into a tiny slot across the streetfrom the complex, pulled out his cell phone and a clipboard filled with papers, and pretended to be conducting business. Just a regular guy on vacation who’d brought work from the office—poor sucker—and didn’t want to endanger anyone by using his cell and driving at the same time.
At precisely 3:21 p.m., Bill Wyatt drove into the complex. He parked in his usual spot and got out of the car, dressed in tennis whites and carrying a racket. Right on time. It never ceased to amaze Louis what creatures of habit humans were. Every weekday at two o’clock, Bill Wyatt took tennis lessons at the nearby Dade Highlands Country Club. Wyatt stopped to talk to a neighbor who was out walking his shih tzu, then he disappeared into the complex. Building C, first floor, unit 1.
Twenty minutes later, right on schedule, Wyatt reappeared, dressed for his nightly dinner date with Lottie Trent. He would pick up his lady friend and they’d go to dinner at Clem’s Clams. It would take them approximately ninety minutes from appetizer to dessert. After dinner, they’d return to her condo a few blocks away, where they’d draw the curtains and spend another forty minutes doing God only knew what. Louis didn’t even want to go there.
He had Wyatt’s schedule down pat. During the week he’d spent surveilling Bill Wyatt during his last trip to Miami, the man had never deviated from his routine. Wyatt was as predictable as the tides. So tonight, while Bill Wyatt was eating dinner and probably getting his pipes cleaned, Louis Farley would be searching his condo in pursuit of something, anything, that might lead him to Wyatt’s daughter.
The water damage to her number-three guest room started just above the bathroom door and stretched halfway across the room. The discolored ceiling tiles sagged like an old woman’s breasts, and the mildew smell was so strong that Sophiehad stuck her head in, looked around, and immediately remembered somewhere else she needed to be.
Annie was standing in the middle of the room, studying the damage, when a voice from the open doorway behind her drawled, “Honey, you have got your work cut out for you.”
With a startled gasp, Annie spun around. The woman who stood in the doorway was in her late thirties, with a pretty face, a devilish twinkle in her eye, and a head of dark, wavy hair that tumbled around her shoulders. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Jolene Crowley. Jo for short. Jackson and I live across the street.”
Breathing hard, Annie rested a hand over her heart. “You scared the stuffing right out of me.”
Wryly, Jo said, “I do that to a lot of people, I’m afraid.”
“It’s all right. I just didn’t realize anyone was there.” Recovering, she stepped forward and offered her hand. “Annie Kendall,” she said. “I’m the proud owner of this lovely establishment.”
Jo’s handshake was firm and brisk. “So I’ve heard.” Her gaze made a sweeping assessment of the room. “People are already laying odds on how soon you’ll run away screaming.”
“Are they now? What was your bet?”
“My money’s on you, hon. You look tough as nails to me. Although I can’t imagine why anybody would want to move here if they didn’t have to.”
Annie turned her attention back to the ceiling. “I’m just a single mother,” she said, parroting Uncle Bobby’s words, “starting out someplace new.”
Jo came to stand beside her. Folding her arms across her chest, she studied the huge water stain overhead. “Well, you sure picked a lulu of a place to start out. Hard to believe something as innocuous as a little water could do that much damage.”
“Do you suppose the roof’s gone, or can it be patched?”
“Damnedif I can tell. It’s one hell of a mess, that’s for sure. But the place has sat empty for a dozen years at least. In that amount of time, even a small leak could do some pretty substantial
At precisely 3:21 p.m., Bill Wyatt drove into the complex. He parked in his usual spot and got out of the car, dressed in tennis whites and carrying a racket. Right on time. It never ceased to amaze Louis what creatures of habit humans were. Every weekday at two o’clock, Bill Wyatt took tennis lessons at the nearby Dade Highlands Country Club. Wyatt stopped to talk to a neighbor who was out walking his shih tzu, then he disappeared into the complex. Building C, first floor, unit 1.
Twenty minutes later, right on schedule, Wyatt reappeared, dressed for his nightly dinner date with Lottie Trent. He would pick up his lady friend and they’d go to dinner at Clem’s Clams. It would take them approximately ninety minutes from appetizer to dessert. After dinner, they’d return to her condo a few blocks away, where they’d draw the curtains and spend another forty minutes doing God only knew what. Louis didn’t even want to go there.
He had Wyatt’s schedule down pat. During the week he’d spent surveilling Bill Wyatt during his last trip to Miami, the man had never deviated from his routine. Wyatt was as predictable as the tides. So tonight, while Bill Wyatt was eating dinner and probably getting his pipes cleaned, Louis Farley would be searching his condo in pursuit of something, anything, that might lead him to Wyatt’s daughter.
The water damage to her number-three guest room started just above the bathroom door and stretched halfway across the room. The discolored ceiling tiles sagged like an old woman’s breasts, and the mildew smell was so strong that Sophiehad stuck her head in, looked around, and immediately remembered somewhere else she needed to be.
Annie was standing in the middle of the room, studying the damage, when a voice from the open doorway behind her drawled, “Honey, you have got your work cut out for you.”
With a startled gasp, Annie spun around. The woman who stood in the doorway was in her late thirties, with a pretty face, a devilish twinkle in her eye, and a head of dark, wavy hair that tumbled around her shoulders. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Jolene Crowley. Jo for short. Jackson and I live across the street.”
Breathing hard, Annie rested a hand over her heart. “You scared the stuffing right out of me.”
Wryly, Jo said, “I do that to a lot of people, I’m afraid.”
“It’s all right. I just didn’t realize anyone was there.” Recovering, she stepped forward and offered her hand. “Annie Kendall,” she said. “I’m the proud owner of this lovely establishment.”
Jo’s handshake was firm and brisk. “So I’ve heard.” Her gaze made a sweeping assessment of the room. “People are already laying odds on how soon you’ll run away screaming.”
“Are they now? What was your bet?”
“My money’s on you, hon. You look tough as nails to me. Although I can’t imagine why anybody would want to move here if they didn’t have to.”
Annie turned her attention back to the ceiling. “I’m just a single mother,” she said, parroting Uncle Bobby’s words, “starting out someplace new.”
Jo came to stand beside her. Folding her arms across her chest, she studied the huge water stain overhead. “Well, you sure picked a lulu of a place to start out. Hard to believe something as innocuous as a little water could do that much damage.”
“Do you suppose the roof’s gone, or can it be patched?”
“Damnedif I can tell. It’s one hell of a mess, that’s for sure. But the place has sat empty for a dozen years at least. In that amount of time, even a small leak could do some pretty substantial
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