Chapter 15
“The only phones that pinged the tower from Hannah’s house at the time of the murder were hers and her kids. Sorry. But I do have some information you might find useful.”
She gave me the scoop. I filed it away in my brain to use at the right moment.
“I appreciate the info.”
“Anytime.”
I ended the call and shared the news with Jack.
We cruised through the posh streets of the exclusive neighborhood and pulled to the curb at 674 Turtle Cove, just a block over from Hannah’s house. JD and I hopped out and strolled the walkway to the front porch. I rang the video doorbell.
A moment later, a soft voice crackled through. “How can I help you?”
I flashed my badge to the lens and made introductions. “We need to talk about Hannah Quinn.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.”
A few moments later, Scout sauntered through the foyer and pulled open the door. Her emerald eyes flicked between the two of us with a little trepidation. We didn’t look like your average cops. “Please, come in,” she said, stepping aside.
We walked into the foyer, and Scout closed the door. She led us into the living room. It was light and airy with bleached hardwoods, lots of sunshine, and beechy art on the walls. She offered us a seat on the sofa.
“I’m sure you’ve heard by now,” I said as I took a seat.
The perky redhead fell into a chair. “Yes. It’s just terrible. I can’t believe she’s really dead.”
In her mid-30s with a stylish bob that hung above her elegant shoulders, fair skin, and body carved from hot yoga, Scout had alluring qualities.
"You don't think this has anything to do with that werewolf, do you?"
I shook my head. "There's no such thing as werewolves.”
"In this day and age, nothing would surprise me.”
"When was the last time you talked to Hannah?”
Scout shrugged. "I'm not sure. It's been a few days.”
I gave her a curious look. "I thought you two were best friends.”
Scout cringed, then hesitated before she answered. "Let's just say, our relationship is a little strained right now. Was strained.”
I shared a subtle glance with JD before continuing. "Want to tell me about that?”
Scout’s green eyes narrowed at me. “You're looking at me like I'm a suspect.”
"I look at everyone like they’re a suspect until proven otherwise.”
"Don’t we have a presumption of innocence in this country?”
"Yes. In a court of law. But on the street, I try to keep my mind open to every possibility."
Scout considered it. "I guess that's what a good cop should do.”
A moment of silence hung in the air.
"You were about to tell me why you had a falling out,” I said, coaxing her along.
"It's kind of embarrassing," she said.
"No judgment."
She laughed. "You’re judging me right now. That's your job.”
I just stared at her.
She sighed. “I should have kept my damn mouth shut. I couldn’t stop talking about how good the sex was with Chance. I guess Hannah decided to sample the goods. She hasn’t been my favorite person since I found out.”
“Chance is your husband?”
She laughed. “Lord no. I kicked my husband to the curb. Chance is, or was, my boy-toy.”
“You should have kept your mouth shut,” JD said.
“I know, right? That’s what I get for thinking Hannah was a friend. I should have known better. Nothing was ever off limits for her.”
“Are you still seeing Chance?” I asked.
“He is free to do whatever he wants now,” she said with a smile.
“Where were you last night between 9 and 11:00 PM?”
“Having drinks with a girlfriend, commiserating over our lousy taste in men.”
“I’ll need contact information for her.”
“You’re really serious about this suspect thing, aren’t you?”
“Just procedure,” I assured.
"I didn't kill Hannah. I'm sure you're looking into her ex-husband, Grant.”
I nodded. "He claims to have an alibi.”
Scout scoffed. "Who? That little floozy he's been seeing?”
I said nothing.
"I can think of a lot of people with a motive, but none better than Grant.
He's going to get full custody of the kids now, which is what he wanted. Plus, he doesn’t have to pay child support anymore.
Hannah was going after him for more money.
It became this big deal. I don't know why she kept pressing the issue—she was getting enough as it was, but Hannah could never just let things go. Half the fun for her was getting under someone’s skin.
Tell you the truth, I think that's why she slept with Chance. Just because she knew it would piss me off.”
"Why would she do that if you two were friends?”
“I don't know if Hannah was capable of real friendship. It was always a competition. She always had to have the edge on somebody.” Scout paused. "Me, I don't have the bandwidth for that kind of drama. It's exhausting. Hannah seemed to thrive on it.”
"Who else had a reason to kill her?”
Scout thought about it for a moment. "I'm sure you've talked to Sutton?”
I nodded.
"Do you know about Loretta?”
I nodded again. “But I'm more than willing to listen to whatever you want to add.”
Scout pretty much told us what we already knew.
I asked about Dalton Riggs and the other judges. She confirmed that Hannah had blackmailed them all.
"Weren't you concerned that Hannah might try to blackmail you at some point?”
"Like I said, I thought Hannah was my friend. But it seems like the only thing of mine she wanted was Chance. And she didn’t need to blackmail me to get him.”
I gave her a card, thanked her for the information, and told her to get in touch if she thought of anything useful. She texted me contact information for her friend Julie.
I called her after we left and verified Scout's whereabouts at the time of the murder. I took Julie’s statement with a grain of salt.
JD and I hopped into the Porsche and drove a few blocks to Trent Carter’s house. I rang the bell, but he didn’t answer.
I called Isabella and got his cell number and asked her to track the device.
With a few keystrokes, she told me the phone was in Stuttgart and had been for the past several days.
That told me he probably didn’t see the crime.
I called and left a voicemail anyway, then JD and I cruised across the island to find Dalton Riggs.
The Florida sun beamed through the open sunroof, and classic rock blasted from the speakers. Wind swirled around through the open windows. It was a momentary escape from the chaos of the case.
I looked up Blair Bishop’s alter ego online and got an eye full.
I can't say that I was surprised. But let's just say for $19.95 a month, you could see a lot more of Blair. Or, at least you could have before she deactivated her Lexi Luscious profile. Of course, for nothing at all, you could still find images and video clips of Blair on leaked websites. Blair had certain talents, and I’m sure the $19.
95 was worth the money. But her fiancé wouldn't be thrilled.
Especially if he saw the video clip of her taking on four guys in a cheap hotel room.
Let's just say they weren’t playing Twister.
More like hide and seek, and they hid it everywhere.
The Internet is forever, and all the money in the world can’t make it go away.
It only took a few minutes to drive from Stingray Bay to the Platinum Dunes. It was another upscale neighborhood with cookie-cutter mansions and lots of social drama.
Jack parked at the curb at 712 Windswept Court. We hopped out and strolled the walkway past a 1968 Shelby GT500 convertible. With fire engine red paint, a black leather interior, and polished chrome rims, the classic muscle car had an aggressive stance. A ride in that condition didn't come cheap.
I rang the video doorbell, and we admired the muscle car while we waited.
Dalton Riggs came to the door a few moments later and poked his head out. "She's not for sale, if that's what you're inquiring about?”
I got the impression the car drew frequent offers from passersby.
I flashed my badge. "Actually, we’d like to talk to you about Hannah Quinn.”
His face went long, and he swallowed hard. "What do you want to talk about?”
"I'm sure you've heard the news,” I said.
Hannah's demise would be the talk of the town, especially in these circles.
"Yes, I heard something about that. Terrible tragedy. Do you have any leads? Any suspects?”
"We’re piecing things together.”
"Good. I hope you catch the bastards responsible. This area doesn't feel safe anymore. I don't mind saying that, either. I know you guys do what you do, but…”
I saw right through the concerned citizen act. "Can you tell me where you were last night between 9 and 11:00 PM?”