THE KA-TIKI WAS AN OPEN-SIDED, palm-thatched throwback. Kinda like the Murmuring Surf, Vikki Hill thought. She walked into the bar and spotted the cop instantly. He was sitting at a high-top table, sipping a draft beer.
“Joe?” she asked, walking up.
He nodded. “That’s me. You’re Vikki Hill?”
“Agent Hill,” she said, sitting down.
“No offense,” he said, “but could I see some ID? This is kind of a sensitive matter we’re here to discuss, and I’m not comfortable telling a stranger who walks in off the beach anything about Letty Carnahan.”
She pulled a leather badge holder from her purse and handed it across to him. “Satisfied?”
He shrugged.
The server, dressed in skintight shorts and a violently patterned tropical shirt showing off plenty of cleavage, appeared, and Vikki Hill ordered a Michelob Ultra. Joe grimaced and held up his plastic cup. “Try one of the local beers. They’re pretty good.”
“No thanks,” she said. “I know what I like. Now, let’s get down to it, shall we? First off, I don’t want to have to point out that you’re knowingly harboring a fugitive at that motel of yours. I’m meeting with you as a courtesy, but if I want, I can arrest Scarlett Carnahan tonight and turn the kid over to child welfare authorities.”
“What the fuck?” Joe leaned forward, his jaw muscles tensed. “I only agreed to talk to you because you said that was not your intention.”
“It’s still not my intention,” Vikki said.
“Then … what?”
“Let me talk please,” she interrupted. “You know about Scarlett’s connection to a man named Evan Wingfield, correct?”
“Correct,” Joe said tersely. “Letty worked for him, when she first arrived in New York, right? It wasn’t clear to me what her job was.”
“Wingfield owns dozens of Airbnb units all over the city. Mostly Manhattan and Brooklyn, and most of them illegal. From what we can tell, he hired Scarlett as a sort of concierge. He put her up in an apartment in a building where he owns several units. Her duties included making sure the Airbnb guests got into his units quietly, without raising attention from the other tenants in the building. At some point, it appears they began a romantic relationship. But after Tanya moved to the city, Wingfield dumped Letty and took up with the younger sister. She moved in with Wingfield and had his kid.”
“Maya,” Joe said.
“Right. The sisters, naturally, were estranged for a couple years after the kid was born, but then they reconciled—right around the time Wingfield and Tanya broke up. Tanya Carnahan, by all accounts, had some serious substance-abuse issues, a fact that Wingfield tried to use against her when he sued for custody.”
“Wingfield and Tanya weren’t married, right?” Joe asked.
“Correct. But they were domestic partners, and he was listed as father on the kid’s birth certificate.”
“Maya,” Joe interrupted. “Her name is Maya. I still don’t understand how the FBI got involved in all this.”
“I’m getting there,” Vikki Hill said. “The bureau’s public corruption unit has had an ongoing investigation into Evan Wingfield’s illegal Airbnb business activities for the past eighteen months, which we initiated after we learned that he’d bribed a New York City housing inspector, as well as two members of the city’s zoning appeals board and a city council member. At that point, the bureau sent me in undercover, posing as a new inspector. And within minutes of meeting with me, Wingfield made not-so-subtle references to ‘arrangements’ he’d made with other inspectors.”
“The guy wasted no time,” Joe said.
“He’s efficient, I’ll say that about him. In my subsequent meetings with Wingfield he complained bitterly about his estranged girlfriend and what their custody battle was costing in legal fees,” she said. “But he didn’t mind the money he spent bribing me with cash, Broadway theater tickets, and trips to Vegas.”
“Why didn’t you just arrest him then? Maybe Tanya Carnahan would still be alive.”
“Because we knew that what we had on him was just the tip of the iceberg. We knew he’d bribed others, he bragged about it to me. But then Tanya started threatening to report him to the feds. Somehow, she knew about me, even knew my name, although she didn’t know I was actually undercover law enforcement. We didn’t know where she was getting her information. Wingfield was worried. He told me he’d begun thinking of ways to shut her up.…”
“And yet you still didn’t think it was time to pull the plug?” Joe shook his head. “Christ!”
“The bureau acts at its own speed,” Vikki said. “We were getting closer, and then, well, out of the blue, Tanya was killed and her kid vanished.”
“Murdered by Evan Wingfield.”
“We assume so, yes. He was there that day. Told the detectives they’d argued, but she was alive when he left. He’s been proclaiming his innocence very loudly and very publicly. And blaming Letty Carnahan.”
“I hope you’re not buying that bullshit,” DeCurtis said.
“The NYPD is investigating the murder aspect. But we know that Letty was at her sister’s brownstone the afternoon Tanya was killed. Witnesses placed her there. Security cameras placed her there. She grabbed the kid, took her sister’s car, and fled. Why didn’t she come to the police with her suspicions? You gotta admit, the optics aren’t good.”
“I don’t know about the optics,” Joe said. “I only know when she arrived here, she was clearly terrified. I was suspicious at first, sure. I’m a cop.”
“You knew that authorities were searching for the kid. And you also knew Scarlett Carnahan was wanted for questioning in her sister’s death, but you still didn’t notify police in New York?” Agent Hill’s voice was sharp. “Ever hear of obstruction of justice? Or doesn’t that count down here in Florida?”
“I didn’t know she was a fugitive at first,” Joe said. “That morning she arrived here, all I had was suspicions. Anyway, my mother was not going to turn away a woman with a little kid in tow. As for Letty, we’ve gotten to know her. My mother trusted her enough to give her a job at the motel. She saved one of our guests’ life, when he was having a heart attack. She actually jumped on a meth head I was trying to arrest, kept the woman from cracking my skull with a baseball bat. Take it from me, that woman is not a murderer. She’s just not.”
