The rush of emotions, old and new, had been instigated by Seth’s impact on her life. She was still grappling with those feelings when she noticed movement at the entrance to the nursing home. With binoculars, she confirmed the night nurse had shut the front doors for the evening. Visiting hours were officially over, and Harper hadn’t made an appearance. She took a deep breath and reached for the key dangling in the ignition to give it a turn when her cell phone rang.
“Yeah.”
Without any semblance of a greeting, Alexa got down to it. “You do realize I still have that tracking beacon on your van, right?”
Jess started to smile, but the effort hurt too much. “Yeah, I kind of like you knowing. You’re my anchor to a saner world.”
“That’s a scary thought,” she said. “What’s so fascinating? You’ve been in one spot for hours.”
“And you apparently have no life. Who’s worse off?” She sighed, and added, “I’m parked outside a nursing home.”
“You catch many bail jumpers in the blue-hair set?”
She would have made an effort to laugh, but she didn’t want to encourage her. “No, my money is on Harper keeping a promise. And I want to be here when he does. What’s up?”
“I received an encrypted file for the background checks and financials you requested. I’ve been digging into them today. You want the short version?”
She hoped having more information on Beladi, Burke, and Mandy would leave bread crumbs to follow. Harper could use a break.
“Yeah. Short works.”
“As you might have guessed, the smoker is cagey. We had to modify our searches to only his last name, and we found links to a series of corporations. Sleaze goes Wall Street. If I had to speculate, I’d say the man has family. And he’s been generous doling out his assets for the legitimate side of his enterprises, a way to launder his more lucrative business dollars.”
“You’ve got a list of assets I can see?”
“Yeah, I’ll send you what I’ve got. Give me an e-mail address.”
Jess gave her what she needed. And as curious as she was to see the material, she wouldn’t sneak a peek via her high-tech cell phone. These documents would require downloading and quality time for her to focus on each page.
“Hard to imagine Mandy hitting this guy up for cash.”
“Yeah. Now that’s a scary thought.”
Nadir Beladi certainly had the maliciousness and the deadly connections to be the bastard behind Harper’s frame job. But why? Had Mandy been stupid enough to blackmail him and drag Harper into her mess, guilt by association? Sure the smoker had deep pockets, but someone like Beladi would squash her like a roach underfoot. And he’d get Pinzolo to do the dirty work. She’d seen that firsthand.
Jess had a hard time imagining the self-destructive nerve it would have taken for Mandy to demand money from the smoker. But good sense was the first casualty when it came to drug addiction. More than likely, the crank did the thinking and talking for her.
“I’m thinking aloud here, but what would Mandy have on Mister Nicotine?” Alexa asked. “It wouldn’t take much for a guy like him to kill her. He doesn’t need a reason. Did she witness something that made her a target?”
“Could be. And Pinzolo looks like a guy who’d have a tattoo. Body art would be an improvement to butt ugly.” Thinking of him made her ache all over. “Anything on Mandy?”
“No, not much. She wasn’t exactly living on the grid like you and me. Well, like me,” she corrected. “I figured she did everything on a cash basis. Not much of a trail, and nothing current, but Burke is another story, one of the reasons this couldn’t wait for morning.”
More lights blinked off at the nursing home. And security lights kicked on.
“What’s up with Nipple Rings?”
“He’s not a financial wizard. No surprise there. But if he’s got cash stashed, it’s not showing on his bank statements or being reported to the IRS, which could be a nice club for the feds to wield if we find out otherwise. A couple of steady payments do stand out. Automatic debits. Nipples has a safe-deposit box and a storage unit he’s maintaining.”
“Nice. We won’t get close to the safe-deposit box, but that storage unit is another story.”
“That’s what I was thinking. And with him under wraps for forty-eight hours with the cops, I thought we could check it out. I dug up the address for the facility.”
“The address is one thing, but unless you’ve got a unit number…”
“You’re gonna have to trust me on this one, but I’ve got his number. I just can’t tell you how I got it. So if you can spare a few hours off geezer patrol to break and enter, you can meet me.” Alexa gave her the address. “And gloves are the new black. Bring ’em if you’ve got ’em.”
“No problem. I’m on my way,” she said, indulging in a smile as she ended the call and hit the ignition. “Harper…until tomorrow, my fine friend.”
Luís Dante remembered one important thing about Seth Harper from the bail hearing—he had an old man who meant something to him—Detective Max Jenkins—someone he might risk coming to see at the Golden Palms Villa Nursing Home. Checking out the nursing home would be worth a shot since he’d come up empty on Harper’s background. And being a private investigator, he knew how to research the kid’s visiting routine, if he had one. Earlier, Luís had called the nursing home to ask about Harper’s father over the phone, getting his room number on the pretense of sending flowers, which he did. The cheapest batch of carnations he could find. The administrative staff had been very accommodating, especially when it came to the kid’s visiting pattern.
Not taking anything for granted, Luís also had done his homework on the Millstone case by searching newspaper archives and making copies to read later. His client might appreciate his initiative if he found something worthwhile in the old news articles.
Now all that remained to track Seth Harper was setting up a vigil both day and night outside the nursing home. Since the kid was more savvy than he’d first thought, he’d have to play it smart if and when he got a second shot at him.
But near dusk, Luís spotted an ugly blue van when he first staked out the facility after cruising side streets looking for a good surveillance spot. From a distance, he’d taken a few discreet photos as he sat in his car. A woman sitting alone had caught his eye, but when she stayed parked, it made him wonder enough to ask for help from an old buddy.
“Yo, Frankie. How’s it going?” He chatted up his cop friend, a guy he’d known since high school, and caught up on family and sports until he got down to business. “Can I get you to run me a tag, pendejo?”
“Sure, dickweed. Shoot.”
He gave his friend the tag number for the blue van. After a few minutes, his old pal Frankie came back with the make and model of the vehicle.
“It’s registered to Seth Harper at Pinnacle Real Estate Corporation. You need the address?”
“Yeah, give it to me.” After he took down the information, he asked, “You sure the van isn’t registered to some chick? Maybe it’s a company vehicle, but if that’s so, business must not be good. It’s a piece of crap, bro.”
“Hey, you asked for the registration, I gave it. You need anything else?”
“Nada. That’ll do it.” And with a grin, he added, “Give a kiss to that beautiful wife of yours for me. Use some tongue. She likes that.”
“And if you had a woman, I’d have more to say than fuck off, Dante. Later, bro.”