 
### MARATHON NIGHTMARE

by

Meredith Rae Morgan

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Meredith Morgan

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter 1

The plane bounced once and then screeched to a halt at the gate of the dinky airport in Marathon, Florida. Exiting the plane, Bev Deller paused on the top step to smile at the the sun blazing from a turquoise sky with not even a hint of a cloud. She had not seen the sun in weeks of cloudy, chilly Ohio weather. Bev had been to Florida before, but always in the summertime when it was hot, humid and miserable. She had never understood the attraction of Florida until that November day.

Bev shook off the temptation to go find a beach chair and a trashy novel, reminding herself that she was not on vacation. She picked up her rental car and asked for directions to her hotel. The rental agent gave her a map of the island that looked like a restaurant place mat. He drew a line from the airport to her hotel, which was a straight line with one left turn. She looked at the map and discovered that Marathon Key was only a few miles long, very narrow and had only one main road, the Overseas Highway, which ran from the mainland of Florida to Key West. She pulled into the hotel parking lot less than ten minutes later. Seven of those minutes had been spent at interminable traffic lights.

The desk clerk checked her in while she reviewed the phone messages that had stacked up in her voice mail while she was in the air. She dropped her suitcase in her room, but didn't take time to unpack it, shuffling the messages, putting them in the order that she would return the calls. Her first call was to Ben Tucker, her expert fire investigator. He picked up on the second ring and asked how long it would take her to get to the fire scene. She looked at her map and said, "Where is the hotel that burned?"

He gave her the address, telling her that the fire scene was on the north side of the Overseas Highway. She looked at the map and found that she was only about three blocks away. She decided to hoof it, telling Ben she'd be there in a few minutes.

Next she called her daughter to let Emily know she'd arrived safely. Emily asked what the weather was like. Bev responded, "Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to. What's it like in Ohio?"

Emily laughed, "Well, the good news is they've already canceled school for tomorrow due to the expected ice."

"Perhaps we should consider having you come here for Thanksgiving."

"You won't have to ask me twice about that. You want me to book a ticket?"

"Not yet. Let me see how things go here over the next couple of weeks."

Bev was power-walking up the sidewalk by the time they finished their conversation, relishing the warm salty air. She couldn't see the ocean, but she could smell it. She smiled to herself. _There sure as heck were worse places to have to investigate a suspicious fire!_

Her next call was to Peter Dietz, the head of the fraud unit at Midwestern Casualty Insurance Company. She was on loan to his department for this investigation. Pete picked up the phone on the first ring and asked her if she was on the scene yet. She explained that she would be meeting Ben Tucker at the hotel in a few minutes. She asked if Dietz had received the preliminary report from the fire department. He told her it had come in shortly after she left the airport in Cincinnati.

He said, "It doesn't look good. The investigator believes the fire was intentionally set, and offered the opinion that it was a very professional job. The only injury was minor smoke inhalation on the part of a maid who was cleaning in one of the rooms. There were no registered guests. I'm thinking this one should be simple."

Bev made a face and shook her head, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We have a fire with suspicious origin. We don't know who set the fire or why. I have to say that the fact there were no registered guests at the hotel sets off alarm bells for me. Was the hotel in financial trouble?"

"More than likely, but that might not be a particular problem. The hotel was purchased a couple of years ago by a guy named Victor Diaz. He does a lot of things, but basically he appears to be in the restaurant and nightclub business. He bought the hotel for the purpose of tearing it down and building a nightclub. The City of Marathon denied his application stating that they don't want Marathon to turn into the kind of place Key West has become.

"Since the city commission refused his application to build a club, he has operated the hotel only half-heartedly while pursuing a fight for his rights to do she pleases with his property. He's got piles of money. It seems to me that the _Simply Paradise_ hotel provides a tax write-off for him during his battles with the city over tearing it down."

Bev reached the corner and could see the fire scene across the street. She told Pete she'd call him back later. She pushed the button for the walk light and called Tucker to let him know she'd be there in a minute. "Can we get inside the building?"

"Yeah. Local fire department and cops are being cooperative, so far, anyway. They know they've got arson on their hands, and they're deferring somewhat to us to corroborate that and to let them know what to do next. As usual, they're going to let us tote the load on the investigation, so your company can pay for my services and save the fire department money."

"Okay. I'll be there as soon as this light changes."

He laughed. "I'll go get lunch. You won't believe how long the lights are here. I guess they like to keep the main drag moving, but it's a nightmare to try to cross the street from north to south."

After what seemed like an eternity to Bev, the light finally changed. She joined Tucker and the local fire investigator in front of the shell of the former _Simply Paradise_ hotel. Tucker introduced her to the chief and a few of the cops who were milling around. She asked for a full briefing. Tucker rattled off the information they knew and added a longer list of things they were investigating. Basically, what they knew was that the hotel had been a dump, that it had been losing money for years, and it had been torched using a sophisticated combination of accelerants in various places throughout the building. Tucker believed it was a professional job.

"Insured could afford to hire someone?"

"Yep. Insured's loaded as far as we can tell. The cops think this is a simple case of the insured torching the hotel because the city wouldn't let him tear it down."

Bev laughed. "That's actually a really good theory, under the circumstances. When was the last time the preliminary theory in a fire investigation turned out to be right?"

Tucker chuckled and said, "Oh, I don't know. Like ... never."

"What do you think?"

"I think that explanation is among an array of possibilities, but it's too neat and it almost raises more questions than it answers. I don't have a theory yet. I want to talk to the insured first."

"You haven't interviewed the insured yet?"

"Nobody can find him."

"What?"

"He's not at home in Key Biscayne. He's not checked into any of his usual getaways in the Islands. Nobody seems to know where he is."

"Has he at least checked in with the fire department?"

"Nope. That's the main reason the local fire investigators think he's behind it."

"It could be guilt, but it could be lack of interest. I'm told this guy owns a lot of properties."

"Yeah. He owns restaurants and nightclubs in Florida, Mexico, Jamaica, the Virgin Islands and Aruba."

"I suppose that his behavior could be a sign of guilt. Strikes me more as utter lack of interest in a crummy property in Marathon that was not turning a profit and not likely to fit into his core line of business. Maybe this hotel is such a small part of his holdings, he doesn't care."

"That's kind of my line of thinking."

They walked around the building. Like many Florida motels built in the fifties and sixties, the office was detached from the motel itself, and had not been damaged. Bev scrunched her eyebrows together, and muttered, "That seems odd. You'd think the person who torched the place would have burned the office, too. That's where the records are that I'm assuming would incriminate the owner because the place was obviously a money pit."

"You are correct on both counts. All the records are intact and they demonstrate that the hotel was hemorrhaging money. In fact, it had never made a profit in even one quarter during the four years Victor Diaz owned the place. He did absolutely nothing to rectify the situation. And, it's not as though he was a bad businessman. On the contrary, his restaurants are goldmines. In all his other operations he runs a really tight ship."

"This place was a tax write-off?"

"I think we should get a forensic accountant to look at his business operations, but that would be my guess. I think he figured that if the city of Marathon wouldn't let him open a nightclub, which is the kind of business he knows best and runs well, he'd use the hotel as a tax write-off for a while. Based on what I've been able to learn about him from some brief Internet searches, he probably needs the deduction."

"Is there any indication Mr. Diaz is into anything other than restaurants and nightclubs. Like, maybe, something illegal?"

"I think that will be your department, but I'd be surprised if there weren't a shady side to his operations. Restaurants and nightclubs are often fronts for other business operations, including illegal ones. Diaz is very rich and he runs an operation that caters to the kind of people who might be interested in gambling, drugs, prostitution or Lord knows what."

Bev's phone beeped. She glanced at the screen and then answered on the second ring. "Hey, there. What good news do you have for me today? Has the boss decided that I've been working too hard and I should come home now?"

Her assistant laughed and said, "Nope, he thinks you're such a pain in the ass, he likes to keep you as far away from the office as possible. Which isn't hard today. The ice storm has shut down the city. I'm working from home. If you need me, call my cell."

"Okay. What's up?"

"I was calling to let you know I just emailed you a copy of the policy on the hotel. It looks weird to me. The way the manager, who reported the loss, described the property, it sounds like a kind of typical crummy motel in the Middle Keys that shouldn't be worth more than a couple of million mainly on account of the land. According to the policy, the _Simply Paradise_ was insured for $25 million. That struck me as odd."

"I don't know what it looked like before it burned, but judging from the size of the building and the seediness of the office that did not burn, I'd say that's probably in the vicinity of $23 million more than I'd expect this property to be worth. Perhaps I should pay a call on the agent. Who is it?"

"Guy from Miami. I called his office this morning because our file doesn't include a copy of the original signed application. I asked the agent for a copy of their file, including especially the app."

Bev laughed, "How cooperative was he?"

"Oh I didn't talk to him. The account manager told me he's in New Zeland on a boondoggle from one of the national insurance companies. She made it a point to tell me he's a big shot producer for several national carriers and is way too important to actually come into his office on a Monday."

"What does our file show?"

"Well, there's an application that is signed by the agent. There is no indication the agent ever saw the property or ordered an inspection."

Bev pursed her lips and shook her head, "So how come a big dog kind of producer who works with national carriers placed this policy with Midwestern Indemnity? Does he do much business with us?"

"Not much. He's been appointed with us for about five years. It looks to me as though he places his really crappy properties with us."

Bev laughed, "Oh, I'm guessing that since profit sharing bonuses are based in part on loss history, he puts his good properties with the companies that offer bonuses, and parks the shit on our books."

"That's what it looks like to me. He has about fifty policies with us, most of them rental houses in crummy neighborhoods in south Florida, few seedy motels and a bunch of mom and pop businesses in pretty bad areas. He seems to be the agent for a lot of slum lords."

"Who the hell is the marketing guy who signed up this agent? And what underwriter is approving these accounts? Remind me to talk to someone in underwriting when I get back. We don't need business like this on our books. I like this guy less every time you open your mouth."

"I've sent you his contact information so you can call him and make friends. The current marketer here is Stan Bostwick; he's new and I don't know him. The underwriter is Felicia Rodriguez. I asked her what she was up to with this. She said he's a big agent in South Florida and she thought maybe if she took some small stuff from him he might be willing to move some of his good stuff."

Bev sputtered, "What the hell do you suppose she was she smoking when she came up with that theory? I know times are bad in the insurance industry, but that's ridiculous."

"When you get home are you going to go introduce yourself to Ms. Rodriguez? I'm sure she'll love having a visit from you. Everyone in the underwriting department just loves you, and of course I know the feeling is mutual."

"Cut the sarcasm. No. I am not going to but into the business of the underwriting department. I've gotten in too much trouble for that in the past. I will, however, share my opinion with anyone who might ask."

"Yeah, like they want your opinion! In any case, I emailed the stuff to you. Let me know if you need anything else. Do not tell me what the weather is like down there."

Bev clicked off and rejoined Tucker. Then she looked at her watch. "I missed lunch. The five and a half tiny pretzels they generously served me on the plane have worn off. Let's go grab a bite. Where are you staying?"

"Same place as you. There's a greasy spoon on the corner that served me the best breakfast I've had in a while. Waitress told me they were making a seafood chowder for lunch that is supposedly great."

"Let's go!"

They walked into the diner, which had approximately ten tables, only one of which was occupied. The waitress greeted Tucker as though he were a regular and showed them to a table. Tucker asked if they had any of the fish chowder left. She shook her head, "Sorry. You gotta get here early to get chowder. Cook only makes one pot. Every week. On Monday. Carry out orders alone clean us out by noon."

Bev smiled, "I'm guessing pretty much everything on the menu is good."

The waitress wrinkled her nose and said, "Some things are better than others. You like fish?"

"Love it."

"How about a grilled fish sandwich with a side of the best Cole slaw you'll ever taste?"

"Make the fish blackened."

The waitress winked and said, "Even better."

She looked at Ben Tucker and said, "You look like a burger and fries kind of guy."

"I am when I'm traveling, and my wife isn't here to nag me about the fat content."

The waitress looked confused. She looked from Bev to Tucker. Bev explained that they worked for the company that insured the hotel that burned. The waitress nodded, and finished taking the order with no further questions. The food was fabulous and so reasonable it fell into the category of downright cheap. Bev remarked that for once in her life she expected her boss wouldn't bitch about her meal charges on her expense account. Tucker tasted the burger and said that he'd be happy to eat there three times a day for as long as they were in town.

Tucker took out his list of things requiring further investigation. They divided it up between them. Then they walked the three blocks to the hotel where they were staying. Bev unpacked her suitcase and set her laptop on the the table by the window. She called the insurance agency in Miami to request an appointment with the agent who sold the policy. The receptionist told her that Mr. Ochorios was out of the country. Bev asked who had actually dealt with Victor Diaz and how much business he had placed through the agency. The receptionist said, "I'll transfer you to Maria-Elena Hernandez, she's the customer service rep for Mr. Diaz's account."

A few moments later, a pleasant sounding woman came on the line and asked how she could be of service. Bev introduced herself and said she wanted to discuss the Diaz account and specifically the hotel that burned. The woman said, "I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to verify that you are the investigator for the insurance company. We often get calls regarding our high net worth customers which are from people who are trying to get information they're not entitled to receive."

"I'm not in the least offended. We can do it one of two ways. I'll make an appointment to come to Miami tomorrow to sit down and chat. I'll show you my ID. The other option is I can give you the main number at the company's headquarters in Ohio. They'll put you through to my assistant who will tell you that I'm in Florida on a fire investigation. Actually, let's do both of those things."

The woman paused for a long time and finally said, "Okay. I'd prefer to talk to Mr. Ochorios before providing you with information from our files, but if you're the claims adjuster, I know I need to cooperate."

Bev gave her the main number at the company's office in Dayton, Ohio. Then they confirmed an appointment for the next day at 10:30 AM.

After that, Bev went for a walk. She was amazed by all the old people riding bikes, walking, running and even roller- blading on the wide sidewalks and bike trails that were everywhere on the island. The temperature was in the mid-seventies, and a light breeze, humid and salty, blew in from the Atlantic. Bev found herself daydreaming about how much fun it would be to have Emily join her for Thanksgiving.

She passed a bike rental shop and noticed a sign offering weekly rentals for $75.00. She knew she would be in Marathon for at least a week and she loved exploring new places by bike. She paid the rental fee and the deposit. The clerk looked at the clock and said, "You've got just about enough time to ride to the end of the island, there's a part of the old Seven Mile bridge that they left standing. It juts out over the ocean for a couple of miles. It's a very easy ride from here. The sunsets from the bridge are amazing. Sunrises, too, if you're an early-bird."

Bev thanked the guy and rode off, heading west. The bike wasn't as nice as her cross-country bicycle at home, but it would be fine for short trips, and all trips on Marathon would be short. She arrived at the end of the bridge a few minutes before sunset and stopped to watch the show. As soon as the sun passed the horizon she hurried back toward her hotel before it got completely dark, but then realized that the bike trail, which ran along the highway, was very well lighted, and still busy with bike traffic, as well as walkers and runners. She needn't worry about being caught out alone at night, at least not on the main road. By the time she reached the cross street to her hotel, it was dark and the side street was not well lighted. She rode down the middle of the street to her hotel, and took the bike inside the room with her rather than mess with the bike chain in the dark.

She'd had a long day, so she went to bed early. She set the alarm for 5:30 AM, intending to ride out to the bridge and watch the sunrise before heading for Miami.

Chapter 2

The glorious sunsets in the Keys are justly famous, to the extent that Key West has turned sunset into an excuse for a daily party (as if the citizens of the Conch Republic _needed_ an excuse to party), as well as a tourist attraction. Bev preferred sunrises. She found sunrises as beautiful as sunsets. More importantly, for Bev every sunrise offer a promise that never failed to lift her spirits and inspire her to face the new day with hope for some kind of new adventure. She watched the sun come up in the presence of a dozen or so other early-birds. Then she peddled back to her hotel, showered and pointed her rental car northeast toward Miami.

She arrived earlier than she expected and drove around for a while, sightseeing and looking for places she had seen on TV. She drove out to the peninsula, crossing the causeway by the cruise terminals, which came out at South Beach. From there, she headed north up Collins Avenue for a while before looping back to make her appointment. It was too early in the morning for the beach residents to be up and about, so Miami Beach felt deserted. To Bev's eye, it was a chilling sight: block after block of high-rise condos and hotels on one side of the street, seedy restaurants and shops on the other, and no people other than a few homeless people checking out garbage cans. It reminded her of the opening scene of a horror movie.

Worse, she was only a hundred yards or so from the ocean but she didn't even catch a glimpse of it on the entire drive.

It took her no time at all to decide that Miami was not her cup of tea. She grew more certain of that when she got lost on the way back to Coconut Grove and ended up in a neighborhood of burned out and abandoned buildings that she thought must resemble downtown Baghdad.

Eventually she found her way out of the war zone and located the Ochorios Insurance Agency. The receptionist ushered her into a conference room, offered coffee and told her that Ms. Hernandez would be with her shortly. Bev noticed that, while the receptionist answered the phone in English, after the initial greeting, most of her conversations were in Spanish. She could hear the staff talking among themselves through the open door. They all spoke almost exclusively Spanish with occasional bursts of Spanglish. She felt as though she were in a foreign country.

Maria Elena Hernandez joined her, carrying the original of the Diaz file and a copy which was about twice the size of the original. She pushed the copy toward Bev. "This is a copy of our paper file, plus a printout of the information from our computer system. I've given you everything we have on the motel in Marathon. You should know that Mr. Diaz is not a person for putting all his eggs in one basket. He has a number of his properties insured with us, but I'm given to understand that he has properties insured through at least four Miami agencies that I know of, and several foreign agencies as well. I've told him repeatedly that having all his property insured by one agency would allow the agent to make sure there were no gaps in coverage between policy forms that don't match up. He's made it clear that he understands the risks but has no intention of putting all his business with any one agent."

Bev said, "Sounds like a man with a lot of property and some privacy issues."

"That would be my guess."

"How well do you know him?"

"I've never met him. He conducts all his business on the phone or by email. In recent years, his assistant has been my main point of contact."

"What do you know about him."

"Not a lot. He's rich. But, we have a lot of rich clients. Mr. Ochorios is very well connected in the Cuban community. He also has a lot of clients from Central and South America who own property in Miami. Everyone in our office is licensed in the Florida, Puerto Rico and the US Virgin Islands. Most of us also have a licenses to sell insurance in several other countries as well. I am licensed in Florida and New York as well as the Cayman Islands, Mexico, Belize and Costa Rica. Our foreign clients like the fact that we all speak Spanish and they can buy insurance here for properties anywhere in the Latin American world. There are a few countries that do not allow non-residents to be licensed to sell insurance. In those countries, we have cooperative arrangements with local agents: we refer business to them that we can't write. They do the same when their customers want to insure property in America."

"Sounds like quite a business."

The woman nodded, "It is a very successful agency, but we are not unique. Personally I think we do it better than most of the others in Miami, but there are a lot of agents in South Florida whose clientele includes a significant number of foreign investors or Americans with business interests abroad."

Bev made a note and flipped through the file. The agency insured Diaz's home on Key Biscayne, two restaurants in the Miami area, one in Key West, one in Georgetown in the Cayman Islands and one in St. Thomas. They were all multimillion dollar operations. The motel in Marathon was the only business that did not have a restaurant or casino.

"You have the building insured for $25M. That seems very high for the kind of structure it appeared to have been."

"Really?" Hernandez flipped through the file and pulled out some photos of a beautiful hotel on a private beach with a main building surrounded by lovely cottages. "Based on the photos and the hotel's website, we thought the figure the insured gave us sounded right. We don't do property appraisals. We write the coverage using the amount the insured and/or the bank want to insure a building for."

Bev tapped the photos with her index finger and said, "I'd say you're right. That's probably a $25M property. Problem is: that's not the hotel that burned down. The _Simply Paradise_ was a crummy fleabag on the Florida Bay side of the Island."

Hernandez' eyes went wide and she leaned forward, "Why would he pay so much for insurance that he didn't need?"

"I don't know, but I suggest you check out his other properties and make sure they are actually the properties described in the insurance application. I can tell you for a fact, this one isn't."

"What does that mean?"

"I think it means that we have a serious coverage problem."

The woman leaned back and narrowed her eyes, "On top of the fact that the papers are saying it's arson."

"I only arrived yesterday. The cause of the fire is under investigation. I'm not prepared to make any statements about that." She tapped the file with the tip of her index finger, "But first I will have to figure out what the heck is up with this coverage issue."

Bev stood up, "Keep those originals locked up in a safe place. Have your IT guy go through your emails and capture all email between anybody in your office and Mr. Diaz." The woman started to puff up, but Bev said, "I'm not asking you to give that information to me. I know it's confidential and I'm not entitled to it without a subpoena. I'm asking you to collect it, capture it, and save it in a secure file on your server. Somewhere along the line you'll get a subpoena from somebody for that information. I'm giving you a heads up to secure all evidence. This is a simple fire investigation at this point, but I think you've been in this business long enough to know that based on the information you just showed me, if it doesn't end up being a criminal matter due to arson and/or insurance fraud, it's going to be a civil coverage dispute. Either way, lawyers will be involved."

"Do you think we should hire a lawyer to represent the agency?"

"Obviously you need to do what you need to do from a business standpoint. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't have any other conversations with anybody about this claim – including me – without your lawyer present. I'd also notify my professional liability insurance carrier."

Hernandez looked offended, "You think we were complicit in insurance fraud?"

"I don't think anything at this point other than that you are sitting on evidence that's for sure going to end up as an exhibit in a court case, or two -- or a dozen. Could be fraud perpetrated on you. Could be a terrible mistake. Maybe on the insured's part. Maybe on your part. If I were in your situation, I'd want my insurance company and a good lawyer on my side." She laughed and held up her hands in a surrendering gesture, "But, you have to understand. I'm a regular Nervous Nelly when it comes to potential legal disputes. I don't feel safe without a gaggle of lawyers whispering in my ear."

They shook hands. Bev could tell that the meeting had deeply shaken Ms. Hernandez. Bev's gut told her that Hernandez was not involved in whatever shady business might be going on, if it was shady business and not just a mistake.

Due to the madness of Miami traffic, Bev didn't try to use her cell phone until she got on US 1 headed toward Key Largo. Once she felt that she wasn't likely to get lost, she called the head of the fraud unit at Midwestern Insurance. "Hey, Pete. I have some interesting news for you, but I don't have the first clue what to make of it. I met with the agent who wrote the policy on the _Simply Paradise_. She gave me a copy of their file which includes the original application and the policy. I questioned the limits because they insured the building for $25M, and it's a dump that can't have been worth more than $2 or maybe $3 million. She showed me a bunch of photos and replacement cost information she says was provided by the insured. It's all nice and well documented. Problem is that the pictures aren't photos of the hotel that burned. They are pictures of a beautiful hotel somewhere on an ocean-front property, with a main building surrounded by bungalows. The hotel that burned is on the Florida Bay side, it has no beach, just a boat ramp and a deep water canal."

"Holy mackerel! I've never run across that. Is that some kind of terrible mistake or an attempt to commit fraud."

"Well, obviously, I don't know, but I don't think it was a screw up on the part of the agent. The account manager appears to be very competent. I haven't gone through it completely yet, but the file appears to be well documented, neat and complete. She was offended when I questioned the limits, and she was visibly shocked when I told her the photos did not depict the building that burned. I can't imagine that the insured gave her the wrong address and photos for the location by mistake, but I also can't imagine why he'd want to buy $25M of insurance for a dump when he had to know that we'd be able to figure out immediately that the building was different from the one in the photos and described on the application."

"What would be in in it for him to do that?"

"Maybe he intended to burn the place and he thought we were stupid and we wouldn't figure it out."

"Do you believe that?"

"Hell, no. This guy's a rich businessman with successful operations all over the Caribbean. He's not a fool. I have nothing else, so I'm babbling."

"Okay. Scan me the photos when you can. I'll get somebody working on trying to find the actual hotel we are insuring. I want a statement under oath from the insured. Lawyer up, now."

"I'll take the insured's statement as soon as the cops find him. He has not surfaced." She could here Dietz swearing under his breath. "Who do you recommend I hire to help me? I haven't worked in the Keys before and don't know anybody here."

Dietz laughed, "I would pay to see your interactions with a South Florida lawyer!"

"What does that mean?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"Tell me now."

"Okay. You know how much you love working with New York lawyers?"

"Not."

"South Florida lawyers are mostly from New York but the Florida heat affects their brains and makes them even more obnoxious."

"Oh, goody. I'm so happy to be here. I never want to return to Ohio where things are normal and the people speak English."

"I'll get back to you with a recommendation for a lawyer."

She clicked off and called Ben Tucker, to fill him in on her meeting and to find out if the insured had been located yet. He told her that the insured had not yet surfaced. He added that the fire department had made a definitive determination that the fire was intentionally set, and they turned it over to the state's attorney for prosecution. Obviously the cops have to find out who set the fire first, but the prosecutor is involved in the investigation."

"Already?"

"Bev, it was clear. It would have been obvious even to a non-professional. We think it was a professional job that was intentionally made to look sloppy. That's not unusual for professional arsonists, but why would a professional torch a fleabag like that?"

She said, "Maybe the insured thought he could collect $25M. That's how much he insured it for. I can't imagine a businessman being that stupid."

"I agree that he's not stupid. Something's up here, but I caution you. You're in South Florida, now, dear. Things are different here."

"That's the second time in the last half hour someone has made a statement like that. What are you talking about?"

"Stick around."

She drove back to Marathon, fuming. She had run into a lot of crazy situations in the past, but never one quite like this. She went back to her hotel, scanned the photos to Pete Dietz and then spent a while studying the file. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that, while Ms. Hernandez was neat and generally competent, she did not appear to be very inquisitive. There were a lot of little inconsistencies in the material submitted by the insured that Bev thought the agent should have explored more fully. That was always a bone of contention between her and agents: she thought they did not ask enough probing questions when they initially placed coverage; they thought she asked too many probing questions after a loss occurred.

Her phone rang and she picked it up without looking at the caller ID. She could tell the caller was a lawyer before he finished giving his name. She hated how trial lawyers spoke. It sounded as though they were talking to a jury even if they were in a car talking on the phone. He identified himself as Barry Raymond the state's attorney for Monroe County and asked if she'd have time to meet with him soon. She replied that she was at his disposal. He asked if she'd had lunch. She laughed and said, "Actually I didn't even have breakfast. I'm starving."

"Good, meet me..." He paused. "Do you eat sea food?"

"Yes."

"I'll pick you up at your hotel in five minutes. I'll take you to the best seafood place in Marathon. Warning, it's outdoor dining, so don't dress up."

She laughed, "I'm an insurance adjuster. I have black suits and navy blue suits, plus rubber boots and jeans for crawling around in rubble."

"Something in between would work in the Keys."

Bev didn't have any "in between" clothes. She decided against wearing her suit jacket, but she took a cardigan with her in case it was chilly. That turned out to be the perfect choice. They ate fabulous fish sandwiches at an outdoor place where they ordered at a walk-up window and then sat at picnic tables watching the gulls trying to entice diners to feed them. Those who gave in to the nagging birds drew irritated admonitions from the restaurant staff about not feeding the damned nuisances.

Bev liked the fact that Raymond did not seem to be in a hurry to talk about the fire until after they ate. She hated talking business while eating.

As they ate, they made small talk, mostly about the weather and the kind of minimal personal information one shares in a professional setting. Raymond asked Bev if she had been to the Keys before. She said she had been all over the country but had never handled a claim in the the Keys. He asked about vacations. She laughed, "I travel so much on business that my idea of a vacation is to stay in my house and not change out of my jammies for a week. Actually, my daughter and I are making an exception this year. I got a bonus for the last job I did, so we're going on a cruise at Christmas."

He said his nieces and nephews liked to cruise, mainly because they had plenty of children's activities and the kids could manage to avoid being dragged on tours to boring places like museums.

Neither of them mentioned a spouse.

Bev finished all of her sandwich and even ate one of the magnificent hush puppies. She put her hand on her stomach and said, "Oh, my God, I can't remember the last time I ate so much, but that was the best fish I've had, at least since lunch yesterday. I love fish, but I've never had it grilled before. I really like it."

"It comes as a revelation to many people that you can cook fish without breading it and dunking it in hot oil or slathering it with butter and baking the hell out of it."

"It's a really nice revelation. I'll never eat baked fish again – not that I often ate it voluntarily before. I thought all edible fish came fried. But, then, I'm from Ohio, so what do I know about fresh fish?"

They gathered up their paper plates, threw out the trash and put the plastic trays on a cart set out for that purpose. He suggested that they walk out on one of the docks or go back to the car to talk. He didn't want to discuss the case in a public place, where a lot of locals were hanging about. She put on her sweater and they found a bench on one of the docks overlooking the marina.

He said bluntly, "The cops are telling me this is arson. They want me to prosecute. What they haven't told me is who I'm supposed to prosecute. Can you help me out?"

She shook her head and made a face. "My investigator agrees that the fire was arson. He says he thinks its a professional job that was supposed to look sloppy and amateurish. There are a lot of things that don't add up. Usually when the insured burns the building they want to destroy the evidence of how badly the business was failing. If it was a professional job arranged by the insured, why didn't they burn down the office, too?

"Another very important unanswered question is: where is the insured? He has not checked in with the insurance company or the fire department. I've left messages for him at every number I can find and have sent him several emails. I get an auto-response saying he is traveling on business and does not have access to email. What kind of international businessman doesn't have a smart phone or at least an assistant who monitors his email? These are only a few of the questions I have.

"The bottom line is we don't have a clue who set this fire or why. Therefore, I can't answer your question. Yet."

She held up her hands and shrugged, "Usually we start our investigation with a statement from our insured and then work outwards from there. I'm faced with the prospect of having to investigate everything else until my insured turns up."

"Do you have his insurance file?"

"I have a copy of the policy file on the _Simply Paradise_. The agent who wrote the policy has also placed coverage for a few of his other operations with different carriers. She told me he has his properties insured through several other agencies as well."

"Is that wise?"

"I don't think so. The agent told me she's warned him for years that it's risky to do that. Too many chances for gaps in coverage and things to fall through the cracks."

"Why would an insured do that?"

"In my experience there are several reasons. One is that insureds – particularly either politically connected people or people who are otherwise prominent in their communities – like to spread their business around to various agents for reasons of professional networking and, if they're involved in politics, for political expedience. Sometimes really rich people, especially in small communities, like to spread their business around so no one agent knows about all their holdings. From what I know about Diaz, I'd guess it's a little bit of all of the above, plus maybe some South Florida Cuban rules that I don't know about."

Raymond stared off into the distance watching a plane descending for a landing in Key West. He sighed. "I'm guessing you're going to want a statement under oath of your insured right out of the box."

"Yes. Whenever he surfaces. We're not messing around with a recorded statement. My inclination would be to get him under oath before he can disappear again."

"The cops are hot to prosecute, but my hands are tied until they give me some evidence of who to prosecute."

"Do you have warrant out for the insured?"

"Not yet, but it sounds like we may have enough information to at least get a judge to give us that. Hopefully he'll cooperate with a statement, even if he's out of the country."

Bev made a dubious face but didn't say anything. She asked, "Once you press charges, you can subpoena the agent's records. Can you get them before you are ready to indict him?"

"Only if the cops could convince a judge in Miami to issue a warrant to search the various agencies where he has coverage."

"You say that like you don't think it's likely."

"It's on a par with the odds of winning the Power Ball."

"Why? It seems his insurance records are material to the investigation. I have to tell you there are some strange things in the file I have, and I would really like to get a look at the policies for his other properties."

"What's strange in the file?"

She thought long and hard before she answered. She was pretty sure that a lawyer would tell her not to answer him, which was exactly why she agreed to talk to him before she engaged an attorney to represent Midwestern Casualty. She knew that after she hired one, her lawyer would raise seven kinds of hell for sharing that information, but she was used to being yelled at by the management of the insurance company and their attorneys. It was kind of a game for her.

"Without giving you any confidential information, I'll just tell you that there are curious inaccuracies in the file. It is not apparent whether it is a mistake or intentional misrepresentation. Somebody needs to look at all his policies to see if there are similar inaccuracies in other files. Naturally, I'd like that somebody to be me. And, I may have to sue my insured so I can issue subpoenas to his agents. Problem is, if I can't find my insured, how am I going to serve him with a lawsuit so I can get the files to complete my coverage investigation."

"Seems to me, you're in kind of a fix. If you sue your insured prematurely and it turns out he didn't do anything wrong, you open the company to a potential bad faith claim. But, you may need to sue him in order to complete your investigation."

"Or, I could simply deny the claim based on the insured's lack of cooperation which is a breach of the insurance contract, and go back to Ohio. You guys could figure out who burned the building and why. And prosecute that person in due course."

"If we discover that the arsonist was not your insured, he could sue if you do that."

"Right and if he does, I can get him under oath and I get his insurance records. At which point I may prove he committed insurance fraud. Then I'll be your star witness when you prosecute him for that. Alternatively, I may discover that the inaccuracies in this file are truly just sloppiness on the part of the agent or the insured and that someone else burned the building, in which case I may have to pay the claim. Then my company will sue the agent for professional negligence."

"And you'll be the star witness in that case as well."

"Not in that case. I work with an expert on insurance practices and procedures. I let him be the star witness in E&O cases. He's really good on the stand, and he loves the attention."

Raymond commented, "No matter what happens, this case will probably end up in front of a judge."

"I'm thinking probably several judges. You'll pursue him on criminal charges in Florida. He'll sue the company in state court in Florida. If we sue him, we'll sue in federal court."

"Lotta lawyers going to make a lot of money on this one."

"They always do."

He laughed, "I'm working the wrong side of the street."

"You sure as heck are if you want to make any money, but you're right where you should be if you like trial work. I work with a couple of kick-ass defense lawyers who started out as prosecutors. They beat the hell out of plaintiffs' lawyers who don't know how to try a case."

He smiled and nodded. "Okay. So how do you and I stay friends without getting in trouble with our superiors?"

"We can't, but I never let that stop me."

He leaned back his head and laughed into the air until he got the hiccups. After a few minutes he wiped his eyes. She looked offended and said, "It wasn't that funny."

"Oh, yes it was. The word on you is that you are the best there is at what you do, but you are also the biggest pain in the ass in the insurance business."

She laughed and pretended to look sheepish. "Whether or not that offends me depends on who said it."

"My understanding is that it's a fairly universal opinion."

It was Bev's turn to laugh out loud. "Well, at least you can't say you weren't warned."

He said, "I guess our hands are kind of tied until Diaz surfaces."

"If he doesn't surface soon, I'm going to pull the plug and deny coverage due to lack of cooperation. On the one hand, Thanksgiving turkey in Ohio sounds pretty good to me. On the other hand, it may smoke him out."

"Will you pursue your fire investigation?"

"My fire expert is already on his way home to California. He's prepared to say it was arson. It seems to me, it's up to the cops now to prove who set the fire."

"Will you come back and testify if we prosecute your insured?"

"Oh, yeah. Even though we may initially deny on failure to cooperate, if it is determined the insured torched the place, we'll be all over him and I'll be your best friend in the world. You know how cops get when somebody kills a police officer? Well, claims people go similarly berserk when we catch people committing insurance fraud. We like to make them pay."

He stood up and held out his hand in the general direction of the car. As they walked, he asked, "Who are you thinking of hiring as coverage counsel?"

"I don't know. My boss is working on that. I've never worked in the Keys before, so I don't know the players."

He laughed, "This will be unlike anything you've ever experienced."

"You are the third person who's told me that today, and I'm getting tired of it. Floridians are a bit like Texans: you wear your weirdness just a little too proudly for my tastes. Besides, I have handled claims in Las Vegas and in Atlantic City. I am not denying that Florida is a bizarre place: I recall all too well the election of 2000. But, I cannot believe that Florida could be any worse than Nevada or New Jersey."

"I'll be interested to hear your opinion on that when this is all over."

"I'll be sure to keep you informed."

Before she started her car, Bev checked her voice and email messages. Dietz had sent her the names of two lawyers, one in Miami and one in Key West. She called the guy in Key West and he happened to be free to meet her that afternoon, so she turned right onto the highway and headed for Margaritaville.

She'd heard of Key West her whole life. Her dad had been stationed there when he was in the Navy and he had loved it. When she was in middle school, one of her friends went on a vacation to the Keys and brought back some shells for Bev that she cherished for years. She still had the last unbroken one in her special box of treasures in her bedroom closet. She could not wait to see Key West for herself.
Chapter 3

Key West was a crushing disappointment to Bev. It was neither the slightly seedy, laid back playground for sailors and fishermen that her dad had described – and that she imagined every time she escaped into a Jimmy Buffet album –, nor was it the family-friendly beach getaway her friend had described so long ago. The narrow streets were jammed with cruise ship passengers and other tourists zipping around on scooters that most of them did not appear to know how to operate properly. The streets were lined with hundreds of souvenir shops selling tee-shirts and trinkets along with designer stores selling overpriced clothes, jewelry and artwork, ranging from tourist tacky to fine art.

With some difficulty, Bev managed to maneuver her way to the address the attorney gave her. She parked in the back of the building, there being no other parking spots on the island that she could see. The attorney greeted her personally, saying that his assistant had left early. He reached out his hand and said, "Palmer Stearns. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She smiled and said, "Likewise. Although I have to tell you, I'd prefer future meetings to take place in Marathon. I don't think I can handle the stress of trying to navigate a rental car through the streets of Key West with all those scooters and tourists."

He laughed, "I know the tourist business is our bread and butter, but, Lord, it is annoying."

She explained the claims situation to him, and handed him a CD containing a scanned copy of the agent's file and a copy of the fire expert's preliminary findings. She told him that she wanted him to review the material and make a recommendation for the Company's next steps. He pushed his glasses up on his forehead (which stretched about half-way back his head) and pinched the bridge of his nose. Bev almost laughed. That was a gesture her ex-husband used all the time when he was annoyed with her. She had to fight the urge to become defensive just from habit. Eventually, he sighed and looked at her through narrowed lids, "I'm hoping you haven't met with Barry Raymond yet."

She replied, without only the barest hint of defiance in her voice, "Actually I had lunch with him today. Nice guy."

He laughed, "Then your reputation is accurate."

"Has everybody in the Keys heard of me? I had no idea I was so infamous outside of Ohio and Las Vegas where people often precede my name with some interesting expletives."

"Here's the thing you need to understand about the Keys...."

She held up her hands, "Do NOT give me a lecture about how things are different in Florida. I've heard that way too many times today!"

He smiled and said, "Okay, I'll save that for another day, but what I was going to say was the Keys are a very special place, even for the Bizzaro-Land that is Florida. The thing you have to remember about the Keys is that, while there are a lot of people here, most of them are tourists who are just passing through. A large number of them are winter residents whom the locals consider to be tourists who just regularly outstay their welcome. The smallest percentage of people here are the full-time residents. We make up what amounts to a chain of loosely connected small towns with a life-style and a culture of our own. Many of our families have been here for generations. We all know each other. We all back each other up. We don't open up to outsiders."

"Kind of like parts of Kentucky?"

"Exactly like parts of Kentucky, and for the same reasons! Have you adjusted claims there?"

"I started my career as an outside adjuster in rural areas of Eastern Kentucky and West Virginia. I spent five miserable, rotten years fearing for my life every time I denied a claim or made a settlement offer that somebody thought was too low. Please tell me nobody's going to pull a gun on me here."

"Has that happened to you before?"

"Actually it's happened a couple of times in Kentucky and once in West Virginia, every single time it happened I paid the insured exactly what he was asking for and got the hell out of town. Afterwards I stopped payment on the draft and then sent a check for what I originally intended to pay with a letter advising the insured to sign the release or I'd press criminal charges."

"I don't think anybody will pull a gun on you here, although I can't guarantee it. I can tell you that the locals are not likely to cooperate with you. The good news is that your insured is not a Monroe County local. He's a Cuban from Miami. If the truth be told, I think the locals despise people from Miami more than they despise Yankees, so that may work in your favor. The locals are almost evenly divided on the Cubans. Some are okay about dealing with Cubans. Others hate them."

"Thanks for the warning."

"It's not just a warning for your safety. It's also a warning about your ability to conduct a proper investigation. People may not threaten you, but they will not hesitate to withhold information, and a lot of them will just flat lie to you because they don't care enough about you or your infernal Yankee insurance company to bother to tell you the truth. You must understand the contempt with which Floridians view insurance companies due to enormous hurricane losses in recent years. The locals are going to tell you whatever they think will make you go away the fastest."

"In my experience, that's pretty much the universal opinion across America. Insurance adjusters are about as popular as dentists. But, I hear you and I understand."

"Be warned that you will have to check out every piece of information you are given, and you will have to check out the motivation of the people who cooperate with you, even when they're telling the truth."

"That's the first time anybody's ever warned me not to trust someone who's telling me the truth."

"The key is: how much truth are they telling you and how much are they keeping to themselves? And why?"

"Okay. You interested in working on this?"

"Sure. I charge $375 and hour."

She stood up and shook his hand, "Too rich for my blood, but thanks anyways for the warnings." She turned and headed for the door.

He didn't move but simply asked, "How much would you pay me?"

"$225."

"Oh, come on! You work in Vegas. I know you pay more than that out there."

"I pay $480 to my coverage counsel in Las Vegas and I have to fight like crazy with my company to authorize it every time. This is Key West, not Vegas."

"$325"

"$300"

"Done."

She walked back across the room and sat down again. "Okay now that we have that out of the way, my assistant will send you an engagement letter. Bill me monthly. All charges have to be billed with in 60 days or the company will automatically reject them."

"You use a billing scrubber?"

"The company uses one of those services, but when I catch them sending out my bills for that purpose, there's hell to pay. I review my own bills and my decisions on payment are final."

"I bet your boss just loves you."

"Actually he does, in between the times he's yelling at me for being a pain in the ass rogue adjuster who can't follow procedures and to whom insubordination is a sport, which I readily confess is true on occasions. He's just too funny when he's pissed off."

"This could be interesting. Most of the adjusters I've worked with from local companies are not so colorful."

He tapped his finger on the CD and said, "I want to review this carefully, but it seems to me that the first course of action will be to play the non-cooperation card. You should put your insured on notice that if he doesn't submit to a statement under oath within the next 30 days and turn over his insurance policies on all his properties, your company will deny coverage for breach of contract."

Bev added, "We should probably throw in that we want him to file a proof of claim within 60 days or so, too. It's always fun when insureds file bogus proofs of claim. In this case it could be particularly interesting to see how much damages he claims for the building. But, how do we serve him with notice if we can't find him."

"We send him a certified letter to his business address, with a copies sent via regular mail to his business and home addresses. We also send the notice to his registered agent for service of process, if he has one. If he doesn't I bet we can find out who his lawyer is and we can copy him or her. That ought to do it, at least for starters."

"Will that avert the need to file a declaratory judgment action?"

"Possibly. The insured may simply take no for an answer and go away. The building is almost criminally over-insured. The photos he gave the agent show a different property. What was he up to? We don't know, but he may simply let this go and not make a claim."

"You mean: He got what he wanted, the building will have to be torn down now."

"That's right. Maybe he doesn't need the insurance money."

Bev wrinkled her nose and knitted her eyebrows. "Then why was he paying premium on $25M coverage when he didn't need that much?"

