Page 51 of Wild Escape

"You really think he broke into the residence and shot somebody?"

"I don't want to speculate at this time, but he’s sounding like a person of interest.”

"I hope you nail the son-of-a-bitch to the wall," she said, still seething. I figured the breakup was fresh.

"Can you tell me his full name?”

"Lawrence James Madison. And he hates it when people call him Lawrence. So please, when you talk to him, call him Lawrence. And tell him I said hello."

I thanked her for the information and ended the call. Something told me that was a cathartic experience for her.

I ran background on LJ through the online portal and pulled up some interesting information.

LJ wasn't squeaky clean. His juvenile record was sealed. As an adult, he had a couple of DUIs, an assault charge from a bar fight, along with a possession charge. Nothing major, but enough to raise an eyebrow.

His brother, Jesse, on the other hand, had a prior B&E charge. Third-degree felony. He served six months in the county jail, followed by three years probation.

Jesse James Madison was a big guy. 6’3”, 240 pounds, according to the database. He certainly fit the profile of one of the assailants.

I was starting to feel more optimistic about this case.

I called Isabella for yet another favor. With a few taps of the keys, she told me that LJ had gotten another job. This time, he was working for Pipe Rite of Coconut Key. I guess they didn't check references.

She was able to track his phone to a location in Stingray Bay. There was no way in hell LJ lived in the upscale neighborhood. He had to be on the job.

“I looked into the cell history for Antonio and Esmerelda Martinez,” Isabella said. “Their phones are at their father’s apartment during the break-in. Both have a clean history. No issues.”

I thanked her for the information and ended the call.

We zipped across town and cruised through the streets of the posh neighborhood. Jack took small cat naps between destinations. I pulled to the curb at 712 Coral Crest Lane and parked behind a plumbing truck.

At least we knew LJ was here.

JD and I climbed out of the car and ambled up the walkway, past the circular drive that was home to a white Mercedes SUV. I rang the bell at the front door and waited for a response.

Nobody answered.

We peered through the privacy glass, but didn't see anyone inside.

I rang the bell again.

Still no response.

The faint traces of music from the backyard danced around the house. Someone had to be here.

JD and I shared a look, then walked around the house and up the driveway to the back gate. As we drew near, moans of ecstasy spilled from the patio. At the wrought iron gate, we got a free show.

LJ was laying down some serious pipe. The water sloshed in the Jacuzzi as he took Mrs. Stevenson to pound town. Perched on the edge of the water with her legs spread wide, the two went for broke.

Their morning was off to a good start.

That was about to change.

A fence separated the property from the neighbors, but the couple was in plain view of anybody at a second-floor window next door.

Maybe Mrs. Stevenson didn't care.

Maybe she knew the neighbors weren’t around.