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“Can you find out?”
“I can call and ask him. Why? You think that whoever bought the property wanted Shine out of the way, too?”
“Could be. Is he still healthy?”
“Far as I know.”
“Let me hear from you. Best to Ham.” He hung up.
Holly’s secretary buzzed again. “A Mr. Ed Shine, on one.”
There was a convenient coincidence. Holly punched the button. “Ed?”
“How are you, Holly?”
“Just fine; you?”
“Couldn’t be better. You and Ham up for some golf?”
“Sure, when?”
“How about tomorrow at ten A.M.?”
“Can you get a tee time at that hour this late?”
“Don’t worry about it; I just bought the golf course—three of them, in fact.”
“Palmetto Gardens?”
“How’d you know that?”
“I’m the chief of police; I know everything.”
“Meet me at the front gate at ten sharp tomorrow.”
“I’ll call Ham; we’ll be there.” She hung up and called her father.
“Yep?”
“You free for golf at ten A.M. tomorrow?”
“Yep.”
“Meet me at Palmetto Gardens.”
“I thought the place was closed by the Feds.”
“Not anymore; somebody bought it.”
“Who?”
“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.” Holly hung up. She wouldn’t call Harry Crisp back until she knew more. Once Harry got ahold of something, he tended to keep it to himself, and Holly wanted to play out her own string before she turned it over to the FBI.
She got up and walked around to the office of her deputy chief, Hurd Wallace. “Morning. Who did you assign to the Ed Shine thing?”
“I’m doing it myself; it’s pretty much a dead end.”
“Did you get any prints from the shell casing?”