"Maybe it was a mistake. I am not kidding you. I have some rich clients who own a lot of properties and I have actually had them mix up properties on insurance policies just like that. They own 20 houses or apartment buildings. They mix up the photos. When you're paying hundreds of thousands of dollars in premium on a bunch of property you wouldn't necessarily notice that one is being seriously over charged. It sounds crazy to ordinary people, but it happens."

"Okay. So the over-insurance is a mistake on the part of the insured. Don't you think he'll want at least the amount that the building is actually worth?"

"Not necessarily. If he's the one who burned it down, it would be better for him to forgo the insurance money altogether in order to stay out of jail."

"You're saying he got what he wanted and that will suffice."

"Could be. We won't know until we flush him out by threatening to deny coverage."

"Okay I'll draft a letter and send it to you for your review and editing. I think the letter should come from you so he knows I've already put this in the hands of a lawyer."

He stood up and said, "I agree."

She shook his hand and steeled herself for trip out of Key West.

The drive back to Marathon in the late afternoon just before sunset was worth the aggravation. For a while, the waters were blue green with orange and purple and green stripes. Soon the entire sky and sea turned to molten gold. Bev pulled off into a scenic overlook just in time to watch the sun sink below the horizon and the last rays glimmer and fade. She understood how ancient people could be totally freaked out by that experience. She was a little freaked out by it even with a general awareness of the science involved.
Chapter 4

The fire chief called just as she was approaching Marathon on the Seven Mile Bridge. He asked if she had any objections to beginning the process of tearing down the hotel. He told her that Ben Tucker had confirmed in an email that he had collected all the evidence he needed regarding the cause of the fire. The building was unsafe and the fire marshal wanted to start the demolition process as soon as it could be arranged. Bev told him she had no objections if Tucker didn't. She asked if the owner of the building had contacted anyone. The fire chief said he had not, adding, "It's the damnedest thing."

"What is?"

"Last time Mr. Diaz was in town, he told some people that he was giving up on the idea of building a nightclub here. He was supposedly heard to say that he thought he might as well just sell the hotel to a local buyer. Why would he burn it down if he was going to sell it?"

"That's interesting. But, I try to keep in mind my personal mantra: not every arson is committed by the owner of the building."

"That's true. This one smells to high heaven though."

"I agree, but I think you should go ahead and start the demolition for safety's sake."

The next morning, Bev biked past the ruin of the hotel on her way to watch the sunrise from the bridge. When she returned after daybreak, she took about 30 photos, just to supplement those Ben Tucker had taken, and to show exactly what the building looked like on the day it was to be demolished. While she was walking around in the parking lot, a piece of paper blew up against her shoe. When she picked it up, she discovered it was a 1000-peso Mexican note. She thought that was odd, and put the bill in her pocket, intending to turn it into the cops later in the day.

She went back to her hotel, showered and changed into sweats. She planned to spend the day doing research on the Internet into the background of Victor Diaz. Ordinarily, she'd have hired a private investigator to do that, but she didn't have much else to do, and she wanted to stay close in the event Diaz surfaced. She knew she would have to hire a PI eventually, but she needed some more information in order to know what kind of an investigator she might need. She was afraid that, given Diaz's far-flung business interests, she might have to hire a PI who could work in several countries, and she mentally braced for the battle she'd fight with company management over that proposition.

She ordered a pot of coffee and oatmeal from room service and was just firing up the computer when her phone rang. It was the fire chief. He said simply, "You need to get over here to the fire scene, pronto. Wear boots and jeans." He hung up before she had a chance to say a word.

Bev never failed to heed the summons of a fire department official. Most of the time those calls changed the direction of an investigation, typically not in a good way. She put on her jeans, rubber boots and a very old long sleeved T shirt, and then she sprinted up the street. She knew she could get to the hotel faster on foot than by car because there was no place to park in front of the hotel. She pumped the walk light button about a dozen times, but the light still took forever to change. Several people who should have been working on the demolition as well as police officers and what appeared to be half the fire department were milling around in the parking lot of the gutted hotel. Bev thought they looked like a bunch of "city workers" standing around, smoking cigarettes and scratching their heads.

The demolition equipment was sitting, silent and unmanned, in the middle of the parking lot. They had hit the building a time or two with a bulldozer and there was a hole in the wall on one end of the building, but for some reason the demolition operations had ceased. Bev reached in her pocket to make sure she had her camera just as the light changed. She ran across the street and was greeted by a crowd of men looking perplexed.

Bev looked around expecting someone to tell her what was going on, but no one spoke. Eventually the demolition guy said, "We stopped work because we're waiting for the FBI."

"The FBI? Why? What the hell is going on?"

One of the cops went over to a box next to the bulldozer. He came back carrying a wad of paper money in various Latin American denominations. There were several 1000-peso notes like the one that had blown against Bev's shoe, plus bills from Colombia, Brazil and Venezuela that she could see in a glance. Bev asked, "Where did this come from?"

The fire marshal answered, "It's stashed inside the walls of the building. We found bags of money in both rooms we hit with the bulldozer. We stopped and called the police. They called the FBI."

"What's all that money doing inside of the walls of a crummy hotel like this?"

The fire chief said, "We don't know, but we know for sure that it probably changes everything about our investigation of this fire."

Bev said, "I'm not so sure about that. It seems to me we can be pretty sure that anyone who knew that money was there probably didn't burn the place down. Who'd destroy that much money intentionally?"

"Someone who hates whatever the people who hid this money were doing. Hates it enough to destroy the money itself and even risk killing people." Bev turned to find Barry Raymond smiling at her with his mouth, but his hard eyes were focused on the hotel. Bev watched his concentration, knowing that he was completely oblivious to her or anyone else. After a few minutes, he looked at her, raised his eyebrows in a sardonic expression and said, "This complicates things."

"I agree, but I usually try to take one thing at a time. Your theory is somebody burned the building in a vendetta against the person or people who were running some kind of illegal operation here, drug dealing or money laundering, or both would be my guess. My initial hypothesis is that the arsonist did not know the money was there. Even under your theory, it would make more sense for someone so passionately opposed to the criminal activity would take the money, but not destroy it. A Robin Hood like that would either try to give the money back to its owners or use it to finance the opposition to whatever was going on here."

The fire chief nodded, but didn't look convinced. Raymond was still staring at the building as though he were waiting for it to speak, and did not respond.

Bev turned to the police chief, "I think we need to go back into the hotel to see if any of the walls were damaged before the fire. Maybe the arson was a cover-up for a robbery. Maybe somebody came in and cleaned out a bunch of money from one or more of the rooms and then burned the place to cover it up. Maybe this is money he missed." She looked from the chief to the prosecutor. "How's that for a starting theory."

The police chief said, "It's better than anything we came up with. In our fire investigation, we focused on the areas where the fire started. We didn't examine all the rooms."

Bev and the prosecutor said at the same time, "Do it now."

Bev asked, "May I go with you?"

The police chief looked at the prosecutor with a question in his eyes. Raymond said, "Get in and get out before the FBI gets here. They'll take over and lock you out."

Bev and the fire marshal, along with some cops, spent the next several hours digging through the rubble looking for any possible indication that walls had been damaged before the fire. Bev and one of the cops took dozens of photos before and after anyone moved anything. They found no evidence that the walls had been damaged before the fire, but they did find more money in almost every room. It seemed as though each room contained money from different countries.

When they had completed their tour of the structure, Bev and the cops crawled out of the rubble, looking like coal miners. Raymond laughed and said, "You might want to hose off outside before you go into the hotel to take a shower. You'll clog up the drains."

She said, "Don't be a wise-ass. I'm guessing that I'll for sure be a witness at any and all trials that come out of this now, while you've been standing there all clean and looking so GQ."

He said, "Yes. You will be a witness. I take it you've testified before?"

She nodded, "I've spent as much time in the witness box as a lot of expert witnesses only I'm such a damned idiot, I do it for a salary from a cheap-ass insurance company instead of at $500 an hour plus expenses."

"When you retire from the insurance business, I would think you would be able to make a lot of money as an expert witness."

"People have been telling me that for years. In fact, I could quit my job today and triple my salary doing consulting for people who've already asked me to do that."

"Why don't you?"

"Because I've spent most of my career thinking of most professional expert witnesses as whores, and I don't particularly don't like to think of myself as falling into that category."

He laughed, "An insurance adjuster with scruples. Who'd have thunk it?"

"It's probably just a bad case of idiocy." She wiped her face with her sleeve which only smeared the dirt around, and said, "Doesn't look like anyone damaged the walls before the fire."

"From the looks of the stuff the cops were hauling out, you found more money."

"If I had to guess, and without knowing the exchange rates for those currencies, I'd say there are at a minimum several hundred thousand dollars in that building. Maybe millions."

He pursed his lips and nodded once. About that time, a government vehicle turned into the parking lot. Bev looked down at herself and said softly, "In a few minutes, I'm going to have a new bodily orifice."

Raymond chuckled and said, "I'll try to help you as best I can, but I know that guy. He's an ass on a good day, and by the look on his face, today is not a good day."

The police chief, who was as filthy as Bev, walked up and said, "This is not going to be fun."

The FBI agent-in-charge threw open the door before the driver had turned off the engine, and headed straight for Bev and the grimy cop. The fire chief, who had also been in the building, intercepted him and tried to explain what they had been doing. The agent kept moving forward, backing the chief up until he was standing with the police chief and Bev, then he yelled at all three of them for at least five minutes, barely pausing for a breath. Bev thought that if he had switched to Spanish, he'd sound like Ricky Ricardo. That thought amused her enough to prevent her from getting mad. When he wound down a bit, the three of them just stood there in silence. They had no defense, so there was no point in antagonizing the agent further.

The FBI guy looked as though he wanted to yell at them for that, as well, but he gave up. Having got his annoyance off his chest, he asked what they had learned. They took turns narrating what they saw, did and touched in the building. Bev held up her camera and said, "Officer Johnson and I took probably a hundred photos each. We took pictures of everything before anybody touched it. I even took quite a bit of video showing exactly how we located the money."

"You're not a cop. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm the insurance adjuster. My company sent me down here to investigate a suspicious fire. It appears the fire just got even more suspicious. I'm doing my job."

"Well, I'm telling you that you are through now. This is my case, and you and the local cops better damned well stay out of my way. Give me that camera."

Bev held the camera behind her back. "Within the hour, I will give you the original of the memory card containing the photos. I need to make a copy for my company's file. I am sure you will understand."

He turned to one of his agents and said, "You go with her. You watch every move she makes and be prepared to sign a chain of evidence affidavit."

"Yes, sir."

He asked Bev, "Where's your computer?"

"At the hotel, three blocks that way."

"Where's your car?"

"I walked."

He made a face, "We can take my car."

Bev looked down at the greasy ash that covered her entire body, "I don't think you or your boss want me in your car. You'd never get the smoke smell out of it. I'll walk. You drive." She handed him the camera.

She beat him to the hotel because she got lucky and got the cross-walk light. The agent arrived a few minutes later. She asked him to wait by the pool. She persuaded a maid to fetch the robe from her room by promising to pay for it. After that she went to the bathroom by the pool where she took off her clothes, put them in a garbage bag also supplied by the maid, rinsed off the top layer of grime, and put on her robe. She told the agent she'd be back in a flash and approximately ten minutes later, she opened the door of her room. Her hair was still wet, but she wearing clean clothes. She put the robe in a bag and handed it to the maid. "I think this may be okay if you wash it quickly. If the smell doesn't come out, put it on my bill."

She beckoned the agent, "Okay, give me the camera. You want to come in and watch this?"

He obviously would have preferred to wait by the pool while she copied the disc, but he knew better than to let her out of his sight with the camera. She took the memory card out of the camera and put it into her laptop, where she copied the photos to a folder. Then she took the memory card out of the computer, put it in a plastic sleeve and laid it on the desk. After that, she took a piece of paper from the desk on which she had put her fingerprints, using the ash from her clothes before she took a shower. She put that paper in a Ziploc sandwich bag and handed the memory card and the fingerprints to the agent, "There you go. The only prints on that card will be mine. And you saw me take it out of the camera and make one copy."

He looked impressed, and said simply, "Thanks."

Bev asked for a lift back to the crime scene. By the time they arrived the FBI had the entire area roped off, and made it clear to the local cops that their involvement with the investigation was over. He informed Bev of that as well. She told him that her involvement in the investigation would end when she decided the arson was committed by the insured, in which case she would turn it over for prosecution, or when they determined that someone else set the fire, in which case she would pay the insurance proceeds and go home. She faced off with the agent and said, "You handle the criminal investigation. I'm handling the insurance claim. We can work together or we can butt heads, but you're not going to be able to get rid of me until my job is finished."

Then she smiled. "Perhaps we should start completely over." She held out her hand, and said,  
"I'm Bev Deller from Midwestern Casualty. And you are?"

The agent still looked irritated, but his stance seemed slightly less combative and he was not as red in the face as he had been. He said, "I'm Bruce Wright. FBI Miami."

They shook hands, not unlike boxers before a fight. Bev knew that there would be nothing else for her to do at the scene. She decided to get some lunch and go back to the hotel. She intended to ask Barry Raymond if he wanted to have lunch when a car started to pull into the parking lot and stopped in front of the police tape. The driver got out and walked over to Raymond and said, "What's going on here? What happened?"

Raymond said, "Big fire. I think the cops will want to talk to you, Bob."

"Why?"

The police chief almost ran to get to the guy before the FBI people did. He motioned to Bev and said, "You're going to want to get a statement from Bob Parker, here. He's the hotel manager. I suggest you do it before Bruce Wright finds out he's back in town." He turned to Parker and said, "Bob, this lady is Bev Deller from the insurance company. She'll want to take your statement. You should cooperate with her."

"Why do you need a statement from me? I've been on vacation in Biloxi. I've got the hotel receipts to prove it."

Bev shook his hand and said, "We're not accusing you of anything, but given your job, you may know some information that will help us in the investigation. Please come with me. This will only take a little while and I want to get your statement before the FBI gets to you and tells you not to talk to me."

"What the hell does the FBI have to do with this?"

"Let me get your statement first and then we'll fill you in." She turned to the police chief, "You want in on this?"

"Ordinarily I would, but I've been ordered to stand down by Mr. Congeniality over there. I don't dare."

She got in Parker's car and said, "Come on. Let's go."

She ordered lunch for them from room service and laid her phone on the table between them. She explained that she would be asking him background questions about the motel operations and what he knew about the insured. This statement would be used for the insurance investigation only. She added that the FBI would take another statement once they found out he was back. He said he understood and she turned on the recorder.

For more than two hours Bev asked questions and Wright answered. She focused first on what he knew about Diaz and his business operations. He was very nervous at first, but he seemed to relax once Bev established a rhythm with her questions. After she felt she had extracted everything he knew about Diaz (which wasn't much), she turned to the day to day operations of the motel. She asked questions about the finances as well as the clientele. Parker answered the questions, but Bev's radar told her that he was being too careful with his answers. She didn't think he had lied to her, but he was very careful in answering, and he got nervous when she started asking about the clientele. When she had drawn out everything she thought she was going to get, she tossed off one last question, "Were you aware of any illegal activities taking place in the motel?"

He paused way too long and then grinned and quipped, "Other than a couple of hookers who occasionally visited patrons, no."

"Do you know any other information that might help us in investigating the fire?"

"Like what?"

Bev shrugged and scrunched up her mouth, "Anything at all about the insured, the customers, the building itself or rumors that may have gone around. Sometimes people know all kinds of important things. They just don't know they're important."

He shook his head and this time answered too quickly, "Nah, I can't think of anything else."

"One last question. Who else should I talk to? Who do you think might know something about Mr. Diaz's business or about this particular motel."

"I don't know."

"Who was the manager before you."

"Guy name of Sanders. He died and they hired me."

"How did you come to get the job."

"I was hired through an employment agency Mr. Diaz hired to place a manager."

"How many other employees were there?"

"None."

"What about the maid who was hurt?"

"We used a local cleaning service. They contract with motels so we don't have to mess with payroll."

Bev looped back and asked a couple of questions that she had already asked, just to see if she'd get the same answer. He clearly understood what she was doing and it annoyed him, so she ended the statement.

When they were finished, Parker asked her to tell him what was going on. She told him that she couldn't give him any information about her investigation. She suggested he look at some of the back issues of the local papers. The motel had been front page news every day since the fire.

She suggested that Parker notify the FBI he was back. He asked if he should tell them he talked to her first. She told him to answer truthfully any questions they asked him.

After he left, Bev typed a memo to the file summarizing her impressions of his statement. She believed he told the truth about what he knew about Diaz, which was hardly anything. She could tell that it bothered him Diaz kept him at such a distance. Parker seemed to want to be more a part of Diaz's team. When it came to the day-to-day operations, she thought he told the truth, but he didn't tell her everything. She was almost certain he lied when he told her he didn't know of any illegal activities going on in the motel.

The fire chief and Barry Raymond stopped by the hotel near the end of the day. Raymond bought sodas from a vending machine and they sat by the pool. They asked her what she got from Parker and she told them she'd gotten essentially nothing. Raymond nodded and told her that's what he would have expected. He smiled and winked, "Parker's a nice guy and all, but he's a little slow."

Bev thought that was an interesting comment. She hadn't had that impression at all. She took Parker to be very sharp – and carefully withholding information.

The following week was Thanksgiving. Bev learned from eavesdropping on various conversations that the investigation would essentially be put on hold for the whole week. The FBI team was going home to Miami to be with family. Most of the local folks were planning family events. Palmer Stearns called to tell her that he was going away for the week. She asked if anyone would be left in the Keys. Stearns quipped, "Only the tourists."

Bev replied, "Of which I guess I'll be one."

She called Dietz and told him that things would be shutting down for the week. He asked if she were going to come home. She said, "Well, I've been thinking about that. The airfare to go home and back is $450. My weekly rate at the hotel is $700. I'd like to stay here and have Emily come down for the holiday. I propose that you let me expense what I would have paid to go home and come back. I'll pay everything over that for this week, including all meals."

He agreed. She updated him on the new developments, which left him as mystified as they did everyone else. She asked him to check with some of his fellow fraud investigators and see if anyone had ever heard of a money laundering operation that used a hotel as a virtual bank. He promised to do so, and told her he would be on vacation for Thanksgiving as well.

She called Emily and asked if she wanted to spend Thanksgiving in the Keys. When Emily got finished squealing, Bev deadpanned, "I'll take that for a yes."

They discussed what she needed to pack. Emily said, "There's only one problem. Mrs. Sullivan won't be able to drive me to the airport. You know she only drives locally. She won't get on the expressway."

"I forgot about that. Would you feel comfortable if I asked Chief Casey to take you. Or, you could take a cab."

"Mom! Do you know how much it would cost to take a cab from here to the airport?"

"Yes I do because I often take a car service to the airport, but it's always been on my expense account. I'll figure it out. You pack. I'll call you out of school and figure out a way to get you to the airport."

"School is already closed Wednesday, and not very many people are going to be there on Monday and Tuesday."

"Since when did Thanksgiving become a vacation week?"

"It has been for a long time. You just never noticed because we hardly ever left the house on Thanksgiving."

"Did you ever want to spend Thanksgiving with your father or my mother?"

"No."

"Which is why we always hid. It never occurred to me to leave town."

"That's because you travel so much all the rest of the time. This'll be fun!" Emily paused and asked in a very small voice, "Will you be working?"

Bev knew that Emily was thinking of the last case she worked on, which involved an arson in their home town. That case had been tough for the whole town, and Emily had been under a lot of strain. Bev said, "You know me, I'm always working, but this one is different. Nobody died. Few people in this town have even met the guy who owned the hotel, and from what I can tell the ones who had met him didn't like him very much. There have been some comments that the ruin is an eyesore, which it is, and everybody wants to tear it down. We can't just yet, however. Even if I do work some when you're here, I'm not under the strain I was the last time, and it shouldn't affect you at all."

"Is there a pool where you're staying?"

"Yes, and it's heated."

The squealing commenced again, and Bev decided that was a good time to end the conversation. She booked Emily's ticket and then called Ed Casey, the fire chief in Stanforth, Ohio. They had been speaking-on-the-street acquaintances for years. They had worked so closely during the last fire investigation, they'd become friends. She asked if he'd be willing to drop Emily off at the airport on Tuesday. He said he'd be happy to help. He asked how her case was going. She told him as much as she could. She asked him if he had any sources in the FBI that might be able to give them any information on fires in buildings which house large scale money laundering operations. He whistled, knowing she couldn't provide any details. He promised to nose around and see what he could come up with.

She then put in a call to Barry Raymond to give him an update on the situation. He had promised to try to find out how the FBI was coming in its efforts to find the insured. The insurance company didn't want to spend the money to hire a PI if it could get the feds to do the job. He told her that, after Wright got finished yelling about Bev going into the crime scene, he and Wright had a nice chat. Wright understood the importance of finding the insured so they could get a statement. Ordinarily they would just do a simple recorded statement, which Bev would conduct. Given the insured's disappearance and the crazy turn of events in the hotel, Raymond told the FBI that he thought the insurance company would want to get a Statement Under Oath as soon as Diaz surfaced, and he thought perhaps the law enforcement people might want to be part of that as well. Wright agreed that a joint SUO would be a good thing. From that point, Raymond told her, he and Wright were buds and the FBI had an investigator working full-time trying to locate the insured. Raymond ended by telling her that they had discussed a plan for what to do if the insured is in a country where he can't be extradited to the US.

Bev laughed, "Don't tell me. Let me guess. You want me to get authority from my employer to to travel to whatever exotic island where Diaz may be hanging out on so I can get his statement."

"Yep."

"Do you know how hard it is to get my company to authorize travel of any kind? Foreign travel is unheard of. Although, I can see the potential need to do it. If the FBI finds him but he's in a place they don't have jurisdiction, I could go. He's my insured and he has a contractual duty to cooperate with the insurance company, no matter where he is. I may be able to sell that if it becomes necessary, although it might be necessary for both you and the FBI to go to bat for me with my boss. He's a hard ass."

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. I'd still rather get Diaz back here so when you're finished asking questions pertaining to his insurance claim, Bruce can jump right in and start asking some pointed questions about the other monkey business that seems to have been going on. I think we should coordinate the statement so you ask the insurance-related questions first and then Bruce can finish off. To that end, I set up a meeting with Palmer Stearns tomorrow."

"Oh? When were you going to tell me about that?"

"I was composing an email when I picked up the phone."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Are we meeting in your office?"

"Yeah. 1:30."

"See you then."
Chapter 5

Ordinarily Bev preferred to take control of strategy meetings with her attorneys. It was too expensive to let lawyers ruminate and hypothesize and meander around through a strategic discussion by themselves. The company preferred to have her sit the attorneys down, tell them the strategy and instruct them to figure out how to do it in accordance with the laws and rules in the local jurisdiction. Few attorneys took that well, but Bev didn't care. The insurance company was the paying the bills and its defense lawyers were expected to do as they were told.

This case was different. Bev didn't have a strategy mapped out because she had no clue what was going on. She consulted with the in-house attorney for the insurance company and he hadn't come up with a solid plan either, for the same reason. That meant the local lawyers would have to hammer out a strategy. Bev had David Jamison transfer her call to her assistant, whom she instructed to increase the reserve for legal fees by $50,000. Cassie whistled, "Another bad'un, huh? Lucky you!"

"If I keep this up, they'll fire me."

"Why? You get spectacular results."

"I'm beginning to think I'm a jinx. They assign me to a case and it goes to shit."

"Other way around, Boss. They smell the shitty ones at the outset and assign them to you."

"I'm not sure how to take that."

"However you take it, you can be sure your job is safe. Nobody else would have it!"

"I'm going to hang up now, you're depressing me."

Bev had a front row seat for the meeting between Palmer Stearns and Barry Raymond. She wished she'd brought soda and popcorn. It was like a boxing match.

Bev had arrived first and made small talk with Raymond while they waited in his conference room for Stearns. She thought it odd that the ordinarily unflappable Raymond seemed nervous.

Stearns did not appear nervous, but he had his game face on, and behaved more like a lawyer in a courtroom than someone sitting down for a friendly strategy meeting with another lawyer he would be working with a lot in coming months. Bev let the lawyers do the talking, while trying to read their body language and tone of voice to figure out what was going on.

The attorneys agreed to let the FBI try to find Diaz and then they would jointly take his statement. If he refused to come to the US, Stearns thought he should go to wherever Diaz was. He asked if Raymond would be willing to provide a copy of his question outline so Stearns could make sure to cover all the bases. Raymond thought about that for longer than Bev thought should have been necessary, and finally agreed, with the caveat "only if it becomes absolutely necessary."

The conversation was pleasant enough on the surface, but they each dropped a line now and then that could have conveyed two or more meanings. Their eyes were guarded. Their posture was erect and somewhat combative. Most interesting of all to Bev was that Raymond spent the whole conversation with his hands folded on his desk and never moved them once. Stearns sat in a guest chair next to her. He rested his hands on the arms of the chair, where they lay motionless. In normal conversation, they both gestured with their hands. Neither of them clenched their hands or made any other nervous movements. They were both outwardly calm. Bev thought they were both very careful not to show any weakness or nervousness to the other. But their nerves and the tension between the two of them was palpable.

By the end of the meeting, the attorneys had hashed out a general strategy, which Bev thought would be fine until/unless somebody came up with a better idea. She refrained from informing Stearns in front of Raymond that she planned to take the insured's statement herself.

While the attorneys talked, Bev tried to figure out what was going on between the lawyers. They clearly loathed each other. The thing Bev thought was odd was that she could sense fear in the room, but she could not identify its source.

She walked out with Stearns. As they approached his car, she said, "Whoa, that was uncomfortable! You guys have some serious bad blood between you. What gives?"

He looked away for the barest second and then met her gaze and shrugged. "Nah. He's okay. We've known each other a long time. We have different methods of operating, but we respect each other."

Bev walked away fearing that she'd need to spend some considering substitution of counsel. She did not want to have to deal with a lawyer who lied to her – especially a lawyer who was as bad a liar as Stearns.

Bev wracked her brain trying to figure out what had just happened. She came up blank, and put the whole problem aside for later. The investigation went dormant, while the various parties scattered for their Thanksgiving vacations.

Emily arrived on Tuesday afternoon. Bev met her daughter at the airport in Key West. They wandered around a bit, walking up Duval Street from Mallory Square to the end of the street which marked the southernmost point in the US. The streets were jammed with tourists because of the holiday weekend and the fact that two cruise ships had disgorged thousands of tourists carrying maps showing all the stores that give discounts to cruise passengers. Eventually Emily said, "Okay, I've had enough of this. Let's go to Marathon. Hopefully, I'll like it better there."

Bev smiled, "I can guarantee one thing: you're going to love the drive."

They turned off Duval and walked back to their car through a residential neighborhood a couple of blocks off the main drag. The sidewalks in that neighborhood were all but deserted (although there was not a parking place to be seen). They slowed down and strolled up the street, marveling at the beautiful homes and tropical foliage. They agreed that this was probably more like the Key West Bev's dad had visited and loved. It was quaint and quiet. A lady came out of a Victorian home and got into an ancient Mercedes. Her hair was piled up on her head in a mass of curls and she was wearing what appeared to be professional "model" makeup. Her dress and jacket looked fashionable and expensive, and she was wearing what appeared to be plastic flip flops. The lady started the car and as they passed the car they could hear reggae music.

Emily laughed, "Now that's more like what I was expecting to see in Key West."

They chatted about school and the goings-on in Stanforth while Bev navigated her way through the jammed and narrow streets of Key West, dodging the damnable scooters. She told Emily that if she had to come to Key West again, she was going to park somewhere near the bridge onto the island and walk. The whole island was only a few miles across. She said she'd rather walk a couple of miles than deal with the stress of navigating the roads.

Emily wanted to know if there was a beach on Key West. Bev said, "Yes, there's a public beach on the south side of the island. It's kind of crummy."

Emily shook her head and said, "I don't get the attraction of this place."

"This place appears to be all about boating and fishing or partying and shopping."

"Not exactly our kinda place!"

"No, but I was thinking, would you like to go out in a boat."

"Alone?"

"No. There are party boats. Fishing boats and tour boats. We could go out on Friday or Saturday, if the weather's going to be nice."

"That's a good idea. I've never been on a boat bigger than a canoe on Jackson Lake."

As they reached the end of Bahia Honda and approached the Seven Mile Bridge, Emily continued to chatter. Bev shushed her and said, "Get a load of this."

About that time, they started up the incline onto the bridge itself. It was a gorgeous fall afternoon. The shallow water was so still and clear it almost disappeared. They could see fish swimming below the surface. The deep water was crystal blue. Boats bobbed about here and there, many waving dive flags. The car continued to rise until it almost felt they were going to become airborne. Emily gasped. Bev couldn't tell if it was due to the beauty of the scenery or if she was freaked out by the bridge. Then again, maybe Bev was just projecting. For Bev, driving over that bridge was a thrill ride. The scenery left her breathless, but the height of the bridge and the knowledge that they were driving over deep water left her weak in the knees and feeling a bit woozy.

As they approached Marathon, Bev said, "I propose we go all the way to Largo and then back so you can get the whole experience."

Emily asked, "Are there any more bridges like that?"

"No, that's the highest and the longest. The others are not nearly as scary (at least that one scares me), but they are just as beautiful."

Emily nodded and said, "Okay, let's go. Then let's go back to your hotel. I'd like to go swimming."

They experienced the drive from Marathon to Largo and back for the most part in silence. When they arrived in Marathon, Bev suggested they grab some sandwiches from the diner before going back to the hotel. She told Emily she had rented a bike for herself, and proposed to rent one for Emily, too, while she was there. Emily went into the restaurant to order the sandwiches while Bev went to the bike shop. They both reached the car at the same time. Emily said, "How're we going to get the bike back to the hotel? It won't fit in this bitty car."

Bev pointed to the corner. "You ride. Turn right there. Three blocks. On your right. You'll probably beat me there. There's a bike rack near the lobby. Wait for me at the pool. My room is 108."

Sure enough, Bev got caught at the light and Emily beat her to the hotel by several minutes. When Bev arrived, Emily was walking around exploring. "This is kinda nice, Mom. How does this compare with the kinds of hotels you usually stay in?"

Bev thought about that, "Hotels in beach/boating areas tend to take a lot of wear and tear. This is nice on the outside, but the room is a little shabby. Most of the places I stay in are a little nicer than this. There are exceptions. I like to stay close to the fire scene, price or poshness is not generally a factor for me, but don't tell anyone at the company I said that."

Bev unwrapped the sandwiches and they ate outside by the pool. Emily wasn't sure she liked the grilled fish at first. She loved the hush puppies and said next time she was going to get only an order of pups and some shrimp. Bev grinned and told her daughter she was glad Emily liked that place because Bev had been eating there twice a day the whole time she'd been on the island. "Don't you want to try other places?"

"I should, and I will with you here, but when I'm working I focus on my job . That place has great food which is so cheap it will earn me brownie points with Accounting. It is across the street from the fire site and three blocks from my hotel. I know the owners and all the waitresses intimately already."

"What are we going to do for Thanksgiving?"

"We have several options. The fire chief invited us to his house. He has four kids, in-laws, and a bunch of friends and other relatives coming for a traditional American Thanksgiving dinner. If you're not up for that amount of commotion, there are a few restaurants on the island offering a traditional turkey dinner ranging from our little diner, where they're offering dinner including dessert for $9.99 to a fine dining restaurant on the water where dinner will be $29.99 per person. Same food.

"Or, we could avoid the crowds, pack in some snacks and lunch meat and go to the beach for the day. I'm thinking it won't be too crowded."

Emily chuckled, "I wonder which of those choices you would prefer."

"Hint: you know I despise turkey and pumpkin pie."

"Last year we had pot roast for Thanksgiving dinner if I remember correctly."

"Here's the thing. If you want to try a big traditional Thanksgiving dinner, this is the year to do it. You can order all that stuff I think is gross, and I'll order off the regular menu."

"Nah. I've had Thanksgiving dinner at Daddy's house, complete with rug-rats, relatives and football all day. I don't like all that rich food, either. You've corrupted me into eating an amazingly healthy diet for an American teenager. Let's go to the beach. I have one request: among all the fruit and raw veggies and all the healthy crap I know you'll buy, can we get some regular potato chips, not those crappy baked ones?"

"Sure. It's Thanksgiving! I'll even get dip if you want."

Emily laughed and muttered, "Fat free, no doubt."

Emily changed into her bathing suit while Bev cleaned up the table from their meal. Bev thought it was too chilly for swimming but Emily said she would be okay because the water was heated. Bev bought a newspaper from the box and curled up in a lounge chair by the pool while Emily alternately swam laps and floated around in the pool.

On Wednesday, Bev got in a few hours of work while Emily slept in. Her online research into the background of Victor Diaz was turning up some interesting results. She typically hired private investigators to do background research about people. Given Diaz's far-flung life-style, she was trying to do as much as she could herself, so she had got authorization to use some investigative sites she had to pay for. She was amazed at what she was able to find quickly and with a few clicks of her mouse.

Diaz had an interesting background. He was born in Cuba. His father was a doctor and his mother a homemaker. The family came to America in the early 1970's when Victor was a small child. His mother was pregnant when they emigrated. His sister and two younger brothers were born in the States. He grew up in the Little Havana in Miami, graduating in the top 10% of his private Catholic high school class. He enrolled in the University of Miami school of business where he graduated in three years with highest honors. For a few years after college, he worked for a resort developer as a project manager. Then he struck out on his own.

He built restaurants/nightclubs in South Beach (just as South Beach was coming back from its doldrums in the 1990's), the U. S. Virgin Islands and also in Brazil. He opened trendy clubs in hot neighborhoods, attracting the minor celebrities and local "beautiful people" who were guaranteed to make a club the "it" place. All of the places he opened were immediate successes, and most of them seemed to have maintained their popularity over time. His restaurant/club empire was very profitable.

There were news articles and blogs that implied or outright alleged that he had connections with various criminal organizations, but he had never been officially accused of criminal activity. He had never been arrested. He didn't even have a speeding violation on his record. He had no known history of involvement in illegal activities, although the rumor mill maintained his was just as dirty as the typical Latin restaurateur in South Florida.

He lived alone in a condo on Key Biscayne. His parents were both deceased. His sister married an Anglo and lived in Ft. Myers. Victor and his sister had been estranged ever since her marriage, because Victor disapproved of her choice of husband. His brothers both moved to Colombia after they graduated from college. He kept in touch with them, mostly by phone, although he visited occasionally, according to his niece's blog, which Bev happened on by chance. It turned out to be a gold-mine of information about the family. There were references in the blog to an "Aunt Arabella" and two male cousins none of whom seemed to fit in the family tree. Bev made a mental note, but decided that the references might be to a family friend who had achieved the status of a quasi-relative. Bev could read just enough Spanish to follow the general drift of the comments, but she couldn't understand some of the nuances of the relationships.

Four years before the fire, Diaz bought the hotel in Marathon and immediately thereafter applied for a permit to tear it down and build a nightclub. The City rejected his application. He made statements around town to the effect that he had lost interest in the hotel when the city of Marathon refused to give him the permits. That seemed plausible. It would certainly weigh in favor of Diaz's contention that he planned to sell the hotel. Why would he burn it down if he planned to sell it?

Even from the sketchy information she had been able to discover, Diaz struck Bev as a guy who was hiding something. On the other hand, he could also just be one of the many businessmen who operated a clean business, but who had acquaintances, colleagues and customers who were involved in illegal operations.

Bev was staring off into space wondering where she could look next when Emily sat up in bed and laughed. "Mom, you look like a cat watching a mouse."

"Right now, I'm a hungry cat. Get dressed. Let's go get breakfast."

That day they went to the Dolphin Research Center on Islamorada. Then they went to the public beach on Marathon where they floated on rafts alternately talking and snoozing. Bev told Emily that they needed to keep each other awake for fear of floating out to sea. They picked up Chinese for dinner, and spent the evening by the pool.

When Bev had first arrived, she was almost the only guest, but a number of people had arrived for the holiday, including some families with kids. At first Bev was delighted that Emily had found some people her age to talk to. Her delight was diminished somewhat when a certain young man spent most of the afternoon flirting with Emily, with Emily flirting right back. At one point he invited Emily to go to a movie with him. Bev told her she could go, but insisted she come back immediately afterwards. The kids went off to the movie, and, as promised, they came straight back to the hotel. Emily and Daniel sat out by the pool and talked until after midnight.

Bev went to bed, perturbed that her special time with her daughter was being invaded by a boy. She told herself to get over that right now because this was only the beginning. Emily had not shown much interest in boys before. She had always been more into school activities and sports. Now that she was fifteen, Bev realized Emily was ready to take that next step. She sighed and rolled over promising herself a good, long cry about that one day when Emily was not around.

Daniel's family was having Thanksgiving dinner at an expensive restaurant in Key West and they invited Bev and Emily to join them. Emily liked Daniel and would have liked to spend more time with him, but neither Bev nor Emily wanted to spend their holiday with a bunch of strangers, paying too much for food they didn't even like. They decided to pass on the invitation to dinner, but Bev agreed that Emily and Daniel could do something together in the evening if he was interested. That seemed to please everyone.

Bev and Emily spent the day at the State Park beach on Bahia Honda, where they ate fruit, veggies and dip and chicken wraps – with potato chips – for lunch. Later, Emily groused that she wished they had brought some sweets, wondering how far it was to the nearest ice cream parlor. Bev winked, "I don't have ice cream, but I knew we'd crave something sweet. She reached in the cooler for an item that was wrapped in foil, and she pulled out a quart of milk. She pulled back the foil to reveal a half dozen bakery cookies: chocolate chip with macadamia nuts. Emily gave her mother a kiss, "You rock, Mom."

That evening Emily and Daniel went to another movie. Bev sat by the pool and had a drink with his parents. They were nice people from Georgia, but she had little in common with them, so she excused herself early and went inside where she resumed some of her online research.

She did not find much information beyond what she had already learned. Not surprisingly, the FBI was not keeping her in the loop, but from what she could gather from Barry Raymond, they had made no progress toward finding Diaz. She sent an email to her boss requesting authorization to hire a PI who could work the whole Caribbean. She grinned. That would set off a shit storm come Monday. She knew the Claims VP would fuss and fume and the Accounting department would raise hell, but they would ultimately give her the authority to do what she needed to do. It was almost like a dance, and all the parties knew their steps.

On the day after Thanksgiving, Bev and Emily planned to go out on a boat of some sort if the weather were nice enough. Bev got up early and rode out to the bridge to watch the sunrise. She checked the weather when she got back to the room, and discovered that it was supposed to be totally perfect boating weather. She shook Emily awake and told her to get dressed. They had decided to go to the marina and nose around. They didn't really want to go fishing, but they were not totally opposed to going out on a half day fishing boat if that was the only thing available.

They arrived at the marina about 7:30. The all day deep sea party boats were ready to go. The half-day boats had already left. There were a few tour boats that didn't depart until later in the day. They were particularly intrigued by the huge sailing catamarans that advertised sunset sails. They were jotting down the phone numbers when a male voice behind them said, "You ladies looking for a ride out on the water?"

Bev turned around to find Barry Raymond wearing Bermuda shorts, Crocs and a tee shirt. She said, "As a matter of fact we are a couple of total landlubbers from Ohio who have no clue about boats, but we'd like to go for a ride. We think we might like this catamaran thing." She jerked her thumb towards the boat in the slip. Then she introduced him to Emily.

After they shook hands he said, "I've been on those things a few times. They're cool. I have to confess that I've never been into sail boats much. They're too damned much work. My dad has always sailed, and he used his kids for crew. I hated it. If you're not married to the idea of sailing, I was just about to take my boat out for a while. You're welcome to ride along with me. I'll give you the $2.00 tour around the island for free."

"We don't want to intrude."

"You're not intruding. Boating is more fun when you have company, anyway."

"I thought you were going away for the holiday."

He said, "I was, but my plans fell through."

Emily asked, "Don't you have family nearby?"

"No. My parents live in the Cayman Islands. I had sort of planned to pop over to visit them for the holiday, but my mom's family has descended on them en mass. She's one of seven girls. Every three or four years they all get together, usually at my mom's house supposedly because my mom's the oldest. The real reason is because my mom and dad have the coolest house. They live right on the beach and there's a nice hotel across the street. The house is too small to put all the sisters up as overnight guests – which was totally intentional on my father's part. During those visits my dad hides in the bedroom because he can't stand any of my aunts' husbands. I find someplace else to be because I can't stand the noise of seven women chattering and their husbands watching football, and turning up the TV so they can hear it over the din."

They all laughed. He motioned them down the dock and said, "Come on. It's a perfect day for boating. All aboard!"
Chapter 6

He led them down the dock to a 24' motorboat that was not new but immaculately maintained, tied up at the very end of the dock. Bev did a double take and asked, "Is _this_ where you park your boat?"

He laughed. "You know more about boats than you want to let on. No. This isn't my slip. I keep my boat over there in the out-of-water storage. I call in advance and they take it down and put it in the water for me."

Bev and Emily watched as a forklift picked up a boat from the fourth tier of the storage facility and lowered it to the ground where a dock worker hooked it up to a truck and pulled it around to the boat ramp. Emily said, "That is way cool, although I don't think I could watch them do that if it was my boat. I'd be afraid they'd drop it."

"At least once or twice a year, usually on really busy boating days, they do drop a boat. I never watch them pick up my boat. I call ahead so they can put it in the water before I arrive. When I bring it back, they pull me out of the water and drop the boat and trailer at the washing station. I wash the boat and leave it there for them to put away at their leisure. I never watch them put my boat on the lift. She's my baby and I am very fond of her."

"How long have you had a boat?"

"I have always had a boat. I grew up on Islamorada. My dad had a sailing boat. We had kayaks and canoes when we were kids. When I was sixteen I didn't get a car, I got one of those little motorboats that looks like a bathtub with an outboard. In the Keys, a kid didn't need a car. A kid needed a bike and a boat. I've owned a boat ever since. I even took my boat with me when I went to college."

Bev asked, "Where was that?"

"I went to the University of Miami for both undergrad and law school."

"You're a Florida native. That's a rare breed."

"Rarest of all are native Floridians born in the Keys. I often think that people from the Keys have more in common with people from the Islands than we do with people from the rest of Florida. Floridians and Islanders alike have little in common with people from the rest of America."

Bev said, "I'm not going to ask how you feel about people from the rest of America moving to Florida in such huge numbers."

His face turned to stone and his voice had a bitter edge when he replied, "Good."

In only a few minutes they were out of the marina and on their way underneath the Seven Mile Bridge and out into the Atlantic Ocean. Emily asked, "How in the world did they build those bridges?"

Raymond laughed and said, "Kids who grow up in Florida learn about Henry Flagler in school. It always surprises me when people from other places don't know the story of the Overseas Highway. I'll tell you the story, but first I want to know in your Ohio history classes, who are the figures that stand out?"

Emily laughed, "It depends on the teacher. We had to take Ohio history in the eighth grade. I had a lady teacher for half the year. She told us about Betty Zane, who save a fort from the Indians. We learned about Tecumseh, the great Shawnee leader, and some of the presidents who came from Ohio. I always thought it was odd that she was so proud of all the presidents who came from Ohio, but they were some of the worst presidents we have had. Halfway through the year, she left because she was pregnant and had to be put on bed rest. A man replaced her. He thought the greatest Ohioans were the NFL football coaches and the astronauts, especially John Glenn and Neil Armstrong."

