Death in Her Eyes (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 1) (10 page)

“I wish I had your problem,” I shot back, “with money that is.”

“Cary and I both make a good living, but no one will ever believe our success is our own. It’s hard to accept.” She looked off wistfully lost in thoughts.

“How did it all start? Your dad apparently owns a lot of land,” I asked. I already had the answers from my research. It was more a conversational question than work related. I was enjoying being close to Ashton. She looked up and to the right, recalling facts.

“Sam and Bridget Hunt, my great grandparents, set up a cattle operation in Central Florida in the early 1890s,” she explained. “Their three sons expanded into phosphate mining and timber. They bought up thousands of acres before the Florida land boom, but two of the brothers lost everything when the bubble burst in 1925. One committed suicide and the other was killed in a sawmill accident.

Jeb Hunt, the surviving brother eked out a subsistence living on the family’s original cattle ranch. Despite hanging on by his fingernails at first, by the 1930s he’d amassed a considerable fortune and held thousands of acres. He was a true hardscrabble pioneer. His first large land sale was to the U.S. government in the late 1930s. They built an Army post, and then an air field in what is today the heart of Orlando,” Ashton said.

“The Orlando Naval Training Center the government closed a few years ago?” I asked.

“Yeah, the Navy didn’t take it over until the 1960s. Before that it was an Army flight school, a hospital and lots of other things, but that was just the beginning.” She smiled and continued. “Jeb had two children, Emily and Martin. While Emily married into the politically savvy Broward family, as in Broward County Florida, Martin married a local girl, kept the family business going, and had three children, my brother John, who died of diphtheria as an infant, Cary, and me. Daddy joined the Army and fought in Viet Nam. My mother kept the ranch going.”

“So with his Army pay and income from the ranch, your folks were pretty well set,” I interjected.

“Daddy and Mamma never rivaled the giants like Flagler, Plant, or Broward, but the family helped established citrus as a major industry, was involved in railroads, and like his father and grandfather my daddy held large tracts of land. He sold thousands of swampy undeveloped acres that became Disney World. Despite being one of the wealthiest men in the state, daddy still works his cattle ranch.”

“What happened to you mother?” I asked.

Ashton sucked her lip in and got a faraway look as her eyes became moist. She looked up and to the right retrieving memories then said, “She died in a car crash when daddy was stationed in the Manila. Mamma went out there to visit him and…she never came back.”

“How old were you?” I asked.

“I was in college. I’d rather not talk about my mother, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, have it your way. What’s your father like?” I asked.

“Daddy? You met him. Why do you ask?”

“I met the famous man. I wondered what your father is
like
,” I said.

“He’s down to earth, kind, but won’t stand for any nonsense, yet he’s been bailing Cary out for years. He’s not religious, but he quotes the Bible all the time, particularly Proverbs and Psalms.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” I said.

“This business with Cary is driving him crazy. He likes to stay out of the public eye.”

“What does he like to do?”

“He hunts and fishes. He’s always out on the lake or in the woods. He loves living out in the country. He manages the family business interests, of course. He’s a big reader, mostly history and biographies. He’ll read anything he can get his hands on. Is that what you mean?” she asked.

“Yeah, I guess. I’m trying to understand your family. You say he’s into history. He used some quotes on me when we talked …”

“My daddy is a real student of history.”

Her luminous smile was dazzling me.

“What’s your brother like,” I asked trying to stay on track.

“He’s kind, easy going and lucky. We both have always believed we had a special kind of luck. I’m not sure that’s true anymore with what’s been going on. He has always been a protective big brother too.”

“I thought you were twins,” I said.

“We are, but Cary’s nine minutes older. He says he’s my older brother.” The smile that enveloped her face reflected thoughts of happier times, but then it quickly disappeared.

“What kind of person is he?” I asked.

“He’s kind…”

“You said that…”

“… wickedly smart and a little sarcastic. He took a big risk getting his clients out of real estate when he did, but he was sure there was a crash coming. It turned out he was right.”

“How did that happen? No one else predicted the crash and, what, ten years later we’re still in a down economy.”

“He says it was daddy who gave him the idea. Cary was talking to daddy about how rampant stock and bond speculation had become, how trading volumes were at record highs, and how people bought assets just to flip them. Daddy had been reading some book on the 1929 stock market crash and said that was the same case in the 1920s. Cary borrowed the book and a few weeks later, he was advising his clients to get out of real estate and financial services. He made a lot of money for his clients.”

“He is lucky.”

“He’s a good guy, too. He couldn’t have killed Stephanie, not like they say he did.”

“How was their relationship?”

“Like anyone else’s I guess. You know, they had their ups and downs. It seemed a little one sided to me.”

“How do you mean?” I coaxed.

“She was always off playing with friends while he put in long days at the office. I didn’t like…”

“What?”

“I didn’t like the way she treated him. It almost felt like being nice to him was an obligation for her. I don’t think she loved him. I don’t know… it was a feeling.”

“Feelings can tell us things the rational side can’t see,” I said. “I’m not a shrink, but I play one on TV.”

She laughed and that smile nearly overcame me again.

“I’m making too much of it. I don’t know, maybe I thought no one was good enough for my brother. They seemed happy together.”

“Did she work?”

“She was working when they met, advertising or accounting I think, but she stopped when they got married and she moved to Orlando.”

“Was that a problem?”

“I don’t think so. He never mentioned it. Money wasn’t a problem, of course. Cary was very successful.”

“Was he seeing someone? Sorry, I have to ask. That’s the motive the police are working with at the moment.”

