“Be less fuss to shoot a state senator now than assassinate a governor later,” Ray said.
“The link for us there might be Norma Martin,” Sandy said. “Here’s how her story goes so far. She breezed into town a couple of years ago and bought the Jardin Café. Owners weren’t even thinking about selling the place until she came along. The place wasn’t in good shape, and they were thrilled when she said how much, and handed them cash. The cover story was she cashed out on a large house up north in a divorce settlement. Everyone assumes she owns that restaurant, but I found out she doesn’t. A Delaware Partnership owns it but the partners might well live in Tampa.”
Ray said, “Would the Tampa big-money go so far as to assassinate him?”
“I suppose that could happen here, happens in Miami. Billions are at stake,” Kagan replied. “The pro-casino faction definitely wanted the senator out of the way.”
Sandy’s phone buzzed. It was Meg Emerson. “Sandy, I brought up reports on all the principals you named. Here we go. This is all confidential and a violation of every Federal privacy law, so cover my tail please. I found zilch on Norma Martin. Are you certain she actually exists? I’d need her social to check further. Tammy’s fine, owns a couple of small rentals, she’s a saver, no visible problems. Sonny Barner somehow got into financial trouble while he was a toddler, maybe earlier, and hasn’t been out of money trouble since. Don’t buy a used car from him. Loraine Dellin is hurting financially, heavily mortgaged and margined, not yet critical, but she’s been selling off her securities to live. She’s literally eating up her principal. Got all that?”
“You’re the best.” Sandy had another idea. “Two more names popped into my mind. Elizabeth Montgomery, West Palm Beach, and what about Towson’s campaign manager, Tony Hackett?”
“That last one’s easy. Not public yet, but Hackett is about to declare bankruptcy. His creditors have already moved in. Everyone thought he was inside on all the money deals that Towson pulled off, but I guess not. Somehow, he’s ended up broke. Word is he may have moved back to Virginia already. I guess you’ve a reason for asking?”
“The person who finds the body always goes on the suspect list. Thanks, Meg.” Sandy turned back. “Where were we? Ah, I’ll look into the Tampa connection. Detective Goddard also wants me to check on it.”
Kagan was surprised. “What did you just say? You’re doing work for Detective Goddard?”
She enjoyed the moment. “Yes, I made a connection that could be good for us. I had coffee with Detective Chip Goddard. He wants me to tell him whatever I find out, and in return he doesn’t tell me zip. How’s your heart, Jerry? I could hear it pounding over here.”
“Yes, that startled me. Never heard of such a thing, it just isn’t done. As your brother’s attorney, I must advise you of the considerable danger there. Whatever you tell him can be used in court. Moreover, you can be put on the stand and made to repeat it.”
Ray jumped in, “And you say I’m crazy!”
“You are crazy.”
“But Sandy, that’s no kind of deal—all his way. He’s the one who arrested me. He’s on the job. He’s using you. Either that or he’s just trying to get you in the sack.”
“Maybe he’s not the sacker, maybe he’s the sackee.” She went on, “And it’s not all his way. He agreed to listen to what I have to say. Of course, I’m going to feed him only exculpatory information.”
Kagan looked at Ray who nodded that he understood the word. Kagan warned, “Even information favorable to the defense can be twisted around in court. You’re on dangerous ground, young lady.”
“He underestimates me. People have always underestimated me. It’s a neat little swindle I’ve been running all my life. It’s to our advantage with Chip, at least so far. He doesn’t believe he’s disclosing any info. I just get him talking and then read between the lines.”
“Hope you don’t fall off the high wire,” Kagan said.
“If he has doubts about your guilt right now, wait until I get through with him. Plus, I can run around town without the police on my tail every minute. We exchanged phone numbers. If he calls take a message, okay?”
“Not funny, you’re reckless,” Ray said.
She rested her hand on Kagan’s shoulder. “Jerry, I wanted you to know. I didn’t want you blindsided later by the deal. Chip—notice I call him Chip now—is okay. Did you know some bastard shot his dad at a Stop-and-Rob? He was police chief, wasn’t even on duty, just going out for ice cream.”
“I know,” Kagan said, “and Chip’s always been straight with me. He isn’t too popular around the station because he moved up to Detective so fast.”
“True, he needs to do a super job on this homicide. Worst thing that could happen to him in his career right now is to screw this up. Was he ever married?”
“Not as far as I know,” Kagan answered. “He’s not a wallflower. He was serious about a woman, the County Appraiser’s daughter, for a while. That was a few years back. An attorney at the courthouse told me his legal secretary now has something going with him.”
“Something going with him,” she repeated under her breath.
“What does the detective’s love life have to do with anything?” Ray wondered aloud.”
“I promise I’ll be careful about what I let him know. At least up until the point where I get something going with him. Did I tell you he has perfect eyes?”
“It’s in my notes somewhere.” Ray laughed and relaxed back in his chair; he just realized his invaluable sister might be interested in sticking around for a few more days.
Chapter 22
She had been in Park Beach five days and Sandy wasn’t pleased with her progress. It was Sunday and turning out to be a bad day to get things done. She had some notes to go over with Jerry Kagan but his law office was closed. Linda would be happy to see her but wasn’t working at the newspaper that day. And Sunday visiting hours at the jail were not until later. She wondered if Chip was snuggled at home with Miss Legal Secretary. After looking through her notes, she decided it was time to check out Norma Martin, the woman who wouldn’t talk to Chip.
She pulled her Miata convertible into the lot behind the Jardin Café just as another woman parked and started walking to the restaurant. The woman was slightly underweight but nicely filled out her peasant blouse and tapered designer jeans. She wore her dark auburn hair pulled back tightly and wrapped with a band, the long bunch at the back bounced around her bare shoulders. Sandy guessed she couldn't be over forty at the most. Sandy envied the confident way she walked. She glided effortlessly over the rough gravel in her stilettos like a model on a runway.
She noticed Sandy and glided over. “We don’t open until five. Love your little red car. I’ve seen it around town.” Then she frowned. “I know where, the police station—you’re police!”
Sandy hesitated only an instant. “No, I’m a reporter. I’m looking for Norma Martin.”
The color faded from the woman’s face. She took a step back and studied Sandy. “You’re a reporter?” The woman almost shrieked, “How did you find me?” She turned and hurried into the restaurant.
Sandy hit speed dial #1 on her phone. It rang for some time before Goddard answered. “Will you trace a tag for me, Chip?”