He looked impressed. "A girl who pays attention in history class! Excellent." He winked and said, "I'm a bit of a history freak myself. I also happen to have had a lifelong fascination for the life and work of three people: Andrew Carnegie, Theodore Roosevelt and Henry Flagler. I hope you're not sorry you asked that question before I'm finished answering it, because the answer involves Flagler who is a fascinating character." Thereupon he launched into a long and detailed narrative about the man who made his first fortune at Standard Oil, and who spent virtually all of that fortune building a railroad from Jacksonville to Key West, along with a string of hotels for tourists to stay in once they arrived in Florida.

Bev already knew the story because once when she and her ex-husband vacationed in Miami she had picked up a biography of Flagler which she had devoured all in one sitting and then re-read because it was so amazing. The man's life read like a novel. Bev was proud and delighted to see that Emily was listening, enthralled, by the story as narrated by an excellent storyteller.

Raymond interrupted his story from time to time in order to point out something in the water. By the time he was finished, they were approaching Key West. He said, "I thought I'd give you a bit of a tour of Florida Bay by way of Key West." He took them around the island pointing out points of interest.

Emily said, "I didn't like Key West much. I like Marathon much better."

He laughed, "Yeah, a lot of us blame the cruise lines for turning Key West from a drinking town with a fishing problem to a shopping destination. I avoid going there unless I absolutely have to. The Middle Keys have managed to hold on to some of their Island heritage, but with every fish camp that is torn down to build a condominium or a resort hotel, the character of the Keys is threatened further."

Emily remarked, "It's funny. We live in a town where hardly anything changes. Our house was built in, when was it, Mom, 1910?"

"Something like that."

"We have all the modern stuff but it's an old house in an old town, and a lot of the people have lived there for generations. Things hardly change."

Bev said, "You're looking at Stanforth from the perspective of a town kid. You know all the townies and the old families because our family has lived there for generations. The kids who come to the university and the professors who teach there for a few years of their careers see an entirely different place.

"I wonder if that isn't a lot like Florida. There's a small group of natives and long-time residents who are the people who really make the communities work. Then there are the outsiders, both the long term Outsiders who may technically reside here but their true homes are elsewhere, and the tourists or students who come and go. I would bet that the natives and the tourists in Florida interact as little as the students and the locals at home."

Raymond nodded, "I think you're absolutely right. There are some natives who operate hotels, restaurants and fishing operations, but most natives have regular jobs and businesses. A lot of them are in fishing or agriculture and they do not interact with the tourists at all."

As they passed Mallory Square, a replica of a pirate ship pulled away from the dock. Emily asked, "What's with all the stuff about pirates around here? I don't get it."

Raymond answered, "Well, that's kind of another thing that annoys natives. The tourist industry in the Keys is cashing in on a part of Florida heritage that most natives of Florida don't like to talk about. That is piracy and smuggling."

"Why's that?"

"Think about it. The geography and location of Florida makes it perfect for both pirates and smuggling operations, which often go hand in hand. In the olden days, pirates hid behind islands or in the thousands upon thousands of natural harbors in Florida until a ship carrying valuables went by. The pirates would capture the loot and then, through their smuggling contacts on land, they would pass the loot on to buyers. Even today smuggling is estimated to be the largest industry in Florida."

Bev laughed, "Be serious!"

"I am serious. The nature of the goods smuggled has changed, but the operations and techniques have remained the same for generations. In the early days, the pirates stole gold, gems and other wealth that the Spaniards were stealing from the natives of Central and South America. During the Civil War they smuggled food and guns into the Confederacy. During Prohibition, it was liquor from the Islands. During World War II it was all kinds of goods that were rationed in the States."

Bev said, "Later the operations changed to drugs."

"That's the story the ATF and the Coast Guard would have you believe. I can't prove this, but I honestly think that most of the large scale drug smuggling operations are foreign owned and run. The government is understandably concerned about those operations. It is my opinion that the native Floridians are smuggling a lot of other stuff. I personally know guy who has made a fortune smuggling Cuban cigars. He amassed that fortune without paying any taxes in America or Cuba. Others bring in cheap computers from abroad. Jewelry's always a popular item to smuggle. Smuggling liquor from the Islands is hardly even considered illegal. If you looked in any liquor cabinet of a native of the Keys, you'd find at least some bottles not purchased legally in America."

"Including yours?"

"Including mine. Actually I buy most of my liquor in the Islands when I'm visiting my parents and bring it back legally, in compliance with the limits set by Customs. There is one exception. I do have a bottle of very, very fine Jamaican rum that I bought from a guy who knew a guy. Allegedly it was legally purchased and imported. It is such great hooch and I got it for such a great price, I didn't ask too many questions. I can tell you there's no tax stamp on the bottle.

"That's how the traditional smugglers work. They don't fly in on airplanes and ditch them in swamps like some of the drug dealers do. They use boats and and/or people to transport the goods sometimes on commercial planes or other means of transportation. Then they sell the merchandise through through a network of word of mouth. It's a very quiet and, these days, mostly non-violent business. Unlike the pirates who stole their stuff, much of the smuggled merchandise these days is legally purchased at the original point of sale. The thing that turns them into illegal goods is bringing them into the US without paying the duty.

"I have to be honest with you and tell you that a lot of the smugglers are not exactly patriotic Americans. They are basically anarchists who, like the pirates of old, thumb their noses as laws that would hinder them from doing as they please. A lot of smugglers are rabid anti-tax folks, who think they're sort of doing the citizens of America a favor by providing tax free goods."

Bev snorted, "That's a bunch of bullshit."

"I didn't say I agreed with it. It's total rationalization, but it's the mindset. They know that they could go to jail, but they don't think what they are doing should be illegal. They see it as just conducting business."

"So do the drug dealers who sell heroin to our children."

"I'm a prosecutor. Every criminal I've ever sent to jail had an excuse that he or she thought justified their behavior. I'm not making value judgments. I'm simply telling you the facts. Have you ever bought anything illegally."

Bev thought about it and looked at Emily. "Yeah. When I was in college, our county was dry. We used to buy liquor in Indiana and bring it home with us. Sort of like you bringing in legal rum from the Islands. Ohioans were allowed to bring in, I think it was a quart or so a month. However, there were times when we would have parties, especially for weekends like Homecoming, we brought in a lot more than a quart. Worse, not all of the purchasers were of legal age. I had a car because I was a townie who didn't live on campus. I guess you could say I occasionally served as the wheel man."

She grinned and looked sheepish. He said, "Lady, if that's the worst thing you've ever done in your life, you need to loosen up."

She raised her eyebrows and said, "I didn't say that was the worst thing I've ever done. I said it was the only illegal thing I've ever done." She paused and said, "And if I had it to do over again, I wouldn't do it. It was stupid. I could have gone to jail."

He nodded. "A wise woman, indeed." He looked at Emily and said in a kind of stage whisper, "Listen to your mother."

Emily grinned. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, "I love this warm sunshine in November. I looked at the weather in Ohio today. It's supposed to be a high of 45 and rain. The high here is supposed to be 81, clear skies, light winds, and calm seas. I _like_ it!"

Raymond winked at Bev, "You may be here longer than you think."

Bev shook her head, "Her migration to Florida will have to wait a while. Her college is prepaid. In an Ohio school."

Emily said, "Yeah, I have been thinking about that, Mom. I know you told me I could go away to school if I want to, but I've been doing some research about that. Shawnee University is the best state school in Ohio, any which way you slice it, unless you're going to be a doctor, which I'm not. I think it would be stupid to go away to Ohio State or OU and pay living expenses. I'll live on my own the rest of my life. I think I'd like to live at home and go to college at Shawnee, if that's okay with you."

Bev pretended to be studying a school of fish that were swimming by to avoid looking up and letting Emily see the tears in her eyes. She got a grip on herself and said, "That sounds like a wise decision. You could save up for grad school. If you don't want to do that, you'll have money saved to start out your life on."

Raymond pretended to concentrate on driving the boat. A few minutes later he pointed off to his right and said, "Look!"

A pod of dolphins was feeding, circling around a school of fish, herding them into a bunch. Then the dolphins dove into the school and wild splashing followed. Emily and Bev were mesmerized. As they moved around the Bay, Raymond pointed out an amazing variety of fish that they could see in the crystal waters. After a while, he looked at his watch and said, "I don't know about you ladies, but I'm getting hungry. What do you say to fresh fish for lunch?"

Emily said, "Yeah. Where do you suggest we go?"

He reached into the cabin and pulled out a fishing pole, which he baited from a small cooler and dropped over the side. He held the pole out to Emily, "I'm thinking my house. Suppose you provide the main course." She looked at the pole as though it might bite her, but she took it and sat in the seat in the middle of the boat as he instructed. Only a few minutes later, her pole bent almost in two. Raymond grabbed it just before Emily dropped it. He helped her reel in the fish, which turned out to be a seven pound red fish.

Raymond's face lit up, "Oh, glory hallelujah! I do love anglers with beginners luck. I haven't seen a red fish that size in years."

He headed back towards Marathon at a slightly faster speed. At one point he detoured to a spot under one of the bridges, and cut the engine. He looked over the side and studied the bottom for a few minutes. Bev looked, too, but she couldn't tell what he was looking at. After a minute, he nodded, and said, "I'm thinking of a second item that would go well with that fish. You two wait here."

He pulled out a dive flag and hung it on the windshield. Then he went into the cuddy cabin and came out a couple of minutes later in bathing trunks with a wet suit shirt. He rummaged around in a storage bin and took out a snorkel, mask, a pair of heavy gloves and a wire mesh bucket. He stood on the dive platform at the back the boat and mimicked Arnold Schwarzenegger, "I'll be back." Then he flipped off into the water, leaving Bev and Emily laughing at his ridiculous appearance. He came up for air a couple of times but less than five minutes later he pulled himself upon the dive platform, tossed the mask, snorkel and gloves into the boat and held up the bucket. "Success!" Inside the bucket were two small lobsters.

"How do you feel about lobster with your fish?"

Bev said, "I have to confess, I like lobster tails but I've never had a whole lobster because I don't know how to eat it."

"Prepare to learn." He looked at Emily, and added, "Both of you."

He put the lobsters on ice with the red fish, stowed the snorkel gear in the locker and headed for Marathon, taking the short way between various islands. It occurred to Bev that these waters would be very dangerous to someone who did not know the area. A small boat could get lost among the mangroves.

They helped him wash the boat. Then he gave them directions to his house, which was actually only about two blocks from their hotel. He said to Bev, "Drop off your car at your hotel and walk to my house. We'll have wine with lunch."

She made a face, "Actually, if it's all the same to you, I really prefer beer with fish."

He clapped and said, "Oh, my dear, you have all the makings of a Floridian!" Bev and Emily dropped the car at the hotel, and took the opportunity to go into the room to comb their hair and freshen up a bit. They decided to change clothes while they were at it. Raymond told them he would go home and fire up the grill. They walked to his house, which was on a canal with deep water access. From the street, the house appeared small and unimpressive. Bev was surprised at how plain it was.

When she stepped inside, she was utterly amazed. The house was on a narrow lot, but it was very deep. The house looked small and ordinary from the street, but it was enormous inside. The entire house was oriented in the direction of the water. The entire back wall was glass with a sliding glass door leading to a huge screened-in pool enclosure. Beyond that was an outside patio and a dock with a 17' runabout, a jet ski and a kayak.

Emily was amazed, "You have two boats?"

"Yeah. I keep the larger one at the marina because it's too big to turn around in the canal, but I use this one for fishing locally."

Bev was unobtrusively looking at the contents of the house. She had decades of experience appraising contents of homes and businesses. This house was filled with expensive furniture and some priceless art, including a few items that appeared to be historical artifacts. She thought it odd that a prosecutor would be able to afford such opulence in his home. He walked up close behind her and whispered, "It is all mine and all completely legal. Some of the historical artifacts were things people in my family found. They're all registered and legally in my possession. A couple of them will revert to the state when I die because they're so valuable I can't leave them to anyone but my children and I don't have kids."

Bev blushed at the knowledge that she had been so transparent in checking out his house. She also noted that he didn't comment on the fact that, artifacts aside, the furniture and art was not the kind of stuff he could have purchased on a prosecutor's salary.

Emily had taken up a seat by the pool, and appeared to be dozing. Bev asked if she could help Raymond prepare lunch. He accepted the offer. He put her to work chopping cabbage and onions for Cole slaw, and said he'd go clean the fish. He was back a few minutes later with two gorgeous fillets. "You want these blacked or grilled?"

"I never had grilled fish until this month and I've developed a real affinity for it. I like it blackened, too. You decide."

He laughed and suggested they do one of each. He put the fish in the fridge while they finished preparing the sides. He mixed up a batch of hush puppies and turned on a small fryer that was already filled with oil. While the oil was heating, he put a loaf of Italian bread from the freezer into the oven to crisp.

Bev said, "You do better in the kitchen than I do."

"I don't think there's a man in the Keys, at least not one who was born here, who can't catch fish and cook them. The women cook everything else. The men cook the fish."

In less time than Bev would have imagined, they sat down to a gourmet lunch of grilled and blackened red fish with grilled lobster, Cole slaw, hush puppies, garlic bread and Bev's home made tartar sauce that Raymond said was the best he'd ever eaten. He showed them how to eat the lobster and dip it into melted butter. Bev and Emily both said they liked the lobster better just drizzled with lemon. Raymond made a face and told them that if they were fat-gram-counting-calorie-phobics they might want to skip the hush puppies and tartar sauce, too.

Emily looked horrified. "Oh, no. We save our fat grams and calories for the really good stuff, like the hush puppies, which I dip in tartar sauce. Mom thinks that's disgusting."

Raymond said, "I wouldn't eat a hush puppy any other way."

Bev stuck out her tongue at her mother, who made a disgusted face right back and then laughed.

They had a wonderful time chatting for an hour or so. Then they helped Raymond clean up the kitchen. At one point while they were putting away the leftovers, Bev asked, "What's the deal with you and Palmer Stearns. I had the impression there's bad blood between the two of you."

He said, "Nah. We have no beef with each other." He paused and added, "Other than he went to UF and I went to Miami. That makes us natural enemies."

Another lying lawyer. Just swell.

As they walked back toward the house, Emily said. "He's a nice man. I think he likes you."

"Don't get any crazy ideas. He's a lawyer. A prosecuting attorney. I will probably be a witness if there is a criminal trial that comes out of this fire. He's keeping his eye on me to make sure I stay on the reservation. He seems pleasant enough, but there's a lot about him that doesn't add up."

"Such as what?"

"Such as why he and the coverage counsel I hired obviously hate each other, but they have both denied it. Such as why he has a million dollar house filled with art and historical artifacts that a prosecutor should not be able to afford. There is something about him that bothers me... and not in a good way."
Chapter 7

Emily flew back to Ohio on Saturday in order to avoid the Sunday-after-Thanksgiving madness. Bev went with her. She didn't want Emily to travel alone on such a busy weekend. Besides, there was nothing for her to do in Marathon, so she decided to go home and check in at the office.

On Monday she spent some time with her assistant, going over developments on other claims. Cassie had everything under control. Bev returned some phone calls and then called Peter Dietz, the head of the fraud unit, to let him know she was back and to ask for an appointment. He told her to come to his office at 11:45 and he'd take her to lunch.

Then she called her regular boss, David Jamison, the vice president of claims. They chatted for a few minutes. He asked if she was finished in Florida and ready for another assignment. She told him she was waiting for the authorities to find the insured while she was looking into his background. Before they hung up she said, "Just so you know, Pete invited me to lunch today. He's been way to chummy on the phone lately. I think he's trying to move me into his department."

"He's wanted to do that for years."

"I know, but this is the first time I've been assigned to handle a claim directly under his supervision. This is a golden opportunity for him to snag me."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I'm surprised you have to ask, but the answer is that I don't want to go. I hate fraud cases. I'm giving you this heads up because I want you to do whatever you can on your end to block whatever moves he may be making."

"You love me that much?"

"You're a total pain in the ass, but I like the work in your department better than what I'd be doing in the fraud unit."

"Thanks. I'll do what I can to hold on to you. I do have to tell you that if they move you to Dietz' department, it would be a promotion."

"So promote me where I am."

"I've got nothing to promote you to. You're already my top dog."

"Be creative."

He laughed, "You're a pain in the ass, too."

"We're birds of a feather. That makes it easy to work together."

That evening when Bev got home, Emily was sprawled on the living room couch with her laptop resting on her stomach. She said, "Mom, do you remember all that stuff Mr. Raymond was telling us the other day about smuggling in Florida? I thought that was a bunch of crap. I thought that was sort of him showing off and/or goofing on the tourists, which I understand is kind of a sport for the residents of tourist destinations. It turns out he was telling the truth. There evidently have been, and still are, a lot of pirates and smugglers in Florida."

"I am learning about that myself. I think there's a smuggling element to my fire investigation. I just don't know what it is, yet."

"Wow. That's interesting. Will you tell me about it when you reach the point where you can talk about it?"

"If and when I can talk about it, you'll be the second to know."

"Second?"

Bev winked, "I'll have to tell the Company first."

For the next couple of weeks, Bev kept herself busy with other claims. Her request to hire a PI was denied. Dietz told her to let the feds find the insured. There was no insurance fraud as long as the insured didn't attempt to collect under his policy. The Company didn't care if he never surfaced. That would save the legal fees and other expenses the Company would have to incur to prove fraud.

On a Tuesday two weeks before Christmas, Barry Raymond called her to tell her that the FBI had located the insured in Aruba. He had agreed to return to Florida voluntarily. They were setting up a statement under oath. He asked if she would want to be involved. She said she did.

"Will Palmer handle the questioning?"

"No. He's coverage counsel. His job is to keep me on the straight and narrow, which is no easy task most of the time. I'll discuss my line of questioning with him, but I'll handle the examination myself."

"I'd like to talk to you in advance. I want to be sure that you and the FBI are eliciting the information I'll need for a prosecution."

"Sure. You'll have my full cooperation. Good luck with getting the same from Bruce Wright."

"Thanks. Diaz is supposed to arrive over the weekend. We're looking at Monday for the examination under oath."

"I'll be there this week. Do you think we can both meet with the Wright? I'd like to know what questions he's going to ask in order to avoid duplication."

"I'll try to set that up. Personally, I'd like for you to go first. You set Diaz up for arson and insurance fraud. Then the FBI can go after him for whatever the hell they were doing with all that cash."

"Betcha dollars to donuts Diaz doesn't know about all that cash."

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't think a guy like that would burn down a building with that much cash in it. By the way, have they figured out how much money there is."

"We've recovered $15,000,000."

"What!?"

"You heard right. The place was a bank. Each room had money in it from a different country. It's the craziest thing I've ever seen."

"If Diaz set the fire, he's not involved in whatever was going on in that hotel. If he was involved in the money laundering, then somebody else set the fire."

"That's why I want you to ask the first series of questions: Did he or did he not intend to collect on the insurance? Did he intentionally over-insure his building? If so, did he or did he not set or hire someone else to set the fire. The FBI can follow up with questions about the money."

"That sounds like a good plan. If I can't nail him with fraud or with arson, the FBI can get him for smuggling and/or money laundering."

"Something like that."'

"I'll call you when I arrive."

"See you soon."

Bev booked her flight for Thursday morning and made hotel reservations. Then she sent an email to Dietz and Cassie updating them on her schedule. Next she called Palmer Stearns. She asked for an appointment on Thursday afternoon in Marathon. She spent the rest of the day working on a detailed outline of everything she knew about Diaz and the fire. The next day she started writing down questions. By that afternoon, she had an outline for her examination that would lead Diaz through the entire story, beginning with his decision to purchase the insurance and determine the amount of coverage needed through the fire and his lack of response to it.

She and Emily ordered pizza for dinner and ate it in the living room, talking. The weather station was predicting snow over the weekend in Ohio. The forecast for Marathon was sunny with temperatures in the low 70's. Emily asked to go along. Bev told her she had to stay in school, but reminded her that they had a Caribbean cruise booked for Christmas.

Emily asked, "Will you come home to pack?"

Her mother shook her head, "I'm already packed. I'm taking two bags with me, one is my regular work-travel bag, and the other one is my cruise bag."

"You're only taking one suitcase on the cruise?"

"That's right, and I want to remind you that the airlines charge a per-bag fee for checking luggage. I'll pay for one bag for you. If you take more luggage than that, you'll have to pay for it."

"But, Mom, I'll need one bag for shoes alone."

"I'm leaving you the large suitcase. Remember you can't go over 50 pounds. One suitcase for a five day cruise is not unreasonable."

Emily made a face, "It might be for someone who travels as much as you do. You've got the packing routine down to a science."

Bev went into her room and brought out three sheets of paper. "Here's how I do it. This page is the itinerary for the cruise and I have figured out what kind of clothes I will need for each activity. This page is my list of outfits for each day. This page is my packing list, including the clothes that make up all those outfits (note the reliance on basic black and khaki pants and skirts), as well as all the incidentals and toiletries. One other hint. Pack your clothes in plastic bags by outfits. The black pants with the shirts you'll wear them with. That serves as a checklist. It also keeps your clothes from wrinkling and it keeps them dry if your suitcase isn't as waterproof as you think it is – which I guarantee you it isn't."

"Geez, Mom, do you do this every time you travel?"

"I can pack for a five day business trip in 20 minutes without making a list. For pleasure travel, I always plan my packing in advance."

"What happens if you decide to do something you didn't plan on doing?"

Bev grinned. "That's when I have an excuse to buy something new, which becomes a souvenir of my trip!"

They laughed and said their goodbyes before Emily went to bed because Bev was leaving at 4:00 AM.

After she got settled in her hotel room on Marathon, she called Raymond to let him know she had arrived, and asked when he wanted to meet. He told her he had scheduled meeting with the ATF at 9:00 AM the next day. They were planning to spend most of the day hammering out an outline for questions. Bev said she'd be there. He asked if she wanted to have lunch. She declined.

Palmer Stearns called her at 11:30 to tell her that he was running late because he had been stuck in traffic due to an accident on one of the bridges. He said traffic was moving again, and he'd be there by noon. She offered to order lunch so they could get right to work. He thought that was a good idea.

Bev looked out at the pool area, which was fairly crowded. In early November, she'd been almost the only person in the hotel. Now the holiday crowds and the snowbirds were arriving. Meeting by the pool was not an option. She hated to have meetings in her hotel rooms. She called the desk and asked if they had a small conference room or even a small office she could use for a confidential meeting. The manager told her he'd have to charge her for a hotel meeting room, but he said he'd let her use the events manager's office. She was taking a long weekend to rest up for the upcoming holiday party season.

She ordered lunch from the diner, and asked them to deliver it at 12:15. Stearns arrived at the same time as the delivery person. Bev met them in the parking lot. She suggested they eat out by the pool and then go inside for their meeting.

They chatted about holiday plans and the weather. Stearns asked about her trip home and they talked a little about her upcoming cruise. Bev had liked Stearns a lot when they first met, but after the encounter between him and Barry Raymond, she found herself on guard with him. That made her very uncomfortable. If there was anybody in her life she wanted to be able to totally trust and rely on, it was her lawyer. The problem was it was too late to replace Stearns now. She'd just have to deal with her discomfort.

When they'd finished eating, they moved inside to the office. Bev handed Stearns a copy of her time-line and her outline of questions, and said, "I want to go over these with you today. I'm meeting with Raymond and the Bruce Wright tomorrow to plan our strategy for the examination under oath."

"Why am I just hearing about that now?"

"Because I just found out about it Monday."

"I would prefer to make my own outline of questions."

"You're not going to be asking the questions. I will. I just want you to review my outline, making sure that I'm not asking any inappropriate questions that will get me in trouble later. Also, I want you add questions that I might need to ask in order to trigger any particular Florida statutes that I don't know about." She grinned and winked, "I can do the 'facts' part of an examination. I just need a lawyer to put the 'legal' veneer on it."

He tried not to let it show, but his pursed lips and pinched nose told Bev he was not happy about that. She was gratified to note that he didn't argue with her. He had evidently done enough insurance defense work to know that was a fight he wouldn't win. He reviewed the time line and the outline of questions thoroughly, taking his time. Periodically he nodded. He made a few notes. When he was finished he looked up and smiled, "You've done this before. I'm impressed."

"Mr. Stearns, fire investigations are almost the only thing I do. Every now and again, they give me some other kind of claim, usually some gruesome liability claim involving a lot of dead people, like an elevator crash or a boiler explosion. In any case, I've done this kind of thing for years. I'm told I'm the biggest pain in the ass adjuster who's ever worked for Midwestern Indemnity, but they keep me around because I'm the best there is at what I do. Right now I have two senior VP's fighting over me."

He said, "You should have been a lawyer."

"Nah. I like the investigation part. I like digging through the rubble of a fire. I'm not so crazy about helping carry the bodies out, but I've done that, too, on more than one occasion. The lawyers are always several steps removed from that. I wouldn't like a job where I just sit in an office all day and have other people out doing the investigation." She shrugged, "And besides, I'd rather testify as a witness in a trial than be the lawyer at the bar putting up with the procedural bullshit, arrogant judges and all the the crap the plaintiffs' lawyers try to pull."

He laughed, "I bet you're a great witness."

She shrugged again, "I've had some lawyers tell me so. Other lawyers have told me that I'm way too arrogant and full of myself to make a decent witness, and they chose to tell our story using other witnesses. I testify when I'm the only one who can do it, but I prefer it when we can put on our story with out putting me in the box."

He tapped his pen on her outline and said, "I'd combine these questions, because they're redundant." Then he scratched his head and said, "What do you think of this. Diaz is a smart guy. You're outline is linear and it is very clear where you are headed with your questions. What do you think about mixing up the order of the questions. You absolutely need to ask every one of these questions. I would recommend you add a few more inquiries about his intentions with regard to the placement of the coverage. What he wanted to purchase. What he thought he purchased. That kind of thing. But, what if we mix up the order of the questions?"

Bev nodded and grinned. "Actually, what I like to do is to start at the end and work backwards. That avoids them figuring out where I'm headed with the questions. It also gives me a chance to add questions to the beginning of the story if the deponent surprises me with something I don't know somewhere along the line. I write my outline in chronological order going forwards because that's easiest, but I actually ask the questions in the opposite order."

"That's a good plan."

She drummed her fingers on the desk. "Random questioning is an interesting idea. I have never done it myself because I'm afraid the only person I'd confuse would be me, but I saw a lawyer positively destroy an expert witness on the stand using that technique. It was a thing of beauty.

"The plaintiff had this unbelievably arrogant damages expert who was such a pompous asshole his deposition took two days because the lawyers kept having to take breaks to go out in the hall and beat their heads against the wall. His theories were as puffed up and ridiculous as his demeanor. We had two damages experts who proved he was just wrong on every point. The guy was a really handsome man who looked like a great witness.

"Our trial lawyer assigned the questioning of the witness to a young junior partner who looked like Clark Kent. The kid played his part perfectly. He wore kind of a cheap suit – which he later admitted to me he had to go out and buy just for the occasion. He wore thick glasses. He came in looking just a little rumpled, but not so rumpled the judge would think it was disrespectful. He started asking the guy questions, in an almost deferential way. The questions appeared to be totally random. He gave the appearance of kind of bumbling around with his questions and he appeared to be just hanging on every word from the witness. Of course, the guy ate that up and became even more verbose. After he got the guy to put on the record all of his cockamamie theories, the lawyer turned into Superman." She laughed at the memory, "He even took off his glasses. Then he went for the jugular and hammered away at the guy totally destroying his theories and his personal credibility.

"When he was finished, the witness was shaking. The judge kept turning around because he was laughing. Even some of the jurors were laughing by the end of the examination. It was all I could do not to stand up and cheer."

"What was the outcome?"

"We settled the case that evening at 11:30 PM after six hours of swearing and cursing between my lawyer and the plaintiff's lawyer."

"You have a great job."

She leaned back and put her hands behind her head, "There are times it gets to me. Especially when innocent people are killed or maimed and I can't help them or when people get greedy and want to get rich on the insurance company. But, overall I think I have the best job in the world." She winked, "But don't tell the folks at Midwestern that! I'm trying to score a promotion and a raise."

He pushed the paper back in front of her. "This looks good to me. Do you want me to be there?"

"I would like for you to be in the building in case I run into trouble. Generally, I have found that the fewer people in the room when we're doing a statement under oath, the better. I will be asking questions on behalf of the insurance company. The FBI investigator will be asking the questions for the government. I'd prefer not to have any lawyers in the room unless something goes haywire and I need to call you in."

"I'm assuming you'll have a meeting with Barry and the FBI in advance. I would think you'll want me to participate in that meeting."

She hesitated for a long time before she answered. "My first mentor always told me there are two people you should never lie to: your doctor and your lawyer. I'll be honest with you. That meeting is set for tomorrow. Ordinarily I would definitely want you there. But, I'm going to ask you not to attend for the reason that I am very uncomfortable with the bad vibes between you and Mr. Raymond. Both of you have denied that you have any issues with one another, but I don't believe you. Barry and I will have enough problems dealing with the Bruce Wright, who seems to be a kind of prickly bastard, without adding any additional drama between you and Barry."

He didn't react at all for a minute, then he stood up and said, "Then, I guess we're done."

She walked him out to his car. He invited her to call him after the meeting on Friday, and told her he'd plan on arriving very early Monday to make sure he didn't get held up by traffic. She asked if he thought he should spend the night on Sunday. He looked surprised. "You would authorize that?"

She laughed out loud, "I know it's hard to imagine an insurance adjuster inviting a lawyer to incur travel expenses, but the traffic here is appalling. In three weeks time I can't believe how the traffic has increased. I will authorize a hotel room if you think it's necessary."

He shook his head, "Nah. I'll just get up really early and come over here for breakfast. I can hang out and read the paper until time to go to the.... Where are you holding the meeting?"

"I'm not sure yet. That's one of the things we'll discuss tomorrow. The FBI will probably want to do it at the police station. I generally prefer to do statements at less emotionally loaded places. I will push for getting a meeting room here at the hotel or the court reporter's office if they have the room."

"Stick to your guns on that one."

"Call me when you get close and we'll meet for breakfast. I'll call you after my meeting tomorrow."

They shook hands. She was very puzzled why Stearns did not seem to be annoyed by her accusing him of being liar. The only possible explanation she could think of was that it was true.
Chapter 8

The next morning, Bev dressed in her most conservative navy blue pantsuit with a white shirt. She wanted to project an image of no-nonsense professionalism, because she feared there might be some fireworks when the FBI guy found out that she was going to be the person asking questions for the insurance company.

She arrived first, and Raymond's secretary ushered her into the conference room and offered her coffee. Raymond joined her a few minutes later. She handed him her slightly revised outline of questions. "These are the questions I think I need to ask. We will need to discuss the order in which I ask them, but I have them in chronological order at this point."

He nodded and scanned the page. "Good work. I'm assuming Palmer has reviewed and approved this. Is he joining us today, by the way?"

She shook her head, "No. I invited him to stay home today. I figure there will be enough tension in the room between me and Wright. I didn't want to add the bad vibes between you and Palmer."

He looked at her for a minute as though he expected her to explain. When she didn't offer an explanation, he just smiled and said, "Okay. Then we'll proceed." He paused and tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, "How do the lawyers you hire take being dictated to in such a way by the client?"

She tried to make a crooked smile. "Regular insurance defense lawyers are used to it. A lot of the adjusters who handle the really complex claims like financial services and professional liability claims are actually lawyers, so that makes it much easier for them. Those of us who are not lawyers sometimes get push back from attorneys who are not used to being ordered around by their clients. It boils down to the fact that when I hire an attorney on behalf of the Company, in exchange for the money I pay them, I expect them to handle the claim at the direction of the Company."

"And if they don't agree."

"I hire a different lawyer."

He laughed. "What about when you hire an attorney for yourself."

"I've never hired an attorney for myself."

"Never?"

"Never. Not even when I got divorced. My husband hired a lawyer and I signed all the papers he gave me."

"Wow."

She made a face, "My dad was in hock to lawyers for years after litigation with my mother over custody of me. I have never paid a dime to a lawyer out of my own pocket, and unless terrible happens, I intend to continue on that course."

He started to say something, but they were interrupted by his secretary's announcement that Detective Wright had arrived. They shook hands, poured coffee and sat down at the table. Wright looked around and asked Bev, "Is your lawyer coming?"

"No. Is yours?"

He looked puzzled and asked Raymond what was going on. Raymond said, "We think that this preliminary statement should be conducted by you and Ms. Deller. You would ordinarily take the preliminary statement anyway. The only difference is that you'll do it in front of a court reporter and the witness will be under oath. If we prosecute him, we'll take an actual deposition later. We think we'll get a better result from this exercise if you and Bev are the only people in the room with Diaz."

Wright thought about that for a few minutes. Then he pursed his lips and closed his eyes, nodding. "Yeah. You're probably right. I suppose you also want to hold the meeting at some neutral place."

Raymond said, "The court reporter I recommend works out of her house. She has a very nice dining room that's perfect for depositions if there aren't too many people. It's cozy and comfortable. I think it would be perfect."

Bev nodded and Wright agreed as well. They ran through Bev's list of questions and then, together, they outlined the thrust of Wright's questions. Bev would focus on Diaz's background and finances, the insurance issues and the fire itself. Wright would zero in on the hotel operations and the money in the building, as well as honing in on anything he might feel Bev had not sufficiently nailed down during her part of the interview. Raymond said he was satisfied that, with that set of questions, the answers they elicited should give them enough information on which to either eliminate Diaz from suspicion or to seek an indictment.

When they were finished, Wright shook hands with them and left. As Bev started to leave, Raymond asked what Emily did when her mom was on the road. Bev explained that a widow in the neighborhood stayed at the house when Bev was on the road and made sure Emily got to school and had meals. She told him that she and Emily were meeting in Ft. Lauderdale for a Christmas cruise. He asked her if she'd like to go out in the boat over the weekend. She said she thought she'd better not.

"Why not? I don't bite and it's not a conflict of interest or anything. I can't imagine what you will do holed up in that hotel all weekend long."

"I came prepared with a ton of reading material, plus I have a bunch of reports I am over due on turning in on some of my other claims. Believe me, I won't be bored."

"Will you be lonely?"

She shook her head. "Nope. I seem to be lacking in the loneliness gene. It's a flaw in my character or something. I like being around people when there are people around, but I don't mind being alone. I may be weird but it makes me perfectly suited for my job. I travel almost all the time and when I'm on a job, not too many people want to hang out with me – what with the TV commercials about the evil insurance adjusters who spend their careers cheating poor claimants out of the big bucks they deserve."

"Prosecuting attorneys find themselves held in similar disregard by the public."

"Nobody will hang out with you either?"

"Being a prosecutor is not exactly an asset in the social scene, and unfortunately, I do have the loneliness gene. Sometimes it's nice to hang out with somebody else."

"If you're trying to make me feel sorry for you, don't waste your breath. That's another even more serious flaw in my character. I absolutely can't abide a needy man. Actually, I'm not all that fond of needy women for that matter."

"You must have an absolutely great network of friends."

"Yeah, I'm up for Miss Congeniality in my town on a regular basis."

"Seriously."

"Actually, I don't have a lot of friends, but the friends I do have are true blue, in-the-foxhole-with-you kind of folks. When it comes to friends, I think quality makes up for quantity."

"I assure you that all I'm offering is a couple of hours on a boat and maybe a fish sandwich for dinner afterwards. Think about it. It's supposed to be a beautiful day tomorrow. I'll plan to go out early in the afternoon. Meet me at the marina by 1:30 if you change your mind."

Bev shook his hand, acknowledged his assistant and thanked her for setting up the meeting, and then she left. She was annoyed that Raymond seemed to want to inject a personal aspect to their otherwise strictly professional association. She did not generally socialize with people she worked with, and she had never even considered dating someone with whom she had a professional relationship. Not that she had ever dated that much since her divorce.

She put Raymond and his invitation out of her mind while she went for a long bike ride to clear the cobwebs and stretch her legs after being cooped up in the conference room for hours. Then she went back to the hotel and tackled the infernal reports that always piled up on her at the end of every quarter, try as she might to keep up with them. She worked until about an hour before dark. Then she took a walk until sunset. She stopped at a nearby park, with a dozen or so locals to watch the sunset show. Then she went back to her hotel and worked for two more hours. After that she took a shower and curled up in bed with a book.

The next morning she got up well before daybreak, made coffee and worked until a half hour or so before sunrise. It was chilly outside, but she bundled up in a couple of layers and rode her bike to the bridge. She was almost the only person there because it was very dark and too cold for thin-blooded Floridians. After watching the sunrise, she rode all the way to the other end of Marathon Key and then back to the diner, where she stopped for breakfast. The waitress asked if she wanted fish with her eggs, since she turned down the bacon that came with the meal. Bev was surprised to learn they were cooking fish already. The lady said, "Some of the locals eat fish at almost every meal."

"In that case, skip the eggs altogether and give me some blackened fish with a side of grits."

The waitress looked at her oddly, "You sound like a Yankee. I expected you to order potatoes."

Bev smiled. "One of my first big fires was a restaurant in a college town up in the mountains of Tennessee. I stayed at a small boarding house run by a wonderful old Tennessee mountain woman. The first time she put a plate of grits in front of me, I thought it was Cream of Wheat and asked for milk and sugar. She told me it was grits and offered me some red-eye gravy and biscuits. I may be 100% pure Yankee by birth and residence, but I've learned there's nothing better than a Southern breakfast."

The waitress said, "I wish you'd a told me that before. The cook's from Alabama. She can do biscuits and gravy like nobody's business, but most people who come in here are Yankees and they order toast and potatoes."

"You talked me into it. I want fish with grits. One biscuit."

"Gravy?"

"Red-eye?"

"Nothing but."

"Okay, I'll blow my whole fat allotment for the day on one meal but it'll be worth it. Tell her not to put any butter in the grits."

"I can tell her but it won't do any good. Her grits are cooked with butter in them."

Bev laughed and held up her hands in a surrendering gesture.

She worked non-stop until about noon. Then she looked outside and realized it was a positively glorious day. The temperature was in the mid-70's. Winds were calm. Even a landlubber like her knew that it would be a great day for boating. She stretched and thought about going for a walk. Instead she changed into a pair of Capri's and a tank top with a sweater over it, put some suntan lotion and a scarf in her purse and headed for her car. She pulled into the parking lot of the marina about the same time as Raymond did.

He greeted her with what she took for genuine pleasure and told her he was glad she changed her mind. The boat was ready and gassed up, so they took off immediately. They rode around in what seemed to Bev a rather aimless way. After a while, he said, "I'm a little tired of driving around in circles. Would it be okay with you if I pull into a cove somewhere and drop the anchor. Maybe I can catch us some dinner."

She said that would be good. He stopped the boat and got out his fishing poles. He asked her if she wanted to try her hand. She shook her head and said, "I only want to mess with fish on the bun."

He laughed. She stretched out on the bench seat in the back of the boat and closed her eyes. She must have dozed off, but she woke to the sound of whooping. Raymond had snagged a fish that was fighting as though it was huge. Raymond was talking to the fish and concentrating on playing it just right. He said, "Tarpon. Fun to catch. Can't eat 'em, though."

He pulled the fish alongside, weighed it and then let it go. While he re-baited his hook, he said, "You'd better put on more sunscreen or grab a hat out of that locker there. You're face is getting burnt."

To be on the safe side, Bev did both. He didn't have any luck catching an edible fish in the cove, so he moved the boat to deeper water. There he caught a good sized grouper which he claimed would be perfect for dinner with leftovers for breakfast and a mighty-fine stew for the day after. Bev was not accustomed to men flirting with her, but this guy was not just flirting, he was coming on strong and it made Bev feel uncomfortable. There was nothing inappropriate in his words themselves. She was troubled by the way he said them. She was almost sure she was far from Raymond's type. She could not understand why he was making time with her.

They returned to his house. Bev didn't intend to drink to excess so she followed him home. He cleaned the fish and she prepped the stove and made the tartar sauce. He came back a few minutes later, with the fillets perfectly clean and two beers from the fridge in his garage. He handed one to her and popped the top from his. "This is the very best beer in the world to drink with fish."

"Red Stripe? I've never heard of it."

"It's from Jamaica where they take both fish and alcohol seriously."

"We are stopping in Jamaica on our cruise. You got any suggestions about what we can do?"

"On most cruises the tours take you up in the mountains. That's fine if you're into mountains. Personally, the best thing about the Caribbean is the water. Go to the beach. Any beach. Here's a tip. There are private beaches in Jamaica. You have to pay to go there, but it's not a lot, and it will save you the endless panhandling and begging you'll get on the public beaches. Not to mention the ogling and downright crudeness that females are subject to generally in the Islands."

"Thanks for the tip. I personally seem to be immune to the ogling and crudeness. I am rarely hassled. I think I have my guard up at all times. Emily lives in a safe and serene little cocoon. I would rather not expose her to that kind of treatment if I can avoid it."

"The other nice thing about the private beaches is they have nice bathhouses. You don't want to go to the bathroom at a public beach in Jamaica."

"I don't like to use the bathrooms at public places in America! I'm very finicky about cleanliness."

"Then you'd better confine yourself to the ship."

"To be honest, I think that's kind of what I had in mind. If we take any tours at all, it will be a bus tour of some sort. I'm not the adventurous type."

"I would never have guessed that after watching you jump at the chance to go into that burned out hotel."

"That's not adventure. That's work."

"It's also damned dangerous."

"I take only calculated risks."

He looked at her with an odd expression that she didn't like. She changed the subject and asked him to tell her more about the local history and lore. She had obviously picked his hottest button and he was off on an almost hour-long narrative about the colorful characters who developed Marathon, ending with a few details about some of the current "characters" about town. He ended with a rather sheepish expression and muttered an apology for being such a windbag.

She smiled, "I love listening to you talk about your home. You talk about this place the way I feel about Stanforth."

"If you love your home town so much, how can you stand to travel so much? I couldn't bear to be away from home as much as you are."

She shrugged, "A girl's gotta make a living. When I graduated from college there were only three places to work in Stanforth. A factory that made medical instruments. The university. Or the bars, restaurants and stores that served the town and the university. I didn't want to work in a factory. The bars, restaurants and stores are generally staffed by part-time students. And the pay for every job grade at the university is very low. I got into the insurance business and discovered I could make a decent living without having to get a PhD. Besides, it's damned interesting work. I like solving mysteries."

"You should have been a cop."

She shook her head and gritted her teeth, "I'd make a great detective except for one thing."

"Which is?"

"I am terrified of guns. I won't have one in the house and wouldn't be able to do a job where I had to carry a weapon."

"Crime lab?"

"Actually if there had been such a thing as a crime lab when I was casting about for a career, I'd have jumped at it. That, however, is a relatively new development and I took way to little science in school to even think about it. What about you? Did you always want to be a lawyer?"

He sighed and seemed to be debating whether or not to answer. Eventually he said, "When I was a little kid, I wanted to join the Coast Guard and ultimately I did serve a tour of duty in the Coast Guard because I felt I owed it to Uncle Sam to do something for my country.

"When I was maybe twelve or so, a lot of things changed in Florida. Not for the better. I got interested in current events largely due to the ministrations of a particularly political Civics teacher. He was a Cuban who preached the anti-Castro gospel with every breath, and managed to bring it up in every conversation, no matter what the actual topic of discussion. He ended up influencing me in the opposite direction from his intention.