I could see the hurt in her eyes. She looked lost. There was something else there too.

“I don’t know about Cary, but I think Stephanie was. He hinted at it several times, but he said they’d patched things up,” she asserted.

“Did he give you any names or details?” I asked but I knew she didn’t know.

She shook her head no. “When I would ask about it, he seemed sad. He didn’t have the usual spark. Then a couple months before Stephanie died that all changed. He said things were back to the way they should be.”

“Any hint who she might have been seeing?” I asked.

Ashton sucked in her lower lip, looked down, and slowly shook her head.

“How did they meet?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

Cary met Steph at the Harvard homecoming game the year after he graduated from B-school. Stephanie was one of a group of women who were up from Columbia. He spilled a drink on Steph in the stands and they started talking. He gave her his coat and eventually got her number. He asked her out and they started dating. That’s the story, but I think there was more to it.” She brought her attention back to the problem of the moment.

“How’s that?” I asked.

“One of the women with Steph was a witch, possessive and mean spirited. I think she…”

“She what?”

“I think she wanted something from Cary.”

“How do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.

“I told Cary afterwards I though the woman hit the beer in his hand intentionally. She had been talking to him, chatting him up really. When Stephanie came over, all his attention was on her. When the beer spilled, the look on the other woman’s face was purple - pure jealousy. Anyway, the beer went all over Stephanie, but the other woman caused it.”

Ashton suspected something, but didn’t know what it meant. Neither did I.

“You were there? Who was this woman?” I asked.

“Yeah, I was there. I was seeing one of Cary’s friends at the time. I don’t know her. I saw her again at their wedding so I asked Stephanie about the incident. She said I must be imagining things, but she didn’t sound convincing. She said the woman was a bitch and not to worry about her. Stephanie and the woman got into an argument later that night.” Ashton was grasping at straws, but any lead was worth tracking down.

“Did you ask her about the argument?” I continued.

“No, but I asked Cary and he said not to worry.”

“You’ve no idea who she is?” I asked.

“Well, I know I heard the name, Sharon something I think. I know she still was hanging out with Stephanie. She was one of her close circle of friends.”

“This woman is in Orlando? Could he have been seeing her?”

“Yeah, she is in Orlando, but as for seeing her, you mean like an affair? I don’t know. Cary mentioned her a couple times. He would know her name for sure.”

“There are lots of pictures of Stephanie with girlfriends in their house. Who were her friends?”

“I don’t know her friends. I live in New York remember? You could try their county club. Cary can tell you which one. She played tennis there a couple times a week.” The glow on Ashton’s face faded as her thoughts turned darker. She put the flat of her hand on her chest, a sign of insecurity. “Are you going to be able to help my brother, Mac?” She asked.

“I don’t know, Ashton. I’ll do my damnedest,” I replied.

I only felt slightly guilty letting Ashton pay for our lunch. Either way she was paying, I guess. If I picked up the check, I’d have expensed it to her case. We parted with my promise to call if I learned anything no matter how small.

My lunch with Ashton Hunt left my head spinning. I could get lost in those green eyes, but I had a job to do first. I’d learned only a little about Cary Hunt, but I knew his sister believed in him deeply and that was enough.

The Orange County jail is more or less centrally located off I-4 and John Young Parkway. Tourists on their way to the theme parks pass with hardly a glance. I headed north and soon found myself sitting the jail’s public parking lot. I added to a list of questions I had for Cary Hunt while I sat in my car killing time.

I walked through a metal detector just inside the front doors, showed my ID, and after a pat down, a corrections officer escorted me to the visiting area. Since I’d said I was on Cary’s legal team, we got a private room.

His orange corrections jump suit hung loose on him, but it was clean. He was about six feet tall, and lean like his father. There was a strong resemblance to Ashton too. They shared the same strong facial features, light green eyes, and thick blond hair. Unlike his sister’s healthy glow, Cary’s complexion was decidedly pasty. 

“Who the hell are you and what do you want? I’m missing my TV period. Perry Mason is on,” he said as he took a seat. “I’m taking notes.”

The corrections officers closed the door behind him as he left.

When the door closed, I turned to Cary and said, “I’m Mac Everett. You sister hired me to reinvestigate your case.”

“What? I’ve got a lawyer for that.” He shot to his feet. “I don’t have time…”

“You have nothing but time, Mr. Hunt. Now sit down and put a sock in it.”

Cary’s eyes narrowed. He placed both hands on the table edge and leaned. “Sit down Cary,” I said softly, “and let’s bring back that special luck you have.”

A liar always seems uncomfortable while telling a lie because truth may come out. Was this man antsy because of deceptions or was it just his situation? Cary melted into the chair, his bravado gone. I gave him a quick rundown on who I was, why Ashton had hired me, and my feeling his lawyer was only going through the motions. When I had finished he asked, “What can we do?”

“We can start by you telling me what happened the day you last saw your wife,” I responded, taking out my note pad.

Cary started with a detailed recitation of the night before he left town.

“We had dinner,” he began, “at Cajun Magic. It’s a seafood place we like on East Colonial Drive. You know the one near Lake Eola Park.”

I knew it. It served Cajun and Creole food, casual and laid back. I wasn't the kind of place I imagined an affluent couple would go. 

“We got home about 10:30, he continued. “ I opened a bottle of wine and we relaxed on the patio. It was a nice night until it started to cloud up. There was a big storm that night.”

He skipped the part about jumping in the sack, but I let it go.

“I got up at about five and left for the airport about 5:45. I was running late, but I made it on time. I have the TSA precheck card,” he said.