Bargain Hunting (21 page)

Liam left early, off
in search of information on the listening device I’d accidentally discovered at José’s house. Me? I had to go to the office to type the letters to Liam’s former unit buddies. Well, I guess once someone rats you out to IA and a grand jury you don’t consider them buddies anymore.

Even though it was eight thirty on a Saturday, I was already dressed and fully coiffed. I went without first-thing coffee so I could make myself presentable to Liam. I wasn’t used to having a houseguest and I wanted to look my best.

“Who are you kidding?” I asked myself. I just didn’t want him to see me all scraggly and messy. Which made no sense since he’d already seen me soaking wet and in a police station with nothing but my jammies on. Still, it mattered.

The temperature had dropped down into the upper seventies so I’d chosen a pair of fuchsia Piazza Sempione capri pants and a Michael Kors shirt with button cuffs and princess seams. Since
it was the weekend, I decided to give my feet a rest by wearing a pair of gold metallic Kate Spade sandals with faceted jewels on the T-strap. They worked well with my metallic gold Coach bag, the bag with the offset stitching that allowed me to score it for less than half the price.

I arrived at the office only to find both Tony’s and Vain Dane’s cars parked in the lot. Good, maybe Vain Dane would give me some points for working on a Saturday. After settling into my office, I saw a manila folder in my in-box. I pinched the metal prongs and opened it. Joseph Lawson had sent me the addresses for the family members. Good, while I was there I could finish those letters and take them up to Vain Dane for his signature. Then he’d have to notice that I was in the building.

I took the list out of my bag and started searching the Internet for information on the other officers present the night of the shooting. DMV records gave me photographs and addresses to put with the names.

Diego Ferrer was thirty-seven, with a neck like a professional wrestler. Definitely not someone I’d want pissed at me. No huge surprise, he had no outstanding tickets or warrants. I switched over to the property records, and at first, I found nothing. Not even the address from his driver’s license. I clicked my way to vital records and found a marriage license. Then went back and discovered the house in Wellington was in the wife’s name alone. Odd, but not unheard of.

While I couldn’t access Internal Affairs information, I could get a work history from the credit bureau. Nothing special there. Diego and his wife, Maria, lived within their means. Well, better than within their means. They were making double
mortgage payments. Smart move in a bad real estate market. They paid their credit cards on time and had excellent credit ratings.

The next name on the list was Carlos Santiago. Thirty-nine and not exactly what I thought of when I thought sheriff’s deputy. He was only five-five according to his driver’s license, but like Diego, he had that “I work out every chance I get” look about him. Thick neck, bulging brow, the steroid look. He’d gone to Palm Beach College and joined the force right after graduation. He’d paid off his student loans ahead of schedule and had a mortgage and a boat loan outstanding. Hardly a lavish lifestyle; three-quarters of Florida owned boats. His house was in an area called the Acreage, a less-congested suburb of West Palm. His wife was named Cynthia and I couldn’t find any dirt on her aside from the fact that she liked to shop at Nordstrom, but then again, so did I. They paid their bills every month on time. Nothing stood out there.

I moved on to Miguel Vasquez. He looked fierce in his license photo. Dark and brooding and given his vitals, 6’3” and 225 pounds, he was one scary-looking man. He was forty-one, divorced, and had five children. This explained why he had an apartment in North Palm Beach. He was probably paying out the ying in child support. The fact that he was divorce poor might give him a reason to . . . what? Shoot the Peña kid? Shoot José? Shoot Liam? That made no sense. Being cash poor just meant he had to budget like the rest of us.

Well, I don’t budget so much as I pay attention to the limits on my credit cards.

That took me to Armando Calderone, the unit leader and
the one Liam said had been the point man on the operation. Though he was forty-four, I found no record of him ever being married. Between the real estate records and the personal property tax rolls, I learned the man liked his toys. Being single was a lot cheaper than having a family, and Armando seemed to be living a pretty high life. He had a condo on the ocean in Juno Beach. A BMW and a GTO muscle car. I stared at his picture for a minute, wondering why he wasn’t married. He was attractive enough. Maybe he was gay. Or in sheriff’s terms, in the closet.

I thought of my friend Sam. He’s a decorator and gay and always has money. Maybe there’s some correlation between being gay and being financially secure?

I stopped and stretched, rolling my head around to get out the kinks. I hadn’t exactly rested peacefully last night. Not with Liam a mere wall away. Things were getting way complicated between us. Or at least they were too complicated in my brain, which was apparently being led around by my libido. My cell rang, ending my moment of not so pleasant introspection before it got out of hand.

“Hi,” Izzy greeted me.

“Excited about tonight?” I asked as I leaned back in my chair.

“Totally. Will you still come over and do my hair and makeup?”

“Of course,” I said even though I’d forgotten all about that promise. “What time again?”

“Five.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Finley?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks again for running interference with my dad. He had coffee with Cole’s dad this morning and then he called me and said everything was okay.” She sounded relieved and eager all at once.

No sooner had I hung up the phone than Tony appeared at my door. “Bucking for employee of the month?”

I laughed. “Just doing what you said. I had some estate stuff for Vain . . . Mr. Dane and I thought it would be a good idea to contact the other officers from Liam’s old unit.”

“Why?” he asked as he sat down.

I told him Liam’s theory about them all being targets. “Isn’t it prudent for us to warn them?”

Tony stroked his chin. “I suppose so. Write the letters and I’ll sign them.”

As he got up and went to the door he turned and said, “Thank you for all your help with Izzy. I know she appreciates it and so do I.”

“I’m happy to help.”

“Happy enough to have dinner with me tonight?”

I froze. If he’d asked me that question a month ago, I would have said yes without any hesitation. I thought of Liam. Then I thought of Ashley. “I’d love to.”