"There's no doubt that Communism is a bad form of government and Castro is a dictator. I respect and admire the Cubans who fled their homes and started over with nothing, building new lives and businesses here, like most of the immigrants who made America great. What I despise, however, is their insistence that the US base its foreign policy on eternal enmity with Cuba. I'll betcha nobody in Ohio gives a rat's ass about Castro or the embargo on Cuban goods. Most of the people in Florida don't, either. But the Cubans do, and the Cubans and the Jews have kind of banded together. The Jewish community supports the anti-Castro policies, and the Cubans support pro-Israel policies.

"I came to believe at a very young age that both our radical opposition to Castro and our blind support for Israel are contrary to the best interest of the American people. I decided to go into politics. Since most legislators are lawyers, I decided to go to law school."

Bev tried, mostly without success, to stifle a giggle. "No wonder you find yourself lonely from time to time. I don't know a lot about Florida politics, but I know that being in favor of rapprochement with Cuba or even hinting at any opposition to anything that Israel does is a kiss of death in Florida."

"Pretty much. Just out of curiosity, how do you feel about that?"

"Remember, I'm from a small town full of egg head professors in Ohio. I never met a Cuban until I went on a vacation in Miami, and I never had a conversation with a Jewish person until after I was married. We don't care much about Cuba or Israel in western Ohio. I, personally, am not terribly political, but I have always felt that the US has more concern about Israel's well-being than Israel has in ours. I think we're a steadfast and good friend to Israel. I don't think Israel has always returned the favor. Moreover, I have some compassion for the Palestinians. Don't tell anybody I said that. I don't want some militant Zionists fire-bombing my hotel room."

Raymond nodded and steered around a buoy. "I think many locals here would be inclined to agree with you. You see the culture and the politics of Monroe County diverge from that of the rest of Florida. We're 90 miles from Cuba but several hundreds of miles from Tallahassee. Cuba used to be and could be again the biggest trading partner for the Keys. Frankly, I think it already is if you count illegal trade. Since Castro's been sick and things have lightened up some, I'm seeing a LOT of Cuban cigars, beer and arts and crafts on the market around here. Lifting the embargo with Cuba would be a huge economic boon to the Keys. What is more, the indigenous population of the Keys depends on the ocean for its recreation and most of its livelihood. We tend to be more environmentally sensitive, more anti-development and some of us are rabidly anti-Big Sugar. Do you know what that means?"

She nodded, "I am a religious reader of Carl Hiaasen's columns and novels."

"The natural politics of the Keys would be good for the whole state, I think. But we are not heard. Residents of the Keys are considered to be a bunch of old addlepated fish heads or a brain-fried druggies. Nobody takes us seriously. I'm sorry. That sounds a lot like whining. I bet you don't like men who whine, either."

She laughed, "Well, not really, but I do understand. I've lived my whole life in a community I love passionately, but I'm politically very liberal, which puts me at odds with almost all the permanent residents of the town. Nobody takes me seriously, either. Or, if they do, they want to argue with me about every damned thing. Whining may not be very dignified for either of us, but it's completely understandable."

He threw back his head and laughed until tears trickled out of the corners of eyes and into the hair at his temples.

She didn't like the direction the conversation was heading, so she looked at her watch and said, "I promised to call Emily by 8:00. I have to go."

He walked her to her car. She had the feeling he was going to try to kiss her, so she slammed the door quickly and started the engine.

On Sunday, she decided to walk to the bridge instead of riding the bike. She watched the sun come up from the park near the hotel, then walked the two miles to the bridge and two more miles to the point where the old bridge had been cut off when they built the new high bridge. At the terminus of the bridge there was an island that held a camp of some sort. The campers were beginning to stir. She decided not to disturb them, and turned around. She walked the four miles back to the street where her hotel was located. She had walked eight miles but she had only killed a little over two hours. She decided to explore some of the side streets, wandering -- at a much slower pace than she was used to -- through neighborhoods and condo complexes for another hour or so. By then she was hungry, so she stopped at the diner for a Sunday breakfast. She told the waitress to dispense with the grits and the eggs. All she wanted was grilled fish and biscuits.

It wasn't even 10:00 AM when she arrived at the hotel. She did her laundry. Usually, Bev tried not to work on Sundays. She didn't go to church but her father had been raised in a Mennonite community where the Sabbath was taken very seriously. He didn't practice the religion in his later life but he retained the tradition of Sabbath time because he understood that it had many beneficial effects even in an otherwise secular life. He had convinced Bev of the importance of taking time for herself, and (more out of convenience than conviction) she had tended to take her Sabbath time on Sundays when most of her colleagues were spending time with their families.

That day, she decided to make an exception to her no-work-on-Sunday rule, because she was going to take off several days in a row for her cruise, and she was nervous about the interview in the morning. She needed to occupy her time. She took her computer outside by the pool and set out to finish her quarterly reports. Later in the day she checked in with Emily. Stearns called in the evening to confirm that he planned to arrive by 7:00 AM to beat the traffic. She suggested they meet at the diner for breakfast.

Raymond called her to confirm that they had made the arrangements with the court reporter to hold the interview in her dining room. The court reporter said that Bev could arrive as early as 8:00 AM if she needed to get settled before beginning. Diaz was supposed to arrive at 8:45.

Bev called Bruce Wright to fill him in on the arrangements and to test his mood. He was very professional and courteous. She knew he didn't like her being involved with what he viewed as "his" interview, but he understood that she had a role to play and he accepted it with as much grace as he could manage. Oddly, Bev found that she rather liked the guy. He was a straight up, by-the-book law enforcement officer, but he was honest and seemed dedicated to his job. She chuckled at the thought that she was so put off by the handsome and apparently wealthy lawyer who had been coming on to her, but she found herself drawn to this beefy, government bureaucrat.

She chuckled at the thought that was why she didn't date: she was too incompetent where men were concerned to trust herself to choose wisely.

Very early in the evening, she showered and went to bed. She knew it would take her some time to relax and go to sleep.
Chapter 9

Bev dressed casually for the interview, which was not going to be videotaped. She wore simple khaki pants with a sweater. She rarely wore jewelry when she was working but for some reason she added a pair of small hoop earrings. She thought that created a perfect "business casual" look that was feminine and non-threatening.

She met Stearns at the diner. He had already ordered coffee for both of them. She told the waitress she'd have her usual. Stearns asked what that was, and she told him. He grinned and ordered fried fish and grits. Bev was nervous and she told him she really didn't want to talk about the interview, so they made small talk until she managed to get a grip on her nerves. Stearns went with her to the court reporter's house. He had made arrangements to wait out of sight in the kitchen in the event he was needed.

Bruce Wright arrived a few minutes after Bev. They selected their seats at the table and went over their outline of questions one last time. It was a tag-team interview, but they wanted to get everything they needed on the first pass. If they started going back over events after they had each asked questions, the insured could become irate, and rightly so. They wanted him to remain calm and cooperative throughout the interview.

Diaz arrived promptly at 8:45, accompanied by his attorney. Bev and Wright asked that that, since they were not represented by counsel during the questioning, he would to refrain from making objections. He said if he had an objection to a question he intended to make it, but he would instruct his client to go ahead and answer the question, subject to review by the court at a later time. Wright placed a call to Raymond. Bev said she would step into the kitchen to put in a call to the insurance company to seek authorization to proceed in that fashion. Stearns could hear the conversation from the kitchen and he gave her the go-ahead.

Diaz was well prepared, and he appeared to be calm and willing to cooperate. He was dressed casually in jeans and a dazzling white shirt that was so crisply starched, it looked stiff. The white shirt set off his dark skin, which was deeply tanned – naturally by the sun, not from a bottle. His eyes were black, which disturbed Bev. In her world, people had blue eyes, green eyes, sometimes hazel eyes, and varying shades of brown eyes. She had never had such up-close contact with a person who had black eyes.

As they sized each other up, she could tell that Diaz was amused. She must have let it show that his eyes bothered her. _Dammit!_ She pulled herself together. His demeanor was relaxed and civil if not exactly friendly. Bev's gut, her emotions and her mind all told her that he was going to lie, obfuscate and take her on a merry ride through a fantasy world if he could get away with it. She was determined not to let that happen.

She introduced herself and explained the rules of the proceeding. His attorney agreed on the record and she proceeded. First, she asked him where he had been and what he had been doing in the weeks since the fire, and why he didn't return immediately afterwards. He told her that he had been traveling in South America and didn't even know about the fire for several weeks. When he did hear about it, he didn't think it merited his return. It was a small, relatively insignificant piece of his empire. He didn't think it was important enough to interrupt his business trip to Brazil where he was scouting locations for new restaurants. Bev asked him the date he learned of the fire and where he was. He gave her a date and told her he was in Buenos Aires.

Bev paused and made a note. That was a lie. According to his niece's blog, at the time of the fire, the family had gathered at a resort in Costa Rica which they rented entirely for their group. They spent a month there every year. There were pictures posted on her blog showing the family playing on the beach during that time period. She'd have to see if she could find one of Diaz on that date.

Bev asked why he didn't return immediately when he learned that it was arson. He told her that he wanted to finish his business first. He knew the questions would still be there when he ultimately chose to return.

She asked him directly if he had anything to do with setting the fire. He told her he did not.

She worked backwards carefully, asking questions about his involvement in the operations of the hotel itself. He said basically he had no involvement in the running of the hotel. He was a restaurateur and night-club owner. Hotels were not his thing.

She asked him how he came to buy the hotel. He gave her the now-familiar spiel about how he bought it to tear it down and build a restaurant and club. Bev asked a lot of questions about the political maneuvering to get the permits and the roadblocks put up by the local officials. His answers were given in a matter-of-fact and rather ironic tone. He did not seem annoyed by the fact that the city rejected his requests. He seemed to view it as a case of a bunch of local rubes standing in the way of progress, which was something he ran into all the time in his business.

As to the hiring of the manager, he told her he located Bob Parker at the recommendation of the real estate agent who sold him the property. She asked if he interviewed Parker personally. He said he didn't remember for sure but he thought he would have. He said he generally hired his management staff personally, but then he shrugged and added that this one was so different and so inconsequential to him, he couldn't recall for sure. She asked how often he talked to or met with Parker. He said they spoke on the phone occasionally and he thought he had stopped by to visit in person once or twice when he was in town for hearings on the permit requests. Other than that, Parker generally dealt only with his accountants.

Bev made a note. Parker told her he was hired through an employment agency and had never had a conversation with Diaz. One of them was lying. She would be willing to bet it was Diaz.

Moving on to the question of the insurance coverage, Bev asked how much he paid for the building. He told her he paid $3.5 million, plus another few hundred thousand for an easement to a boat ramp the motel shared with the condominium next door. She asked him why he had it insured for $25 million. For the first time during the interview, he made what appeared to be a natural reaction. He looked surprised and told her he was not aware it was insured for that much.

She put a power of attorney in front of him and asked him to verify that his signature was at the bottom, giving the agent his authorization to sign the insurance application. He looked at it carefully and said, "It looks like my signature. But this is a copy. Most of the time, I sign documents myself. My assistant puts them in front of me, and I sign them. Sometimes if I'm traveling, she uses a signature stamp. I can't tell for sure from this copy."

Bev made a note to hire a handwriting expert.

She asked him if he placed the insurance. He said he thought he called Maria-Elena Hernandez to let her know he wanted to put coverage on the building, but his assistant handled the actual paperwork. Bev found that curious. "In a business like yours, I'd think your assistant would handle the placement of coverage for new properties."

He shrugged and smiled. His teeth were as white as his shirt, unnaturally so. He reminded her of those ballroom dancers with bottle-tans, bleached teeth and hair greased with Vaseline or something. Everything about him struck her as artificial. He said, with what sounded to Bev like an unsuccessful effort to sound humble, "I have been trying to get Maria-Elena to go out with me for years, and she has resisted my advances. I take every opportunity to call her on legitimate business."

It was all she could do not to laugh. Hernandez was definitely not his type. She was perhaps twenty years his senior, short and stocky and matronly. He struck Bev as the kind of man who would prefer tall, leggy Brazilian types. On the other hand, Hernandez did have a melodic and sultry voice like so many Spanish women, and she had told Bev she'd never met Diaz in person. Perhaps it was true that he had flirted with her over the phone. Hernandez' statements that she dealt mostly with his assistant made sense. It also made sense that Hernandez would not have mentioned it if he had come on to her over the phone.

Bev pushed the photos of the hotel from the agency's files across the table. Diaz laughed in what Bev thought was a rehearsed or at least forced way. He said, "I don't know what happened, but this is the website of another hotel I was looking at. In fact I actually had a contract on this place and was all set to buy it when I found the _Simply Paradise,_ which was in a better location for a restaurant and it was millions of dollars cheaper. I reneged on the contract to purchase this one, and bought the fleabag on the other side of the island. My assistant must have sent the agent the wrong website link when she submitted the application."

"Wouldn't you or your assistant have noticed the discrepancy in the value of the building when you received the policy and the invoice?"

"I would have if I'd looked at it, but I'm sure I didn't look at it. I never look at my bills. It would be too terrifying. My accounting department pays the bills."

"Wouldn't your assistant have noticed the discrepancy in the policy?"

"Not necessarily. I negotiate acquisitions with Realtors and lawyers. Once I conclude the deal I tell my assistant to insure the property. We were so far down the road with the purchase of that other hotel, I had already given her the information. Somehow when we switched at the last minute, the information evidently got messed up."

He leaned across the table and tapped the insurance declarations page. He glanced at his lawyer and then turned to Bev. "This is purely a clerical error on the part of somebody in my office. Maybe even me. I don't know how it happened, but I assure you, Ms. Deller, I had no intent of committing insurance fraud by over insuring a crummy motel to that extent. I may not be the biggest fan of the insurance industry, but I know you people aren't stupid enough to pay me $25 million dollars for a property that should have been insured for a fraction of that.

"I guess one way out of this would be for you to cancel the policy flat, give me back my premium and I'm out $3 mil. Or, you could simply pay me the value of the actual property that burned. I'm not expecting you to pay me $25 million. That figure is wrong and I am acknowledging it on the record. How much do you think the building should have been insured for?"

Bev answered, "Our appraisers think its replacement cost was about $2.75 million."

"I'd settle the claim for that amount, plus whatever I'm entitled to under business interruption."

She concluded her questioning and turned turned the floor over to Wright, intending to put in a call to Dayton later in the day recommending that they rescind the policy.

Only when Bev started to relax now that her part of the questioning was finished did she realize Bruce Wright was about to explode with excitement. His voice was even and calm and his demeanor was professional, but he was sitting next to her and she could feel the vibrations of his emotions. He had something up his sleeve, and she suspected things were going to get very interesting.

He started at the beginning, and went back over most of the same information that Bev had reviewed, this time in chronological order moving forward. He went very slowly and very methodically going over and over points that Bev had already made. Diaz started to get annoyed, and even Bev found herself rather irritated. She couldn't figure it out.

Wright went into elaborate detail about Diaz's business interests all over the Caribbean. Most of the questions seemed to Bev utterly irrelevant to the fire, and Diaz's attorney repeatedly objected, but told his client to answer. It seemed to Bev Wright was intentionally trying to annoy Diaz.

After a couple of hours, Diaz asked for a break. He went to the bathroom and then he and his lawyer stepped out on the porch with cups of coffee to talk for a minute. Bev turned to Wright and asked, "What the hell are you doing?"

He grinned like a little boy with a big secret and said, "Hang in there with me. Whatever I ask and whatever he says, do not act surprised and don't look so annoyed and pissed off at my questions. I know I'm deviating from our plan, but I have my reasons. We've got the bastard."

"What do you mean?"

"He put on the record a demand for payment of the value of the hotel. I know that he hired someone to torch it, and I can prove it."

Bev laughed, "I guess that's about as much fun as a person can have in your job."

He shrugged, "Remember, I'm in this because of the money in the hotel. I think that's about drugs and money laundering. I still don't have a clue about that and I don't think Diaz did either or he'd have simply paid somebody to tear down the hotel and take the money from whoever owns it, or stole it. Since I'm here, I might as well help you crucify him."

"Wouldn't it have been better if you had given my arson investigator the information you have?"

"The regular cops or fire marshal might have done that, but you know the FBI doesn't work that way. We'll stick it to him here. Then I'll focus on the finding out who owns the money and we can both let Mr. Snooty Face, the prosecutor, put both Diaz and that guy in jail."

Diaz came back to the table and Wright continued to ask questions about his businesses abroad and his business associates. Diaz became increasingly annoyed. His attorney objected to almost every question. Bev noticed that one name of a business partner kept coming up. She couldn't recall why the name sounded familiar. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, typing the guy's name in the Google search box. Turns out he was a reputed mobster with a long history of being accused of arson, but he'd never been caught. Bev put her phone back in her purse.

Late in the afternoon, after they'd been at it for hours, Diaz leaned forward and said, "Okay, let's just cut this out now. I hired somebody to burn the building because the hotel wasn't making any money but the city wouldn't let me tear it down. I didn't do it for the insurance money, I did it to push the city to let me tear it down. I didn't want to close the business and let the hotel sit there vacant. I knew I could sell the land itself and at least break even."

Diaz's attorney looked like he was going to have a stroke. Bev didn't have to look at Wright. She could feel his excitement in the air.

Diaz turned to Bev and said, "I didn't do it for the insurance money, so you can quit looking at me like that."

She smiled and arched her eyebrows. "Mr. Diaz, you may not have burned the building in order to collect the insurance proceeds, but a few hours ago you made a direct demand on the record for the value of the building plus whatever you might be entitled to under business interruption and then you admitted to hiring someone to burn it. That's insurance fraud, sir."

"I also told you I'd waive the claim altogether and you can cancel the policy."

"That was going to be my recommendation before you demanded payment and then admitted to hiring the arsonist. Now, we'll just have to wait to see what the insurance company's lawyers want to do with this. Personally, I intend to recommend that we turn it over to the prosecutor."

They ended the statement. Both Wright and Bev told Diaz's attorney not to let Diaz leave town. No one shook hands. After Diaz and his attorney left, the court reporter laughed out loud and said, "I bet that lawyer will chew his client's ass all the way to Miami." She paused and added, "I'm guessing I'll be up all night preparing an expedited copy of this transcript."

Bev said, "You got it. And I'll authorize the additional costs for putting a rush on it. Any chance you'd be willing to part with a copy of the rough draft now?"

The court reporter said, "I usually don't do that because you would not believe how awful the first draft of a transcript usually is. I use voice recognition recording and I key simultaneously. I can put together a pretty good second draft, but the first one is a mess. If you're willing to accept that, I'll give you a copy."

"No. That's okay. I can wait until tomorrow. Did you record the audio?"

"Yes."

Both Wright and Bev asked for a copy of the audio recording, and the court reporter copied it to two flash drives.

Wright held his up and said, "You want to go with me when I take this to Raymond?"

Bev sighed, "No. You go ahead. I need to call my boss. Typically we prosecute insurance fraud cases vigorously. But, Diaz did give us the option of canceling the policy flat, in which case we could walk away today, give him back his premium money and we'd be done. I have to find out what the company wants to do with this."

Wright said, "Even if the company cancels the policy, you know you'll have to come back down here to testify."

"Lucky me. And I'll get to do it on the chintzy stipend the government gives witnesses."

Wright left and Bev went into the kitchen where Stearns was talking on the phone. He put the phone on speaker and joined Bev into the conversation with Peter Dietz and Russell McGavin, the insurance company's general counsel. Dietz said, "Good work, Bev."

She answered, "It wasn't me. It was the FBI. Obnoxious as they are to deal with, they did a great job with their investigation. They still haven't got to the bottom of the money in the hotel, but they pierced Diaz's elaborate facade as an honest businessman and connected him with some really bad people. I think they're either still missing something or there's a big piece they're not telling us.

"Diaz's whole family is fabulously rich. They didn't bring the money out of Cuba with them. It seems to have come largely from the brother who moved to Colombia in the 1970's. If I'm not having a Senior Moment, I seem to recall that the main thing people were making millions on in Colombia at that time was drugs. I guess it doesn't matter to our involvement in this, but I'm beginning to think Diaz may have been involved with whatever else was going on in that hotel, and is willing to take the rap for arson and maybe insurance fraud to distance himself from that."

She asked, "What are we going to do? It seems to me it would be cheaper and easier to simply rescind the policy. So far, we're not out anything but the cost of our investigation so far. We can refund his premium and walk away. He can still be prosecuted for arson, hopefully among other things, and the company doesn't have to be involved further."

McGavin said, "From the claims side that makes sense. Problem is we have this business side to contend with."

"Underwriters! God help us!"

McGavin went on, "Here's our dilemma. Diaz paid us tens of thousands of dollars in premium for the $25 million in coverage he purchased allegedly erroneously. He demanded on the record that we pay him for the building that he later admitted he hired someone to burn. That's insurance fraud. We don't have to cancel the policy. We can keep the money and prosecute him for fraud."

"That doesn't seem right. I believe him when he said the over-insurance was a mistake. I could understand how that happened. I think we would be wrong to keep the premium."

"We know he lied about other things in the statement. Supposed he lied about that? He over-insured the building and then he torched it. Even if the over-insurance was initially a mistake you'd think he'd have checked the policy at some point before hiring someone to burn it."

"I don't like the idea of the company keeping all that excess premium and still prosecuting him. I think the more appropriate thing to do would be to correct the policy to the proper limits, give him back the excess premium he paid and then prosecute him for the fraud he tried to perpetrate, using the correct amount of the building amount."

"You're too damned nice for this business, Bev."

She laughed, "That's the first time in my life anybody's ever told me I was too nice."

"Maybe it's just the first time it's been said to your face. It's a widely held opinion in the Company."

"In other words my career has stalled because I'm too nice for the rough and tumble of the business side."

"I think that's about right."

"Is that a veiled recommendation that I take the job in the fraud unit?"

"There's nowhere for you to go but there."

"I'll think about it, but I have to tell you, unless this is some kind of ultimatum, I'm inclined to stay where I am if that's an option. I like the variety I have now. I don't want to be stuck doing only fraud investigations."

"You can stay where you are forever if you want to. You're stuck, there, however."

"You're too honest for your job. Aren't you supposed to lie and make promises neither of us expects you to keep?"

"Yep, but you have a tendency to bring out the decency in people."

"Lucky me. Nice. Decent. Why don't you just add 'she has a good personality'."

"Let's not get carried away. You're nice and decent and intelligent and competent. Your personality is another matter. You do not follow the rules. You play fast and loose with your authority levels. And you are generally a pain in the ass to deal with when we tell you to do something and you think you know better."

"In other words I'm an insubordinate bitch. So, why don't you just fire me?" She paused. She knew she had gone too far. "I think we've had enough honesty for one day. So, what do you want me to tell Raymond we're going to do?"

"Tell him we'll cooperate fully in the prosecution of this fraud."

"Okay. Can I come home now?"

"I thought you were going on a cruise and Emily was meeting you in Ft. Lauderdale."

"I mean after that."

"I think you can, at least until the prosecutor needs you to testify."

"Okay. Beginning tomorrow, I'm on vacation through the holidays. I'll be back in the office right after the New Year."

"Have a good vacation. You did a good job on this one, Bev."

"I didn't do a damned thing but sit around waiting for something to happen. The FBI did all the heavy lifting on this one. Frosts my ass, but it's true."

Stearns walked with Bev to her car. She asked, "You want a lift back to your car?"

"No. I think I'll walk. It's not far and I'd like to get some fresh air. You need me for anything else right now?"

"I don't think so. Right now it's in the hands of Mr. Raymond. I doubt he'll do much with it until after Christmas, so we'll have a break. When it comes time for them to depose me, I'll need you to be there. Beyond that, I think you're done. Except, I want you to look at the Florida Statutes pertaining to cancellation of policies in cases of fraud. I want to make sure Russ is on the right track with his plan."

"I think he is, but I'll check."

"It doesn't sit well with me."

"Remember: Diaz outright lied at several points in the statement that we know of. You should check out every point. Maybe he lied about more stuff. Maybe he lied about the over-insurance."

"I'd love to get Maria-Elena Hernandez under oath."

"No doubt someone will at some point, but if I were you, I wouldn't push that button too hard. You don't want to accidentally turn up proof that he over-insurance really was really a mistake."

"See! That's what I hate about lawyers. You don't care about the real facts or the truth. All you care about is being able to dig up facts that support your case and that block the other side's case. Never mind what really happened."

"You should have been a cop."

"People keep telling me that." She waved her hand in front of her face as though shooing a fly, adding, "I'll call you at some point after Christmas to find out where things stand with the prosecution. Try to bury the hatchet in your feud with Barry long enough to keep in touch with him about the proceedings."

"I wish you would quit referring to some feud you have imagined between Barry and me."

"I'm not imagining it."

She turned to go to her car. Stearns rubbed her the wrong way. She couldn't put her finger on it.

Before she got to the hotel Barry Raymond called her. He told her Wright had just left his office. He was impressed with the quality of the examination and with the outcome.

"Bruce did all the real good stuff. I just teed up the ball for him. I hate it when that happens, but I guess I can't always be the one who comes up with the key pieces of evidence."

"You want to get a drink and maybe dinner?"

She started to say no, but realized she had skipped lunch and she was very hungry. A drink sounded good, too, after the nerve-wracking day. "Sure. You want me to meet you someplace?"

"Where are you now?"

"I just pulled into the parking lot at the hotel."

"I just arrived home. Do you need to change or shall I swing by and pick you up now?"

"I probably should change, but I'm really hungry."

"Take off your jacket at least and we can go to the marina."

"I dressed casual today."

"I'll be there in a flash."
Chapter 10

Bev waited outside for Raymond. He pulled up in front of the hotel and she slid into the passengers seat. He said, "We could eat at the marina if you want, but it will be dark soon and it will probably get chilly. How about Chinese? We can eat inside."

"I love Chinese food."

A few minutes later he pulled into a parking lot only a few blocks from her hotel. Bev laughed, "We should have walked."

He said, "You are the walking-est person I ever saw outside of the retired snowbirds."

"I love to walk and bike. It's great exercise and it's good for the soul, as well."

They ordered beers and dinner for two with appetizers and soup. Raymond waited for the server to walk away and he smiled at her, "Wright said you were amazing today."

Bev shrugged, "Much as it pains me to say it about a government functionary, I could say the same for him. He was positively brilliant."

She sipped her beer and raised her eyebrows. "So what happens next?"

"What is your company going to do?"

"We have several options. First, we have Diaz lying under oath on a number of points. I'm going to go through his statement with a fine toothed comb and find every lie I can. That's breach of his duty to cooperate. We could deny coverage based on that alone.

"Second, we have him demanding under oath that we pay for the damage to the building, and then, later in the statement, admitting that he hired somebody to burn the building. That's insurance fraud. We could turn that over to you for prosecution."

"On the other hand, he also said the over-insurance was a mistake and he invited you to rescind the policy, and take nothing. I think his statement is muddy. I think he's guilty of something, but I'm not sure it's insurance fraud."

"Are you telling me you don't intend to prosecute him?"

"I think more investigation is called for."

"Did you tell Wright that?"

"Yes."

"What did he do."

"After he threw a shit fit, he agreed with me. He's going back to the drawing board."

"What's going to happen to Diaz?"

"Unless we can pin down a specific crime, I'm not sure anything happens to him."

"He admitted to committing arson."

"He admitted to setting fire to a building he owned. He said he did not do it for the insurance money. Burning down property you own is not a crime, if you don't do it for the insurance money."

"What about the injuries to the cleaning lady?"

"She's collected a settlement under workers' comp and signed a release."

"Are you telling me Diaz could walk away from this?"

"Unless your company presses charges for insurance fraud, there's a good chance of that."

"That is total bullshit!" At that moment the server brought the appetizers. Bev lowered her eyes and fiddled with he silverware while she forced herself to calm down. Then she said, "Let's talk about something else. This looks good and I'm hungry. I don't want to argue with you right now."

He chuckled, "I'm guessing that means we will defer that argument for another day."

"Yes. After I have had the opportunity to discuss it with my legal department."

They ate the wonderful meal and talked about their plans for the holiday. Raymond flirted with her the entire time. Bev couldn't shake the feeling that he was flirting with her for some reason other than that he was interested in her. The investigation was essentially over, so she couldn't figure out why he would do that.

When she got back to her hotel room, she was too keyed up to go to bed. She arranged for the hotel to ship her work suitcase to her home, and she set her vacation suitcase by the door. She planned to leave for Ft. Lauderdale about 4:00 AM in order to meet Emily's plane. While she was aimlessly surfing the Internet, she checked out Diaz's niece's blog. She found several pictures of Diaz on the beach in Costa Rica during the period when he told her he was in Argentina. She also figured out that "Aunt Arabella" and her sons were actually Diaz's wife and children. Reading between the lines, she came to the conclusion that Diaz had a family and a life in Colombia that was quite different from the one he supposedly lived in Florida. It was not a crime to have a secret family. It was a crime to lie under oath.

Before she turned in, Bev sent that information to Bruce Wright and Barry Raymond, with a message that she was going to go through his statement line by line when she returned from her vacation. Last time she checked, perjury was a crime. Raymond could prosecute Diaz for that if they couldn't make anything else stick.
Chapter 11

It took Bev a lot longer to get around Miami than she expected. By the time she approached Ft. Lauderdale, Emily's plane had already landed. Bev promised to find a parking space and meet Emily at the baggage claim. Emily told her not to bother to park. She would get her suitcase and meet her mother outside the terminal. Emily wrestled her (one very large) suitcase into the back seat of the rental car. They turned in the car and took a cab to the cruise terminal.

The boarding process was long and stressful. Lines snaked around the terminal, but eventually they made their way to the front of the line, the efficient desk clerks checked them in, and they rode the escalator up to the ship. Neither of them had ever been that close to a cruise ship and they were overwhelmed by its enormity. It was truly a floating city.

Their rooms weren't ready but they checked their bags onto the ship. The porter promised the bags would be delivered to their room. They explored the ship until it was almost time to get ready for the life-boat drill. Then they went to their cabin to get their life vests.

The cabin was on the outside of the ship, without a balcony, but with a big port hole. While they waited for the announcement of the lifeboat drill they started unpacking. The drill itself was a challenge for Bev. There were a lot of people on the ship who were horsing around and not paying attention. The attendants made it clear that the drill would not be finished until everybody settled down and cooperated. Bev did not like the feeling of being jammed together, shoulder to shoulder, with so many strangers. She could tell from the look on Emily's face and her efforts to breathe slowly that Emily was positively freaking out. Bev reached forward and took Emily's hand. Emily clasped her mother's hand and didn't let go until they blew the whistle ending the drill.

They returned to their room, finished unpacking and dressed casually for dinner. Emily was ready first and said she wanted to go check out the teen area. With some misgivings, Bev let Emily go by herself, extracting a promise that Emily would keep in touch by text message and meet her outside the dining room at 6:00 PM. Once Emily had gone, Bev finished dressing and then decided to go to the bar for a drink. She had never in her life gone into a bar by herself before, but she had never gone on a cruise before so she decided that a few of the normal rules by which she lived could be abated for the duration. She ordered a drink and struck up a conversation with a nice couple from Lakeland, Florida. They chatted until the dining room steward opened the doors. Bev waited for Emily in the hall and they entered the dining room together. The head steward greeted them. Each table had a waiter and an assistant. Wine stewards and a whole bunch of others stood around the room, waiting for the guests. Crystal and silver gleamed on the tables. Bev realized that this cruise was going to be a terrible ordeal for her. She hated fancy restaurants and pretentious waiters. Emily saw the look on her mother's face and whispered, "Behave!"

Bev whispered back, "Maybe we should stick to the buffet."

Emily poked her mother with her elbow, "Aw, come on, be a sport for once."

They were seated with a single mother traveling with two teens. The three kids hit it off instantly and made plans to ditch the 'rents and go hide out in the teen club after dinner. Bev took an immediate dislike to the mother of the other kids. The woman suggested that she and Bev go to the casino together after dinner. Bev declined, saying (truthfully) that she was way to cheap to be a gambler. Emily kicked her mother under the table, but Bev did not recant the statement. She went for a walk on the deck and then went to the theater for the floor show. She left during the first scene change and went in search of someplace on the ship she might feel comfortable. She found a lounge where a combo was playing soft jazz and listened for a while. After several men asked her to dance, she made her escape.

Next she checked out the library, which was all but deserted at that hour. She found a bunch of books about the places they would be visiting and spent a couple of hours reading about their ports of call. By ten she was back in the room, in her pajamas, reading a book. By ten thirty she had turned out the lights and settled down to go to sleep. Emily came in around midnight. Bev mumbled a question about Emily's evening, and Emily gushed that it had been beyond wonderful.

Emily spent virtually every waking moment of their at-sea time with the other teens. Bev spent most of her time either in the gym or the library because it was too windy and chilly to sit out on the deck. She decided that there was absolutely nothing about cruising that appealed to her, but she was determined to be a good sport because Emily was having the time of her life.

On the second day, they docked in Georgetown in the Cayman Islands. Emily and her gang were going on a supervised excursion to the beach. Bev took a tender into the city by herself. She walked around for several hours. Georgetown was a lovely city. She understood that the real attraction of the Cayman Islands for tourists was the snorkeling and diving. She had no interest in either of those because she couldn't swim. She liked to learn about the history and culture of places she visited. When she passed the public library she went in, reminding herself that she would not mention that to Emily because she knew she'd catch hell for being such a dud.

She rifled through the shelves on local history and lore, pulling down a book on the famous smugglers from the area. Bev had always believed the tales of smugglers and pirates in the Islands were largely exaggerated for the benefit of tourists. Flipping through the book she realized that, in fact, the stories were highly sanitized. She learned that smuggling and piracy were commonplace in the Caribbean for centuries, and the book indicated that the situation had changed only in the sophistication of the means of transportation and communication as well as the types of merchandise stolen and/or delivered to buyers without paying taxes. Instead of smuggling slaves and rum, the contemporary smugglers were most likely to be trading in electronics, jewels or weapons. There was little mention of drugs. She recalled Raymond's statements to the effect that drug-smuggling was the ugly underbelly of the industry and most "traditional" smugglers would not deal in drugs.

Near the end of the book, she came across a chapter on the Raymond family. Just before the Civil War, the patriarch had emigrated from Scotland to Georgia where he got a job on a trading ship that sold cotton to islands in the Caribbean where it picked up rum which it sold in New York, returning to Savannah with manufactured goods from New England. He got to know the Islands, and liked them. He heard enough war talk in both Georgia and New York to understand that the United States was heading for a meltdown. He had no dog in that fight, so he relocated to Jamaica where he got a job in a dram shop. His official job was tending bar. His actual job was keeping the books, both the official set of books showing the liquor bought and sold on the premises and second set recording the transactions that took place in the middle of the night in which entire shiploads of rum were conveyed.

He prospered in Jamaica, eventually buying out the owners of the business at which point he sent for a bride from Scotland, a girl from his home town whom he had never met. They had eight children, six of them boys. When the boys grew up, they scattered about in the islands, opening bars of their own and creating a family trading network. At first they stuck to their main business of trading in rum. They occasionally delivered other commodities as well. The Raymond family smuggling business was hugely profitable and they grew wealthy. Like most Scots and all smart smugglers, they lived modestly and did not flaunt their wealth. When the temperance movement in the United States reached the point where it became clear to Barry Raymond's grandfather that the US was going to ban alcohol, he called a meeting of the various siblings and cousins who ran the family businesses and told them that he wanted to move to the US because the market for illegal liquor was about to explode. The family agreed. Rum was their main cash cow, but they found suppliers for other kinds of alcohol as well.

Their profits during the years of Prohibition were enormous. After Prohibition ended, Barry's grandfather returned to his home in the Cayman Islands. Two of his sons, who had been born in Florida, stayed in Islamorada where they married local girls and continued in the family business of running legal bars which offered back room services as well. The chapter ended by saying that the Raymond family was one of the wealthiest and most respected smuggling families in the Caribbean. Barry was not mentioned, but there was a photo of his parents with a small boy at the very end of the book.

Bev left the library and realized she would have to hurry to make one of the last tenders back to the ship. She was oblivious to the glorious scenery. She was totally focused on reviewing in her head the information about Raymond's family. She couldn't figure out why, but she had the sense that it had something to do with Barry's behavior towards her.

She managed – with great difficulty – to put those thought aside. By the time Emily got back from her outing, Bev was dressed and ready for dinner. Emily showered and dressed, not taking time to talk to her mother. During dinner, however, she and the two other kids talked non-stop about their adventures snorkeling and walking the beaches. That was fine with Bev. It meant she didn't have to talk to the irritating woman who sat across from her. She could tell the woman felt exactly the same way about her.

While they were lounging by the pool on the afternoon of the formal night, Emily told her mother they were having a special event for the kids. She said that the activities director told her they did that because a lot of the couples liked to go to the formal dinner without their children. Emily said, "I am excited about going to the formal evening, and they're offering two options, one of which is to dress up and attend the formal dinner as a group. I know that you hate to get dressed up and you don't like fancy food. You've been a real good sport about going to the dining room and being pleasant to Donna and Chip's mother. (She is a very mean, bitter and nasty woman! Even her kids don't like her.) I know it's a challenge for you. They tell me that the formal dinner is something of an over-the-top food extravaganza. I'm offering you an 'out.' If you want to go to the formal dinner, I'll go with you. If you prefer to skip it, I can make other plans."

Bev put her hands over her face and exhaled, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I know you love this whole experience. I appreciate the fact that you understand it's a challenge for me. I am thrilled to offer you the opportunity to have such a great time. Watching you have such a great time is my primary pleasure in this vacation, that and the incredible scenery. I'm more than happy to skip the formal night. I'll curl up with a book and order room service. You can tell me all about it when you get back."

Emily laughed and chucked her mother's shoulder, "More likely I'll tell you about it in the morning, because you'll probably be asleep when I come in."

Bev winked and said, "Very likely."

The rest of the trip passed quickly. Bev considered that a mercy. Emily was sad when the trip was over. Bev couldn't wait to get back to Ohio.

They arrived home on Christmas Eve. The cruise had been Bev's Christmas present to Emily, so Christmas was to be a quiet affair. Bev checked in with her Aunt Betty, whose family lived on a farm a few miles from Bev's house. The family invited Bev and Emily to Christmas dinner the next day, promising that it would differ little from a regular Sunday dinner because, as Mennonites, they try to keep things simple.

After she hung up she realized she had called her dad's sister before she called her mother. She sighed and picked up the phone. She listened to her mother ramble on for a half an hour, never once asking Bev how her vacation had gone or what she was doing for Christmas. That was probably just as well because Bev's mother would have been annoyed by Bev's opinion of the cruise, and she would have plenty to say about Bev and Emily having dinner with Bev's fathers relatives. Bev took it as long as she could and then made up an excuse that she had something in the oven. She put down the phone and sighed again, a sigh that bordered on a sob. Emily walked into the room at that moment and put her hand on her mother's shoulder. "Talking to Gram?"

"Yeah. I've got that out of the way. Hey, do you want to go to Aunt Betty's for Christmas dinner tomorrow?"

Emily thought about it, staring off into space for a while. She chewed on her lip for a minute and said, "You know how much I love them and I would like to get together with them soon, but I think that I want to kind of bask in the glow of the cruise for a while. They are wonderful people, and they are good examples for me of the kind of good and decent people that I hope I can be someday. But, their Mennonite simplicity would only make me feel materialistic and shallow because I enjoyed the cruise so much. Let's beg off and hang out here. After all the crap we ate on the cruise, we can make our food very simple. Roast chicken would be great and then we could have chicken soup the day after."

"That's fine. I'll call Aunt Betty and then we can go to the store. Do you have plans for tonight?"

"Melissa invited me to supper at her house and then to go to Christmas Eve services at her church. The service starts at 10:00 PM."

"Okay. I'm on my own tonight, then."

"You okay with that? I can stay home, if you'd prefer."

Bev laughed, "Sweetheart, I'm fine with that. It's actually probably a good idea for me to be alone tonight. It's going to take me some time to recover from all the stimulation of the cruise. A quiet night alone will do me good. Maybe I'll buy a bottle of wine at the store."

"Don't you dare do any work!"

"You won't be here and I won't tell you if I do."

"Mother, you are impossible!"

Shortly after Emily left, Bev thought about going online to continue her research, but decided against it. It was, after all, Christmas Eve. Twenty four hours of _A Christmas Story_! She poured herself a glass of wine and turned on the TV. A few minutes later, she was startled by her cell phone ringing in her purse. She managed to fish it out of the purse just as the call rolled to voice mail. She hit redial without looking at the number. The local fire chief, Ed Casey, laughed and asked, "Having trouble getting the phone out of your purse?"

Bev laughed, "Yeah. Sorry. I rarely get on my cell on weekends or holidays – except for really bad ones notifying me of fires. Emily's out but she'd call me on the land line. Merry Christmas!"

"That's what I called to say to you. I thought you told me you'd be back for Christmas. You said Emily is out. Would you like to go out for dinner?"

" That's very nice of you but, number one, since The Barn burned down there's no place to go out to dinner. Secondly, I just came back from a cruise. I should fast for a week. I have a bottle of wine that I'm feeling guilty about opening by myself and some cheese, crackers and other stuff in the pantry. I could probably throw together a half way decent hors d'oeuvres tray. I'm watching _A Christmas Story."_

"Turn it off! We'll watch the next one together. The mayor gave me a ham for Christmas and I bought some black bread from an Amish baker I know. That's going to be my Christmas dinner, but I'll cut off a hunk of both and bring them. I'll be there in 45 minutes."

"Super."

Bev hung up the phone wondering what in the world that was about. She liked Ed Casey. They had worked very well together on the investigation of fire the destroyed The Barn. She hadn't talked to him during the entire period she'd been in Florida. She knew he lived alone and had no family. Maybe he was just reaching out to a friend on a lonely holiday. She hoped that's what it was. The last thing she wanted or needed in her life was a man! She pushed those thoughts from her mind and went to the kitchen, rummaging around in the pantry and the freezer.

Within a half an hour, she had a very attractive tray of crudites, olives, cheeses and some awesome summer sausage and chow-chow that her aunt had made. The doorbell rang just as she set the try on the coffee table. She greeted Ed at the door. He had a tray in one hand and a paper bag in the other. He said, "I come bearing Christmas cheer!" He handed her the plate of ham and bread, and held up the paper bag, "I'm an old country boy. I don't do wine. I brought a bottle of good Kentucky bourbon."

Bev laughed and said, "You can have that, and I'll call you a cab at the end of the evening."

"Already taken care of. I came in a cab, and he's coming back to fetch me at 10:30 PM. That way I can have a couple of belts and your reputation will be saved."

"I have a reputation?"

"No, as a matter of fact you don't, but I don't want to be the person to give you one."

"Thanks. You can put your coat in the closet, and make yourself comfortable on the couch. I'll make you a drink. How do you want it?"

"Straight up with about three ice cubes."

Bev went to the kitchen, laughing. She made Casey a drink and topped off her glass. She returned to the living room just as the next showing of _A Christmas Story_ was beginning. They both knew the movie almost by heart, and even recited some of the lines with the characters. They laughed out loud, sometimes before the funny parts even happened because they knew what was coming.

