Chapter 59
On a bicycle, it took five minutes to get from Palm Haven to Trent’s place. The most direct route meandered through residential neighborhoods and did a stretch down Seagrass and Flamingo. There were plenty of trash cans and recycling bins at curbs. A million places to hide a murder weapon.
JD and I drove to Trent’s, then walked the route back to Palm Haven.
We looked in drainage ditches and garbage bins, but trash pickup was this morning.
If the murder weapon was in one of these bins, it was long gone by now.
Still, JD and I looked in every bin along the way.
Let me tell you, some of them stank to high hell.
The scent of stale chicken and raw eggs was overpowering in some bins.
The murder weapon didn’t turn up.
I was sure that Tiffany had some bloody clothing lying around the house. Maybe some blood transfer on the bicycle. I had no doubt that she was most likely in the process of getting rid of the evidence after our visit this morning. Maybe our visit was a bit premature.
The thought that she might get away with this gnawed at me.
If we could match the hair strand found in Trent‘s office to her, she would still have a legitimate excuse as to why it was there. An office meeting with him at some time in the past. There was no telling how long the fiber could have been there. Then there was a matter of acquiring a sample, though it wouldn’t be hard.
I had another idea, but it was a little risky.
It was easy enough to convince Mrs. Miller to stay at the Seven Seas for a few days, all expenses paid.
She was more than willing to play along.
We arranged an interview with Paris in front of her house to bait the hook.
“Yes,” Joyce said. “I saw a woman enter and leave Mr. Keating’s home.
I’ve already talked to the police and identified the suspect.
I’m told they will be making an arrest shortly. ”
“Can you describe the suspect?” Paris asked.
“I’m not really supposed to discuss the case.”
The interview took place in front of her house, by the mailbox, with her address in plain view.
“Are you scared that you might be retaliated against?”
“How is she going to retaliate if she’s in jail?”
“Can you say any more about the suspect?”
“Well, she’s been in the news a lot lately. I can tell you that. Now that’s all I can say.”
Joyce ambled along, pushed through the gate of her picket fence, and shuffled toward her front door.
Paris stepped into frame. “An arrest is expected shortly. We’ll keep you posted as this story develops. I’m Paris Delaney, and you heard it from me first.”
We watched the segment as we sat in the surveillance van a few houses down from Brock Madison’s Palm Haven estate.
Wrapped to look like an AC repair company, we could sit there all day and all night without drawing much attention.
The van was tricked out with every imaginable gadget.
There were large flatscreen displays, 8-K cameras, laser listening devices, a mini fridge for drinks and snacks, and a portable restroom for those long stakeouts.
Isabella monitored Tiffany’s calls and texts and fed them to us. It wasn’t exactly legal.
After an hour in the van, Jack was pretty antsy. There were certainly more glamorous things to do besides a stakeout.
It was in the afternoon when Tiffany left the house. She hopped into a convertible Maserati, pulled out of the driveway, and sped off.
I slid behind the wheel of the van, cranked it up, and banked a U-turn. I kept my distance and followed the convertible.
Tiffany zipped through town without a care in the world, her raven hair blowing in the breeze, the Florida sun beaming bright. She pulled into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant and made a call.
We pulled into the lot across the street and waited. I don't think she noticed us.
Isabella gave me a heads-up that Tiffany was on the burner phone. We had a visual on the target, and the GPS data matched. It was the same phone Trent had been communicating with her over the last several months.
Isabella piped in the call, albeit with a few-second delay.
“Who’s this?” a deep male voice answered.
“It’s me,” Tiffany replied.
“Who’s me?”
“Aw, my feelings are hurt. Has it been that long that you don’t recognize my voice?”
“What do you want, Tiffany?”
“Well, I was just thinking about you.”
“Were you?” he said, full of doubt.
“You’d be surprised how often I think about you.”
I recognized the voice. It belonged to Gavin Carver.
"What do you want?" Gavin could see right through her bullshit.
"I know things have been difficult for you. I feel terrible about the way things turned out. I have an opportunity for you."
"What kind of opportunity?”
"The financial kind.”
Gavin was silent for a long moment. "Seems like you’ve been in a little trouble recently. You know the cops came by here asking questions.”
“I'm not in any trouble," Tiffany said.
Gavin scoffed again, knowing better. "So what's this financial opportunity?”
"I have a situation that needs to be taken care of. It should be easy for someone of your capabilities.”
"I'm not interested in doing your dirty work.”
"I bet six figures would change your mind.”
Gavin paused again. "Are we talking mid-six figures or high-six figures?”
Tiffany laughed. "Considering you’re scrounging for money to pay next month's rent, I don't think you can afford to pass up this opportunity. $100,000. I can pay you as soon as the estate goes through probate.”
It was Gavin's time to laugh. "You want me to extend you credit?"
"I'm good for it. You know that. I always hold to my word.”
"What good is $100,000 going to do me in a couple of months?”
"All of my expenses are being monitored. I'm under close scrutiny. I can't move money around right now. Otherwise, I would have gotten on the dark web and hired someone. But I can't move money to my crypto account. It'll look suspicious.”
“Not my problem.”
Tiffany sighed. "Fine. I'll find somebody else. I guess I was wrong about you. I thought you were man enough to handle the job.”
Tiffany lingered on the line just long enough.
“What exactly do you need done?”
"Nothing you haven't done before.”
"That could mean a lot of things.”
"How about you meet me at the Seahorse Shores at 10:00 PM. I’ll go over the details. You can take the job or leave it. I'll make it worth your while either way.”
Gavin thought about it for a long moment. "10:00 PM?”
"I'll text you a room number.”
Tiffany ended the call before Gavin had a chance to change his mind.
She backed out of the parking space, pulled out of the lot, and turned onto the road, heading back toward Palm Haven.
I shared a look with Jack. We knew exactly what she wanted him to do.