“Has she said anything to you about what brought her down here?”
“No,” he admitted. “She’s intentionally vague about those kind of details, but who can blame her? Anyway, a few days after she arrived I put two and two together. Now I’ve got a pretty good idea of why she showed up at the Murmuring Surf.”
“Agreed,” Vikki Hill said. “Once we started looking into Tanya Carnahan’s past we found her arrest record. We figured it out by the process of elimination. The sisters were close and there were no other family connections that we could find. In fact, we know that Tanya drew up a will in the months leading up to her death. It names Letty as the child’s legal guardian.”
Joe sipped his beer. “Have you considered another suspect in Tanya’s murder? I mean, other than Letty, or even Wingfield?”
“You mean Declan Rooney? Tanya’s old boyfriend? Kind of a reach, don’t you think? I know he’s still at large, but what would his motive be for killing her?”
“Money, for one thing. We never recovered any of the jewelry or gold or silver they’d been buying—an estimated hundred and fifty thousand dollars that’s never been accounted for. When we arrested Tanya, she claimed Rooney and his partner, Chuck Sheppard, had absconded with all of it,” Joe said. “But what if she actually did have the loot—and was supposed to meet up with him but didn’t?”
“That’s an extremely far-fetched scenario you’ve cooked up,” Agent Hill remarked. “Any proof to back it up?”
“Nope.” Joe leaned back on his barstool, his eyes drifting toward a wall-mounted television over the bar. “Is the bureau aware that Evan Wingfield probably isn’t the child’s biological father?”
“What?” Her voice was sharp. “How can you know something like that?”
“If you saw Maya, especially in person, you’d agree. Declan Rooney had very distinctive, piercing blue eyes and thick black eyelashes. Maya has them too. The resemblance is unmistakable.”
“If Tanya knew Wingfield wasn’t the baby daddy, why didn’t she just tell him that after the breakup, before all the hassles of the custody battle?” Agent Hill demanded.
“Did you ever meet Tanya?” Joe asked. “I did. She and Rooney lived at the motel for two weeks while they were grifting senior citizens. She was a piece of work. Beautiful, loaded with charm and street smarts and as gifted a liar as I’ve ever met. My guess is that it had to do with money. I mean, Rooney was in the wind, and then she finds out she’s pregnant. From what you’ve told me, Wingfield is rich. Maybe Tanya saw a sugar daddy opportunity and went for it.”
“That’s an interesting theory, but it’s got nothing to do with me,” the agent said. “It’s not why I came down here.”
“Why did you come? As you said, you can arrest Letty Carnahan at any time. What do you want from me?”
Vikki studied him over the rim of her beer. “Letty has a relationship with you and your mother. She trusts you, otherwise she wouldn’t have hung around here.”
“I’m not sure Letty trusts anybody,” he said.
“Okay, here’s what I want. Shortly before Tanya was killed, Evan was ranting that he’d deeded over several of his most valuable residential properties, put them in Tanya’s name, as a tax dodge. We’re talking several million dollars’ worth of real estate. And now, with Tanya’s death, the property goes to her child. Letty is the child’s guardian, which puts her in control of what Wingfield regards as his property—meaning both his kid and his real estate.”
Joe raised one eyebrow. “You’re telling me, what?”
“Wingfield’s solution is hiring me. To find Letty, get rid of her, and bring Maya back.”
Vikki motioned to the server, pointed at her empty glass, and waited for Joe’s reaction.
“You’re shitting me,” he said finally. “He’s put out a hit? On Letty?”
“Afraid so.”
Joe pointed at his own empty glass and nodded at the server.
“Let me get this straight. Evan Wingfield hires a woman he thinks is merely a corrupt civil servant—to kill his former girlfriend? I’m sorry. I can’t wrap my brain around that. I mean, he bribes you to look the other way when it comes to some illegal apartments, and then next thing you know you’re a contract killer? Why would he trust you like that?”
The server set the refills on the table and whisked away the empties. Agent Hill tasted hers and grimaced. “Gross. This is yours. How do guys drink that craft beer shit?”
“How do you drink those piss-weak sorority beers?” Joe countered.
She pushed the plastic cup away. “Never mind. Look. I’ve been dealing with Wingfield for eighteen months, flattering him, fending off his not-so-subtle advances, giving him what he wants. When we met, I told him I was a former NYPD officer, who left the force under shady circumstances. The former-cop part is true. Anyway, he’s a narcissistic sociopath. He surrounds himself with people who feed his ego. Because he’s a crook, he assumes everyone else is a crook.”
Joe DeCurtis looked dubious.
“Okay. I don’t have time to screw around trying to convince you that I’m for real. I need you to introduce me to Letty Carnahan. Like, right away. Wingfield is not a patient man. He wants her dead, and he wants it done right away. If I’m gonna pull this off, I need her to trust me. I need you to trust me. Otherwise, this whole thing falls apart. And Wingfield literally gets away with murder.”
“You’re asking a lot,” Joe said.
“Yeah, I am. But consider the alternative.”
“Which is what?”
“We’ve been over this already. If Letty Carnahan doesn’t cooperate, I take her back to New York with me, and hand her over to the New York cops. Maya goes to child protective services. And you, Officer DeCurtis, will face charges of obstruction of justice, harboring a fugitive, and whatever other crimes I can come up with. Even if the charges don’t stick, your law enforcement career is over.”
Joe exhaled slowly and pushed his chair away from the table. “I’ll talk to her,” he said.
“You do that,” Agent Hill said. “I need an answer by noon tomorrow.”