When the movie was over, they refreshed their drinks and sat on the couch, talking. Casey filled Bev in on the local gossip, which didn't amount to much. She told him about the situation with Diaz, and asked him if he had come up with anything on buildings with money hidden in the walls. He had not, although he agreed with her that he thought the person or people who burned the building probably did not know about the money. She shared with him her discomfort about the apparent enmity between her attorney and the local prosecutor, and their adamant denial of any problems between them.

Casey shook his head and sipped his drink, "That sounds like an old family feud to me. I know nothing about Florida culture, but I'm an old boy from eastern Kentucky. I can tell you there are family feuds that go back generations. Some of those folks don't even know why they hate each other. You know that Raymond's family is in the smuggling business. What about Sterns? Is his family in competition with Raymond's?"

"Good questions. Frankly, I wouldn't care at all except that I have the sense that their personal rivalry is influencing their behavior with respect to this case. Sterns is so low key it's amazing. Usually when I hire a new lawyer in an area, they kind of bend over backwards to cultivate a new client. Sterns is very standoffish. It's just weird. Lawyers are usually prickly to the point of being paranoid about their reputation. I called him a liar to his face and he didn't react at all. Barry, on the other hand, takes every opportunity to spend time with me and flirt madly. And let me tell you, there is nothing about me that appears to be his type. "

Casey started to say something but was interrupted by a tone from his cell phone. He looked at it, and said, "My ride's here."

While Casey put on his coat, Bev retrieved his bottle of bourbon and slipped it back into the bag. She handed it to him just inside the door. He said, "Keep it."

She shook her head, "I don't like hard liquor."

He smiled and said softly, "It won't go bad. You might have visitors occasionally who like a belt or two."

"Visitors like you?"

He winked and chucked her under the chin. "I could be persuaded to visit occasionally when you're in town."

She grinned, "That would be nice. Give me a little notice and I'll actually cook for you."

He reached for the door knob, but then turned suddenly and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Then he rushed out without a word. Bev stood at the door and called, "Merry Christmas."

She watched the taxi back out and then closed the door. While she was putting away the leftovers, Emily came in. Emily looked at the mess in the kitchen and laughed, "What with this? Did you have a party and I wasn't invited?"

"Actually, I had an impromptu visitor. Chief Casey stopped by. We had snacks because he didn't give me enough warning to make a meal."

"You watched that stupid movie together, didn't you?"

"Yes. And he likes it as much as I do."

Emily shook her head, "I don't get your fascination for that movie. It's stupid. However, I think Chief Casey likes you, and he's a nice man. I'm glad you have a friend. I am going to bed now. Since we have no presents to open, how about we make a big breakfast."

"Pancakes?"

"Do we have the makings for an omelet or a frittata?"

"Probably. Let's do a frittata . I can't flip an omelet without breaking it."

"It's a plan. I will be up by 11:00."

Bev laughed. For Emily, that was very early. Bev would have been up for hours by then.

Christmas was a quiet day. Bev and Emily cooked brunch together and then cleaned up together afterwards. They read for a while. At one point in the mid-afternoon, Emily turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. She paused on the weather channel. "Wow. It's pretty warm out there. It's up in the forties. You want to try a bike ride or at least a walk?"

"I think it's still too cold for a bike ride. I hate having cold air chap my face and I hate using Vaseline even more. A walk would be good. You want to drive out to the park or just walk in town?"

"Let's just go for a walk here."

They walked around town for a couple of hours. Bev filled Emily in on some of the history and lore of the area which had never previously interested Emily. Bev doubted Emily was all that interested at the time; she was probably just humoring her mother's sentimental chatter. They laughed and talked. When they got almost back home Emily's phone rang. A bunch of her friends were escaping family gatherings and going to a movie. Emily started to beg off, but Bev shook her had and said, "Go!"

Bev spent the evening cleaning the house and was in bed before Emily returned home. As she stretched out in the bed it occurred to her that this was the nicest Christmas she had had in years, maybe ever. She would never tell that to anyone because it would prove that she was, in fact, the boring drudge her socialite mother accused her of being.
Chapter 12

The day after Christmas, Bev went to her office in Dayton. She called Russ McGavin's secretary and asked if he had time to see her. They booked an appointment for 10:00 AM. Bev caught up on her mail and chatted with her assistant who updated her on the progress of some of her other claims as well as company gossip, which is always pretty juicy following the company Christmas party. Bev rarely attended the event if there was any way to get out of it, but somebody always filled her in on the shenanigans.

In addition to the tales of drunken misbehavior among the staff, it was also the time of year promotions were announced. The jockeying for promotions among the management was a source of amusement to Bev. They behaved like such juveniles.

At 10:00 she poured herself a cup of coffee and went to McGavin's office. They chatted for a while, catching up on personal news and talking about the weather. Bev, who had no patience for that kind of small talk, cut it short and said, "I don't know what to do about my situation in Florida. The insured has admitted burning the building, but does not appear to have known anything about the money we found in the walls. He says he didn't burn it for the insurance money. He says the over insurance was a mistake. All of that would make sense and cause me to suggest that we simply decline to pay the claim because it was an intentional act, and leave it at that.

"But, he lied about a bunch of other things, that might or might not be inconsequential. I think there's more to his story. Problem is, the prosecutor is prepared to let him walk. All the FBI cares about is the money in the building, which we all believe is unrelated to the arson. The FBI thinks it's drugs, so they're focusing on that. They believe that Diaz didn't know about that, so they've lost interest in him."

McGavin said, "I talked to Peter Dietz about this. We agree that what we need to do is simply deny the claim based on intentional acts. You draft that letter. Then we're going to cancel the policy because the building is destroyed. The underwriter is prepared to do that immediately after you deny the claim."

"Why don't we just reform the policy?"

He laughed, "Claims people suck as business people. I told you: we're not giving him back his premium."

"That's just wrong."

"I knew you would say that, but that decision has been made. We've had you incurring expenses in Florida for a couple of months. We have to keep some premium to keep from losing money. "

"Okay, fine. I'll draft a letter denying the claim and run it by you and Peter. I'll run it by Palmer as well to make sure it conforms to Florida insurance law. Barry Raymond can prosecute, or not, as he chooses. I gotta tell you it pisses me off to let this guy off the hook knowing that he's guilty of perjury and arson, and who knows what else."

"I know. Arson is a big deal to us, but in this case it really does not appear that he burned the building to collect the insurance money."

"I'm still not so sure about that. I'd love to be able to sue him so I can subpoena his other insurance records. I'd be curious to know what he has his other properties insured for."

"I told you already: we are not going to sue him. Draft the denial letter, and let's put this one behind us."

"I'm not satisfied that we have all the answers."

"We have enough answers to get out of paying a $25,000,000 claim. That's good enough. You have other claims to work on."

"I hear you. I just don't like letting this sleaze bag get away with arson, and whatever else he may be doing."

"You're an insurance adjuster, not a cop. Let the FBI and/or the local cops deal with whatever else he may be up to."

Bev went back to her office and called Sterns. She explained to him the carrier's plan of action and asked if there were any provisions in Florida law that would require special language in the denial letter. He said he didn't think so, but he would do a little research. He asked to see a draft of the letter before she presented it to her legal department. She started to hang up, but then stopped and asked, "Palmer, what do you make of this? The authorities are prepared to let Diaz walk away from this. Why? He admits burning the building."

"I don't know all that's behind it, but this is Florida. Diaz is a big money guy in South Florida and the Islands. He knows people, powerful and rich people with influence in the US and other countries. Burning down one of his own buildings is not seen as a crime worthy of bringing down his whole operation, which would inconvenience the people who frequent his clubs. Those are not people the prosecutors are willing to inconvenience!"

"I hadn't thought about that."

"It isn't obvious unless you are familiar with the players in the background."

"What do you think was going on in that hotel?"

"It could have been a lot of things. The obvious is drugs, but I'm not sure it was drugs. I think it might have been something else. Knowing the people on Marathon, it could have been a general smuggling operations other than drugs. Jewelery, liquor, art. There are all kinds of things rich people want to buy but don't want to pay taxes on. There's also a big business in human trafficking in South Florida. They smuggle in young girls to work as nannies or housekeepers in rich people's homes. The girls know they are here illegally, and they are fed stories of the horrible way they would be treated in jail, so they do whatever they're told."

"You're kidding!"

"I'm not saying that was what they were doing, but that is big business. It costs too much to hire a legal housekeeper or nanny. A lot of rich people are willing to take the risk of getting slapped with a fine rather than paying payroll taxes and minimum wage to people who work in their homes."

"Why aren't the local cops and Barry Raymond all over that?"

Sterns laughed, "My dear, you should tell your company not to send you on jobs in Florida any more. You are way too naive to work here. The reason they're not investigating is because the people who run operations like that on Marathon are also the movers and shakers who run Marathon. While Barry does not personally engage in smuggling himself (which would be a bad thing for his career), he probably knows who was running it and I'd bet he knows exactly what they were doing. Let me ask you a question. Has he kept you closer than you would have expected during this investigation. Closer than you might think would be necessary?"

Bev thought about that for a minute, rearranging papers on her desk and playing with the phone cord. "I don't think I'd have put it that way, but he's flirted with me and invited me to his home and out to dinner. I'm almost one hundred percent sure that I am not his type. I couldn't figure it out. But, now that you've said it in those terms, I think you're right. I think he was keeping me close to find out what I knew or suspected."

"Did you share with him the results of your investigation?"

"Most of it, but not all of it. But I told him everything I know that would be material to the arson!"

"Of course. If you find out anything that may have any bearing on the other activities in the hotel, I'd recommend you share the information with Bruce Wright, and let him determine what he can share with Barry."

"Did you know that Barry's family was in the smuggling business for generations?"

"Wow. I'm impressed that you found that out. There are people who've lived in the Keys for generations who don't know about the Raymond family empire. To answer your question, yes, I know about that. To my knowledge Barry has never personally participated in the family business and his parents have been very carefully and publicly 'retired' since Barry started practicing law. The rest of the family, which operates mostly in the Islands, are as busy as ever. Barry may not participate, but he benefits from the activities through his share in the family trust. You say you've been to his house?"

"Yep. That was what prompted me to look into his background. His house is way too nice and full of priceless art and antiques for a simple state's attorney."

"You're absolutely right. His house is spectacular."

"It surprises me that you've been there, when you two so obviously don't like each other."

He laughed, "We've both been telling you that we're okay with each other, but you know that's not true. Did you check me out, too?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I hadn't got around to that. I probably would have eventually. What would I have found out about you?"

"You'd have found out that Barry Raymond and I are first cousins. His family occupies the top rung of the aristocracy in the smuggling culture in the Islands. My family was primarily in the fishing business, but they'd occasionally run loads of smuggled goods for the Raymonds and others when fishing was slow.

"Barry and I are almost exactly the same age. We were the two smart boys in families that consisted mostly of pretty girls and tough boys. We were friendly rivals growing up. We decided very young that we wanted to be lawyers. He went to U of M. I wanted to go to UF from the first time I talked to a bunch of Gator alums who chartered my uncle's fishing boat where I worked as a mate. Our careers took separate paths. I started out with a big firm in Miami. Barry wanted to be a trial attorney, so he got a job as a prosecutor, which is the best training ground there is for trial work. We roomed together for a while after law school.

"That was when things between us went off the rails. He was dating a gorgeous Venezuelan girl. I fell in love with her and stole her away from him."

"That would explain why he hates you. What's your beef with him?"

"Probably a guilty conscience. I married Alicia and we moved into a big house in Miami and started spending money like we were made of it. She was in the fashion business. I was doing deals for developers who were building resorts in the Islands. We had a fabulous life. Then I did the stupidest thing imaginable. I had an affair with an attorney in my firm. Alicia found out and divorced me. The attorney's husband divorced her. Both my career and my personal life were in shambles. I decided that living the high life in Miami was not good for me, so I came home to Key West and hung out my shingle. I do everything from wills, divorces and contracts to bailing clients out of jail. It's a much simpler life, but I'm happy."

Bev thought that explanation sounded too pat and very lame. She was pretty sure that if it was true at all it was far from the whole story, but she was not one to pry. "Did Barry and Alicia ever reconnect?"

"No. She was never really in love with him in the first place. Barry comes off as both cold and manipulative to women."

Bev laughed. "That's interesting. That is exactly how I perceived him. The whole time was in Florida he flirted with me. I had the feeling that he was doing it for some reason. You tell me now that he was probably keeping me close to find out what I knew, but he could also have really been flirting with me?"

"Absolutely. You think you're not his type because he's obviously rich and has an art collection. Frankly, I think you're exactly his type. He's rich and has an art collection, but he's spent his entire career as a prosecutor when he's had many opportunities to move to big firms and do much more high profile work. He likes putting bad guys in jail. He loves his home region with the same passion you love yours. He likes really smart women. He may actually be interested in you. But, on the other hand, every action he takes generally has multiple motives. He's a very complicated guy."

"You don't like him for reasons more than guilt."

"Yeah. I guess you're right. He's my cousin and we grew up together, but there is something cold and secretive about him. He's attractive, but he's never had a relationship with a woman that lasted very long. Alicia said he kind of creeped her out because he came on too strong but at the same time failed to open up to her. I have often wondered if he isn't actually working in the family business despite putting on such a front as an honest lawyer. "

Bev didn't believe a word of that, although she agreed with Alicia that Raymond was kind of creepy. Palmer was obviously not going to tell her the truth about his feelings for Raymond. She said, "Okay. Do your research on Florida law having to do with denying claims. I'll get the letter drafted and over to you by tomorrow."

"Okay." He paused. "You don't believe me do you?"

"No." She chuckled, "I don't think I've believed anything anyone told me the whole time I was in Marathon."

"It is best to be cautious when you're an outsider dealing with people in the Keys, maybe Floridians in general."

Bev hung up, shaking her head and feeling grateful that her involvement with this case was almost over and shocked that she'd called Sterns a liar a second time and he hadn't reacted.
Chapter 13

A few days after the first of the year, Bruce Wright called Bev on her cell phone. Like every wintertime conversation between someone in Florida and someone up north, he started with, "How's the weather?"

Bev said, "We have six inches of snow on the ground. It's still snowing and we are expecting blizzard conditions throughout the afternoon. Temperature's presently 15-degrees above zero. Tonight's low is expected to fall to about 15-below zero. My daughter and I are planning to spend a couple of days holed up in the house. Go ahead and tell me what it's like in Miami, so we can get that out of the way."

He said, "Right now it's 72 degrees and sunny."

"Alright. You win. Now. What's up?"

"You sound kind of cranky. Am I catching you at a bad time?"

"Sorry. I love my home town and could probably never live anywhere else, but I hate snow and this storm blew in suddenly. I don't think I have enough coffee to last me for more than a day or so. I am cranky. Sorry. Take my mind off my troubles and tell me why you called."

"You took a statement from Bob Parker before I got to him, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Remind me to bitch at you about that."

"I consider myself bitched at. You want a copy of the statement I got?"

"Can I have it or do I need to subpoena it."

"I'll have to clear it with the suits in the legal department, but we generally like to cooperate with law enforcement. I can tell you there's nothing in the statement that helped me in any way."

"What was your impression of Parker."

"I thought he was being very careful in his answers. Barry Raymond told me that he thought Parker was kind of stupid. I didn't have that impression at all. On the contrary, Parker struck me as very sharp. Someone looking out for number one, and willing to play any angle that presented itself. You won't get that from the printed transcript. I'll see if the Company will let me give you a copy of the recording. What I found interesting were his pauses and inflection. I wish I'd videotaped it."

"I videotaped my statement with him. By then he was prepared. I think he had been carefully prepared, probably by an attorney. I'd like to hear your statement."

"Let me see what I can do. If they won't let me give it to you voluntarily, issue a subpoena."

"Does your Company have a registered agent in Florida."

"Yes."

"Who is it?"

"Look it up."

"I thought you said you like to cooperate with law enforcement."

"I am cooperating. I'm just not going to help you do your job. Can you share with me what's up?"

"Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to kind of bounce some things off you. I don't want to discuss this with anyone on the ground in Marathon. Since you were there, you may be able to make some sense of these things."

"Happy to help if I can. I'm sure as hell not going anywhere today."

He laughed. "Okay, one of my colleagues in Jamaica just came across some information that may change everything about this case. Actually, it may change your coverage position, although you'll probably still be able to deny the claim."

"Okay. You have my attention. I'm drafting a denial letter right now. Tell me what you found out before I mail it." She paused and pinched her forehead, "Do I need to get someone from legal on the phone?"

"No! I want this to be a conversation just between you and me. We'll figure out how to do official exchanges of information later."

"OK. That's how I like to work with cops."

"The guy in Jamaica has uncovered a wide scale prostitution ring that is actually quite amazing. They move both girls and boys around to resorts, hotels and restaurants as well as to service private clients. I'm talking about dozens if not hundreds of kids. They range from runaway teenagers they pick up off the streets to high-end, high-priced fancy call girls (and boys). They come from all over the world. The operators move them around from place to place in South Florida and the Caribbean to keep the supply fresh. Some of the high end hookers have worked this circuit for a long time. Most of the kids make a round or two and then they either dump them back on the streets or ship them off to another prostitution ring someplace else."

"The motel in Marathon was a place where they lodged some of these prostitutes?"

"Evidently. On the one hand it was kind of an intake point for kids they picked up on the streets, mostly in Miami and Key West. But, it had a more important function."

"It was the bank?"

"Bingo!"

"Did Diaz know about it?"

"I don't know yet, but I can't imagine that he didn't. His clubs were among the biggest customers of the ring."

"Wait a minute. Diaz admitted he burned the building. Why would he do that if he knew there were millions of dollars in the walls and it was supplying him with hookers that were probably very important to his operations?"

"Good question. You want to help me find out why?"

"Yeah because if Diaz didn't burn the building, I've got to find out what he knew about the illegal operations that were going on in that building so I can determine whether or not I am going to still be able to deny coverage for this loss. Why would he admit to arson, and run the risk of prosecution if he didn't do it? And I thought you had proof he hired the firebug."

"As you know evidence can be manufactured. Maybe somebody tried to frame Diaz. Maybe Diaz is protecting somebody. I'm sure if you think about it for five minutes you'll come up with more good possible scenarios. When you run out, I have some I'll share. I think we are back to square one. Call your legal department. I would like for you to pay me a visit in Miami, but please do not let anybody in the Keys know you're coming."

"Anybody as in my lawyer or the prosecuting attorney?"

"Right."

"Did you know those two are cousins who hate each other."

He laughed. "I didn't know they were related, but it's obvious they hate each other. My understanding was that it's purely political."

"Really? I was under the impression it was personal. In any case, they have both lied to me repeatedly, so you need have no fear about me confiding in either of them about this turn of events. Once I clear it with Legal, I'll try to make travel arrangements. I won't be able to get a flight out for a few days because the airports are closed until the blizzard passes. I'll call you back by tomorrow to let you know what my plans are."

"OK. In the meantime, I'm going to send you an email with a couple of links to websites that you might find interesting. I'd like for you to reopen your investigation and see if you come up with the same kind of information I am finding."

"Got it. I'll talk to you by tomorrow at the latest." Bev hung up and leaned back on the couch, with her eyes closed, chewing on her lip.

Emily, sitting on the other end of the couch, looked up from her book and raised her eyebrows. "You're going back to Florida, aren't you?"

"Looks like it."

"Sucks to be you."

Bev lifted her head and winked at her daughter. "I'll send you photos of me on the beach."

"Don't you dare!"
Chapter 14

Bev went into her bedroom and closed the door. She called Russ McGavin and suggested he might want to get Peter Dietz on the line. After they all finished lamenting about the weather and hoping out loud there would be no widespread power outages, Bev told them about Wright's call.

They were all quiet for a few minutes. Dietz said, "Why would Diaz admit to arson in his statement under oath if he didn't burn the building."

McGavin said, "Possibly it was a calculated risk. If we believed him, we would do what we planned to do, simply deny the claim as an intentional act. I understand that Barry Raymond has taken no steps to prosecute. That would have been the end of the story.

"On the other hand, if he did not come forward and put an end to the investigations, someone was likely to uncover what was really going on in that motel and blow the lid off the whole operation, which was probably very beneficial to him."

Bev muttered, "I'm guessing it was an operation in which Diaz was at least involved, if he wasn't in charge."

"Right."

Dietz added, "Besides I'm guessing the penalty for perjury is less than the penalty for running an international prostitution ring and laundering money."

McGavin laughed, "Yeah, by quite a bit. But, if Bruce Wright does his job, Diaz may be looking at perjury, arson, as well as prostitution and money laundering."

Dietz chuckled, "Hope the dude looks good in orange."

Bev said, "I don't know. Guys like Diaz don't go to jail. He'll go to Colombia or someplace else and hide out with his beautiful wife, Arabella, and their two perfect boys in a heavily guarded mansion somewhere. We'll never get to him."

"Since when are you such a pessimist?"

"Russ, nothing about this case has been right from the beginning. Everybody's lying all the time. I am more uncomfortable about this one than any fire I've ever worked. We know somebody burned a building in which there was some kind of illegal activity going on. The insured is a big shot in the restaurant and entertainment business throughout the Caribbean. He's well connected both in the US and in the Islands. He lives a double life: in public, he's a single man-about-town; privately, he's married with a filthy rich family in Colombia. The manager of the hotel, who was out of town at the time of the fire, is deemed to be stupid by the locals, but I thought he was very careful with his answers. He told me enough to get me off his back but not enough to help me. I bet if I dug into his background, I'd find that he lied to me about a number of things. Both the prosecuting attorney and the attorney I hired to represent the Company have lied to me repeatedly.

"On the subject of which, I want to ditch Sterns. I can't work with lawyer who lies to me. Do either of you know of an Ohio attorney who's also licensed in Florida?"

"About half of the attorneys I know who are over 50 have licenses in places like Florida, Georgia and Alabama. It seems to be part of their retirement planning." Dietz laughed. "Let me make some calls."

"I don't want anybody who has already moved to Florida. Something in the water down there causes weirdness."

McGavin said, "Bev, this is just a hunch, but I don't want you to tell Sterns that you've replaced him. Right now, he thinks the investigation is over. He'll be looking for a draft of the denial letter. Send it to him. Don't tell him you're going to Miami. I think we should keep him close. Same with Barry Raymond. If you have to go back to Marathon, stay on his good side as long as you can."

"Why?"

"It's a hunch. They've both lied to you, but they've also both given you a lot of good information that you were able to work with."

"Good information that sent me down a garden path toward the wrong conclusion."

Dietz asked, "Do you think Sterns and Raymond are involved?"

Bev thought about that for a while, chewing the inside of her cheek in a way she knew would be sore later. "Let me just say that they are cousins. They supposedly hate each other, but blood is thicker than water. Both of their families are or have been engaged in illegal activities for generations. If they are not involved. I believe they know who is. I think you're right: I should try to keep them close for as long as I can."

She chuckled, "That shouldn't be too hard where Raymond is concerned. He attaches himself to me like a barnacle whenever I show up in Marathon. I have a question. Since this is bigger than money laundering and potentially drug smuggling, why don't we just let the FBI handle it. Why does Wright want me to get involved again? Usually FBI investigators can't wait to get rid of me. I'm out of this one and Wright's trying to pull me back in. None of this makes any sense!"

McGavin and Dietz both laughed. They all knew that Bev hated working with the FBI. She added, quickly, "Don't answer that! Let's address the questions in order:

"Number One: may I give Wright a copy of the audio tape of Bob Parker's statement without the necessity to issue a subpoena?"

McGavin said, "Yes. It's evidence in a criminal investigation. He's entitled to it."

"Number Two: may I go to Miami and meet with Wright to see what information he has? While I'm there, I would like to encourage him to obtain information on other properties owned by Diaz along with insurance information on those properties."

Dietz asked, "Why?"

"I can't believe that he truly simply erroneously insured that $3 million dollar structure for $25 million by mistake. If we can show that he has other buildings insured for significantly more than they are worth, we can rescind the policy and walk away from this whole mess. At that point, I won't even care to stick around to find out who burned the building or why. Because, I don't know that I'll believe it even when the mystery is allegedly solved. Russ, what do you say?"

"Well, I guess we can't simply proceed with our planned course of action of denying the claim for intentional acts if we have reason to believe that Diaz did not actually set the fire. We could deny the claim for his lack of cooperation when he lied on his statement."

Dietz said, "Yeah but we'd have to reopen the investigation to prove that he lied."

Bev chimed in, "I've got enough evidence to prove that he lied about several things, but I'm not sure any of them are material to the claim, and, therefore I'm afraid that denying the claim for failure to cooperate on that basis. It might not stick and you know how the specter of bad faith scares me. I think we need to investigate further to see what we can come up with that will show that either he was intentionally over-insuring properties, in which case we rescind the policy, or that he was involved in illegal activities in the hotel which, directly or indirectly, caused someone to burn it. I'll have to look at the policy but I'm sure we've got some kind of exclusion in there for illegal operations. I think we need evidence of one or the other of those things before we can walk away from this."

McGavin sighed, "You're right. I hate like hell to have to pay to send you back to Florida."

"Yeah, I hate like hell to have to go to Florida in January after a blizzard."

Dietz said, "Yeah but look at it this way, you're going to Miami, not the Keys. Miami totally sucks."

"I guess I'll find out."

McGavin said, "Make your travel plans for whenever you can dig out. I'll get on the horn and find you an attorney."

"I want somebody who went to law school somewhere north of the Florida state line."

"I think I know the guy. On the down side, he already lives in Florida most of the year, but he is a pure bread died-in-the-wool Ohio State Buckeye, undergrad, law school and lifetime season ticket holder."

"Oh, dear God, spare me that!"

"I'll be in touch."

Bev and Emily made dinner together, preparing extra portions of food that could be eaten cold in the event of a power failure. As the winds rose outside, Bev gathered candles and flashlights. Emily fetched their sleeping bags from the garage. They filled the bathtub with water for washing and flushing, and made sure they had plenty of bottled water for drinking in the fridge in the garage. Having made all the plans they could, Emily went into her room to work on a paper for school. Bev opened her laptop. She made reservations for her trip to Miami, leaving in two days which she hoped would give time for the airport to flush out the backlog of stranded passengers. Then she spent a few hours doing research.

About eleven, Emily stuck her head in Bev's room and said, "According to the weather channel the worst of the storm has passed. We're still going to get more snow, but the winds are dying down. I think I'm going to go on to bed. Obviously there will be no school tomorrow. I'm assuming you're not going to try to go to work?"

"Right. I consider myself not to be an essential person. I may end up working disaster detail for the claims department, taking loss reports. But, I can do that from here."

"When are you leaving?"

"I booked a flight for day after tomorrow."

"Okay. G'night."

"G'night, sweetie."

Before she went to bed, Bev sent an email to Bruce Wright attaching the audio of Bob Parker's statement. She told him when she would be arriving and asked for a recommendation for a moderately priced hotel, preferably near the beach if that would be possible.

Ed Casey offered to take her to the airport in his four wheel drive truck. Ordinarily she would have declined because she hated to impose on people to transport her to the airport, which was more 60 miles to from Stanforth. She reluctantly accepted the offer after hearing the news about the many roads that were still snow covered, and the forecast for more snow coming. She didn't want to have to dig her car out of a snowdrift upon returning. Casey was nice enough to offer. She accepted.

Their drive to the airport was quiet. The roads were bad and Casey had to concentrate. At the Greater Cincinnati-Northern Kentucky airport, he pulled up in front of the sky cap stand. Bev opened the door and turned to thank him. She laid her hand on his arm and said, "Thanks so much. I'll check in when I know about my return plans. Be careful going home. Call me to let me know you arrived safely."

"I will. Travel safely. I'll see you on the flip side." He squeezed her hand and started to lean forward, but then seemed to think better of that idea. He squeezed her hand again and waved her out the door.

With some effort, Bev managed to avoid thinking about what might be going on with Ed Casey. She would deal with that when she returned. In the meantime, she had work to do in Florida. Russ McGavin had sent her the contact information for the attorney he recommended. He lived in Sarasota. She had arranged to meet him for a late lunch in Miami. He told her he had a hearing in Miami Dade County court in the morning. He wouldn't charge her for travel time and he'd split the travel expenses between Midwestern and his other client. She liked his no-nonsense style.

While she was waiting for her plane, she pulled up Ron Davis' firm's website and read his bio. She also looked him up on Martindale Hubble and Googled his name. McGavin was right. The guy had tons of experience as an insurance defense lawyer. He was semi-retired now, but kept his edge by working on sticky or complicated cases. He especially liked to work on insurance fraud claims. McGavin was also right about Davis being a gonzo OSU fan. She found almost as much about his involvement as an active member of the Ohio State University Alumni Association as she did about his legal work. He had not missed a home game at OSU in more than 20 years. She had pretty good idea that he would annoy the living crap out of her, but he was obviously a good attorney and she was pretty sure she'd be able to trust him. That was the thing that mattered. She'd have to over look his being a rabid Buckeye.

Her plane landed in Miami ten minutes ahead of schedule. She checked her messages. Casey had got home safely and was preparing to hunker down to await the next snowstorm. He asked her not to tell him about the weather in Miami. Emily had left a message advising that the lady in town who usually stayed with her when Bev traveled was very sick with a stomach flu. Bev's uncle Henry was going to pick up Emily and take her to the family farm for a few days, since school was closed and another storm was immanent. Emily ended by saying, "Wish me luck. I do okay for a couple of hours at the farm, but I don't know how I'll manage a few days. Me and a bunch of Mennonites! Yikes! I'm leaving the black nail polish at home." The last message was from Ron Davis. His flight from Sarasota had been late. He was still at the baggage claim. He offered to share a ride into the city, adding that he'd wait for her at the baggage claim."

Bev recognized Davis from his photo on the Internet. While she was waiting for her bag, she walked up to him and shook his hand. He said, "Russ sent me a copy of your file. This is an interesting case. Actually, I'm glad we'll have a chance to talk in the car. This not a case I want to discuss in public. I've arranged a small meeting room at the hotel where we can have lunch and talk in private."

"You think people would know what we're talking about?"

"Your insured is very high profile in this town. The community from whence he comes is very large and well connected. A lot of ears around here would recognize his name and perk up. Some ears, that might pretend not to understand English, are the most dangerous of all."

She nodded and said, "I understand."

Taking his cue, she switched to small talk and the weather while they were inside the airport terminal. They didn't discuss the case again until after they were in the car. Davis drove. Bev turned to him and asked, "So, what to you make of my little conundrum here?"

"Pardon my French, but you've got a pile of shit on your hands, lady."

"That much we already know. You're the smart lawyer, what do you suggest we do next."

"A couple of things come to mind. Your company isn't going to like either of them. First, I think you should hire a PI offshore. I know a guy who works out of the Cayman Islands. He's an American, but he's lived in the Islands for decades. He works primarily for the banks and investment houses, tracking down embezzlers and thieves. He does some insurance work as well. He's very well connected, which you need. He's expensive, but I don't see any way for you to accomplish what you need to do without offshore help.

"The second thing you may need to do, and I'm afraid your company will really have a problem with this, I think you may need to personally visit Diaz's properties. If you can't get his agent's file, I think you or someone working on your behalf should personally visit his properties, preferably under cover. Your company has copies of the policies Diaz has with you. If you visit those properties and do a visual inspection, you may be able to find discrepancies that might allow you to rescind the policies. If you find even one more property that is seriously over-insured, I think you can call bullshit on his lie about how he over-insured his property on Marathon by mistake."

"You're right. That advice is not going to go over big with my bosses. Next thing, you're going to volunteer to go with me?"

He laughed, "Nah. For one thing, I know better than trying to talk an insurance company into letting me travel out of the country. For another, I have to go back to Ohio for the Big Ten championship game, and I plan to be in New Orleans when the Bucs play for the BCS championship."

"Don't they have to win the Big Ten first?"

"Yep. But they will."

"They gonna win the BCS, too?"

He paused and sighed, "Oh, God, I hope so. They probably will, too, if they can play anybody but Florida or 'Bama. Do you follow college football?"

"No, I don't. I get the concept because my dad was a crazy man when it came to the University of Dayton. He attended their football games, baseball game, hockey games. Hell, I think he went to golf matches."

"Where did you go?"

"Shawnee."

"They have an excellent football program."

"So I hear. I have to tell you that I've lived in Stanforth almost my entire life. Went to four years of college at Shawnee and even have three quarters of a Masters, but I've never been inside the football stadium there."

"That is unthinkable to me."

"Actually, I have been to a few games at Ohio State."

"Why?"

"My ex-husband was an OSU alum. Not so rabid as yourself, but we went to a few games."

"You were not impressed?"

"I was impressed, alright. The first time I went, it scared the hell out of me when the opposing team took the field and the Buckeye fans went crazy. Anyway, I guess I can tell the Company that you want to send me to the Islands and not turn it into a boon-doggle for you. That will help the medicine go down a little. Maybe we can get our PI to do the property inspections."

"You probably don't want to do that. Two reasons. One, he's well known and if he starts showing up at Diaz's properties Diaz will know he's under investigation and he'll bolt, if he hasn't done so already. Second, Cameron Andrews is expensive. _Very_ expensive. He lives high in the Islands where living high is an expensive proposition."

"How much?"

"Last time I hired him was few years ago. He was charging $400 an hour, American."

"What?! That's bullshit. I don't pay attorneys that much."

"You're paying me that much."

"Oh, no I'm not! I'll pay you our standard rate, $275."

"I already have an engagement letter signed by your boss. I don't fool around with adjusters. I negotiate my fees with the executives who can authorize my rates."

"Okay, I'll say two things about that and then we're done with the subject. Number one, you better damned well be careful with your bills because I personally review my bills and I don't put up with bullshit. Number two, I'm running this show and if you go over my head to my boss even once during the engagement, I'll fire you and find somebody else. Got it?"

"You disappoint me. That's pretty much what Russ McGavin told me you'd say, only without all the F-bombs I was told to expect." He looked at her with a lop-sided grin and asked, "Did you really tell Russ to stay the fuck out of your way until you need him?"

"Did he tell you that? I did say those words to some wet-behind-the-ears law school stude3nt who was interning in the legal department one summer, not Russ. Never Russ."

He grinned but obviously did not believe her. She made a mental note to thank McGavin for making it clear that she was a ball-buster and would brook no bullshit from her outside counsel. Soon he pulled into the parking garage of a Hampton Inn on the edge of South Beach. "This is a good choice. It's right on the beach, but it's not as expensive as the hotels a few blocks south. If you want to eat cheap, cross Collins and eat in the Jewish delis and Cuban coffee shops. Stay off the beach and you'll save 80% on food. That is if you can stand kosher or Cuban food."

"You can't?"

"I'm an Ohio farm boy. Meat and potatoes. I can eat corned beef and potato pancakes in Jewish delis, but I always piss them off when I ask for cheese on my sandwich. Who the hell eats a sandwich without cheese? And don't get me started on Cuban food. They eat weird shit."

Bev laughed. "I think I'll do fine. I'm assuming you'll order burgers and fries for our lunch. Please try not to have a heart attack before we finish our meeting. Okay?"

"Don't you start sounding like my wife. I get enough of that crap at home."

They spend the afternoon going through the file page by page and they reviewed both Parker's and Diaz's statements line by line. They watched listened to the audio of Diaz's statement and Davis stopped it repeatedly to make notes. It was well into the evening by the time they had their lists of "Known Facts" (which was very short) and "Needs Investigation" (which was very long). They scheduled a meeting with Bruce Wright for the next morning and a call with Russ McGavin and Peter Dietz for the next afternoon.

Davis stood up, stretched and said, "Okay, what would you like for dinner?"

"Well, after that huge wrap I had for lunch, I'm not really sure I want a whole dinner. What I'd like to do is work out at the gym for a while and then maybe get a drink and an appetizer somewhere."

"Don't tell me you're one of those health nuts! I hate that."

"Sorry. Hate to tell you, I work out every day. Sometimes twice a day. I do occasionally eat meat, but I get most of my protein from beans and I'm one of the few people you'll meet who really does get five servings of veggies a day."

"My wife sent you here to torture me, didn't she?"

"I'll never tell. I have to tell you that men I travel with often go home with a much greater appreciation for their long-suffering spouses."

"I take it you're not married."

"Divorced for about thirteen years."

"Kids?"

"One. A totally precocious fifteen-year-old who is the light of my life. You?"

"I've been married forever to my college sweetheart. We have two grown children and five grandchildren. My wife and I have been married for thirty five years. I don't think a day has gone by in all that time that we didn't have an argument. She's the biggest pain in the ass on the planet, but I love her so what can I do?"

Bev howled and clapped her hands. "I'd be willing to bet that she would say something remarkably similar."

"She usually calls me a god-damned bastard, but adds that she is used to the life-style I provide her, so she puts up with me. Do you date much?"

"Who am I going to date? I'm almost fifty. I travel all the time. I meet lawyers and cops in my job. Every now and then I break down and go out for a nice dinner with one or the other, but it rarely goes any further. I attribute that to the fact that I never stay in one place very long. Russ McGavin would tell you it's because I'm such a god-damned pain in the ass. When we're done here, you can let me know your opinion on that subject."

He laughed. Bev headed for the gym and met him in the bar two and a half hours later. He asked, "You weren't working out that whole time?"

"No. I worked out for an hour. After that I unpacked, showered and checked in with my daughter. On top of the foot of snow from the blizzard earlier in the week, they have six more inches on the ground and it's still snowing."

"I'm surprised she didn't want to come with you."

"She's seen me in action working a claim and doesn't like it. Although, she is having second thoughts about accepting the invitation from my Mennonite relatives to stay with them while school is out."

He leaned back in his chair and laughed so loud it drew stares in the bar. " _You_ have Mennonite relatives."

She tried (totally without success) to look sheepish, "It's a very long story, and is much better left to the imagination."

"Fine. My imagination is working overtime. Don't bother me with the facts."

He had eaten dinner at a deli, so he confined his meal to a couple of scotches and all the bar nuts on the table. Bev ordered a vodka martini and an ahi tuna appetizer which she said would suffice for her dinner. They chatted about the contrast between the culture of Florida and Ohio. She asked how Davis managed the transition. He told her that he worked in a firm where most of the lawyers were from the Midwest and lived in a neighborhood that was almost equally divided between people from Ohio, Michigan and Pennsylvania.

"Football season must be interesting in your neighborhood."

"We have football parties every weekend. I go to Columbus for all home games. I watch away games with my neighbors."

"So your one of those kind of Ugly American Damned Yankees who takes his culture with him wherever he goes."

"Damned right, I do. What about you?"

" I like to experience the culture and foods of the places I visit. I like to eat where the locals eat and sample local music and entertainment. However, I can't imagine actually _living_ anyplace but my house in Stanforth, Ohio. You may be a Damned Yankee, but I'm an Old Poop – as both my mother and my daughter remind me on almost a daily basis."

He smiled and looked at her with a gentle look in his eyes, "I'm a little surprised to hear that, but I think it's kind of sweet."

"For God's sake, don't ever say that to Russ. I have a reputation as a hellcat and it is in my best interest to keep it that way."
Chapter 15

The next morning, Ron and Bev drove to the FBI office. They waited in a sterile waiting room. The receptionist announced them and then said, "Detective Wright is running a bit late. He's held up on a phone call. I'll take you to the conference room."

She ushered them into a small room containing a too-big table, mismatched chairs and a water service in the corner with paper cups attached to the side. A window looked out on a blank wall of a building next door. Bev could see the sky if she got very close to the window and looked straight up. She held her hands palms up and said, "None of our tax dollars being wasted around here!"

Ron was wearing a very expensive beige suit and Bev could tell he was having second thoughts about sitting on the chairs. She had no such compunctions in her wash and wear navy blue suit from Sears. She was used to crawling around in burned out buildings and hanging out in fire departments, drinking vile coffee from paper cups. Davis would just have to buck up.

The receptionist came in a few minutes later with a carafe of coffee, three cups and a box of Krispy Kreme donuts. She smiled at Bev, "You don't have Krispy Kreme in Ohio do you?"

"No, but I've spent enough time hanging out with cops in cities that do have those shops to know how fabulous the donuts are."

The receptionist winked, "The hot sign was out. Get yours before Detective Wright gets here. He'll eat everything that's left."

Wright walked in the door at that moment and said, "I'd like to protest and tell you that's a lie, but she's right. If you want any of those, get them now. There is not a donut made that is safe around me."

Davis took two. Bev took one and pushed the rest of the box in front of Wright. They all chewed silently for a moment, savoring the guilty pleasure of hot fat and sugar -- with just enough flour and leavening to hold it together -- melting in their mouths.

Davis looked at Bev and said, "I bet you work out longer on days you eat donuts."

"Yep. There are three things that keep me from being a total health nut when it comes to eating. They are: barbecue, potato chips and donuts."

Wright asked, "What kind of barbecue do you like? Before you answer, I have to tell you, I'm from Kansas City."

Bev laughed, "I guess I'm supposed to say Western style, but the fact is if it's cooked in a smoker, preferably with a killer rub, I don't care what kind it is. I don't like a lot of sauce. Just perfectly smoked meat, about two or three times a year keeps me from turning totally vegan."

Wright made a face and then passed thick files to Bev and Davis. He said, "Ordinarily, I wouldn't share my investigative file with the insurance company, but this is an unusual case. We're going to have to work together, because frankly I need some investigative work done that I can't do and you can."

Bev pushed her eyebrows together and cocked her head to the side. "Such as?"

"Such as offshore work. My jurisdiction ends at the southernmost point in Key West. Beyond that only you can go."

Bev muttered, "Like I'm going to get my company to let me go traipsing around the Caribbean in the guise of investigating this loss."

Wright said, "Not necessarily you. In fact not you. You need someone on the ground who knows the locals and can blend in. You wouldn't be able to do that. I am suggesting that you hire an investigator or maybe a couple of them in different places."

Davis asked, "You have anyone in mind?"

"I know a couple of former cops who do that kind of work. One's an American in the Cayman Island, does a lot of work for insurance companies. He's pricey but does a great job. The other is a Jamaican who worked for the New York City PD for about fifteen years and then decided he didn't like living in the US, so he went home and started his own company. He does a good job and has the advantage of being able to blend in."

Davis prompted, "Between the two, which would you choose?"

Wright sighed. "Cameron Andrews is smart and he knows the players and the politics throughout the Islands. He would be great. Prentice Hawks would be able to blend in and do undercover work."

Bev said, "Sounds to me like we could use both of them."

Wright said, "That would be the optimum situation, if you could sell it to your company."

"I had to throw a fit to get them to let Ron spend the night and attend this meeting. I'm not optimistic about getting them to agree to let me hire two PI's, one of whom charges more than most attorneys we hire."

They were quiet for a while, but all three of them knew there was no other way.

Bev said, "Okay, I'll work on trying to persuade Russ to hire at least Andrews. If he needs help, he can suggest hiring the other guy." She flipped through some pages and then looked at Wright. "There is something I'd like to see that I can't get but you probably could."

"What's that?"

" I want to see the agents' files for all of Diaz's property." Wright looked puzzled. She went on, "From what I learned from our agent who sold the policy on the _Simply Paradise_ Diaz is not a guy for keeping all his eggs in one basket. He doesn't deal with just one agent. He has a bunch. My agent gave me access to the file on the _Simply Paradise,_ but I have no right to see their file on other properties he might own, at least not until/unless there's some kind of litigation and I can subpoena them. Can you get them?"

"What do you want them for?"

"Diaz had the _Simply Paradise_ insured for way more than it was worth. You heard him say in his statement under oath that it was a mistake. What if it wasn't? What if he's over-insured other property? That would allow us to argue that he materially misrepresented the property on the application and allow us to rescind the policy."

