Bad News Travels
- Автор: Суэйн Джеймс
- Серия: Lancaster & Daniels #3
- Год: 2020
- Язык: английский
- Год: Thomas & Mercer
- ISBN: 978-1-5420-1644-5
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «Bad News Travels». Краткое содержание книги:
No sooner do they arrive than suspicions are aroused. There’s the pair of Russians who seem to be watching every move the family makes. A final, cryptic phone call Martin Daniels made to his granddaughter. Strange blood evidence on his estate. More than $1 million missing from Martin’s account. And his cell phone, wiped clean, along with clues to a double life. To Beth, it’s disturbingly clear: the man she loved was a stranger.
As she and Jon delve into Martin’s past, they have no idea where the secrets will take them. Or how dangerous it will be to expose the conspiracies, the cover-ups, and the terrible truths of Martin’s life — and death.
“Based on my own experience, most B&Bs are mom-and-pop operations, and can’t afford to build or maintain websites,” she said. “You could strike out.”
Beth didn’t know Florida the way he did. The state was the single largest tourist destination in the world, and every motel, hotel, and B&B had a presence on the internet, be it a website, Facebook page, or online booking engine.
“Bet you dinner we make the match,” he said.
“You’re on,” she said.
Using Expedia, he pulled up the names of every bed-and-breakfast in Saint Augustine. The site showed twenty-one properties that advertised themselves as B&Bs, and offered rooms and breakfast. The first listing was called the Castle Garden Bed and Breakfast, and had a design reminiscent of the structures found on miniature golf courses. Expedia did not offer a link to the Castle’s website, but Google did, and he soon was reading about its unique history. Originally a carriage house, the building dated back to the late 1800s. The last line caught his eye.
“‘Every guest is sent as a gift from God.’ What do you think that means?”
“The owners must be religious,” she said, reading along with him.
He took the virtual tour, which allowed him to zoom in and out while the video played. As the guest rooms were shown, they studied the decor.
“I didn’t see a four-poster bed or lily wallpaper,” she said.
“One down, twenty to go,” he said.
They worked their way through the other listings. There was the Victorian House, the Bayfront Marin House, Casa de Solana, the Cedar House Inn, the Historic Sevilla House, the Penny Farthing Inn, and fourteen more, all of which started to look very much the same, and none of which had a bedroom with a four-poster bed or lily wallpaper.
“You lose,” she said. “Where are you taking me to dinner?”
“We missed one.” He pointed at the screen. “The Gables Inn B&B in Palatka is not far from here. It’s listed under Saint Augustine because it’s so close.”
“Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Palatka is home to a state prison, and a jail.”
“I thought I’d heard of it. Give it a shot.”
He did a search on Google and turned up nothing. The Gables Inn didn’t have a website.
“You lose. I’m in the mood for a steak,” she said.
“Not so fast. Let’s check Yelp,” he said.
She leaned back and crossed her arms. “How could a prison town support a B&B? Who would stay there?”
He typed on his keyboard. “Family members of inmates who come to visit. When I was a cop, I visited Palatka to interview inmates who had information pertinent to cases I was working on. The local motels did a good business.”
Yelp was a home run. The Gables Inn had a listing, and he scrolled through the reviews. Most were lukewarm, with customers complaining about cold-water showers or finding cockroaches in their closets. Several posted photos of their stay. It was an old three-story Victorian house, the guest rooms decorated with dated furniture, most of which was chipped. The last photo was familiar, and he stopped.
“Bingo,” he said.
Beth leaned in. The room on the top floor boasted a scenic view of the Saint John’s River, and contained an antique four-poster bed and faded lily wallpaper. He compared the photo to the one from Martin’s computer.
They matched.
“Would you look at that,” she said.
“Want to pay them a visit?”
“After I buy you dinner?”
The inn’s number was included in the listing. A woman named Carrie answered. She had a smoky voice and sounded a little tipsy. He spun a yarn about having stayed in the room on the top floor years ago, and was it available tonight?
Carrie checked. “This is your lucky day. The honeymoon suite is presently available. Would you like me to hold it for you?”
“Please,” he said.
“How many nights?”
“Just tonight.”
She quoted him a rate of $175 for the night, which was twenty dollars higher than the rate quoted on Yelp. He gave her a credit card to hold the room and hung up.
“I just got swindled,” he said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll expense the room,” Beth said.
He rose from his chair, and walked over to the railing to stare out at the beach. The pieces were starting to fall together, the puzzle nearly complete. There was no greater feeling during an investigation, and he realized they were nearing the end.
Beth joined him at the railing.
“This makes sense,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Sykes was too smart to hook up with a woman in Saint Augustine because he knew someone might recognize him. Palatka is a different story. It’s off the beaten path, and he could rendezvous with a woman there without fear of being caught.”
“So you think the video of Sykes that was on my father’s cell phone was secretly shot at the Gables Inn,” Beth said.
“I do.”
“The room would have been outfitted with surveillance cameras. That’s not something that can be done without the owners knowing.”
“They would have known,” he agreed.
“So they’re probably involved.”
“That’s a fair assumption.”
“But why would the owners do something like that? What would their motivation be? Sykes would have arrested them if he knew he was being filmed.”
Beth had found a glaring discrepancy. Why would the owners of the Gables Inn risk going to jail in order to film a police officer having sex with a woman on the sly? Even if the Sokolov brothers had paid them a few thousand dollars, the risk still far outweighed the reward. After a long moment, the answer came to him.
“Because they’ve done it before,” he said.
“You think the owners are filming their guests?” she asked.
“What other explanation is there?”
“But why? What’s the benefit?”
“Money.”
“Something tells me you’ve encountered this before.”
“I have. A sleazy motel owner in Fort Lauderdale secretly filmed his guests. It was a big money maker for him. I’ll explain it to you during the drive. What’s for dinner?”
“It will have to be fast food. Does something good and greasy strike your fancy?”
“Now you’re talking,” he said.
Chapter 32
Zaxby’s Chicken Fingers and Buffalo Wings was a fast food chain that had only just started making it out of the southeast. That was strange, because the food was decent, and the owners had a thing for John Wayne, with one of the late actor’s famous quotes hanging on the wall when you walked in. LIFE IS HARD, LIFE IS HARDER WHEN YOU’RE STUPID.
They shared a chicken finger plate and an order of boneless wings and things. Wiping her fingers with a towelette, Daniels started the engine and backed out. According to her phone’s GPS, Palatka was a twenty-five-minute drive.
“Tell me about this motel owner who was secretly filming his guests,” she said. “He must have been a real sleazeball.”
“He was,” Jon said, sucking down his iced tea. “His name was Grady Cox, and he owned a fleabag motel called the Sand Dollar. Grady was on a first-name basis with every hooker in town, and rented his rooms by the hour to them. The city finally wised up, and made it illegal to book a room for less than twenty-four hours.”
“He got a law changed. What a pioneer.”
“Grady fell on hard times. He needed a new source of income, or he would go out of business. One of his big money makers came from guests renting porno movies, which generated several thousand dollars a week. Problem was, he had to split the money with Hustler and Playboy, which produced the movies.”