Deep Rough by A.J. Stewart

Author:A.J. Stewart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jacaranda Drive Publishing

Chapter Twenty-Three

On my way out to the island I called Lizzy to get an update and give her a new job.

“LCI,” she said.

“It’s me. Did you get anywhere with the properties?”

“Hello and a good day to you, too.”

“Sorry, hello,” I said.

Lizzy was an undercover member of the courtesy police. “Good manners take neither a penny nor a pound.”

I had no idea what that meant but I suspected keeping my mouth shut was the way to go.

“But since you asked, yes, I got something. The properties around the country club are mostly individually owned homes. There are two properties that stand out. One is a multifamily unit. Sixteen apartments. The owner is listed as an individual in Panama.”

“Panama Beach?”

“No, not Panama Beach. If I meant Panama Beach, Miami, I would have used the word beach.”

“Okay.”

“I mean the country Panama.”

“Oh, all right.” I slowed as I passed Barry Yarmouth’s office again and made my way onto the island.

“The other property is the old power substation.”

“Florida Power and Light?”

“No, Mr. Interruption. It used to be owned by FP&L but they sold it about a year ago. It hasn’t been in use in a decade. The technology there is old and the replacement cost too high, apparently.”

“So who?”

“It was purchased by a consortium based out of Antigua. The local correspondence address is a law firm in Lake Worth. Care of one Keith Hamilton, Esquire.”

I nearly drove off the bridge and into the Intracoastal. Keith Hamilton was the point man for the largest single landowner around the club. I considered the possibility that Keith was behind the sabotage of his own club. He had been the one most vocal that it was sabotage. I had to consider the possibility it was a double bluff. No one ever suspected the guy who cried fire.

I thanked Lizzy for the information, and then I asked her to do something new. I wanted to know the details of any development projects she could find that had sod provided by Dig Maddox. She asked how she was supposed to get that sort of information. It wasn’t public record. I suggested she start with those projects listed on Dig Maddox’s website, and then try a search for projects mentioning Maddox sod. Sod It All was a well-known supplier. Short of that, call the sales offices for every development from Fort Pierce to Lauderdale.

She said she’d get back to me, and I thanked her once again and got an earful of dial tone. Then I reached my destination. The wrought iron gates were closed but the coat of arms on the fence was definitely the one on the card pulled from the lake. Bonita Mar Club.

The guard saw the car and came out to me, and I rolled the window down.

“I’m afraid the club is closed for a private event.”

“What event?”

“Members only.”

“I just need five minutes of Mr. Donaldson’s time.”

“Not today.”

I waited and looked at the guy. In my experience most people don’t like silence. They feel the need to fill it with words.

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