their phones spent a lot of time together.”
It didn't take a brain surgeon to put two and two together. Where there’s smoke, there’s an inferno, in this case.
The picture was posted on social media six months before Tiffany and Brock got married.
“There are a lot of recent calls from Trent’s phone to a prepaid cellular,” Isabella said. “That phone shows up randomly across town at stores and coffee shops. But I can’t tie it to a residence.”
I suspected the burner that Trent had been making calls to belonged to Tiffany, but she was smart enough never to use the device from the Palm Haven estate.
“It looks like Tiffany and Trent had some communication around the time of the prenuptial agreement and the marriage,” Isabella said. “That could easily be explained by his legal work. A legitimate excuse. But that’s about the time the calls to and from the burner phone started.”
“Maybe they were seeing each other all along.”
“Maybe. One more thing you should know,” Isabella said. “Tiffany’s phone was at the Palm Haven estate during the time of Trent’s murder. The girl isn’t stupid. She covers all the bases.”
“I know.”
“I’ll keep digging,” she said. “But right now, you’ve got nothing conclusive.”
I thanked her for the info and ended the call. I had something up my sleeve and would play the card if need be.
JD and I headed over to Palm Haven to have a word with Tiffany. We parked the Porsche at the curb, strolled the walkway, and pushed through the gate at the courtyard. We walked past the soothing water wall that trickled, and I rang the bell.
Tiffany came to the door a few moments later and pulled it open. Her surprised eyes flicked between the two of us. "I didn’t expect to see you two. You should have called and let me know you were coming,” she said with a flirty smile. “I would have dressed up for the occasion.”
Dressed up or dressed down, Tiffany still looked pretty good. She wore a sports bra and tight-fitting black yoga pants. The fabric hugged her form and left nothing to the imagination.
"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Trent Keating is dead," I said.
Her eyes rounded, and her jaw dropped. "What!? How?"
She was good at this.
"I can't discuss the specifics at this time. Ongoing investigation, you understand.”
“Sure.” Her face tightened with sorrow. "I'm really sorry to hear that. I liked Trent. He was a good guy.”
"How well did you know him?"
She shrugged. "He had done some legal work for me, obviously. When Brock and I got serious, Brock brought up the topic of a prenup. He wanted me to have representation and suggested I find someone to draft it. Trent was the first person who came to mind. He’d helped me get out of a few traffic tickets before, and we knew each other socially. "
"Is that the extent of your relationship?"
Her eyes narrowed at me.
"Trent and I dated briefly before I married Brock, if that's what you're getting at?”
"Yes, that's what I am getting at.” I showed her the picture I pulled from Trent’s social media page.
She smiled. "Yes, we had a really good time for a few weeks. Then we quickly realized we were probably better off as friends.”
"Why was that?”
Tiffany shrugged again. "Let's just say Trent was not a one-woman type of man. I was looking for something more stable. Trent liked to party, and he liked his cocaine.”
I lifted a curious brow.
“That sounded like a bad combination to me.”
"Can you think of anybody who might have wanted to kill him?”
"Well, he was a divorce attorney. I'm sure he had plenty of enemies. Plus, he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. I'm sure there are a few pissed off husbands out there.”
"You don't seem too upset about it.”
Tiffany gave me a flat look. "What do you want me to do? There are only so many tears I can cry. I feel bad about it. I feel sad. But emotionally, I don't have anything left to give at the moment.”
"Can you tell me where you were between 7:00 and 9:00 PM last night?”
She gave me an exasperated look. "Are you really considering me a suspect in this one, too? Next thing you know, you'll be painting me the next serial killer of Coconut Key,” she said, like it was absurd. “Just how many people do you think I'm capable of killing, Deputy?"
I shrugged.
"For the record, I did not kill Trent Keating.” She looked me dead in the eye when she said it, unflinching. She was good at lying. There was no doubt about it.
“Do you own a bicycle?
She laughed. “Yes. Of course.”
“Ride frequently?”
“Yes. I like to get my cardio that way.”
“Did you ride it last night?”
Her eyes narrowed at me. “Yes. I went out for a ride to clear my head.”
“What time?”
She huffed. “I told you, I didn’t kill Keating.”
"That's interesting, because we have a witness. She recalls seeing a woman who matches your description go into the residence around the time of the murder.”
It was a complete fabrication.
Tiffany's face froze for a moment. Then she recovered quickly. "I don't know what to tell you. It wasn't me. There are a lot of brunettes on the island.”
"None of them look quite as stunning as you," I said with a flirty smile.
She smiled. “Flattery will get you everywhere, except when you accuse me of murder. Again.” She laughed. “I really appreciate that you’re doing your jobs, but this is starting to get tiresome. Do you have something against me? Is this personal?”
I smiled. “Nothing in particular. Just doing our due diligence.”
“Trent deserves justice. So does my husband. I hope that’s something you can sort out, but I’m starting to lose faith. You keep pursuing all the wrong avenues.”
“Do you mind if we take a look at your bike?”
“I do mind.”
“What’s to hide?”
“Nothing. But I’m starting to feel targeted.”
“I guess coming down to the station and standing in a lineup is out of the question?”
Tiffany laughed again. “Not a chance. This is getting ridiculous.”
“I understand your frustration. We’re just trying to rule out obvious suspects.”
“And I was beginning to like you both.” She frowned and shook her head.
“We are very likable,” Jack admitted.
“I just have one more question for you,” I said. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but Trent made some errors both with your prenup and the will.”
She lifted a curious brow and played innocent. “Oh, really?”
I told her what she already knew. The likely invalidation of the will and the rules of intestate succession would leave her a rich woman. “It seems that maybe you had a motive after all.”
She shifted with discomfort. “Oh, I wasn’t aware.”
“Some might say Trent fumbled on purpose. Some might say you needed to shut him up.”
“I’m not really concerned with what some might say.” The innocence faded from her face, and her eyes burned into me. The game was over, and she knew we had her number.
“I’m guessing Trent wanted to renegotiate his split with you.”
“That is an amusing theory, deputy. But that’s all it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen. I need to get back to my workout.”
“So you have no alibi for last night…”
She stepped back, closed the door, and locked the deadbolt.
JD and I shared a look, then walked back toward the Porsche. He mumbled, "Did you see the look on her face?"
I grinned.
We hopped into the Porsche and retraced the route from Palm Haven to Trent’s house. Since the murder weapon wasn’t found at the scene, I figured she might have ditched it along the way.