As soon as he left my office, I wanted to run after him and take it back. No matter how frustrated I was over the whole Liam/Ashley thing, having dinner with Tony felt wrong. Having it feel wrong felt even worse. It meant that yet again, I had fallen for the wrong guy. Hadn’t Patrick’s cheating taught me
anything? And in some ways this was worse than Patrick. Patrick did everything behind my back. Liam was doing it to my face and telling me not to sweat it. What self-respecting woman doesn’t sweat the other woman?

Time to turn over a new leaf. If Liam could have Ashley, I could have Tony. Only deep down, in a place I didn’t want to go, I knew which one I really wanted.

Well. I could wallow in self-pity or do something constructive. I typed carefully worded letters to the guys from Liam’s unit warning them of the potential danger they might be facing. After Tony signed them, I then went to Vain Dane’s office and knocked on the doorjamb. He looked up and his hazel eyes registered shock.

“Finley?”

I handed him the three letters all neatly paper clipped to their corresponding envelopes. “I know this will cause a potential problem on the Lawson estate so I thought it would be best to get a jump on it.”

He was wearing a dress shirt and a tie even though it was a weekend. I wondered if he slept in a tie. Tight ass. He signed the letters and returned them to me.

I returned to my office to collect my things. My cell was ringing when I arrived. “Hello?”

“You used your house as collateral?” Jane barked into the phone.

“Liam isn’t going to jump bail,” I said. “Where’s your compassion?”

“Right now it’s looking at your monthly bills. Finley, you’re spending way too much money.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a buzz killer?”

“Several times, actually. But the house, Finley? Really?”

“It seems to me that Liam was there for you when you woke up with a dead guy next to you.”

Jane grunted. “I know.”

“Thanks for being at the arraignment yesterday.”

“You’re welcome. Finley, please,
please
stop shopping. And stop using your house like it’s a bottomless pit of money. If you don’t, you won’t be able to swing the monthly payments.”

“I got it.” Now probably wasn’t the best time to tell her I’d just spent fifteen hundred dollars on a watch part.

“I’ve got to go,” Jane said. “I’m taking a run on the beach, want to join me?”

I smiled. “Like that’s going to happen.”

With the estate letters, I had seven pieces of outgoing mail. I put them in Margaret’s in-box so she’d have to put postage on them Monday morning. Then I thought about it and retrieved the four letters to the deputies.

I keyed their addresses in my GPS and opted to go to Wellington first. It was south and west of Palm Beach. It took me about thirty-five minutes before I found myself at the gate of a lovely golf course community. I scrolled down until I found Diego’s name, then pressed the button. I heard a childlike hello, then the gates swung open and I drove through. Following the rather stern voice of the GPS I found the Ferrer house.

It wasn’t what I expected. It was pretty big, two stories, with archways and pillars. The front yard was littered with kids’ toys and bikes. I parked on the street and walked on the path to the front door.

A small child—four or five maybe—opened the door and stared up at me. On her heels was Diego. I recognized him from his license picture. He placed an arm protectively over his daughter and asked, “May I help you?”

I put on my best smile and said, “I’m from Dane, Lieberman, and Caprelli.”

His expression darkened. “I have nothing to say to you.”

He reached for the door but I grabbed the edge. “I don’t want to talk, I just need to drop this off to you.”

“If it’s a subpoena you can toss it on the floor.”

“It’s nothing like that,” I said in a rush. “Mr. Caprelli is concerned about your well-being.” I chose my words carefully because the child was still standing there. “He just wanted to make you aware of some developments in the Lopez case.”

“Alicia, go find Mommy,” he told the child. She turned and ran down the hall.

Diego stepped out onto the porch. He was a mass of coiled muscle and pretty damned scary. Maybe hand delivery wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Give it to me,” he said as he grabbed it out of my hand. He tore into it, scanned it, then tossed it at me. “Tell your boss I’ve been sufficiently warned. Tell your client to rot in hell.”

With that I got a door slammed in my face. I was actually shaking. People have gotten annoyed with me in the past but that guy was a big slice of angry.

Hopefully he was the worst of the lot. But no. I got a similar reception from everyone but Armando Calderone, and the only reason he didn’t ream me out was because he wasn’t home. I tucked the letter between the screen and the door and
was secretly glad to be finished with the task. I walked back to my car slowly, enjoying the view of the ocean from the seventh floor.

It wasn’t until I was behind the wheel that I noticed a curtain flutter in Armando’s apartment. Either one of the others had called him or there was some other reason he didn’t want to speak to me. I could go back up and pound like a lunatic, but time was getting away from me, thanks in no small part to the four stops I’d made for coffee as I zigzagged across the county. I was already halfway to Martin County, so I went up to Tony’s community, arriving fifteen minutes early. Izzy was thrilled to see me. She was even more thrilled to give me the message that her father would be picking me up at seven for dinner.

“How cool is it that you’re having dinner with my dad?” she asked as she sat at her vanity after plugging in her curling iron.

“It’s just dinner, Izzy.”

“Whatever.”

“Hold still so I don’t burn you,” I told her.

Izzy had a lot of hair, so it took me a while to make the soft
S
waves she wanted. With her perfect olive skin, foundation wasn’t necessary. I did her makeup, and as I was finishing, Tony came home.

“Don’t come in!” Izzy yelled as we worked the zipper up her back. “I want you to be surprised.”

She looked lovely in the beige and black lace dress and I could see on Tony’s face that he thought so as well. They were in the hallway together and I felt every inch the third wheel. “I’ve got to run,” I said.

“Don’t you want to see Cole?” Izzy asked.

I shook my head. “That’s a father-daughter moment.”