"Then you're out."

"Then I'm out, but, remember that insurers turn take a dim view of perpetrators of insurance fraud. We would for sure turn our files over for prosecution."

"Barry Raymond isn't going to prosecute Victor Diaz no matter what."

Bev made a face, "Diaz's agents are in Miami. You got any Dade prosecutors with the stones to do it?"

Wright thought about that. "I'd have to check which way the wind is blowing. Sometimes we're willing to prosecute Cubans in Miami. Sometimes not. Mostly not."

"It also occurs me that if we can get his insurance records we can find out exactly what he owns and where it is, which will give our PI (singular or plural) a leg up on where they need to look."

Davis shook his head, "I'm not sure we have probable cause."

Wright pursed his lips and made a face, "It's thin, but I actually have two judges down here who like me a lot. One of them used to do a lot of work for insurers. He specialized in insurance fraud cases. We had a case from Homestead where we didn't have enough evidence to prosecute so the carrier filed a declaratory judgment action requesting the court to rule there was no coverage. The judge thought the attorney handling the case for the insurer wasn't being aggressive enough. He helped, and he ended up going totally off on the insured when it turned out that he admitted he burned the building. The judge threw a hissy fit from the bench and said he would personally send the matter to the state's attorney because he didn't think the carrier's attorney could be trusted to do it. That was a hell of a performance. At the end of the day, I thought the insured's attorney was going to have a stroke and the insurance carrier's lawyer was in tears. The guy from the company's legal department hauled her ass out in the hall and yelled at her for being a wimp and then yelled at her some more for crying. I heard she ended up working as a clerk for a state appeals court judge and never set foot in a courtroom again.

"That's a long way of saying that this particular judge doesn't think too highly of people who try to commit insurance fraud. He might be inclined to help us out."

Bev shrugged and said, "The worst he can say is no."

Davis said, "Maybe, maybe not. What are the politics of going after Diaz?"

"We could do it, and probably get a conviction, in Monroe County. There is a large segment of the population there that doesn't like Cubans. We could get lucky and get both a hanging judge and a pretty good jury there. I don't think we could take on Diaz in Miami. He's too well known and connected in the Cuban community."

Bev asked, "They got any other prosecutors in Monroe County besides Barry Raymond?"

Davis shook his head, "None half as good. What's Barry's problem with prosecuting Diaz?"

Wright and Bev both shook their heads. Wright said, "I dunno. He's all hands off, though. He said pretty much immediately after Diaz's statement that he wasn't going to do anything further with the case."

Davis said, "That's odd. Barry's usually very aggressive. I've never known him to pull punches."

Bev looked at him and rubbed her forehead, "You know him?"

Davis shrugged, "Yeah. I know him. I worked on a couple of cases down here. One was an arson. We worked very well together and put that insured in jail together with his wife and his uncle and brother. I also worked on a civil matter that was somewhat politically sensitive. Barry was very helpful helping me to understand the situation, and he helped me get one of those voodoo people who are supposed to help attorneys pick the right jurors. I don't know how she did it, but she got me a great jury and I won big, despite having a piece of shit judge who did everything but instruct the jury to pay no attention to anything that came out of my mouth."

Wright said, "I wonder if the problem is that there were some locals who were involved in running the prostitution ring and Raymond is being very careful to keep all eyes on Diaz so nobody notices the local families who might be involved."

Bev asked, "Barry's own family would be a likely suspect, quite honestly."

Wright shook his head, "Not the Raymonds. It's true they've built a virtual smuggling empire the spans the entire region. But, they would not be involved in human trafficking or drugs."

Bev raised her eyebrows and smirked, "Oh, yeah? How do you know that?"

Wright said, "They are Presbyterian Scots. They smuggle liquor because no self-respecting Scot – even a Presbyterian – would be caught dead without having a good bottle of whiskey to share with visitors. They smuggle jewelry and electronics. They don't smuggle people or drugs. That's actually true of most of the old smuggling families in Florida and the Islands."

"So Raymond's not involved but he probably knows who is." Davis got up and poured the last of the coffee.

Bev leaned her head in her hands and said, "Okay, we've got to develop a game plan. We hire Cameron Andrews to investigate the prostitution ring. We want to know who was running it and how the money flowed. I'm assuming we want to know if Diaz was involved. Or, more exactly, we want to know how he was involved.

"Secondly, we want to know how he structured his insurance on his other properties to determine if there's a pattern of over-insurance. If we can't get the insurance files, we can at least find out what he owns, where and do some research on the publicly available information to determine the property values. I may be able to have some of our underwriters make some back-channel calls to see if we can find out how much the properties are insured for even if I can't get copies of the policies."

Wright polished off his third donut and wiped his mouth. "Don't you want to know who burned the building?"

"Personally, as long as it wasn't Diaz, I don't care who burned the building. That's your job."

She stood up and stretched, "I guess the next order of business will be to try to persuade Russ McGavin to let me hire a high priced PI in the Cayman Islands." She grinned and raised her eyebrows in Wright's direction, "You will probably hear the explosion and the swearing all the way from Ohio!"
Chapter 16

She and Davis left the building in silence. They didn't talk at all until they were in the car. Once he had backed out of the parking space, Davis said, "I think I'd like to drive over to Marathon this weekend. A friend of mine has a condo there. My wife and I use it from time to time on the weekends. You can't go, but nobody knows I'm involved with this. There's a guy who runs a fishing boat from the marina. His family has been in Marathon since the eighteenth century. I think they descend from the original pirates in the area. He love to talk. I might rent the boat and see if I can get him talking."

"You want me to pay for you to rent a boat?"

"Nah. I won't charge you for that. I go to Marathon and go out fishing with the guy several times a year. He's very entertaining. I'll do that on my own. I'll charge you for writing a report on whatever pertinent information I may be able to come up with."

He asked, "Where are we going to do the call from?"

"We need privacy. Let's go to my room."

The maids had not yet made up the room, but they were on the floor. Bev told the maid she would not need the room to be made up at all. From the look on the maid's face, Bev was pretty sure the woman didn't understand English. They went into the room and Davis laughed. "Didn't anybody ever tell you that you don't have to make the bed and clean up your own hotel room."

Bev sighed and said, "First of all, I'm a nut job when it comes to making a bed. I make the bed the second my feet hit the floor. Second, I do a lot of investigations from hotel rooms. Most of the time I have highly confidential information in the room. I typically leave orders with the hotel that I want no maid service at all. I pick up my own towels at the desk and keep the room clean myself."

Davis smiled, "I bet the maids love that."

"Not really. It cheats them out of a tip. But, sometimes I just can't run the risk of having strangers in my room. I'm guessing this would be one of those times."

She handed him a couple of dollars, "Go get us some water from the machine while I'm placing the call."

Davis left the door open and Bev dialed the number. McGavin and Dietz were together in McGavin's office. Bev put the phone on speaker and laid it on the table. Davis came back into the room and shut the door. Bev asked, "Has it stopped snowing yet?"

McGavin said, "Yeah. It stopped late yesterday afternoon. Today is one of those clear winter days that hurts your eyes because the sun is so bright on the snow. They did an amazing job of getting the streets cleaned quickly. Temperature, however, has dropped again. We're supposed to have a high of about eight degrees. Do not even tell me what it's like there."

Bev said, "OK, because you don't want to know. She looked out the window and added, "Peter you said Miami sucks. I'm not seeing that so far. I look out my window and it looks like the opening sequence of _CSI Miami."_

Dietz said, "That may be true, but the rest of the city is like an actual episode of that show."

"How do you know so much about Miami?"

"I spent the first thirty miserable years of my life there. I was born there in fact. I moved to Ohio twenty five years ago and haven't set foot in Florida since. My wife took our kids to Disney World a couple of times, and I stayed home. I hate Florida."

"I might suck to live here, but it sure is pretty to visit. 'Specially when I know how much snow is on the ground at home.

"Okay. Now that we've got that out of the way, I have Ron Davis here with me. We met with Bruce Wright this morning. We don't have much. Bottom line is that Bruce is almost sure that Diaz was involved in the prostitution ring that was operating out of the _Simply Paradise_ hotel. We think that would make it very unlikely that he would have burned the building, at least not without removing the money first."

Dietz said, "That makes sense, but what do we care? We have the insured saying in a statement under oath that he burned the building. Why not just deny the claim for intentional acts and be done with it."

"Problem is if somebody else burned the building, we have a potentially covered loss regardless of the insured's false admission. And the building is insured for $25 million. The fact that it's grossly over-insured could be insurance fraud. Frankly, I want to look into that. I intend to check into the property values of all Diaz's properties. Wright is going to try to get a warrant so he can get Diaz's insurance records. If he can't get that, I actually do have a couple of underwriter friends who might be able to get some information informally."

McGavin laughed, "Since when do you have friends in underwriting?"

"That's not for this conversation. I don't have many friends in underwriting, but there are a couple of actual human beings in that department. Anyway, I think if we deny coverage too soon and for a reason that turns out not to be true, we'd be potentially open to a bad faith claim. Do you agree, Russ?" She looked at Davis and raised her eyebrows, "Or Ron?"

McGavin said, "I think we definitely could. And I sure as hell do not want to get sued for bad faith in Florida by the kinds of attorneys Diaz can afford to pay for."

Davis said, "I totally agree. I'm familiar with the firm that is Diaz's principal law firm. They're killers who go for the jugular and do not let up until they have what they want."

Dietz said, "Okay. Point well taken. Sucks, but okay. So you look to see if we can find out if Diaz over-insured other buildings intentionally. That will at least allow us to question the veracity of his assertion that the _Simply Paradise_ was over-insured by mistake _._ It's probably too thin to allow us to simply rescind the policy since we have him under oath saying it was a mistake. We'd have to file a declaratory judgment action and ask a court to give us leave to rescind the policy, right?"

Davis nodded. McGavin didn't say anything for a minute, then he said, "That's right. And again, we'd probably have to bring that action in Florida. Can we file it somewhere other than Miami?"

Davis said, "Typically you'd want to be in federal court, but if it comes to that, I think we should consider filing in state court in Monroe county. A Yankee insurance company does not want to take on a prominent member of the Cuban community in Miami, not even in federal court."

Dietz said, "I hate this claim! What other angles are you working, Bev."

"Well, the only other think I can think of is to uncover evidence that Diaz was involved in or at least knew about the prostitution ring and what appears to have been money laundering of some sort. Since he can't insure illegal activities, I think we could get off the risk by reforming the policy."

Davis looked puzzled, "Oh what basis? You're not insuring business interruption for the prostitution ring. You're insuring the property."

"We have business interruption coverage on the policy as well as extra expense. I am not paying for loss of rents on hookers or costs for putting them up elsewhere. You lawyers would have to go to work in the library and parsing the language of the policy, but I bet you could figure out an argument that would let us say that we never would have accepted the risk in the first place had we known about the illegal operations, so it might have been material misrepresentation on the application. If the illegal operations didn't start until later, we should argue that it was an additional exposure that increased our risk of loss and we would have canceled the policy had we known about it. Therefore, we rescind coverage back to the inception date or at least the date the operations started. Doesn't matter who burned the building because there'd be no coverage in force on the date of the loss. If that doesn't work and the burning of the building was related to the illegal activity – which I'd bet it does – we can argue that the illegal activity was the root cause of the fire, and there is no coverage for illegal activity."

Dietz laughed. "That's very good. I'd love to have you in my unit if Russ would ever let go of you."

McGavin said, "You can have her. She's a pain in the ass."

Bev said, "Knock it off, Russ. You both know I don't want to work full-time on fraud cases. So just hush."

Dietz asked, "That's a great theory and all, but isn't it the FBI's responsibility to determine who burned the building?"

"Ah. Ah. Stay with me. Keep in mind: we don't _care_ who burned the building or why – unless it turns out to actually be Diaz. We want to know if Diaz was involved in the illegal operations that were going on in the building before it was burned."

McGavin said, very softly and with a suspicious tone, "And how are we supposed to do that?"

Bev said, "That's where Wright is asking for our help and where I think we can help him and ourselves."

"That's not answering my question."

"The answer to your question is that we need to look into Diaz's operations in the Caribbean. We need to find out if he provides services to his customers that go beyond food and liquor."

McGavin said, "And how do you propose to do that? You want somebody from the company to go visit one of Diaz's clubs and ask about hiring a prostitute?"

Bev laughed out loud, "Oh, man, I'd pay my own money to see anyone from Midwestern Indemnity Insurance Company walk into a bar in St. Thomas and ask to hire a hooker!!"

Dietz laughed so hard had to leave the room for a minute. When he came back he was still laughing. He sputtered, "Or, Bev could go and ask for a _job_ as a hooker."

"That is not funny." She paused until the hooting and table-pounding stopped on the other side of the phone. Davis looked offended. She went on, "Actually, if you two juveniles would reign in your adolescent dirty-mindedness for a minute, what I propose to do is hire a private investigator. Ron knows a guy who does insurance work out of the Cayman Islands. Significantly, Bruce Wright recommended the same guy."

Dietz almost screamed, "You are not seriously considering hiring Cameron Andrews!"

"You know him?"

"I know of him. My opinion is that Andrews' reputation is largely a creation of his own myth making. I think he's okay on embezzlement cases and stuff, but I honestly can't see Andrews walking into clubs and asking sensitive questions about illegal activities in which the owners might be involved. He's too high profile. Diaz would be onto him in a New York minute."

Davis said, "That's actually a good point. What if we just consult with Andrews? Pay him a couple of hours to pick his brain and get him to tell us who we should talk to. Then we actually hire the Jamaican guy that Wright proposed as our other option."

Bev drummed her fingernails on the table and said, "That's a really good idea. She flipped through her notes. Pete, check out this guy: Prentice Hawks. He worked as a New York City cop for a number of years. Then he got tired of America and went back to Jamaica and hung out a shingle as a PI."

Dietz said, "Well, first of all, how smart can the guy be to prefer Jamaica to the US?"

Bev said, "Have you ever been to Jamaica?"

"No."

"If you steer clear of the cities it's a beautiful country. I'm guessing that the shit a New York cop must have to deal with might make going home to Jamaica look attractive."

"You have a point. I'll check him out."

McGavin asked, "How much would a couple of hours with Andrews cost?"

Davis said, "His usual rate is $400 an hour. I propose we offer him $1000 for a three hour meeting in Georgetown. He'd probably go for that."

"You want to go to Georgetown? Why not bring him to Miami?"

Davis laughed, "I propose you send Bev to Georgetown. She'll stay in a cheaper hotel and eat cheaper food than Andrews would want in Miami. He stays at only five star hotels and is something of a gourmet."

"You're not planning to participate?"

"I don't need to be in on that fact gathering meeting. I'll be available by phone if Bev needs me, but she won't need me. I'm sure Bev hires PI's all the time. She doesn't need a lawyer for that."

Bev grinned and winked at him. He gave her a thumbs-up signal. McGavin and Dietz were quiet. Dietz slapped the desk, "I hate this claim, god-dammit. Alright, Bev, do you have a passport?"

"Yes I do, and as a matter of fact I have it with me. I carry it even when I travel domestically just in case there's ever an issue with security."

"Go then. But, don't pay him a dime over $1000 and don't feed him."

"After I meet with Andrews, I'll have to meet with Hawks. Maybe we could have him come to Miami."

McGavin said, "No, while you're gallivanting around in the Caribbean as we deal with fucking blizzards up here, go ahead and go to Jamaica. Make whatever necessary arrangements you need to do. I know how conservative you are about your expenses. All I ask is that you let Hawks know we want this wrapped up _fast_. And don't tell us about the weather you're having."

"Understood. While Hawks is checking out the availability of prostitutes in Diaz's clubs, I'll work the over-insurance angle."

Davis said, "I'm going to talk to my fishing buddy in Marathon and try to find out what locals might have been involved."

"If we get names of local Floridians, I propose to provide that information to Bruce and let him deal with them. Do you agree, Pete?"

"Absolutely. Wright should do at least something on his own damned case."

McGavin said, "That brings up a question that's been bothering me since this whole thing came up. Why the hell are we doing the international investigation here? I understand that Wright doesn't have jurisdiction to investigate in the Caribbean, but they've got cops down there, why doesn't Wright use his contacts to have local cops investigate."

Davis answered before Bev could, "It's a combination of politics and corruption. Diaz's customers are big shots and politicians. The local cops will leave him alone. Plus, Diaz probably pays off the local cops everywhere he can."

"Oh."

Bev chuckled, "You know what. We people from the boondocks of Ohio have no business being involved with customers like Diaz. It's like a whole other world. You should talk to underwriting and tell them not to write insurance for hotels or clubs in south Florida. We just don't get it."

McGavin said, "You can say that again. When do you think you can leave, Bev?"

"I'll call Andrews today and leave as soon as he can meet with me. Then I'll call Hawks. With luck only a few days."

McGavin said, "Keep in touch with Davis and with us. Close touch!"

"I will. I know I occasionally have a tendency to play cowgirl and go off on my own. I promise this won't be one of those occasions."

"Good. I intend to hold you to that promise."

She hung up the phone. Davis stood up and stretched. "My return flight to Sarasota leaves at 6:00 PM. How about a late lunch/early dinner before I go?"

"Sounds good. I'm hungry. What do you have in mind."

"You say you like good barbecue?"

"Yes."

"I know just the place. It's a local Florida chain but the meat is very good." They went down the elevator. Davis stopped at the front desk and asked for the location of the nearest Woody's barbecue. The concierge gave him directions, but then added that if they were looking for good barbecue there was a place only a few blocks on the beach away that served very good Carolina style barbecue, and they could walk to it. Davis took off his tie and Bev took off her shoes. They walked up the beach, watching bathers splashing about in the clear green water. The restaurant looked like every other beach restaurant in every tourist destination Bev had ever been to. Typically those places had either very average food and good cold beer, or they had great food and good cold beer. Either way, the view of the water made it worth while.

They sat at a round table with four chairs in the sand. Bev leaned back and put her feet up in one of the extra chairs. The waiter came over to take their order. Bev said, "I want a bottle of Red Stripe and send us a pound of steamed shrimp while we're deciding what we want."

Davis laughed and said, "I'll have a bottle of Bud Light."

Bev made a face, "Oh, for God's sake, if you're going to drink beer, drink one that doesn't taste like Alka Seltzer."

They watched the beach-goers and chatted with the waiter. Davis sipped his beer and said, "You have a very interesting relationship with your bosses. Who do you report to?"

"I report to the Vice President of Claims who is actually on vacation right now and was not on the call. He's not really involved in this claim anyway. Russel McGavin is our General Counsel. On really complicated or very large claims, he often takes over and they have me report to him directly. The Veep of Claims is okay with that because he's busy enough with the volume of everything else. Big, hairy ones take up too much of his time. Peter Dietz is the head of our Special Investigations Unit. That's the fraud unit. I handle a lot of claims that cross the line. Claims that come in as pretty clear fraud go straight to Pete. Big claims that could go either way typically come to me. Once we determine a claim is a case of fraud, it's reassigned to someone in Pete's unit. Unfortunately, his best guy is out on leave right now, so this one came to me and I have to keep it until I either resolve it or the guy comes back from leave. Dietz is in charge, but McGavin's also involved due to the complexity and the amount of the loss."

"They like and respect you."

"I totally adore both of them, although I will deny saying that. We josh and tease and call each other names, but we've been in the trenches together so many times we're like combat troops. It's a good company to work for and I have wonderful bosses."

"I don't hear people say that much these days."

"I know. Most people bitch about their jobs. And rightly so. A lot of places treat their employees like shit. And, quite frankly, we've got some middle management people in my company that are such assholes I would quit in a heartbeat before I'd work for them. There's a supervisor in the personal lines claims unit that's just sadistic. I won't even talk to her. I've been lucky. I've generally had good supervisors. When I didn't, I managed to get myself reassigned."

"How did you do that?"

"I've been with the company since I was 22. I know everybody. The guy who's the president of the company now was my first boss when I started as a receptionist. They posted a claims job, which was for more money. He encouraged me to go for it, and has been my mentor ever since, even though he came out of underwriting.

"In addition to knowing people, I am also very good at what I do."

"The perfect combination of credentials and connections."

"Absolutely. I figure that adds up to the closest thing there is to job security in today's world."

Even though they initially went to the restaurant for barbecue, since they were at the beach, Bev ordered fish tacos and Davis ordered a blackened fish sandwich. The food was good. The atmosphere was better.

After they ate, they walked back to the hotel. Bev promised to call him first thing in the morning to fill him in on her call with Andrews. Davis went straight to his car and Bev went to her room and placed a call to Andrews. She got his voice mail and left a message. Then she changed into exercise clothes and decided to take a long walk on the beach. Andrews returned her call while she was still on the beach. He asked her what she wanted. She told him that it was very confidential and she didn't feel comfortable discussing it on an international cell call. He said he understood. She said for starters she wanted to simply consult with him, explain her situation and pick his brain. She offered him $800 for a four hour consultation meeting. He told her he'd give her three hours for $800 and charge her $300 an hour for each additional hour of consulting time prior to any actual engagement. She agreed to that and asked him when he would be available.

"Do you want me to come to you or will you come here."

"I'm in Miami now. I'll come to Georgetown."

He said, "There's a 9:00 AM flight from Miami International to Georgetown. It arrives about 9:45. I'll have a car pick you up at the Georgetown airport."

"Will I be able to come back to Miami the same day or can you recommend a hotel with rates that a Midwestern insurance company would approve."

He laughed. "You should plan to stay in Georgetown. There are a number of chain hotels, but I know of a small inn on Seven Mile Beach that is very reasonable. It's about $130 a night this time of year. There's no reason you can't be comfortable even if you work for an insurance company."

"I like your thinking. Give me the information on the inn."

"I'll make the reservations for you. I can probably get you a better rate than you could get on your own."

"Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."

She returned to the hotel, booked her flight to Georgetown and called the desk to tell them she'd be checking out in the morning. She sent an email to Dietz and McGavin providing an update. Then she spend several hours online searching for everything she could find out about Cameron Andrews and Prentice Hawks.

Hawks was easy. He had a very candid bio on his website. Born in Jamaica to a minister and a school teacher, one of eight children. He moved to New York and joined the police force. After fifteen years, he moved back to Jamaica, married a fourth cousin who ran a restaurant. He worked in the restaurant and offered his services as a private investigator. He did mostly surveillance work for insurance companies. He occasionally did investigations for people, mostly from the US, whose spouses were traveling in Jamaica, perhaps with someone they shouldn't be traveling with. He seemed like a straight-arrow kind of guy. A few articles in the paper. He had won a commendation from the Kingston police department for assistance in solving an embezzlement. A deacon in his church. Five children. Bev liked him without even having met him.

Cameron Andrews was another matter. The information on him was spotty, inconsistent and Bev had the impression that a lot of it was planted on various websites by Andrews himself. He, too, was a former cop. Originally from Birmingham, Alabama. Started out as a beat cop and in about five years time ended up as a detective in Internal Affairs. After a particularly difficult and high-profile investigation in which several high-ranking cops were accused of corruption but the district attorney refused to prosecute, he quit his job and moved to the Cayman Islands.

At first he got a job as a security guard in a bank. He later obtained a private investigator's license and hung out his shingle. His first customer was the bank where he had worked. Other banks followed. Officially he worked on embezzlement cases on behalf of the banks' insurers. Bev couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing something else as well because he got too high-profile and too rich way too fast for an ordinary cop from Birmingham in a cosmopolitan place like Georgetown. He had been pleasant enough on the phone, but Bev had the sense that there was more to the picture, and Andrews himself was ensuring that the full picture was not revealed. She was getting tired of people like that.

About 7:00 PM when she knew they'd be finished with dinner and evening chores, Bev called her uncle's number. Emily answered the phone. "Hi, Mom."

"How did you know it was me?"

"They got caller ID."

"They got caller ID. Why?"

"Well, you know how Uncle Henry is about not chatting on the phone for no reason. He filters calls, so he doesn't answer sales calls or calls from a couple of neighbors who are just busybodies. That's Aunt Betty's word."

Bev laughed, "How are you making out with them?"

"Actually it's been okay. Mrs. Simmons is over the flu and school's supposed to open again Monday, so Uncle Henry is going to take me home on Sunday after church. They want me to go to church with them. I know it'll be long and boring, but they've been nice to me so I agreed to go. I've actually had fun. Rachel and I are good friends. I've helped cook and do chores. They starch their sheets! It's hard work but the sheets are so nice to slide into at night. I even milked a cow. Well, I started to milk her but my hands got tired and one of the boys had to finish up. I don't think I would want to live on a farm, but I think it was a good experience for me. If nothing else, I should get a good essay or two out of it for my creative writing class. How're you?"

"I'm okay. My meetings here in Miami are over, but I can't come home just yet. Tomorrow I'm flying to Georgetown in the Cayman Islands to meet with a private investigator. After that I will probably have to go to Jamaica for a day or two to meet with another investigator."

"Geez, Mom. Your life's the pits, isn't it?"

"You don't hear me complaining, do you?"

"You'll probably bitch up a storm after Mr. McGavin has his say about your expense report for this trip."

"Watch your language. Remember where you are."

"Oops. Sorry. Anyway, that sounds like fun. I know you are on business but I hope you're having fun, too."

"Actually, I am. Today instead of going to the gym and walking on a treadmill, I went for a walk on the beach. I liked that."

"You can keep the beach stories to yourself, thank you very much."

"Sorry. I will call you at home on Sunday to let you know when you can expect me. Do you have your cell phone with you? I tried to call you earlier but couldn't get through."

"I was so freaked out to get packed before the next snowstorm hit, I forgot my charger, so I've been without cell service."

"Tell me, how does a 21st Century kind of gal get along without her smart phone?"

"With great difficulty!"

"Do I need to talk to Uncle Henry or Aunt Betty?"

"Actually you can't right now. They're doing evening devotions. They gave me the okay to take the call from you."

"Okay. Tell them I said hi. I'll call again tomorrow night to let you know my schedule for the next few days. When is a good time to call?"

"Call about 6:30. By 7:00 they're doing devotions and after that they go to bed."

"What time do you eat dinner?"

"About 4:30."

"Oh, my. Your whole system must be in shock."

"I'm a little off my game."

"I'll call you tomorrow. G'night."

"G'night, Mom. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Bev laid out her clothes for the next day and the toiletries she'd need in the morning. She packed everything else in plastic bags by outfit in her suitcase, which she left open on the rack.
Chapter 17

The flight from Miami to Georgetown was very pleasant. The small plane was only about half full. Most of the travelers appeared to be very well-heeled people who Bev learned from eaves-dropping were going to their winter homes following the holidays. There were a few businessmen in suits. Probably bankers.

Bev had worn a conservative suit. No jewelry. Minimal makeup. She suspected that Andrews would be casual, but she wanted to set a tone. She was a little afraid that she had overdone it. Once she cleared customs in Georgetown she stepped out into the glorious sunshine of the Islands. The quality of the light and the color of the sky took her breath away. She wanted to stop at the first shop, buy a bathing suit and head for the beach. Instead, she approached a Town Car where a driver was holding a sign with her name on it.

The driver opened the back door without a word. Bev tried to make small talk with the driver, but his one-word mumbled answers put her off. She spent the rest of the ride in silence.

Andrews worked from his home, a villa on the beach. Like almost everything in Georgetown, the exterior of the building was simple. The landscaping was immaculate and there was not so much as a grain of sand blown onto the sidewalk. The part of the house that faced the street had only a few small windows, and mostly consisted of a two-car garage (doors closed) and blank beige walls. The beach was only a few steps away from the end of the veranda.

She rang the bell and Andrews answered immediately. He was older than his website pictures indicated. Those pictures must have been ten years old or more. Bev thought he was much more distinguished looking than in his photos. _He'd do better to use a current picture._ He was wearing khaki pants and a creamy white shirt with leather flip-flops. He invited her into the den and offered her coffee. She asked if she might have a bottle of water. He went to the kitchen to get the drinks.

Bev looked around the room. Books lined one wall, mostly history and geography, with some forensics books as well. A wall-mounted bank of clocks showed the time in five different time zones. His desk was a glass table, bare but for a legal pad and a cup containing a few pens. The office might have appeared sterile but for the paintings. Behind the desk was a painting of a boat at anchor at sunset. On the opposite wall was a painting – probably by the same artist – of a storm over the ocean. The room did not overlook the ocean, instead sliding doors led out to a small porch and an enclosed garden filled with tropical flowers, shaded by a combination of trees and covered walkways. If Bev had ever taken the time to consider what she would think of as the perfect office, this would be it.

Andrews came in with a coffee service and several bottles of water in an ice bucket. He asked if she'd had breakfast. She told him she had eaten at the airport. He made a face. She laughed, "Even an airport can't screw up yogurt and fruit, but they do charge an arm and a leg for it."

He agreed and told her that he'd arranged to have a deli try delivered around 12:30, "Even if we're finished, I'll at least feed you before you leave. If we're still talking, we can eat while we finish up."

"Excellent!" Bev loved his accent. His soft Alabama drawl had been overlaid by a hint of the clipped tones of the Islands. The result was Southern charm with fabulous diction. She thought he should do radio work.

Instead of sitting behind his desk, he sat next to her in one of the two guest chairs in the middle of the room. He stretched out his legs and drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair. He raised his eyebrows and asked, "What can I do for you?"

Bev first started to tell him who she was and a little about her company. He waved his hand and said, "I checked you out. Quite impressive. If you ever decide to leave the company and go out on your own, call me. I'll hire you in a heartbeat, for a lot more money than you're making now. My insurance clients would love having you on board."

She smiled and said, "That's an interesting proposition. Perhaps we could discuss it further at another time."

"Do you mean that?"

She said, "I've worked for Midwestern Indemnity since I was 22. It's the only job I've ever had. I have never given serious consideration to leaving although I have been offered other jobs. However, I'm topped out where I am. My daughter will go to college in two years. I have to think about the long term. I will want to think about it and, perhaps, we could have a conversation on that topic after I have concluded this current case."

"Sounds like a plan. So, you are investigating a strange fire in Marathon. The building was owned by Victor Diaz, who is a big deal in the Islands. What do you want from me?"

"Following the fire, we took Diaz's statement under oath. He stated that he burned the building because he was mad that the local politicians wouldn't let him tear it down in order to build a nightclub. Our plan was to deny the claim and be done with it.

"I neglected to mention that when the local authorities started to demolish the hotel, they found approximately $15,000,000 dollars, in various denominations of Central and South American currencies, stashed inside the walls of the hotel. In his statement, Diaz denied knowing anything about that. We thought it was perhaps a drug operation or something like that being run by locals, under Diaz's radar. Why would he burn the building if he knew about the money?"

Andrews nodded his head, but did not move otherwise. Bev found his stillness odd. She was used to dealing with cops, lawyers, and other investigators who leaned forward, fidgeting, interrupting and taking notes when she talked. He just sat there without moving. She could tell from his eyes and the way he held his mouth that he was paying attention to every word. It was a different kind of listening from what she was used to. It was intense. Bev found herself wanting to learn how to do that.

"Soon after that, the FBI uncovered some evidence, based on a report from someone in Jamaica, that what was really going on was prostitution ring that was moving hookers and money all around the Islands. The FBI thinks that Diaz was involved. They don't think Diaz burned the building. We want to find out about his potential involvement in that operation. We are coming to you because we think that you can provide us with some background information about the potential political problems our investigation may run into and we think you can steer us in the direction of who we need to talk to."

"Why not just hire me to do the investigation?"

"Two reasons. One, our thought is that you're too high profile. If you start asking questions about Diaz's operations, it'll spook him and he'll bolt. Two, you're too expensive for a regional insurance carrier like my employer."

"Good points, both. I often work with less expensive investigators who can do field work that I can't do because of my high profile, as you put it. I'm assuming your plan is to hire another investigator to do the leg work. Mind if I ask who that might be?"

"The FBI recommended a guy named Prentice Hawks in Jamaica."

Andrews smiled and nodded very slowly. "Excellent choice. I've hired him myself for the same reason on more than one occasion. He does a good job and he's just a hell of a nice guy."

"You are paying me $800 for today's meeting. Should you require follow up consultation after today, I will bill you by the hour at a rate of $400 per hour. You are correct, that is expensive. My clients are generally of the opinion that they get their money's worth. I will tell you what I know off the top of my head today. I will also throw in a couple of hours of research and a follow up emailed report filling in some details. I'll get that to you within three days."

"That is very generous. Thank you."

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "I'll do it in the hope that the work product will be of sufficient quality that you'll come back for more and hire me outright in the future."

She nodded, "If you've checked me out sufficiently, you'll know that I have very strong relationships with my investigators. I'm a loyal customer."

He nodded. Then he got, up poured coffee and sat behind his desk. He sipped his coffee, laid his arms on his desk and folded his hands. Bev took out her note pad and pen.

Andrews said, "Diaz has operations all over the Islands as well as a couple in the Miami area. Mostly restaurant/nightclubs although he does own a few casinos in the Islands. One casino has a hotel, but he's primarily a club guy as opposed to a resort/hotel operator. I'm guessing that the ownership structure of his operations might make it kind of difficult to determine exactly how many places he owns, but I'll be able to provide you with a good list to start with, just based on the places where I know he shows up periodically to schmooze with his big shot clientele. It may not be a comprehensive list, but it will give you a place to start. It should include the locations that are the most high-profile, with the richest customers. Those are the locations most likely to offer the kind of 'value added services' you want to know about."

Bev laughed and wrote that down. That euphemism might come in handy.

"I'll also provide you with a little background as to the political situation you'll run into in each of those places, but you won't need much of that from me. Prentice knows the politics better than anybody. He'll be able to navigate through the political issues just fine. He's got great relationships with the cops everywhere in the Caribbean. Even cops who are on the take often level with him when they wouldn't tell anybody else the truth.

"I can tell you that it is a standard business practice in most of the places where Diaz does business for business owners to make contributions to police benevolent associations if not direct contributions to police officers' pocketbooks. What is more, the politicians and big shots who patronize the establishments are often also large donors to the police graft machines. Therefore, a lot of illegal stuff goes on in restaurants, bars, and resorts that is never investigated. Prostitution is illegal everywhere in the Islands, as it is almost everywhere in the world except for Nevada and the Netherlands. It is as ubiquitous here as it is anywhere. Or, perhaps, more because at tourist destinations people want to engage in all sorts of recreational activity, including illicit sex. The only time anybody arrests a prostitute in the Islands is if she gets out of control on the street, or, occasionally, if a new operation moves in on the territory of an existing operation that is already paying the police for protection."

Bev was not taking notes. She knew this would all be in Andrews' report. She listened without trying to write it all down, discovering that she was hearing more than she would have. She asked, "Would a ring like the one we think was operating out of this motel even be detectable? They were bringing in people from Florida and moving them around. The local cops and sources would know about the local prostitutes. How do we go about looking for an operation that was mobile?"

He thought about that for a while, with his fingertips together just under his chin, staring out into the garden. Finally, he said, "That won't be easy. Prentice can tap his police resources as well as his sources elsewhere. He may be able to come up with something. You also might discuss with him the option of sending in some people undercover. White men who look prosperous. Have them show up in the clubs and make inquiries about the availability of women or men."

"I jokingly suggested just that to my boss."

"I'm not sure that an insurance executive would be able to pull that off."

"Maybe not a claims guy, and certainly not my straight-laced boss, but I know a few insurance agents who make big bucks who could. Hell, I can think of one or two who probably do just that when they travel."

"You might want to put Prentice in touch with them."

"Okay, so we confirm that a person can make arrangements to hire a prostitute in one of Diaz's locations. How do we show that Diaz knows about it? And how do we tie it to the ring that was operating out of the _Simply Paradise_ in Marathon?"

"From my point of view, that's going to be hard. You're going to have to get very lucky."

"Bruce Wright told me his source says that the people they were trafficking ranged from kids off the streets – who would be returned to the streets after their services were no longer useful – to high-end call girls. I'm thinking that we'd never find the kids. And even if we did I doubt they would know very much. Half of them are probably drugged up most of the time. The call girls might be the key. From what I have learned about those women from the time I've spent in Las Vegas, they tend to be very smart and observant."

"You're right about that, but they also might not be motivated to cooperate. It would be bad for their business."

He looked at his watch, "We're clearly not going to use up your entire $800 worth at this meeting. I need to do some research to answer your questions. Let's say you still have about $600 worth of my time left. I'll make a few calls and see what I can find out. Very discreetly I assure you. I agree that this is not a case where I can take the lead. I know Victor personally. What is more, he knows me. If I start asking questions in certain circles it will get back to him. I can, however, ask questions in certain other circles. Banking circles, where the money flows. What was the advice Deep Throat gave Woodward and Bernstein?"

"'Follow the money.'"

"That's always good advice when you're investigating a crime."

"Tough to do in this case because I'm thinking Diaz has a lot of money."

"He does. But the money from the operation you're talking about would never have gone anywhere close to Diaz's regular bank accounts. There were millions in that hotel. There were probably that many millions flowing around the Caribbean, in and out of various bank accounts. It's a long shot, but maybe we can find out who owned the accounts."

"That would help enormously."

"Get Prentice involved ASAP. He's got great connections especially at the airports and harbors. He has his finger on the pulse of who comes and goes in the Caribbean. That could be what you need. People like sky caps and gate attendants know the regulars, or can at least identify faces of people they've seen more than a time or two."

He stood up and stretched, "Let's end our official meeting for today. I'll give you a few hours of additional background research and make some calls. Lunch should arrive shortly. Would you like to wait on the veranda?"

"That would be nice. Could I have a few minutes to call Mr. Hawks first? I want to make arrangements to meet with him as soon as possible."

"Sure. Do you want me to place the call and make the introduction?"

"Given the nature of the job, having you vouch for me might be helpful."

He winked at her, "Your instincts are good. In the Islands, as in most of the world other than America, you need an introduction."

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, dialed and laid it on the desk with the speaker on. Hawks answered on the third ring. They chatted small talk for a few minutes before Andrews explained the purpose for his call and introduced Hawks to Bev. She asked when he would be available to meet with her. He told her that his schedule was wide open. She looked at her watch and asked Andrews if there were any flights to Jamaica in the afternoon. He shook his head.

"There's one to Kingston early in the morning, like 7:30 AM. "

She told Hawks she could be in Kingston in the morning. She asked for recommendations for lodging. He said, "You're on business but there's no reason you shouldn't stay someplace nice. My sister runs a bed and breakfast. It's not on the beach, so the price is very reasonable, but it has a fabulous view and the food and accommodations are very nice. I like for my clients to stay there because I can meet with them discreetly and I know that they're not going to be hassled as happens too often in the larger resorts."

"I will take you up on the offer."

"I'll pick you up at the airport. The flight from Georgetown arrives here at about 8:45 AM. Don't eat first. My sister will feed us the best breakfast you ever ate."

"Excellent. I'm looking forward to meeting you."

"The same."

Andrews led Bev out to the veranda where they sat in the shade watching the calm water lap at the rocky shore. He went into the house and came out with a pitcher of tea with sprigs of mint. He grinned, "I'm a Southern boy. I drink sweet tea with mint. Care to join me?"

"I'm a Yankee but I like sweet tea. I don't think I've ever had it with mint."

He crushed a sprig of mint in his hands, put it in her glass and added tea. "If you don't like it, I'll give you a fresh glass, sans mint."

She tasted it and nodded. It was different, but refreshing. They were quiet for a while. Andrews said, "Well, you find yourself stuck in Georgetown until in the morning. I hope you don't plan to spend the afternoon and evening working."

"Actually, I won't because the part of the investigation that I plan to work on – looking into Diaz's insurance policies – will involve a lot of phone work, and I don't want to make those calls until I get back to the States. What do you recommend I do today?"

"Two things. The word on you is that you're a fitness nut. Go to Seven Mile Beach. Walk. It is a gorgeous place. The second thing I recommend is that you have dinner with me. Diaz owns a place here. I often eat there. The food is good and it's a good place to network. It would not be unusual for me to show up there."

"Diaz knows me. I don't want to show up in his back yard."

"I've confirmed that Diaz is not in town. It might be good for you to see one of his operations first hand. They are all relatively similar. He runs a great operation. Very good food. Spectacular service."

"'Value added services', too?"

"Absolutely. A number of different types of services."

"Meaning?"

"Prostitutes aren't the only thing that people look for when they travel."

"Drugs?"

"That, and gambling as well as contacts with people who know people who can move merchandise from where it is to where somebody wants it to be without the involvement of government agencies in either country. All kinds of services."

"Wow." She thought about it and said, "I think in addition to walking on the beach, I'm going to have to go shopping. I didn't bring anything suitable for an evening in a swanky restaurant. I'm guessing that if I walked in there in my business suit, it would be a red flag of some sort."

"Probably. You should wear something very casual. Pants and a simple blouse or, better, a sun dress kind of thing. Sun dresses seem to be very popular these days."

The doorbell rang. Andrews went inside to answer it. Bev stretched until her feet were in the sun, while the rest of her was still in the shade. Andrews opened the door and said, "We should eat inside. Taking food outside invites not only bugs but iguanas. I love living in the Islands, but I've never been able to embrace the damned iguanas."

Bev joined him in the kitchen. A tray of sandwiches and another tray of crudites sat on the counter. A bowl of potato salad and another bowl of three bean salad sat along side. Andrews winked, "The lady who does my catering is from South Carolina. She makes me comfort food."

Bev chose a turkey sandwich and loaded up on the potato salad which she could tell from looking at it was made according to the recipe on the Hellman's mayonnaise jar. Her favorite.

While they ate, they chatted. Andrews filled her in on a little of the local lore and gossip. After lunch, Bev said, "Would you call me a cab?"

"The car is waiting. It will take you to your hotel. I'll pick you up this evening at, say 7:00. You have to get up early for your flight."

"That sounds good."

He walked her to the door. He stopped and looked at her, "I know you don't want to talk about it today, and I understand that. On another day, after I am no longer engaged in working for your company, I want to have a conversation about you coming to work for me. I am not kidding. I can keep you as busy as you want to be and pay you a whole lot more than you're making now."

She looked at him and said, "I live in Ohio and I will continue to live in Ohio." She paused, "Although I wouldn't mind spending part of the winters someplace warm."

"I understand. You travel to your investigations now. If you work for me, you'll be doing the same thing. Although, I have to tell you, it will include more international travel than you're probably used to. I work for several offshore insurers. They have customers not only in the States, but all around the world."

"This doesn't sound like a whim that just crossed your mind today."

"It isn't. I've actually been looking for someone to help with my insurance work. I like doing the technical investigations of bank fraud and embezzlement, white collar crime. I've worked for banks more than anything. In recent years, I've picked up several insurance companies as clients, largely as a result of working on employee theft claims. They keep asking me to investigate other kinds of claims, including suspicious fires and potential insurance fraud. It's not my area of expertise. The problem that I've been having is that the people I know who could do what I need already work for the companies who are my customers. I try not to solicit my customers' employees.

"After you called yesterday, I made some calls. You should know that even if you don't want to work for me, you could at a minimum double your salary if you let it be known that you would entertain offers from other companies. Three of my customers told me that you have about the best reputation of any fire investigator they know. One of them told me they'd give me $50,000 to offer you as a signing bonus."

"Wow." She shook her head and waved her hand. "Let's defer the conversation until after this case is concluded. I promise I'll think about it. I'll call you when I have closed this file. Maybe I'll arrange to visit Georgetown when my daughter is on spring break."

