LITMIR.BIZ

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I can’t find a single connection between the two men—except for their insight into how awesome a concept this is. And, believe me, I dug. Deep.”

      “I don’t doubt it,” Casey replied. “Too bad. It would be a huge lead if there was some link between the developers.”

      “Tell me about it. But that’s a dead end. Anyway, the Shinnecock Indians had just finished building the casino on land adjacent to their Hamptons reservation. It was being advertised big-time, and business was booming. Long before that, the local inns had waiting lists a mile long. Now there’s not enough room to accommodate all the additional patrons who want to shop and gamble at the casino.”

      “So a luxury hotel on Shinnecock Bay would be a major windfall for the developer.” Casey stated the obvious. “We already knew that.”

      “We also knew what a perfect spot for the hotel Paul had picked. He bought that run-of-the-mill wharf and marina for a steal. The fishing industry is hurting. The old-timer who owned the property was thrilled to unload the place—along with the fifty acres of undeveloped land that came with it. It was a gold mine, right down to the ready-made port. No one was being cut out. Any fishermen who still wanted to dock there were welcome. But they were no longer the priority. The plan was to expand the wharf and the docks, bulldoze the wooded land and tear down the shack of an office Paul was using to make way for the hotel. A dredging company would then do their thing—dig a deeper trench on the ocean floor and widen the channel so that large passenger ferries and private yachts could pass through. The ferry service would travel from Manhattan to Shinnecock Bay, along with hundreds of tourists.”

      “They could reach their hotel in a fraction of the time it would take to battle the highways by car.” Casey considered the ramifications of that. “We’re talking about a massive undertaking. Paul would have needed all kinds of permits, cooperation from the town of Southampton, and the right construction companies.”

      “Yup, although we already knew that. Here’s something we didn’t know. Paul was still working on the permits and the town’s cooperation. But as for the construction companies, he was already lining them up at the time when he either took off or died. All of them are legitimate. Most of them jumped at the chance to be part of this moneymaker. Except for one holdback—the dredging company. Because of the company’s strong rep, Paul was still working on them for a commitment. Still, it was an interesting choice of companies, as it turns out. Way too coincidental.”

      There was that ta-da note in Ryan’s voice again. Whatever he was going to say next was going to be a biggie.

      Casey waited expectantly.

      “Fenton Dredging. Name ring a bell?”

      “Fenton. Lyle Fenton?” Casey asked in surprise.

      “None other. Major business tycoon who owns a pretty substantial empire. The dredging company’s just one arm of it. Plus, as I mentioned before, he’s also on the Southampton Board of Trustees. And, most significant of all, he’s Amanda Gleason’s uncle. His spot on the Board of Trustees didn’t seem relevant before. It sure as hell does now.”

      Casey pursed her lips. “No way that’s a coincidence. When did Fenton and Paul start doing business together?”

      “They didn’t. Not until Paul started pressing Fenton to take the dredging job. Fenton was holding back. I don’t know why. It sure as hell wasn’t due to a low margin. He had to know he’d make a killing from this deal.”

      “You think that’s who Paul was paying off?”

      “Could be. On the other hand, Fenton’s a pretty prominent guy. And a rich one. Would he risk exposure just for some drop-in-the-bucket payoffs? Sounds like a dumb idea to me.”

      “I agree. So let’s take another approach. If Paul needed Fenton’s cooperation, maybe that’s why he made it his business to meet and get close to Amanda. Maybe he was hoping that a relationship with her would tip the scales in his favor.”

      “Now that makes sense.”

      Casey dragged a hand through her hair, which was whipping around from the wind. “Let’s get back to the guy who took over Paul’s project. Who is he and what’s his deal?”

      “His name’s John Morano. He’s a well-established real-estate developer with even more resources than Paul. He got wind of the opportunity Paul’s death had opened up and he jumped on it, purchasing the property with a preemptive offer to Everett’s estate.”

      “And is he moving ahead with the same contractors as Paul?”

      “Seems like it. The important thing is, Fenton’s still a holdout. I don’t know what the deal is with this guy, but he has some kind of agenda. Cash, power, who knows? But he wants something to agree to do the job.”

      “Damn.” Casey glanced at the van, where Amanda was seated in the rear, her posture stiff at she anxiously studied her watch. “We need more time out here. We have to talk to Morano, interview Fenton and talk to the other contractors Paul was dealing with. Not to mention we haven’t visited any of the places where Amanda and Paul hung out together, nor have we questioned Paul’s neighbors and poker buddies. But right now we don’t have time for any of it. Amanda’s jumping out of her skin. She called the hospital, and the baby’s temperature is up. We’re lucky she agreed to stop at her apartment before heading back to the city.”

      “Poor kid. So what do you want to do?”

      “Leave Marc behind to work his magic. I’ll bring Hero home with us. He’ll have completed his job out here. So will Claire.”

      “Hero? Yes. Claire? Iffy. Paul might have left some boxers there for her to commune with.”

      “Ryan.” There was a cut-it-out note in Casey’s voice.

      “Okay, okay.” The clicking sound meant that Ryan was back on his keyboard. “I’ll get all the names and addresses I can. I’ll text them to Marc. If anyone can get maximum info in minimum time, it’s him. I’ll check into Fenton’s schedule. He shoots back and forth from the Hamptons to Manhattan.” A pause. “Interesting. He’s meeting with Congressman Mercer in D.C. tomorrow morning.”

      Casey didn’t even question how Ryan had tapped into Fenton’s schedule so quickly. “Perfect. That’s who we originally thought was Paul’s target to get the support he needed. Now we have both men in the same place at the same time. Find out where Mercer likes to eat lunch.”

      “Likes to eat lunch? I’ll find out where they’re eating lunch and what time.”

      “Of course you will.” Casey smiled. “After that, text Patrick. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone and give Marc more breathing room to talk to the rest of the people on the list. I don’t want him gone for more than another day. I need him home, and so does Amanda. Of the whole team, she leans on him the most.”

      “I know. And he’ll get to see every one of the names I send any way he has to.”

      No elaboration was necessary. They both knew what that meant.

      “Let me get back to the van,” Casey said. “Text me whatever I need to know. Send the rest directly to Patrick and Marc. The fact that the baby’s fever is up means we have less time and more pressure.”

      “On it, boss.”

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      It took Patrick all afternoon questioning people to get a bite, and even that bite was only a nibble.

      It was during his third trip to the coffee shop, purposely planned to coincide with the arrival of the pre-din-ner shift. That’s when the strategic move paid off. One of the waitresses—a buxom, middle-aged woman named Evelyn—thought she recognized Paul from the photo of him and Amanda. She wasn’t sure. But if it was him, he came in mornings at around 7:30 a.m. for a roll and coffee—possibly every day, but definitely on the mornings she worked the early shift.

      If

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