Chapter 6
"Idon't know. I don't think so," the stunning beauty said. Her face scrunched as she thought about it. "You know, when I came home last night, there was this guy who got on the elevator when I got off. I don't know if that means anything."
"What time did you get home last night?" I asked.
"Where were you coming from?"
"Oyster Avenue. I met a girlfriend for drinks."
"Do you remember what the guy looked like?"
She frowned and shook her head. "Sorry, I don’t. I may or may not have been a little tipsy," she said coyly.
I gave Christy a card and told her to get in touch if she remembered anything else.
JD and I kept banging on neighboring doors, talking to anyone available. Then we moved to the east wing, hoping to catch someone who had witnessed something.
We left cards on the doors of people who didn't answer. The people we did talk to hadn’t seen anything.
We regrouped with the sheriff back in the apartment.
He told us we could find Judy Hollister at Preston's house in Palm Haven.
It was an exclusive neighborhood with custom homes.
A fitting place for a multibillionaire. Unfortunately for Preston, he didn't have much time left to enjoy his riches.
The picture of health just a few months ago, Preston Hollister had gone downhill fast. At 79, the notable philanthropist had gone from skydiving to bedridden.
It was a painful reminder to enjoy the good times while they lasted. Never take a moment for granted.
In the lobby, we talked to the concierge.
“Is there any security footage?” I asked.
“We took out the cameras a while ago,” she said. “Residents felt like they were intrusive.”
“What about the staff?”
“The door guy and the valet are on site until midnight during the week, and 3:00 AM on the weekends. There is keyless access both at the front door and the garage entrance.”
“Were you on shift last night?”
“I work 10:00 AM to 7:00 PM, Monday through Friday. I oversee maintenance, resident services, and leasing.”
“How secure is the building?”
“Anyone with a fob or passcode can enter. It’s about as secure as that type of system can be. Residents can buzz in guests as well.”
It wouldn’t be that hard to slip in unnoticed.
I gave her a card and thanked her for the information. Then we talked to the door guy.
“Yeah, I remember when Sydney came home,” he said.
Lawrence was in his mid-40s with a round face and puffy blue eyes. Dressed in a uniform, he looked official.
“What time was that?”
“Maybe 11 or 11:30 PM.”
“Was she with anyone?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Did anyone come to visit after she returned?”
“I don’t think so,” Lawrence said. “But I left at midnight.”
“Did any other non-residents enter the building between 11:00 PM and 1:00 AM?”
“I think a few people came and went, but I don’t recall anything unusual. Mostly residents.”
“Are you pretty familiar with the tenants?”
“For the most part. I try to get to know everyone. Some people are friendly and want the interaction, while others ignore me completely. I’m fine either way.” He smiled. “But I do like the tippers.”
I gave him a card and told him to get in touch if he remembered anything helpful.
We hopped into the van, and I drove to the exclusive estate in Palm Haven. I parked out front of the luxurious modern home on Diamond Crest Lane. JD and I climbed out and strolled up the walkway, past a Ferrari Spider and a Lamborghini Urus in the circular drive.
The home had a midcentury modern vibe with clean lines, large windows, exquisite woodwork, and expensive stone.
I rang the buzzer at the courtyard gate.
A woman's voice crackled through a moment later. "Can I help you?"
I flashed my badge at the camera lens. "I'm Deputy Wild, this is Deputy Donovan, with Coconut County.”
The woman gasped. I assumed it was Judy. "Please tell me you've got good news.”
"I think it's best if we speak face-to-face," I said.
She hesitated a moment, then in a shaky voice said, "Okay. I'll be right there."
She buzzed us in, and we stepped through the gate.
The courtyard was a lush oasis with a trickling water wall.
We stepped to the front porch and waited.
Judy pulled open the door a moment later.
She was an elegant woman in her mid-40s with stylish brunette hair that hung just above her shoulders.
She had sculpted cheekbones, smooth skin, and full lips.
Smoky shadow accentuated her tawny eyes.
A striking woman, she had a svelte figure and looked like she kept herself in good shape.
The resemblance to her daughter was obvious, apart from the hair color.
Judy braced herself for the worst.
I delivered it in as gentle a fashion as possible.
Judy went pale and wobbled.
JD and I steadied her and escorted her into the house. We moved into the living room, where she took a seat on the sofa. I grabbed a box of tissues from the glass coffee table and offered it to her. She took a few and blotted her eyes that were starting to overflow.
Judy had plenty of questions, and we tried to answer them as best we could.
The house was modern, yet classic. Dark hardwoods, large window walls that opened to a pool, and a view of the ocean beyond. A path led down to the private beach. The wood-paneled cherry walls gave it that classic feel.
There was money here.
Old money.
Not the gaudy, haphazard decoration of the nouveau riche. Everything about the furniture and the oil paintings on the wall oozed sophistication and taste.
Judy sobbed into the tissue. "I don't understand who would do such a thing to my baby."
Her throat tightened, and she could barely get the words out.
It was gut-wrenching. The hardest part of the job. Sometimes it seemed easier to get shot at than watch a parent cry over the loss of their child.
Judy blotted her eyes, sniffled, and took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Do you have any idea who's responsible?”
"When was the last time you saw your daughter?" I asked.
"Last night. She was here, visiting Preston.”
"What time did she leave?
"It was late. 11:30 PM or 12. I'm not really sure. I've just been so out of it lately with everything going on.”
"Going on?"
She took a shaky breath, blotted her eyes again, then continued. "My father has taken ill. I've been his full-time caretaker for the last six weeks or so. It's been incredibly difficult. Preston was always so independent and full of life. It's hard to see him like this.”
We both gave an understanding nod.
"If you don't mind, what happened?"
Judy shrugged. "Preston got old.” There was no other way to put it.
“He seemed so young and vibrant one day, and the next…
" She snapped her fingers. "Honestly, I didn't expect to have to deal with this so soon.
" In a hushed voice, she said, "I was sure I had another 10 years with him at least. He was always so active and took care of himself.
I really don't know. He just started not feeling well, growing weaker and weaker.
We took him to the emergency room. He was in the hospital for several days, which he didn't like at all. The doctors diagnosed him with multiorgan failure. Said everything was shutting down. He’d been struggling a bit with kidney function for a while, but then that dropped even more.
Preston is an all-or-nothing kind of man.
He doesn't want to live in that gray area in between here and there. There was no real treatment for him to pursue. And sometimes the treatment is worse than the disease. The doctor said his body just wasn’t strong enough to keep him on dialysis.
Preston said he wanted to die at home, and I wasn't going to go against his wishes. We brought him back here and are doing home hospice, trying to keep him comfortable.”
"Do you have a caretaker?” I asked.
Judy scoffed. "For Preston? I'm afraid he'd run anybody off. He can be a cantankerous old man at times.”
We smiled.
"With all the piss and vinegar he's got left in him, you’d think he’d live another hundred years.”
"Never give up hope," I said.
Judy frowned. "I'm afraid I don't have much hope left.” Her eyes filled. “Certainly not after today.”
A grim expression tugged my face. I steered things back on track. "Was Sydney having any issues with anyone? Had she received any threats?”