"That's all I can ask." He walked her out to the car, which was waiting in the driveway. As he opened the door, he said, "I'll pick you up at 7:00."

"See you later."

Bev asked the desk clerk for a recommendation for a relatively inexpensive dress shop. She bought a casual dress and sandals for the evening, and also a pair of Capri's and tank top with a sweater to wear to the beach. After depositing her purchases in her room, she hopped a bus for the beach, where she walked for a couple of hours. Her bus got caught in traffic on the way back to town. She asked a person seated near her why there was so much traffic. The woman made a sour face and said, with her deep Island voice, "Fugging cruise passengers. They're like roaches overrunning the place. They scurry back to their ships in the afternoon – and, good riddance! –, but it ties up traffic into town every afternoon."

Bev was going to be late if she didn't do something, so she hopped off the bus and walked back to the hotel. She just managed to shower and change clothes by the time Andrews called her from the lobby.

She wore a floral print sun dress in various shades of dark blue and green with green sandals. She was unaccustomed to having men check her out, but Andrews did – carefully and slowly, from head to toe and back. When he was finished he nodded and winked. Bev flushed. He said, "You look lovely."

She said, "Thank you," put her head down and walked toward the car. Andrews followed her and got in the back seat with her. The driver pulled out from the curb. A few minutes later they stopped under the portico in front of a restaurant. The outside was understated and unassuming. The inside was another story. Bev felt as though she had been transported to another time. The decor was both simple and elegant. It reminded her of fancy restaurants in movies from the Forties and Fifties. Gleaming crystal and silverware shone under the lights of hundreds of candles and subtle lighting from the ceiling and walls. Male waiters in tuxedos moved purposefully around tables.

Before she looked at the menu Bev said, "I eat steak about once or twice a year. I'm thinking tonight would be the night to splurge. Right?"

Andrews nodded, "Yes. They import their beef from a farm in Iowa. It's exclusively corn fed Angus. I recommend the New York strip."

The waiter took their drink orders and disappeared. Andrews said, "I was hoping we'd have to wait for a table. I wanted to talk to the bartender for a minute. Maybe we can stop for a nightcap on the way out, depending on how crowded it is."

She looked around, "Is this typical of Diaz's restaurants?"

"Yes and no. I haven't been in all of them, but he's very careful to gear his restaurants and clubs to the local culture. He makes no bones about the fact that, while he knows tourists visit his establishments, he wants local repeat business. This restaurant is more elegant and old fashioned than most, because the culture of the business community in Georgetown is more conservative and buttoned down than in most places in the Islands. If you were to go to the club in Kingston while you're there you'd find it's a totally different environment. It's all about fun. The house band is fabulous."

She looked around, "I think I like this better."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're a bit of a poop?"

"Have you been talking to my daughter?"

He laughed, but she knew he'd checked her out carefully. Perhaps not with Emily, but with someone close to her.

During dinner they chatted about the weather, politics, the local tourist scene and a variety of other subjects, carefully avoiding the case at hand. The whole time they were talking, both of them were observing everything that went on in the room. The bar was busy when they left, so they skipped it. When they got in the car, Andrews said, "You want to stop in the bar at your hotel for a nightcap and I'll fill you in on some of what was going on?"

She nodded, "There sure was a lot of what some people call 'bidness' being done in that restaurant tonight. I had the feeling most of it was legitimate wheeling and dealing among bankers and their customers. There was some other stuff going on, however, that was quite interesting."

Over after dinner drinks, Andrews filled her in on the identities of a lot of the people in the restaurant and he made some educated guesses about what they were up to. Bev's investigator instincts had noticed most of the people he described.

Because Bev had an early flight to Kingston, they parted early. Andrews promised to have a written report to her within 48 hours and he wished her a good trip to Kingston.

Bev packed her dress in the suitcase. She decided to wear the Capri's and sweater on the theory that she would stand out less in Jamaica if she were dressed casually.
Chapter 18

She descended the stairs from the small plane and blinked in the sunlight. She had been to Jamaica before, but not to Kingston. It was a busy, bustling, noisy place and she took an immediate dislike to it. Hawks had sent her directions to the bed and breakfast and promised to meet her there for a late breakfast at about 10:00 AM. She gave the cabbie the address and then settled back to enjoy the ride. Traffic was snarled and the city was dirty and poor looking, especially in contrast with Georgetown with its aura of money and power.

Soon they were outside the city, ascending the hills driving through the green, dripping jungle. It was quiet and amazingly serene. The road was narrow and incredibly curvy. Bev tried not to be nervous about the steep drop-offs and the absence of guardrails. The cab pulled up in front of a house that looked like many houses in her neighborhood at home: an all-white Victorian Lady, complete with ornate woodwork all around the porch.

The owner, a gorgeous woman, whose skin looked like highly polished ebony, wearing a red turban, a white apron and a smile that would put a movie star to shame, greeted her on the porch, calling, "Welcome, Ms. Deller. Your room is ready. My brother called just a bit ago. He is running a few minutes late due to traffic. That should give you the opportunity to settle in before you have to deal with him. I put some juice and fruit in your room if you need something to tide you over until breakfast."

Bev's room was immaculate, furnished in what appeared to her to be antiques, but they could have been good reproductions. She had a small balcony, overlooking the rainforest immediately surrounding the inn, but with a view of the sapphire ocean in the distance. From that angle she could not see the city at all: just jungle and sea. She brushed her hair, freshened her makeup and went downstairs to the parlor.

The owner entered with a coffee service on a silver platter and set it on a table near the door. She held out her hand and said, "I neglected to introduce myself. I'm Carol Hawks Jamison. I hope you will enjoy your stay. Please don't hesitate to ask if you need anything."

Bev laughed and said, "The main thing I want to ask is if I can move in here permanently?"

Carol laughed and winked, "We could probably arrange that, although I'm afraid you might be bored after a while. We are bit off the beaten path."

"You'll get no complaints from me on that score."

A few minutes later the front door opened and a man walked in. His sister greeted him with a bear hug and motioned him into the parlor, saying, "I'll finish up breakfast now."

Prentice Hawks walked up to Bev and offered his hand. He was older than she had expected, or maybe he'd just lived a hard life. His hair was mostly gray as was his neatly trimmed mustache. He was wearing khaki Bermuda shorts and a short sleeved khaki shirt. His voice sounded like James Earl Jones with an Island accent. She wanted to close her eyes and just listen to him talk.

In only minutes Carol called them to the dining room where Bev was overwhelmed by the assortment of fabulous food the woman had prepared. Bev was not a breakfast eater, but she ate as much as she could stand in order to be polite, and savored every mouthful.

Hawks loaded up his plate with plantains and fruit. Then he took a second plate and filled it with muffins. He winked, "Let's eat and then talk business."

Bev laughed, and said, "I like your style. First tell me about this lovely inn and how it came to be in your family. I love this place!"

"My mother was the housekeeper for the people who owned this house. They were English. Their kids all went to school in England and lived there after they graduated. The Missus died a long time ago. Ma took care of the owner until he died twenty or so years ago. He left the house to Ma because his kids didn't want it and Ma had been the main person who'd taken care of it for something like thirty years. She and my sister opened a restaurant. After Ma died, Carol turned it into an inn and has been doing great. The kids of the original owner occasionally rent the whole place. She's got a great business. I'm proud of her."

"In addition to keeping an immaculate establishment, she's a fantastic cook."

"All women in my family are great cooks. At some point I'll invite you home and let my wife cook for you. She puts Carol to shame."

"I don't believe you."

"Neither does Carol."

They kept the conversation light until they had finished their meal. At that point, they poured fresh cups of coffee and went out on the veranda while Carol cleaned up the dining room. Bev asked, "Am I the only guest?"

"Yes. This is her slow season. She's thrilled to have someone to cluck over."

He scooted his chair around so he could face Bev directly, which was a gesture she liked very much. He was ready to get down to business. He said, "I will tell you that Cameron Andrews called me yesterday afternoon and filled me in generally about what you want to accomplish. I am familiar with Victor Diaz's operations. He has a restaurant in Kingston. Few Jamaicans can afford to patronize it. It's strictly for the tourists."

"Did he tell you about the fire in the hotel in Florida?"

"Only the sketchiest outline. Fill me in on the details."

Bev spent about twenty minutes providing him with a fairly detailed description of the fire and the subsequent investigation, along with a summary of Diaz's testimony in his statements and ending with a brief recap of her meeting with Bruce Wright.

He leaned back in his chair and whistled softly, "Wow. This one does have a lot of hair on it, doesn't it?"

"Sure does. I've investigated a lot of fires. Never found millions of dollars in the walls of the ruin before. Never had an insured lie under oath, admitting to an arson he probably didn't commit. Never stumbled across a prostitution ring, although I did investigate a fire once that turned out to be started by a pissed off prostitute who burned the building because she thought the owner was double crossing her."

"I'm guessing that was in Las Vegas."

"No, actually it was in Sioux City, South Dakota, of all places."

He laughed. "You lead an interesting life."

"Oh, you have no idea! So, what do you recommend we do next."

He sighed. "I can make some discreet inquiries with law enforcement and with some of my other sources in various places where Diaz does business. I think we should start there. Cameron is making a few inquiries of his own. We will compare notes and I will make a recommendation to you as to what I think I should do next within about four or five days. How does that sound?"

"Fine. What's your hourly rate?"

"I charge $175 an hour, plus expenses. Ordinarily, I ask for a retainer, but you work for an insurance company. I'll just bill you."

"Do you have a standard engagement agreement?"

"No. Most of my business is done on a handshake, with a retainer in my bank account."

"I will have my assistant send you our standard agreement. If you have a problem with the language, let me know."

"I'll have my solicitor look at it, but I'm sure it will be okay."

"Good. So you'll get me a plan of action within the week. Do you want to set up another meeting?"

"I don't want to waste your money. Let's do a call. I'll send you my recommendations via encrypted email. We can chat on the phone. Once I get started, I'll keep you posted by email and phone. If I come up with anything significant, we can decide whether or not you need to come back for a visit." He winked, "Or you could decide you need to come check up on me whenever you think you need to."

She laughed, "My biggest problem is going to be making myself go home now!"

"You can't leave now. There's no flight back to the states until tomorrow morning."

"What do you recommend I do for the rest of the day?"

"You can go sight-seeing. Carol can fix you up with a guide. Or, you can sit on the veranda, soak up the peace and quiet, and let Carol spoil you."

"I think I'll opt for the latter."

"That's a really good choice."

He stood up and took both of their coffee cups into the house. Bev followed him. He took the cups into the kitchen and came out a moment later. He shook Bev's hand and encouraged her to enjoy her day. Then he was gone.

Carol came into the hall from the kitchen and asked if Bev wanted to go sight-seeing. She shook her head and said, "I don't think so. You have Wi-Fi here. I think I'll work for a while and then simply be lazy and lie around on the porch."

"What time do you want lunch?"

"No lunch! I still have fruit in my room. I'll snack. I'd like dinner maybe around seven-ish."

"What would you like?"

"Make me something that you would feed your family. I am unfamiliar with Jamaican food, and I want to learn. I like to try the local cuisine when I travel. I don't often have the opportunity to have home cooking and I'd like to take full advantage."

"How spicy can you stand your food?"

"I can take it pretty hot."

"I'll serve dinner at 6:30."

"You don't need to serve me in the dining room. I'm happy to eat in the kitchen with you, if you don't mind."

Carol looked delighted.

Bev took her computer out on the veranda and booked her flight to Ohio the next day. She hated booking one-way flights at the last minute like that in part because they were so expensive and in part because she always got pulled out of the security line for special screening. She sent an email to Ed Casey advising him of her arrival and asking him to let her know if he could pick her up. She told him she'd be glad to take a cab if picking her up would inconvenience him too much. He responded almost immediately that he'd meet her at the airport. She replied reminding him to keep track of his mileage, so she could put in for mileage reimbursement for him.

Then she spent a couple of hours attending to her email correspondence which had backed up over the last few days. She avoided using the phone because of the international surcharges, but she checked in with McGavin and Dietz as well as Bruce Wright to let them know that things were on track. She carefully avoided using names or going into any details. She didn't know how secure the Wi-Fi was and didn't want to take any chances.

By early afternoon she was caught up on all the work she could do without using the phone. She went into the kitchen and asked Carol if there was a walking trail somewhere close or if she could get a ride to go to the beach for a walk. Carol told her there was a park about a quarter of a mile up the road with several nature trails through the forest.

She put on her walking shoes and headed up the road with a couple of bottles of water and a couple of bananas for a snack.

Several hours later she returned, soaking wet. It wasn't unduly hot, but the forest was unbelievably humid and the trails were steep. She took a shower and changed her clothes. She spent what was left of the afternoon on the veranda alternately reading and soaking in the view. About five-thirty Carol came out and asked if Bev would like to have a pre-dinner cocktail. Bev said she would love a drink but only if Carol would join her. Carol winked and told Bev no arm twisting was necessary. "What would you like?"

"What are you going to have?"

"I love a good mojito."

"That sounds good."

A few minutes later Carol joined Bev on the porch with two healthy glasses of rum flavored with lime and mint. Bev was not a huge fan of rum, but she decided if she was going native, she'd go all the way.

They chatted about their families. Carol showed Bev photos of her two children, both of whom lived in the US, one in New York and one in Orlando, Florida. Bev showed Carol photos of Emily, and shared an email she had received from Emily complaining about the fact that, while Bev was lounging in the jungle warmth, she had waited for the school bus when it was 4-degrees above zero.

Carol shuddered and said, "I can't imagine being that cold."

"Haven't you ever visited Prentice or you daughter in New York in the wintertime?"

Carol shook her head, "I've never been off the island of Jamaica. I love my business, but it is very confining. I have to stay home because people from other places come here."

Bev grinned, "You know, I think I would like that. I'm frankly a homebody myself. I travel for business, but when I'm on vacation, I prefer to stay home. I think I could handle working from home and having the world come to me."

Carol nodded, "It's nice most of the time. But sometimes I wish I could go somewhere and see different scenery. I've never seen snow. Or a desert. My guests show me pictures and tell tales of their travels. It's interesting and I have a very good knowledge of geography because of it, but that's not the same as first-hand experience."

"That's true."

They ate dinner in the kitchen and Carol entertained Bev with stories about the local characters and goings-on that the tourist would not ever see or know about. Bev laughed until she cried, which only encouraged Carol to tell even more outrageous tales. By the end of the meal, Bev's sides were aching. Bev insisted on helping with the dishes.

She had to leave for the airport about 4:30 AM, so she turned in very early. Carol said she'd arrange for a car to pick her up and asked if she wanted breakfast before she left. She said she'd prefer a cup of coffee to go and no food that early.

Bev was zipping up her suitcase at 4:15 AM when she heard a car pull in the driveway. Carol poured her a cup of coffee in a go-cup and handed her a paper sack, winking, "You don't have to eat it, but take it. I can't stand to see my guests leave unfed." The sack contained a couple of muffins that smelled wonderful. Bev said, "Thanks for everything. This was lovely. I'd like to come back when I'm not on business."

"You come anytime, honey."

Uncharacteristically for her, Bev reached out and gave Carol a hug. Carol returned it with strong arms and patted Bev's back. Outside, Bev was surprised to find not a taxi but Prentice Hawks. He put her suitcase in the back seat and opened the front door for her.

When he slid in behind the wheel, Bev said, "You run a car service in addition to the PI business?"

"I usually provide transportation for my clients when they are here because some of the local cabs are just unsafe. I often provide car service for Carol's clients for the same reason."

Bev said, "This has been the most restful and relaxing business trip I've ever been on."

"Good. We like to think that the laid-back Island life-style is contagious. That is evidently true for you."

"And I really need it."

She opened the sack and said, "There's a bran muffin and what smells to be a lemon muffin. Which one do you want?"

"They're both good. The lemon one is full of tiny seeds. Usually it is necessary to brush your teeth after you eat those."

"I'm traveling. You eat the lemon. I'll stick with bran."

A few minutes later, he dropped her off in front of the departure entrance to the airport. She went inside and felt herself being sucked into the maw of the airline industry. The more she traveled the more she loathed the airlines. The only way she managed to get through a plane trip was to purposely turn off her brain and her natural assertiveness. She became passive and calm. She simply accepted whatever happened, sometimes gritting her teeth in an effort not to throw a fit. She finished her book and went to the bookshop. She asked if they had a book exchange. The lady told her no. She handed the lady the book she had just finished, "This was good. If you're a reader you can have it. If you're not, give it to the next person who buys a book."

The lady grinned and said, "I'll read it and then pass it along."

Bev winked, "Even better!"

She bought another book and decided the time had come for her to break down and buy an e-book reader. As much as she traveled and as fast as she read, she needed about a book a day for a business trip. That was too many books to lug around and purchasing books at the airport was expensive.

When it was about 7:15 Eastern Time, she called Emily, who was waiting for the school bus. Her teeth were chattering. Bev said, "How come you're riding the bus. I thought you rode to school with Jennifer."

"Her parents won't let her drive in this weather. She's taking the bus too. Oh, Mom, it's so freaking cold. I hate it!"

"I know, honey. There's nothing I can do about it."

"Doesn't your company have an office in Florida you could work from?"

"We'll talk about that later. I'm on my way home. My flight lands in Cincy about 2:00 PM, assuming it's on time and there are no snowflakes anywhere in the northern hemisphere to back up the flights in freaking Atlanta. I should be home about the time you get home from school. I think there's a container of chili in the freezer. That would make a good dinner on a cold night."

"That sounds good. My bus is coming."

"Okay. Have a good day. I love you. See you soon."

"I love you, too. 'Bye."

Bev put her phone back in her purse, turned on her MP3 player and opened her new book. She followed instructions and shuffled through various lines, showing ID when asked and feeling like a cow in a chute headed for the slaughterhouse. In the mid-afternoon, the travel monster vomited her out on the sidewalk in front of the Greater Cincinnati Northern Kentucky airport. It had been 82-degrees when she entered the airport in Kingston. It was 8-degrees in Kentucky. Casey had been waiting in the cell phone waiting area, and Bev had called him when she got her bag. In only minutes she was shivering in the biting cold. She was considering going back inside when Casey pulled up to the curb, and opened the passenger side door. She tossed in her bag in the space behind the front seat and climbed up into the cab of the truck. He had the heat cranked up and it was very warm in the cab. Bev leaned back and closed her eyes.

"Thank you for picking me up. I hate having you come out in the cold like this."

"It's not a problem. The roads are clear now, and, frankly, I've been suffering from cabin fever in the worst way for days. I was looking forward to the opportunity to get out and do something. Being the fire chief in a town like Stanforth is a little like being the Maytag repair man."

Bev said, "Except for last summer's fire disaster."

"That was enough excitement to last me a lifetime!"

Bev said, "So how are you?"

"I'm bored and cold and cranky. How are you?"

"I just flew from Kingston, Jamaica, to Miami, to Atlanta, to Cincinnati. I was 82 when I left Kingston. I'm cranky, too. Perhaps we should be quiet to avoid getting into an argument."

"We could do that or we could get into an argument for the hell of it."

"I know people who like to fight for fun. I'm not one of them."

"Tell me about your trip."

She gave him a brief synopsis of her meetings with Andrews and Hawks, and went into excruciating detail about Carol Hawks and her bed and breakfast near Kingston. She told him about the quality of the light and the smell of the forest. After a while, he started laughing. She asked what was so funny. He said, "Well, I'm pretty sure I know where you and Emily are going for spring break."

Bev shook her head. "Not Emily. She would be bored out of her mind in half an hour in that place. It's very far off from anything. I will definitely go back there, but I'll go alone. Sometimes after really difficult investigations, I sneak off for two or three days of peace and quiet in some serene setting. I have a couple of retreats. There's a resort in Sarasota that has been one of my favorite places to go hide away. I don't go there much any more because the neighborhood has built up and the beach there is busier than I like. In recent years, I've been popping off to an all inclusive resort in the Bahamas. It's beautiful and they treat their guests wonderfully, but it has something like 70 rooms, so there are often more people around than I prefer when I'm trying to recover from a bad job. Carol's place is perfect. She only has four rooms. I'm definitely putting that inn on my list of healing places."

"Makes it even better that the owner appears to have all the makings of a potential friend."

"That's the big bonus."

She smiled and stretched.

"So what are you going to do about the claim?"

"Absolutely nothing. Diaz has disappeared again. He's not demanding any money. I'm going to simply do nothing. I'm not going to issue a denial letter or take any other action until Diaz asks for something. In the meantime, we'll see what Andrews and Hawks come up with."

"Do you find it odd that Andrews seems so interested in helping you?"

She paused and said, "He's buttering me up. He offered me a job."

"What?"

"It appears that he does a lot of work for insurance companies. He does white collar crime cases. Evidently his clients have been asking him to branch out and do claims investigations. Before I arrived, he had checked me out and vetted the possibility of hiring me to a couple of his clients. The circle of claims investigators who handle really big claims is very small and we all know each other. There are a couple of guys who work for companies in Bermuda who've been trying to recruit me for years. Andrews told me that one of his Bermuda customers offered to front him a $50,000 signing bonus if he can get me to work for him."

"You sound like you're considering it."

"I told him I felt it would be unethical for me to talk to him about it while he's doing a job for Midwestern. We decided to defer any further conversations on the subject until this claim is wrapped up. That will give me time to think."

"Would you have to move to Georgetown?"

"No. I told him I wouldn't live anywhere but Ohio. He said it wouldn't matter where I live because I'd be traveling all the time for my job. It would be no different from now except for more money. I'm conflicted, what with my damnable sense of loyalty to Midwestern. In any case, I have no plans of living anyplace other than Stanforth."

Casey sighed and muttered, "That's a relief."

Bev looked at him with something like alarm and started to say something, but then shut her mouth and looked out the window, pretending she didn't hear him.

When he pulled in the driveway, she turned slightly in the seat and said, "Thank you so much for picking me up. We're having chili for dinner. Would you care to join us?"

"Thanks, but you catch up with Emily tonight. I was wondering if you would like to try a new place maybe this weekend. The restaurant management department at the university has opened a restaurant upstairs of the student union. The buzz in town is that the food is exquisite and the atmosphere matches."

"Really? This town needs a nice restaurant. That sounds nice, although the biggest risk in that would be the probability that I would throw a tantrum on the subject of what is an institution of higher learning doing running vocational programs." She raised her shoulders and put her hands palms up, "You see, I was a liberal arts major. Actually I majored in Classics. I'm a total educational snob. I believe that a university should be a traditional Ivory Tower kind of place full of egg-head professors and nerdy, smart kids. I guess pocket protectors have gone the way of the dinosaur, but you get the idea. Offering majors such as restaurant management and medical technology dilutes the credentials of the institution in my view." She looked sheepish, "Oh, God, I'm turning into such an old fart."

Casey was laughing, but he looked a little alarmed at her outburst. "Is that a yes or a no."

"Um, I guess it's a yes, with a warning label."

"Jesus, Bev, do you ever just do something for the hell of it without analyzing it from six different angles."

She looked surprised that he would ask such a question, "Of course not."

He shook his head. "Saturday night. Seven o'clock. It's kind of a dressy place."

"I have to dress up? I don't know..."

"Even you could do black dress pants and a nice blouse or something."

"Okay." She paused and said, "Let me pay for the meal to thank you for picking me up."

"You can cook for me sometime for that. I invited you. I'll pay. I'm a little old fashioned about that."

Bev looked at him for minute with a puzzled expression. Then she shook her head and opened the door, "Okay, I'll see you Saturday. Thanks for the lift. Please don't get out. You don't need to freeze your ass off walking me to the door." She hopped out, grabbed her suitcase and waved at Casey. Then she disappeared into the house. Emily was already home.

"Are you home early?"

"Yeah. There was a water leak in the boiler room. They sent us home because they had to turn the boiler off."

"How many days of school have you missed?"

"Enough that they're talking about taking away some of our spring holidays or extending the school year."

"Even snow days come with a price."

"Yep. How was your trip?"

They chatted and made dinner together. After dinner, Emily said, "I have tons of homework. They canceled school again for tomorrow in case they can't get the boiler fired up again in time, and they told the teachers to give us all the assignments that we missed. We're supposed to spend this afternoon and tomorrow catching up."

"That's good. Did you make much progress today?"

"I got lot of my reading done. I have two papers to write and a science project to plan. I don't have to do the project, but I have to turn in a plan. This evening I'm going to start outlining my papers. Tomorrow, I'll finish them and then devote the weekend to researching and mapping out my project."

"Good girl! I'm so proud of how organized and committed you are to school."

"Yeah. Maybe the fact that I finally decided I want to go to Shawnee made me realize that I need to keep my grades up. It's a hard school to get into."

"That's true. Keep it up. I'll clean up here."

"What are you doing this weekend? Aunt Betty wondered if we'd like to have Sunday supper with them."

"We'll see. I think I'm going to do some cleaning and mostly veg out. I do have plans for Saturday night." She blushed.

"What kind of plans?"

"Ed Casey asked me out on a date."

"A _date_ date?"

"Yep."

"Are you going to go?"

"Well, I said yes before I realized that this was different than Ed and me just hanging out together as colleagues and sort-of friends. I can't back out now without hurting his feelings. I'll go, but I have to tell you I'm kind of freaked out about it."

"When was the last time you went on a date?"

"Maybe a year or so ago I went out a couple of times with a cop in Las Vegas."

"Ew."

"Actually, I really kind of liked him. Problem was he lives in Las Vegas."

"That would be a big problem?"

"Insurmountable."

"Chief Casey doesn't live in Las Vegas and he's very nice. I know you like him."

"That makes it infinitely more terrifying."

"Give it a chance, Mom."

"I'm committed to at least one date. We'll have to see where that goes. Frankly, I'd rather just be friends with Ed. I like hanging out with him and bouncing claims issues off him. I just don't want to screw up a potentially good friendship by taking it down a path that I don't want to be on."

"Why not?"

"Because, I'm a stubborn, cantankerous control freak who likes doing what I want, when I want and how I want. I totally sucked as a wife, and I don't see myself as a good candidate for somebody's girlfriend, either."

Emily bent over and touched her knees, laughing until she cried. "Well, Mom, at least nobody can say that you don't have a clear self image."

"You didn't have to agree with me."

"I would add that you're kind of obsessive about cleanliness, too."

"Good point. The only two men I've ever lived with – my dad and your dad – were both _messy_. Yuck!"

"It's just dinner, Mom. Don't over-analyze it."

"That's what Ed said."

"Not only is he nice, he's smart. And, you know what? I think he could handle you."

"You do? Do you?"

"Yes, I do. I am prepared to watch this with great amusement."

"Go do your homework!"
Chapter 19

On Friday, Emily spent the day holed up in her room working on papers. Bev brought her snacks occasionally and spent most of her day catching up on routine correspondence from work. She did not go into the office, but she had a call with McGavin and Dietz, filling them in on her meetings with Andrews and Hawks. She spent most of the afternoon reading novels. She'd have liked to clean but didn't want to make too much noise while Emily was concentrating. On Friday evening Emily went out with friends for pizza and a movie. Bev seized the opportunity to vacuum and mop the floors.

For breakfast on Saturday, Bev made a batch of pancakes. While they ate, Emily asked, "I didn't ask the other night. Where are you going for your big date?"

"He's taking me to a new restaurant that's evidently operated by the culinary school at the university."

"Oh, yeah! That's all the rage. Everybody's going there for special events. I hear it's already totally booked for prom night." She paused, did a double take and said, "It's real fancy. What are you going to wear?"

"Ed said I could wear pants."

"What does he know? He a fireman, for God's sake. If you wear pants, they should be dressy evening pants, and you don't have anything like that. Don't you have a little black dress?"

"I do. I wear it to the office Christmas party on the years that I am unable to schedule myself to be on a business trip in order to get out of going to the mandatory party."

"Jesus, Mom, why are you so damned unsociable?"

"I'm sorry. I'm okay with people-one-on-one. I just don't do well in crowds."

Emily shook her head. "You can wear that old dress if you want. Wear your pearls and for heaven's sake put on some makeup. But, if it were me, I'd be headed for the mall right now to do some shopping. You have the money. Spend some of it on yourself. This is a perfect excuse to buy a new outfit. What kind of self-respecting female doesn't want to buy new clothes once in a while?"

"A workaholic with no fashion sense."

"That was supposed to be what my English teacher calls a rhetorical question."

"Actually, maybe I will go to the mall. You're no company today. And Payless is having its buy one, get one half off sale."

"Mom, you're hopeless. Go to the mall. Buy your cheap ass shoes if you insist. Go to a department store and look at the sale racks. Maybe you'll get lucky. Buy something pretty. You're going out on a date with a man you already know and feel comfortable with. Dress up and be prepared to have fun."

"Who's the mom around here?"

Emily got up from the table and gave her mother the classic disgusted teen-ager look and said, "Sometimes I wonder."

Bev laughed, but only for a second. After cleaning up the kitchen, she headed for the nearest mall, which was almost 45 minutes away in Dayton. She found two perfect pairs of work shoes at Payless and also bought a pair of trainers. That gave her the option of getting another pair of shoes for half price. She found a pair of black patent leather pumps that were plain enough to wear to work in a pinch but dressy enough for a night out. She delivered the shoes to the trunk of her car and started to get in the car to leave. Instead she headed back for the mall and went into the anchor department store. The last time she bought anything in that store it was her wedding dress, a simple blue silk dress with a matching jacket that she wore to the courthouse where she and Emily's dad were married in a no-frills ceremony. She still had the dress; she wore it to weddings and funerals.

She went into the women's "better dresses" department and about had a heart attack when she saw the prices. She looked around for a sale rack. There was no one in the store on such a cold Friday afternoon, the clerk looked up and asked if she could help. Ordinarily, Bev blew off sales clerks. This time she was kind of in a hurry, and she knew she probably would need another opinion. She said, "Yes. First of all, I'd rather buy something off a sale rack if you have one, but what I'm looking for is a nice outfit to wear to a kind of fancy restaurant on a date."

The lady looked at her, tilted her head and asked, "Is it a first date, or a a romantic evening?"

Bev sighed, the thought of a romantic evening made her want to bolt. She breathed deeply and said, "It's actually a first date with someone who I think of as a friend but who evidently sees something more in our relationship. It's a little awkward."

The lady nodded, "Let me be sure I understand. You're testing out the possibility that the relationship could turn into something else, but a little apprehensive about losing what is already a good, comfortable friendship."

Bev was incredulous, "Exactly! That's amazing."

The lady shrugged and looked very proud, "Bartenders and beauticians are not the only people who are good at sizing up folks. Okay, let's see. Do you prefer dresses or pants?"

"Frankly, for going out, I prefer dresses, but it's so damned cold, I think maybe pants."

The clerk said, "You look like maybe and eight or ten."

"Usually thereabouts. Some styles, straight dresses I'll take a twelve just because I hate tight clothes."

"Okay, you go into the big dressing room and strip down to your undies. I'll be there directly."

Bev did as she was told. She felt like dork sitting in the dressing room in her tidy whities. The lady came in only a few minutes later with an armload of clothes, all of them in bright jewel-tone colors.

The lady held up several outfits, but Bev saw a piece of her favorite color peeking out from the pile. She leaned over and pulled out a red outfit consisting of a tunic over evening pants. It had a slim silver belt. Bev held it out in front of her and smiled at the lady, "If this fits, I'm buying it. I want you to ring it up for me and don't let me see the price."

The lady grinned, "I think it will fit and you will look fabulous. You need a new bra, my dear. While you're trying that on, I'll go over and grab a couple for you."

"Thanks."

When the clerk came back, Bev was standing in front of the mirror with tears in her eyes. She said, "Red is my favorite color. My favorite suit is a red pantsuit that makes me feel like I could move mountains. The people at work tease me about charging around like a general in my power suit. I always feel best when I'm wearing red. This is totally perfect."

"It is. And, it makes you look not only strong, but also very, very lovely. It's perfect. You will also be happy to know that it was left over from the holidays and is on the 50% off sale rack."

"All the better!" Bev grinned. She paid for the outfit, which – even at half off – was more expensive than anything she'd ever bought in her life. Nevertheless, she knew she would look great and it would last forever. Besides, it would do well for the next company Christmas party. Emily was right: her old black dress was worn to the point of being shabby.

There wasn't much time to spare when she got home. She headed straight for the shower. Emily yelled, "Let me see what you bought."

Bev called over her shoulder, "I'll let you see it on me."

Forty five minutes later, Bev finished putting on her lipstick and stepped back to look at herself in the mirror. She turned from side to side. She rarely paid much attention to how she looked. She was a little surprised to find that she looked pretty good. She was fit, had a good haircut and she did look fabulous in red. Her mother always told her that if she felt great she would look great. Her mother was a nut, but she knew about fashion.

Bev knocked on Emily's door and said, "You want to see?"

Emily said, "Come in."

Bev opened the door and Emily put her hands over her mouth, stood up in the middle of her bed, and then applauded. "Oh, Mom, that is the most gorgeous outfit you've ever worn and you look positively beautiful. You will make such a splash."

"Now. Now. Don't freak me out. You know how I like to keep a low profile."

"You won't be able to be low profile in those clothes! You look fantastic."

The doorbell rang before Bev could say anything. She went to the door, and the look on Ed Casey's face made her almost burst into tears. She could only remember having a man look at her like that twice in her life. Unfortunately, neither of those relationships worked out, but it was nice to know that she could still elicit that kind of response from a man – even though she wasn't quite sure that was the kind of relationship she wanted with Ed. She suddenly decided she was going to have fun and not worry about what might happen.

She thought it odd that Ed didn't say anything about her appearance. He simply said, "Are you all set?"

"Let me get my coat and tell Emily good-bye."

When she saw the shine on the driveway, she considered going back and changing into boots. Instead she smiled at Casey and said, "I'm warning you. I'm wearing new shoes. I will try not to hurt you as I cling to your arm to keep from falling on my ass!"

He grinned and slid his left arm around her waist and took her right arm in his right hand. "I've got you covered."

Somehow Bev knew that their friendship would remain intact no matter how the evening went. That was enough to make her relax.

The restaurant was packed, and they had to wait for their table. They chatted with neighbors and acquaintances. It was a small town. Casey was the fire chief and Bev had handled a huge restaurant fire in the town so everyone knew them. On the way to the table, Bev said, "Are we a scandal?"

"We can't be a scandal because we're both unattached. I'm pretty sure that we'll be the hot topic on the grapevine for a couple of days."

"By tomorrow even Uncle Henry and Aunt Betty will know about this date."

"They already know."

"How do you know?"

"I ran into Henry in the hardware store today. He asked if you were back in town. I told him you were and that we were having dinner together."

"There are no secrets in this town."

"Absolutely none! Which is all the incentive I've ever needed to keep on the straight and narrow."

Bev laughed, "My mother's scandalous behavior when I was a kid made me into a prude way too early in my life. I shudder to think what a prissy bitch I'll be when I get old. I'm pretty bad already."

Ed laughed so loud it drew stares. He put his napkin over his mouth and, when he recovered, he said, "Thank God I didn't have anything in my mouth."

Bev giggled. "If you shoot beer out of your nose in the middle of this fancy restaurant, we could move from gossip to scandal pretty quick."

He put his head in his hands, his shoulder shaking. In a minute he wiped his eyes and said, "You'd better cut it out right now, Missy! You better not get me in trouble." Then he pretended to mutter to himself, but said it loud enough for her to hear, "Damnable woman, puts on some kind of knock-me-down red suit and then proceeds to make me make a bigger fool of myself than I already am."

She smiled and reached across the table, patting the back of his arm. She winked and said, "I've got that out of my system. I think I was just nervous. I promise to behave."

He winked at her and put his hand over hers, letting it linger for just a second, "Good. Thank you. And, now that I trust my voice again, you look radiant tonight."

She blushed. "Please don't embarrass me. I'll get all blotchy and stammer and then probably cry. Then I'll be the one who looks like an idiot."

He chuckled, "We just a couple of basket cases."

About that time the waiter came up to them and said, "Can I offer you a drink?"

They both blurted, "Oh, yes, please!"

While waiting for their drinks, they studied the menu. He asked, "What do you think?"

"It's a little frou-frou for my tastes. I betcha the portions are so small we'll want to stop and get a burger on the way home. But, it sure smells good."

"We can always order a couple of entrees if the portions are too small!"

Bev said, "You might want to check the prices before we start ordering extra food."

He looked at the prices and grimaced, "Holy smoke. This is a special occasion place."

The food was exquisite as was the service. Bev and Casey had a wonderful time.

Bev arrived home about 10:00 PM. Emily was watching TV and eating a bowl of cereal. Her friend Jennifer was with her. Jennifer said, "Oh, Mrs. Deller, Emily's right, you do look gorgeous."

"Thanks."

Emily waved her hand in the air and hopped up. She went to the kitchen and poured her mother a glass of wine. She pointed at the couch and said, "Park it, and tell us all about your evening."

Bev set down the wine without tasting it. Then she changed her mind and took a sip. She said, "We had a total blast. It got off to a shaky start because we were both so nervous. I haven't been on a date in a long time. Ed hasn't been on a date since his wife died six years ago. After a while, we relaxed when we realized what good friends we already are. Then we had fun."

Jennifer asked, "How was the food."

"It was excellent. They do a great job. I have to tell you that I think Ed and I will be the topic of gossip around town for a day or so."

Emily laughed, "I've had four calls already tonight."

"Oh, the joys of living in a small town."

"Yeah. In the freaking middle of nowhere. Where it's hot, humid and miserable in the summer and colder than a well-digger's ass in the winter."

"How come you're so down on Stanforth all of a sudden?"

"I don't know, Mom. I'm going to stay here and go to school if I can get into Shawnee, but I gotta tell you, I don't see me living here my whole life like you have. In fact, to be honest. I don't see me living her for five minutes after I get my college diploma."

Bev nodded. "I guess I've always known that. It will be hard, but most kids move away from home. Where do you think you want to live?"

"I want to live in Florida."

"Based on one trip there?"

"Based on one trip there and a lot of reading both before and after. It would be good for me. You know I want to work in the entertainment business, but I don't want to live in New York and I really don't think I want to live in California either, although I'd be willing to try it. There's a lot of theater opportunities in Florida."

They talked for a while, mostly about the girls' plans for their future, both realistic and the really out there "what if" kind of dreams. Jennifer left about 11:30. Bev kissed Emily good night and went into her room where she took off her new pantsuit and hung it carefully in the closet. Then she took off her make-up and went to bed. She lay back with her hands behind her desk thinking about Cameron Andrews' offer of a job balanced against Emily's desire to move to Florida. She let her mind float free, without any real content to her thoughts, simply testing how she felt about those issues.

Her blackberry buzzed on the nightstand. She glanced at the screen and read the text message: _Had a wonderful time! Are you up for trying for another outing? In two weeks Buddy Guy is playing in Dayton. What do you say we go to the opposite extreme, and get down with the blues?_

Bev sat up in bed, grinning: _Yes, on two conditions: 1- no dressing up; 2- no fancy food. With blues we'll wear jeans and eat burgers and fries with draft beer in a sleazy bar._

A minute later: _I knew you were my kinda gal! G'night. Talk to you soon._

Bev lay back against the pillow. This time with three issues floating around in her head – not like sugarplums, more like big, hairy nightmare-monsters. Somehow she eventually fell asleep.
Chapter 20

Bev and Ed Casey were the talk of the town for a few days, but then some professor from the school of music at the university was caught in bed with the organist at the Methodist church and everyone forgot about them. Bev went back to handling her regular caseload. She and Casey talked on the phone occasionally and emailed almost every day.

A few days before the Buddy Guy concert, a package arrived in the mail. She opened it to find a long sleeved tee shirt bearing a picture of the singer and his name running down one sleeve. An accompanying note said: _I thought it would be fun to be really, truly old farts and dress alike. I'm wearing jeans and my Buddy tee-shirt. I invite you to do the same. EC_

She shook her head and put it in her closet. Her jeans were all primarily used for the purpose of digging around in fire scenes. She'd have to buy new clothes for this date, too.

On Thursday before the concert, Prentice Hawks called her. He said, "I have some information for you, but I don't want to discuss it over an international telephone line. I think Mr. Wright should hear the information I have as well. Do you want to arrange a meeting in Miami?"

Bev said, "I can't do a meeting until next week. Frankly, since I'm paying for your services, I'd like to hear what you have to say first. How about I plan a trip to Kingston as early next week as I can arrange it? You think Carol could tolerate me for another visit?"

"I think she could be persuaded."

"Actually, I might see if I can bring my daughter. Does she have a room with two beds?"

"She actually has a nice suite that has two small bedrooms and a sitting room. Each one only has a double bed instead of a queen, but it's nice for two people traveling together who aren't a couple."

"Even better. I'll call you when I firm up my travel plans."

She sent a text message to Emily asking her to call as soon as she got out of school. Then she called Ed Casey. "You up for trip to the airport again."

"Not if it's before Saturday!"

"It won't be before Saturday. I promise. It might be as early as Sunday. Not later than Monday."

"Where are you going?"

"Jamaica."

"You poor dear, how you must suffer in your job!"

"Yeah. Actually, I haven't talked to her about it, but I think I may take Emily out of school for a couple of days and take her with me. She's had a long tough winter and she needs a break even before spring break."

"She has seemed a little out of sorts lately. What's wrong with her?"

"I think it's a bad combination of teen angst and seasonal affective disorder. I want to get her out in the warm sunshine for a few days."

"Casey's taxi service will be available anytime."

"Thanks. I can't wait until Saturday!"

"Me either. It's been years since I've been to a concert."

"I've never been to a concert other than school shows."

"You're kidding."

"I'm way too cheap."

"Is that the only reason?"

"No. You see, my dad had a huge collection of blues albums. He loved the blues and old get- down-on-the-floor-and-moan jazz. But, he would never go to a concert because he wouldn't go into an establishment that served alcohol and most of the blues acts played only in bars. I will go into a bar, but not alone and my ex couldn't stand what he called 'yowling music'. I inherited Dad's collection and while I was trying to keep busy after my divorce, I converted it all to CD's. I'll lend you some of them."

"Awesome. This will be a new experience for you. It won't be in a bar. It will be in a theater, which seems kind of a shame. I think it would be better in a smoky bar in a basement somewhere."

"Yeah but then we wouldn't go at all because we both hate cigarette smoke."

"That's true. I'll pick you up Saturday at 6:00."

"You want to come at 5:00 and eat here first?"

"Nope, we are going to a bar for supper before the show. It's dive but they have great burgers."

They were playing blues on the sound system in the bar, some of the old blues singers that Bev knew and loved. It seemed that about half the people in the place were going to the Buddy Guy concert, too. They ate burgers and fries washed down with iced tea because there was a good chance it would snow during the evening and Ed didn't want to run the risk of driving impaired.

They didn't need alcohol. They had such fun singing along with the sound system and talking to the other blues fans in the place, by the time they left for the theater, they were ready for some fun. The concert didn't disappoint. They had decent seats, but they were there to listen, not really to watch. Bev tended to listen to music with her eyes closed anyway. She had listened to Buddy Guy on albums her entire life. A live show was a completely different experience. She was transported to a new level of musical ecstasy.

In the car on the way home they were quiet. It hadn't started snowing yet, but it was definitely going to start soon. Casey drove as fast as he dared to get as close to home as possible before the storm hit. He concentrated on the road. Bev leaned back in her seat with her eyes closed and tried to relive every moment of the experience. Casey asked, "Is something wrong? You have a headache?"

"Not at all. Everything is as close to perfect as it could be. That was a totally ... I think it was a life-changing experience!"

"It was a pretty good show, that's for sure. He's better in a smaller venue, but he's so fantastic even when he's not quite 'on' he's still better than 90% of all the others."

"You've seen him before?"

"Many times. I prefer live blues. I like jazz on CD but blues has gotta be live, in my opinion." It started to snow, huge flakes coming down fast. Bev thought it looked like they were inside a snow globe. Ed slowed down and put on the wipers. "By the way, when are you leaving for Jamaica and can I go, too?"

She laughed, "We're leaving tomorrow afternoon, if there's not too much snow. And you don't have to take us. I can take a cab."

"From Stanforth to the Cincinnati airport? That must cost a fortune."

"It costs $80. But, if I'm gone more than four days, my parking at the airport costs more than that, so I have approval to use the car service."

"Are you going to be gone four days?"

"I'm scheduled for three. I'll pay the difference."

"I'll take you if it's not too snowy."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"Is Emily going with you."

"Yes. And I'm almost sorry I invited her because she is so out-of-her mind excited I can barely stand her."

"I'll miss you."

"I'll be back in three days and you can email me. Don't get all sentimental. It'll ruin the mood. Feel free to be melancholy or, even, depressed as all hell after all that painful music. Just, please, don't be sentimental tonight."

He laughed and took her hand. She didn't move it, but a shadow passed over her face.

Casey and Bev didn't have a chance to talk on the trip to the airport because Emily chattered non-stop the entire way. When they pulled up to the departures gate, Bev said, "Sweetheart, I'm going to say something I haven't said to you for years, but I can't help it. Be quiet and stop chattering. You are driving me crazy and the people in the airport for sure don't want to listen to a hysterical teen-ager. Do you have your Ipod with you?"

"Yes."

"Turn it on and be quiet."

"Yes, ma'am."

Casey took their bags out of the back of the truck and set them on the curb. He patted Emily's head and looked awkward for a moment. Bev gave him a quick hug and said, "I'll call you tomorrow night to let you know our return plans."

While they were waiting to go through security, Emily asked, "Will you have time to do fun stuff?"

"Some. I gotta tell you the inn where we are staying is pretty remote. I'm beginning to worry that you won't have enough to do."

"Is it near the beach?"

"No. You can see the ocean, but it's several miles away."

"Does it have a pool?"

"No."

"What the heck kind of resort it is it?"

"It's not a resort, it's a bed and breakfast run by a really nice lady. I'll make time to do fun stuff. I promise."

Six hours and three planes later, they landed at the Kingston Airport. Emily was still excited, but she was tired and hungry enough to be subdued. Bev was exhausted and starving. Prentice met them at the curb and said, "You two look kind of bedraggled. Carol was afraid of that, so she has a nice light dinner ready for you. Nothing too heavy because it's late, but plenty of fruit and bread and cheeses." He winked at Bev, "I think she's got a bottle of something available as well."

"That would be nice."

He navigated through the chaos of the arrivals and departures drop-off area. Emily fell asleep in the back seat before they left the airport itself.

"What time do you want me to come by tomorrow?"

"First thing is fine with me."

"Carol and I discussed what to do about Emily while you're here. She sure won't want to sit around the inn. My son is a lifeguard at one of the private beaches. My family is allowed to use the beach because he works there. My daughter is a year younger than Emily, but she's very mature. I'm going to let her stay home from school tomorrow. She and Emily can hang out on the beach and Howard will keep an eye on them."

"Oh, that's wonderful."

"We figure Emily should have some fun while she's here. Be honest, now. Will she be okay hanging out with black kids?"

Bev made a face, "I don't know. I'd like to think not, but to be honest – and I've never thought of this before – she lives in a very white world. I don't think she'd have a problem hanging out with your kids. She may be a little freaked out to be the only white face in the crowd. Then again, that might be a good experience for her."

"My kids will see that she is safe."

"That's all I care about. A little cultural discomfort is an opportunity for growth. As long as she's safe."

Upon arriving at the inn, Prentice turned them over to the care and feeding of his sister and drove off with a promise to see Bev in the morning.

The light dinner revived Bev. Emily ate a few bites and then announced that she wanted to go to bed. Carol sent Bev to the parlor with a drink while she put Emily to bed. When she returned Bev asked, "Did you tell her about the trip to the beach tomorrow?"

"Yes. She's pretty pooped. I'm not sure it completely sunk in. I'll remind her in the morning. Do you want another drink?"

"No, thank you. I'm off to bed soon myself."

"How many nights will you be here?"

"Probably only tonight and tomorrow. If, as he has led me to expect, Prentice's news is significant enough, I may go on to Miami on Tuesday."

"What do you plan to do tomorrow after your meeting with Prentice?"

"I'll be furiously working for a while. If Emily gets back early enough, I thought we could go sightseeing."

"You could meet her at the beach. Howard gets off work at 2:00 PM. He and Clarissa can show you around."

"I hate to impose."

"It's no imposition. Besides, it's kind of a cross-cultural opportunity for both your daughter and my niece and nephew. They hang out at a private beach frequented by spoiled, rich people and they've developed a rather bad attitude about white Americans. Prentice and his wife are hoping that putting them in contact with nice, decent people will help balance out that attitude."

Bev smiled and nodded. She finished her drink and stood. "I think I'll turn in, too."

Carol took the glass. "Your room's at the end of the hall, on the left."

Bev loved the room even more than the one she'd had before. It had a small but comfortable sitting area with a couple of love seats, nice lamps and a desk. French doors opened onto a veranda. Bev knew better than to open the doors at night because of the insects. She'd check out the view in the daytime. She peeked in Emily's room, where Emily lay on her back with her mouth open softly poofing in her sleep. The furniture was French provincial, and looked like something Emily would have chosen to furnish her own room.

Bev's room was small and also furnished in French provincial the bathroom between the bedrooms was surprisingly large and had separate compartments so that one person could shower while the other used the lavatory. It was a perfect room for two women traveling together.

The next morning, Prentice arrived around eight thirty. He and Bev ate breakfast in the dining room and then moved into the parlor where Prentice closed the door.

"I'm sorry you had to spend the money to come here for what is going to be a pretty short conversation, but I don't like to talk too much over international cell service. And this is not something that I want to risk having anyone overhear. I was able to discover relatively quickly that the prostitution ring that was operating out of the motel in Marathon was a large operation. Diaz was not part of the group that ran it, but he definitely benefited from it because the prostitutes operated out of virtually every on of his locations. The only exception is his restaurant in Miami. He has arrangements with local Miami call girls when his customers need 'escorts'. I think all of his other operations used kids from this ring. The group originally operated out of Mexico, but they got sideways of a gang of local thugs who were pimping for prostitutes in Cancun. These guys thought the group was stealing the best 'merchandise' in the area and shipping it overseas. They needed to find a new place. Diaz offered to let them use the _Simply Paradise_ at least until he got the permits to tear it down and build a club. As you suspected, the hotel served as a stop-over for kids between the time they were picked up off the streets and then shipped out to the Islands. The operators fed them, bought them clothes and, often for the really young ones, taught them the basics of sex. The building also served as a bank. They took in money in the various locations, brought it to Marathon and put it on ice for a while. They paid their local vendors out of the pot. Over time, they'd move the money to banks in Miami and the Caymans. It was, and is, a very sophisticated operation."

"It's still operating?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's operating from Puerto Rico now. As I understand it, they have made other arrangements for storing cash. I don't know what they are, but they're no longer keeping the cash in the same location with the hookers."

"I see."

"As I said, Diaz wasn't involved in running the operation, but he knew the operators and he used their services. It was a mutually beneficial business relationship."

"I take it Diaz did not burn the building."

"No he didn't. More surprising, still, Diaz does not know who did."

"Then why did he perjure himself and admit under oath that he committed arson?"

"Because someone is blackmailing him."

"What?"

"Almost immediately after the fire, a couple of high-priced lawyers from a blue-stocking Miami firm visited Diaz's Miami lawyer. They explained that they had quite a lot of information that Diaz would not want to be known in various places. Such as the fact that he's married to the daughter of one of the biggest drug lords in South America and that he inherited from his uncle a huge drug and money-laundering operation of his own. Such as the fact that, while all of his restaurants and clubs are profitable businesses on their own, they are actually merely fronts for laundering his huge profits from drug-dealing."

"Who did burn the building?"

"Diaz doesn't know. It's somebody with the money and power to hire $500-an-hour lawyers to deliver the message. They provided specific enough information that Diaz knew they could take him down, so they're well connected in a lot of places. They told Diaz to disappear until they contacted him. He went to Thailand and hung out on the beach. After a few weeks, they contacted his lawyers, again using the same Miami firm. They gave his lawyers an outline of the story they wanted him to tell in his statement and instructed Diaz to turn himself in to the FBI in Miami."

"And still did not identify who they were working for?"

"Correct. I have to tell you, whoever they are, they're scary bastards. They have rattled Diaz enough that he's planning to close up shop and retire on his hundreds of millions of ill-gotten gains."

"How do you know?"

"Diaz told me."

"You met with Diaz?"

"Yes. He sought me out. He says he knew eventually you'd hire someone to look into his operations. He had alerted all his clubs to be on the lookout for a PI asking questions. Evidently Cameron Andrews asked a couple of questions that got somebody's attention. Diaz's attorney called Cameron. He referred them to me. They told me that Diaz wanted to meet me and answer my questions in person. I met with him last week in Colombia."

"Do you believe him?"

"Do I believe he's going legit? No. He may lie low for a while, but guys like that don't walk away from operations as hugely profitable as his. Do I believe that he's rattled? Absolutely. He's really freaked out because he doesn't know who's behind this. As far as the fire claim is concerned he said that he will waive any recovery. He's prepared to sign a release stating that in exchange for the company not prosecuting him for insurance fraud, he will expect no recovery. Period. Then you can close your file."

Bev interjected, "And he wants me to tell Bruce Wright that I'm done. Diaz didn't set the fire. We don't know who did, but since I don't have to pay anything, I no longer care. Bruce can continue to look for the bad guys or not, as he chooses, because nobody really cares. The operators of the prostitution ring are certainly not going to come and ask for their money."

Hawks nodded and added, "Diaz is prepared give the land on which the hotel was built to the city of Marathon. They can build a park or whatever."

Bev shook her head and laughed with a bitter tone, "Meaning that the operators of the prostitution ring will continue to prey on street kids all over the Caribbean. They will continue to sell young poor people to rich perverts. Diaz will go back to his estate in Colombia and live like a lord. And the person or persons who burned the building, for whatever reason they did it, will get away with it."

"That's pretty much the way it will probably play out."

"It totally sucks, but as overworked as Bruce's unit is in Miami, this is a crime where technically nobody got hurt except for the minor injuries to the maid for which she has already been compensated. Nobody's upset about the property damage. None of his superiors is going to push him for a resolution. It will go on the Unsolved pile forever."

"Yep."

"Okay. I'd like you to put your report in writing."

He laid a manila envelope on the coffee table. "Narrative memo from me to you with copies of various backup documentation. Also includes a statement from Diaz in his own handwriting. Diaz wrote out a release for your company. If you want him to sign a more legal document, send it to his Miami attorney. His card is in the envelope, too."

Bev put her elbows on her knees and put her face in her hands, saying between her fingers, "I've had cases I couldn't solve before. But, I've never had a case that made me feel so dirty. I feel as though I should keep looking for the person who set the fire because that person is dangerous."

"Dangerous, how?"

"If he burned one building, he could burn another. And he's evidently got money or at least powerful enough backers to rattle a guy like Diaz. I would think that would not be easy. This person is operating above the laws of probably a whole bunch of countries. That's a person that I don't like to think of as being on the loose."

Prentice said softly, "Madam, you just described about half of the successful business people in the Islands. Each of the Islands is a separate country with its own laws. Some are based on English common law. Some are based the Napoleonic Code. Others are based on other European legal systems. The non-written laws and codes in each of the Islands is positively Byzantine. Businesses that operate in more than one country would be paralyzed if they tried to abide by the real laws. So they operate according to the non-written laws, in a system of graft and corruption that is impenetrable to outsiders."

"Are you telling me not to worry about it?"

"Sort of. I agree with you that it's hard for an investigator to walk away from a problem without solving it. But, the police and the insurance companies only have so many resources. It isn't a question of right and wrong. It's a question of prioritizing. Who was damaged in this fire? The maid was hurt, and she was taken care of by workers' compensation. Diaz lost his building, but it's a loss he can afford to absorb, so he's prepared to walk away from it without collecting the insurance. The operators of the prostitution ring lost millions of dollars, but they're not going to go to the cops and ask for it back. They've taken the loss as a part of the cost of doing the illegal business they do. They moved on. I'm sure you have claims pending for people who really need the insurance money in order to stay in business. You should concentrate on working on those cases."

"You're right, but it means that somebody got away with a terrible crime."

He smiled and looked at her as though she was a child, "That is an example of American black-and-white thinking. People get away with terrible crimes all the time. You can only do so much. You should devote your time and energy to the claims for which your investigation will allow you to make a settlement that will permit your insured to stay in business when they might otherwise go bankrupt. In this case, there is no claim an more. What you need to do is determine whether or not you'll accept the release Diaz wrote out or if you'll want the legal mumbo-jumbo. Then you close your file and let the cops worry about figuring out who burned the building, if they choose to do so."

"You're right. I guess that means I'm done here."

He stood up and shook her hand, "Yes. At least for this claim. I seriously hope you will come back and see us again under non-business circumstances."

"You can count on that. This is going on my list of places to curl up and heal after really bad clams."

"Any time."

He was gone before his kids even arrived to pick up Emily. She was in the kitchen with Carol eating breakfast. Bev came in and said she was through. Emily looked a little alarmed, "Does that mean I can't go to the beach?"

"Not at all. You go to the beach with Prentice's kids. Howard gets off at 2:00 PM. What do you say I join you at the beach about 1:00 and then you and I can go sightseeing in the afternoon. Maybe Carol can recommend a tour guide."

"I actually work with two regularly. I'll arrange for one of them to pick you up at the beach. There are nice shower facilities on the premises. Take street clothes so you can shower and change. Will you want to go out for dinner or eat here?"

Bev said, "I want to eat here. Spoil us with your fabulous home cooking."

"Will you be leaving in the morning?"

"Probably. I'll go make the arrangements now." Emily finished her breakfast and went to her room to pack her day bag. Carol poured coffee for Bev and Bev took some fruit for her breakfast. She asked, "You wouldn't happen to have a printer with a scanner would you?"

"I don't but there's a pharmacy about a mile down the road that has one of those photo kiosks where you can scan stuff and either print it or save it to a disc."

"Can I walk there?"

"You can borrow my car, or I'll drive you."

Prentice's kids arrived a few minutes later. Howard was 24. His regular job was working the evening shift as a bookkeeper for a hotel. He did life-guarding work in the daytime. Clarissa was 14, bright and bubbly. She looked almost exactly like Carol and had a similarly outgoing personality. She told Bev she wanted to be a teacher. Emily came downstairs. Carol made the introductions, and the kids headed for the beach.

As they pulled away, Carol said, "I'd love to be a bug on that beach."

"Why?"

"I don't think either of Prentice's children have ever so much as had a conversation with a white person."

"Emily lives in an almost exclusively white world. Her contacts with people of other races is extremely limited."

"Will she be freaked out by being in the minority?"

"Probably, but, as I told Prentice when I agreed to these arrangements, as long as she's _safe_ I'm okay with her being a little uncomfortable. I think it's good for us Midwestern white bread Americans to occasionally have experiences that remind us _we_ are in fact a tiny minority among the vast array of humanity."

"Have you had that experience?"

"A couple of times."

"Would you mind sharing?"

"The first time was on my honeymoon. My husband wanted us to go to Paradise Island which was at the time kind of the 'It' place for honeymooners. I wanted to go to a cabin by a lake somewhere (which was more our style), but for the only time in the man's entire life, he wanted to do something 'different'. I finally agreed to go to the Bahamas, but I wanted to get off the beaten track and not stay at one of the high-rise hotels on Paradise Beach. I talked to a travel agent. I guess the Internet technically existed at the time, but we didn't have a computer. She ended up booking us in a very nice small hotel outside of Freeport. It was gorgeous and the staff were lovely. The food was great. Everything about it was totally wonderful. It was a place that primarily catered to Islanders. The guests weren't Bahamians, but they were all dark-skinned people from various parts of the Caribbean and South America. Some of them spoke English, most of them spoke only Spanish or Portuguese."

"How did it make you feel?"

"Fortunately for us we were on our honeymoon, so people didn't expect us to participate in some of the social gatherings they had planned. We were very freaked out. Quite honestly, I think we were more bothered more by the language barriers than by the racial differences. Up until that point, I'd never met a native speaker of any language other than English. It was uncomfortable, but we had a fantastic time. As a matter of fact we met a couple from Martinique on a snorkeling trip. They were on their honeymoon too. I still keep in touch with her. She lives in Chicago now."

"What about the other time?"

"I was working on a claim in a hotel in the Poconos. All the people I was dealing with were Orthodox Jews. I'd worked with Jewish people before, but most of the Jews I knew were from the Reformed or Conservative traditions. I knew nothing of Orthodox culture or traditions and I kept doing and saying things that offended them. They were suspicious of me from the outset, which is a typical reaction to an insurance adjuster. But, things went down hill fast, and the whole claim almost went off the rails."

"What did you do?"

"I called my boss and told him I needed him to reassign the claim to a Jewish adjuster or I needed him to find me an Orthodox rabbi who would give me a crash course on what I could and could not say."

"What did he do?"

"Well, we had no Jewish adjusters, so he got on the phone and found a professor at Hebrew Union College who was an expert in Jewish culture. He called me and we talked for a while. It helped a lot. Although that still stands out in my mind as one of the single most unpleasant settlement negotiations I've ever been involved in."

Carol was biting her nails and looking out the window as she listened. Bev asked, "Why are you so interested?"

"One reason I've never left Jamaica is because that's exactly the kind of situation that paralyzes me with fear. I would never go to visit Prentice in New York because I was afraid to be surrounded by white people. I interact fine with whites here in the inn, one-on-one. Out in public, if there are too many non-black faces in a crowd, I get very anxious. It is not because of anything bad that's ever happened to me. It's just sort of cultural knowledge that mothers pass on to daughters. Stay away from whites – especially white men – and stay out of mixed crowds."

Bev closed her eyes and nodded. She didn't say anything out loud, but she knew about those warnings passed on from generation to generation. The warnings she had received constituted a negative image of the one Carol described. She smiled and said, "There is no better cure for the fears, prejudices and misunderstandings that plague us than to ensure that our children have cross-cultural experiences to allow them to learn that there are legitimate points of view other than their own."

"Right-O."

Bev borrowed Carol's car, went to the pharmacy and scanned Prentice's report with its accompanying documentation. She returned to the inn and sent the information to McGavin and Dietz in an encrypted email with an accompanying message that said: _Unless you give me instructions to the contrary I propose to send this information to Bruce Wright and then close our file on this one after I pay Mr. Hawk's bill._

She caught up on email and puttered around in her room _._ About a half an hour later McGavin was on the phone. "We vetted it with our lawyers and we agree with your plan of action. Come on home."

"I have reservations for a return flight on Wednesday. I'm going to the beach this afternoon. I'll pay for the extra night here, but I think I'll take a vacation day tomorrow. That will avoid you having to pay $150 for me to change my flight."

McGavin said, "That's fine. I know Emily is with you. Take the day off. Go sightseeing and have fun. Tell Hawks to submit his final bill and go ahead and send the information to Wright."

Bev hung up, and forwarded the information to Bruce Wright. Then she went through her work emails and got caught up. After that she stood staring out at the ocean for about ten minutes, with a look on her face that was a combination of longing and fear. She flipped open her phone and dialed Cameron Andrews' number. He answered on the second ring.

She said, "I promised to call you when we wrapped up the Marathon fire. I am in Jamaica, and I'm not returning to Ohio until Wednesday. Are you free to talk tomorrow."

He said he was. He told her there was a 5:30 PM flight from Kingston to Georgetown. He said he'd buy her a ticket and put her up in the same hotel she had stayed in before. She said, "Actually, I have my daughter with me. Is there a place on the beach we could stay?"

"Why don't you stay with me? I have three extra bedrooms. She can play on the beach while we talk and then I'll show you around the island."

"Okay. I'm not sure I can get it together but I'll try. Can I get back to Jamaica for our Wednesday flight home?"

"I'll pay to change your flights to leave from Georgetown."

"Thank you. I'll call you from the airport in Kingston this afternoon."

"I'll pick you up at the airport."

Bev hung up and looked at herself in the mirror, saying out loud, "Girl, you have gone and lost your freaking mind!"
Chapter 21

She put on a bathing suit under Capri's and a tee shirt, packed undies in a bag with a towel and soap, then she packed her suitcase and Emily's and went downstairs carrying both bags. Carol had arranged for a car to take her to the beach. At about 2:00 the guide would pick her and Emily up to go sightseeing for a while. Then she would have the guide drop them off at the airport.

Bev went into the kitchen and said, "There's been a change of plan. Emily and I are leaving this afternoon. I'll have the guide take us directly to the airport after our little sightseeing jaunt."

"Is anything wrong?"

"On the contrary. Prentice did such a great job, I'm finished here."

"But there's no flight to Miami until tomorrow."

"I'm not going to Miami. I'm going to Georgetown."

"Why?"

"Cameron Andrews has offered me a job. The least I can do is hear him out."

"You going into competition with my brother?"

"I don't think we'll be competing. My guess is we'll collaborate from time to time."

"That could be good. Maybe we'll see you again around here?"

Bev grinned and hugged Carol, "Whether or not I change jobs, you will see me regularly. Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

She took her bags to the car and asked the driver if he could keep them with him while she was at the beach. He agreed as if that kind of thing happened every day, which it probably did.

Bev joined the kids on the most lovely city beach she had ever seen. She preferred uncrowded, remote beaches. This one was small and bordered on either side private beaches belonging to condominiums. It being a weekday there were few bathers. The sand looked like sugar and felt warm under her feet. She knew that in the summer that sand would be too hot to walk on. The water was almost transparent. Emily and Clarissa were snorkeling. Howard directed her to the chairs where the girls had left their stuff.

Bev wasn't a swimmer, so she stretched out on a chaise and waited for the girls to come out of the water. She bought them hot dogs and potato chips for lunch and they chatted for a while. When Howard got off work, he and Clarissa left, with hugs all around. Emily and Bev changed and met the guide.

Bev looked at her watch, "We have to be at the airport by 4:00 PM. Give us the hour and a half tour."

The driver, a jovial black man in his sixties, laughed, "Will do." He pulled out into traffic.

Emily looked at Bev and raised her eyebrows. Bev said, "We're through here, so I thought you might want to check out the beach in the Cayman Islands. We're going to be house guests of Cameron Andrews."

Emily looked at her mother as though she thought Bev was a stranger. Bev wanted to feel offended, but she felt a little like a stranger to herself.

They enjoyed the tour of Kingston, laughing and joking with the driver. He dropped them off at the airport, and Bev felt a wave of panic. She kept telling herself that she didn't have to _accept_ the job offer from Andrews. She was just going to talk to him.

After they checked in at the airport, Bev told Emily where they were going and why. Emily's face registered a series of emotions that Bev thought would have been funny if she hadn't shared all of them herself. First, Emily looked surprised, then she shook her head and a look of something like wonderment washed over her. "Are you serious, Mom? Would you move to the Cayman Islands?"

"No. I'd stay in Stanforth. I'd be traveling almost all the time. But, eventually I'd probably get a place in Georgetown or maybe someplace in Florida for the sake of convenience. Logistics is one of the things Cameron and I have to discuss."

Emily said, "There's a girl in my class whose parents winter in Mexico. They have a arrangement with the school that she can do her class work remotely. For some classes they actually hook up an internet meeting so she can listen to special lectures or presentations. If you're going to be spending any large blocks of time somewhere other than Ohio, I want to go with you."

"That will be another hurdle we'll have to overcome, but it's nice to know the school has faced that kind of issue before and is willing to work with families to make accommodations."

Andrews picked them up and drove them directly to his house, saying, "I don't cook, but I have a terrific caterer. Dinner will arrive around 6:30. That should give you ladies time to settle in and relax a bit. I propose that we not talk any business until tomorrow morning. Tonight will be all about relaxing and getting acquainted. Bev and Emily both agreed.

He showed them to their rooms, which were at the end of the hall on the second floor. Emily's room had a view of the ocean and the courtyard. Bev's room faced the ocean directly. She could sit on her bed and see the water. They shared a bathroom. Emily came into Bev's room through the bathroom and said, "Nice place this guy has here. He must be doing okay."

"Private investigators with large corporate clients can do very well."

"You could make more money working for him?"

"Potentially quite a lot more."

Emily sat next to her mother on the bed and leaned her shoulder against her mom's body, "Why are you doing this, Mom? You love your job."

"I do. But, you'll be going away in a few years, and you've made it clear you don't want to stay in Stanforth. I am getting tired of people telling me that I'm selling myself short by working for a regional carrier in a Podunk town. I could be an expert and charge $500 an hour. I could work for a large carrier and make a larger salary than I do now. I don't know. I do not really intend to take this job, but I do want to hear Cameron out, just to see what he proposes. Maybe I just want to bolster my ego a little by knowing that I could get a different job if I wanted one."

"I understand. I want you to know that whatever decision you make, I want you to make it without regard to my bitching about the weather in Stanforth."

"I promise, I won't do anything crazy and I won't do anything without discussing it with you."

"What about Mr. Casey?"

Bev lay back on the bed, with her eyes closed and her hands behind her head. She sighed. "I have no idea about what that is about or where it is headed. I suppose that I owe it to both Ed and myself to discuss any big changes in my life with him as well."

They joined Andrews in the living room around six. He offered Emily lemonade or tea and offered Bev a drink. They took their beverages out on the veranda, which was in the shade. It was hot in the sun, but very comfortable in the shade. They chatted, sharing personal stories and getting acquainted. Bev noted that Andrews did not ask any questions about the outcome of her investigation into the Diaz fire. She assumed he knew.

Dinner was traditional Southern fare: pan-fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans and biscuits, with a lemon meringue pie for dessert. Emily was in heaven. Bev hated fried food, so she took a small piece of chicken and picked around on it to make it look like she'd eaten some. She ate some mashed potatoes with a huge serving of green beans. She passed on the pie.

Andrews looked concerned, "Are you on some kind of special diet?"

"Actually, no. Generally I'm not a picky eater. On the contrary, I'm a pretty adventurous eater most of the time. This was coincidentally a meal consisting of almost all of the few things I don't like. I don't eat breaded and fried foods as a general rule, especially not chicken, on the bone or off. I love pies, but I don't like the texture of meringue. I sincerely apologize for my rudeness."

"You weren't rude. Actually, you were very polite. I've invited people to dinner and had them turn up their noses or verbally criticize the food. You ate some of the food and didn't complain."

"Girls call that taking your 'Brownie bites'."

Andrews asked Emily if she wanted to go swimming in the pool. He said he didn't recommend the ocean that time of the day because the sharks tended to follow the smaller fish over the reefs in the evening. Emily thought that sounded like an excellent reason to stick to the pool. Bev and Andrews sat by the pool and shared war stories about past investigations. They laughed until they cried. A few stories were so painful, they just cried. It had been a long time since Bev had spent an evening with someone who did the same kind of work she did. Most people said they thought what she did was interesting, but they never seemed very interested in hearing about it. Bev could never talk about current investigations, but she and other investigators (cops and lawyers, included) loved to tell war stories of investigations past.

Eventually, Emily got out of the pool and sat listening to the adults talk. Having an audience caused them to be even more entertaining. By the time they went to bed, they all said their sides hurt from laughing. Emily told Bev she had no idea her job could be so amusing. She explained to Andrews that her only experience of Bev handling a claim locally was a terrible ordeal which left Bev so stressed out she became ill, and Emily had to leave the house and spend some time in the country.

He smiled at Emily and said, "We laugh now about things that happened a long time ago, but quite honestly that's probably a better picture of your mom's job than the conversation you've heard this evening."

Andrews suggested that he and Bev meet in his office before Emily got up the next morning. Bev got up early and puttered around in her room until she heard Andrews moving around. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She waited on the terrace until he was ready. He came out with a coffee service and said, "Let's just talk here."

She agreed. He said, "Thanks for coming to hear my offer. I do not want an immediate answer. I want you to think about this. I know how much you love your job and how loyal you are to Midwestern. It appears they have been good to you as well, although I am appalled at their pay scale, not just for you but even for the executives."

She grinned, "Conservative little Midwestern companies stay in business by employing people who will work for small wages in exchange for job security."

He nodded and sipped his coffee with an odd expression Bev couldn't quite read. It might have been disbelief or, possibly, disdain. He went on, "I need an associate who can do property work. You handle property claims other than fires as well?"

"Oh, yes, building collapses, explosions. I've handled some storm claims, too when they needed help in the wake of a hurricane or widespread tornado damage that required all hands to be on deck. I'll level with you and tell you that my real expertise is in investigating causation, I'm not crazy about doing the damages assessment part of the claims. Typically, I do the front end work, figure out the cause and make a determination of coverage. Then I turn the claim over to my assistant to handle the damages and pay-out portion of the loss."

"That's fine. That's pretty much the way I work. The carriers hire me to do the field work and gather the evidence. Their in-house adjusters do the numbers-crunching and tie up all the loose ends. I'm too expensive for that. I think they'll expect you to do the same. You're not going to be the responsible adjuster. You'll be the person out in the field investigate causation. Once you do that, the adjusters will do the coverage analysis and adjust the loss. What experience do you have with liability claims?"

"Most of the liability claims I've handled have been part of fire or other property claims. Patrons are killed or injured in a fire or a building collapse. Lots of liability claims come out of those losses. I have handled some claims that did not involve property damage at all but were strictly liability. I handled one claim for a hotel in the Poconos where there was some kind of food contamination that made all 300 people in the hotel sick, three people died and about half the rest had to be hospitalized. We found the contaminant and tracked it back to a supplier for the manufacturer of a breakfast sausage. There was no way the hotel could have known about it. We managed to foist off all those claims to the supplier and the manufacturer. We didn't pay a dime."

He nodded. "Anything you don't do?"

She thought about that for a while, "I think what I don't do is what you do. I've never handled an employee dishonesty claim. Actually, I haven't handled too many theft claims of any kind come to think of it. No ocean marine, although I always thought that would be amazingly cool to learn. No professional liability, although I have taken a bunch of continuing education credits in that area."

"Why?"

"Because I tend to wait until the last minute to do my C. E. and then I have to take whatever courses are available."

"Designations?"

"CPCU."

He nodded and made a note. "Licensed?"

"I'm licensed in every state where Midwestern does business that requires an adjuster's license."

"Wow!"

"It's a nightmare to keep track of. Fortunately, my assistant does that. But, it turned out to be easier than trying to get me licensed on an ad hoc basis in the middle of a claim crisis."

He made a note. "I'll want a list of the places you are licensed. We may need to get you licensed in some other places as well. My clients do a lot of work in the northeast of the US and in the South."

"I'll send you a list. I'm good in the South. Our penetration into the southeast is pretty good for a regional carrier. Northeast will be an issue. Midwestern does not do any business in the northeast to my knowledge."

He made another note. "There is no doubt in my mind that you can do and would enjoy the kinds of work I envision you will be doing. There will be more work than you can handle, I assure you. So you'll often have the opportunity to pick and choose what to work on. The difficulty for me is figuring out how to pay you. Most of my compensation is a combination of a fee for service and a percentage of money I recover. If somebody steals a million dollars and I recover it, I get my fee plus 10% of what I recover. There's no way to compensate you for the kind of work you do other than a salary because the carriers will pay us for your work on a time and materials basis. But, a bonus is important, so I would be prepared to pay you a profit sharing bonus on the income you bring in. I'll start with 20% of the profit."

She chuckled, "Considering how little overhead will be involved in employing me, you think 20% is reasonable?"

"Not really, but I it's a place to start." He raised his eyebrows and looked sheepish, "Remember, I've never hired anybody before. I'm strictly a lone wolf, which is an important point. I'm not even sure I can do this. I work alone for a reason."

She nodded and started to feel better. This was a case of testing-the-waters on both sides.

"I checked into health care and benefits. Oh, my God! I don't know how companies can afford to have employees. I was able to solve that problem. The carrier that writes my health coverage also has a division that does benefits coverage in the US. Since you'll be working for an offshore company, you can be covered under my policy with a US rider. That will save us a ton of money and give you better coverage than you probably have now. I'll pay for you; you pay for Emily."

"How much is that?"

"Works out to about $400 a month."

"You're kidding!"

"Is that too much?"

"Hell, no. It's less than I'm paying now for crappy coverage."

"It's basic, not dental or vision or bells and whistles."

"Fortunately, we've finished with braces."

"As for salary, I'd suggest $100,000 for the first year. That's just a place to start. We can adjust it and figure out bonuses that make sense going forward. Also, as I mentioned, one of my Bermuda customers is offering a $50,000 signing bonus."

Bev tried to maintain her poker face. She was not sure she succeeded That was much more than she expected. Combined with the reduction in the cost of her benefits, she was suddenly actually interested.

He raised his eyebrows and asked, "You still with me?"

She knew that she had not given away her excitement, so she made a non-committal face and said, "You have my attention."

"As for the job itself, I think you'll like it. Consider what you hire PI's to do. The adjusters for the carriers need to put people on the ground, most often to investigate the cause of claims. Occasionally, they may ask us to do some coverage analysis, but that's relatively rare. Mostly they want us to visit the scene, take statements, work with the forensics people to determine the cause of the loss. Sometimes, as in your recent situation, we may be called on to try to find out who actually was responsible for doing the damage. Was it the insured? Or someone else? I think you know that drill."

She nodded. "As we discussed, I would still want to maintain my residence in Stanforth at least until Emily is out of college."

"That should not be a problem."

"Would it make sense for me to have a small place here? Will we need to get together from time to time."

"You can if you like, but frankly, most of my clients are in Bermuda. I've actually got an apartment there. I go there several times a year to meet with adjusters and to schmooze with the executives who pay my salary. You can feel free to use that apartment whenever I'm not there. My guess is that initially you'll be spending a lot of time there. I also have a large client in Dublin, Ireland. They like for me to visit a couple of times a year. That's the client who's offering the signing bonus. We should visit them together soon after you come on board... That is, if you choose to do so."

"What's your caseload?"

"It varies. Sometimes it's one at a time. Sometimes a bunch of things come in at once. Most of the time, I stick to one thing at a time, even if it means turning down cases because I can't get to them. The carriers understand that. They like the fact that I devote myself totally to one thing at a time. You may be able to juggle more than one claim at a time. I can't."

"When do you want an answer?"

"Not today. I'm still thinking about whether or not I want the responsibility of having an employee. I like you. I know my clients will love you. I just need to decide if this is something I want to do. I think you will want to consider it carefully as well." He looked at the calendar app on his phone. "I have to go to Chicago in two weeks for a deposition."

He paused and said, "Oh, that reminds me. Do you have a problem testifying in court?"

"No. It goes with the job. Actually, I frequently hire PI's so I don't have to testify. I pick my PI's with their courtroom demeanor in mind. I've testified personally on a number of occasions."

"Okay. Anyway, I'm going to be in Chicago in two weeks. Why don't I stop by to visit you on my way home."

"That will work."

He stood up and said, "I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a walk."

She left Emily a note and she and Andrews went for a two hour walk on Seven Mile Beach, talking about places they'd been, people they knew in common, and sharing more war stories. Bev liked him a lot, and she could tell he liked her as well. She knew she could work with him. What she didn't know was if she could leave the security of working for a corporation that had been in business for a hundred years to work for a guy who lived on the beach in the Islands and who, she feared, had some kind of hidden reason for leaving the US suddenly. She had a lot of thinking to do.

Emily had just got up when they arrived back at Andrews' home. She was drinking juice in the kitchen. Bev and Andrews came in, sweaty and windblown. Emily laughed, "How far did you go?"

Bev answered, "All the way to the end and back."

"That's fourteen miles!"

Andrews laughed, "Actually it's about half that. I live just about half way of the beach."

Emily asked her mother, "What's on the agenda for today?"

"We have to be at the airport at 3:00 PM for a 4:30 flight."

Emily asked, "Can I go to the beach for a while?"

Andrews said, "I have some paperwork to do in my office. You ladies should feel free to use the pool or go to the beach. I have deli meat and some salads for lunch before you leave. I wouldn't want you to have to eat airport food."

"That's a mercy."

Emily played in the water and Bev sat on a beach chair watching Emily frolic in the water for an hour or so. Then they came inside, showered and changed into traveling clothes. Emily watched Bev pack her bag. "Golly, Mom, you are so good at that. I want you to teach me."

"Sure. Packing is something that most people do poorly. Most people pack too much and even what they need they pack poorly."

Emily asked softly, "What are you going to do?"

Bev said, "I'm going to do some serious thinking. Then you and I are going to do some serious talking about our plans for the future. And then in two weeks Cameron is going to visit us in Stanforth and he and I will talk some more."

"I'm glad he's giving you time to think about it."

"He's not sure he wants to do it either. He's never had any employees. He's strictly a solo operator. I think he's almost as freaked out by the prospect as I am."

"Freaked out, but considering it?"

"Yes."

"Is it more money?"

"Yes. Quite a lot more, as a matter of fact."

They put their suitcases by the front door and joined Andrews in the living room. He told Emily some tales about the history and lore of the Caymans. They had lunch and then he took them to the airport.

While they were waiting for their plane, Emily asked, "What was the result of Mr. Hawks' investigation. Did you find out who the bad guy was?"

"No, we didn't. We know that our insured wasn't the person who set the fire. But, it doesn't matter now. He signed a release waiving his rights to any payment under the policy. I'm done."

"But you don't know who did it."

"That's a problem for the cops."

"I think that must be frustrating."

Bev laughed and said softly, "Oh, my dear, you have no idea! I have never walked away from a claim before without some kind of resolution. We don't always find out who did the damage, but we always end up either paying the claim or issuing a letter stating why there is no coverage. I can't remember ever leaving one up in the air like this. It goes against my nature."

"Who would have done it?"

"I guess somebody who had a problem with the things that were going on there."

"You think it was like some local religious fanatic or something?"

"I'm not so sure about that. It's somebody with money and connections. Somebody who can afford big-firm lawyers and who has enough power and influence to scare Diaz. The typical religious zealot doesn't fit that profile."

"Maybe it was one of the local Florida smugglers who took exception to these folks from the Islands moving in on their territory."

"That's possible, too."

Their flights were uneventful, and close to being on time. When they landed in Cincinnati, Bev told Emily that she though Emily was a travel good-luck charm. It rarely happened that she got through Atlanta without some kind of delay or drama. On this trip, they breezed through Atlanta twice with no problems.

Bev called Casey on her cell to let him know they were on the ground. He was waiting in a nearby parking area. She told him she'd phone again once they claimed their bags.
Chapter 22

The next day, Bev went to her office in Dayton to meet with McGavin and Dietz. They told her to close her file. McGavin said, "We have a new assignment for you."

"Okay, but I want to say for the record, I am unhappy with leaving the Diaz fire up in the air."

"We understand that. You did a great job with a difficult investigation. Let it go."

"Where am I headed next?"

"Texas."

"Yippee-kay-ay-aye."

"Don't be a smart ass. I want you to go meet with Pam Sizemore. She was handling this as a straight fire loss, but some things have turned up that made her think it might not be that simple."

"Sizemore's in personal lines?'

"Yes. This is a home fire. We are seeing a lot of home fires these days. Some of them are so poorly done, the cops finger the insured before we can even get rolling."

"Bad economy. People in financial straights. Desperate people do stupid and crazy things."

"That's true, but this insured is neither in financial straights or desperate. Go see Pam."

Bev spent most of the day going over the claims file for the Texas fire with the adjuster. She spent the rest of the afternoon filling out her expense report from her recent trips and catching up on paperwork on her other matters. Her assistant stuck her head in at 4:30 and said, "I have to cut out a few minutes early, David has a program at school tonight. You might want to get on the road soon. They're talking about an ice storm headed this way."

"Thanks for the heads up. I haven't listened to the radio today."

"That's a mistake this time of the year."

Bev got home before the storm. She called Emily, who was working on a science project at a friend's house to tell her to either come home immediately or stay put. Emily told her mom that she had already planned to spend the night so they could work late and then take the project to school together.

She poured a glass of wine and decided to read in bed until she fell asleep. Ed Casey called her and they talked for a while. For some reason she couldn't bring herself to tell him about her potential new job. She told herself that she'd want to discuss that with him in person. She also told herself it wouldn't matter because she would still live in Stanforth. She knew that was not necessarily true.

About 9:30 she put down her book and turned off the lights. Just as she started to drift off to sleep, she sat up in bed with her eyes wide and her mouth making a surprised "O".

She picked up her phone and searched through her contacts. She punched a number and waited. She said, "You set that fire, didn't you?"

"What if I did?"

"It's nothing to me. I'm done. Diaz gave us a release."

"You going to the cops?"

"I've already given the cops all the evidence I have."

"None of it points to me."

"Not directly."

"How did you figure it out?"

"I remembered what you said the day I first arrived at the scene. You said that the fire was set by someone who hated what they were doing there so much that they were willing to destroy the money and even kill people."

"Why would you think I would feel that strongly about it."

"I don't know. I just recalled the look on your face when you said it. At the time I interpreted your intensity as being an effort to try to figure it out. Looking at it from a different angle, I now see it as hatred."

Barry Raymond laughed. "You can't prove that."

"I know. And I doubt that Bruce Wright will figure it out. Looks to me like you got away with it. I just wanted you to know that I figured out that you did it. Will you tell me why?"

"Okay, so you're a smart lady and you think you figured something out. I'm not going to say anything one way or the other on the phone."

"Let me ask you one more question. I understand why you kept me close, so you could keep my attention focused on others and also so you would know what I was thinking about the cause of the fire. But, why did you flirt with me so much? I am clearly not your type, although I have to admit I liked you a lot."

His chuckle rumbled around in his throat, "I'm just an incurable flirt. I flirt with all women, especially the lonely and desperate ones like you. It's so fun to watch how flustered they get. It usually pays off well for me. Lonely women can be very _grateful_ , if you know what I mean. You were the exception in that you didn't react at all. I'm surprised to know that you found me attractive. You came off as a regular ice queen."

"You really are a bastard."

"So I've been told. Many times. By better women than you."

Bev hung up the phone, turned off the light and went to sleep instantly. She had to be at the airport at 6:30 AM for her flight to San Antonio.

-THE END-

**Meredith Morgan** is a pseudonym for an author who grew up in the Midwest and now lives in Florida.

Born at the apex of the Baby Boom wave in the mid 1950's, every time she thinks of some great new, original idea or plan, she knows that next week it will show up on the cover of "Time" Magazine as the "Next Big Thing." She exhibits all the narcissistic Boomer neuroses, plus a few extra just to make things interesting, all of which she pours into her writing.

She enjoys walking the beaches, cooking (in theory if not in actual practice), and collecting odd, unusual and utterly useless bits of knowledge.

Visit her blog at: http://meredith-morgan.blogspot.com/
