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“You sleep, Kit. I’ll get us back home and we can dig into what Frankie Flynn knew.”
“Thank you. I need to check my phone first, though. Baz was doing some legwork for me.”
Connor steered them away from the hotel and toward the interstate. “What legwork?”
“Finding Gerald Wilson.” She was pleased to see a text from her old partner. Call me. Hopefully that meant he had something.
“Why didn’t you get the man’s number from Faye Evans?”
“That was going to be my next step if Baz came up dry. I didn’t realize that Gerald didn’t exist until late last night, and there was no one at the Shady Oaks office.”
She dialed Baz’s number and he picked up on the first ring. “Hey, kiddo.”
“Hey, Baz. I’ve got you on speaker and Connor is here. What do you have?”
“Hey, Connor.” Baz sighed. “You couldn’t find Gerald because he was legally adopted by his stepfather when he was sixteen years old. Changed his name to White.”
Kit wondered once again what had happened between Frankie Flynn and his son. “Oh. Then I can look for him myself. Thanks, Baz.”
“There’s more. I found him for you. Called Frank’s old partner, the one I told you about last night. He said that Frank’s ex-wife, Sharon, is in hospice. I’ll email you the details. Frank’s old partner said that he’s visited Sharon and that Gerald is always there at his mother’s side.”
“Oh.” Kit exhaled. “Thank you, Baz.”
“You’re welcome. Makes me feel useful.”
“Retirement getting old?” Connor asked.
“Not old, but sometimes a little…slow. I’d come back as a part-time consultant, but my wife would not be happy with me. And she’s waited a long time for my undivided attention. Speaking of, we’ve got breakfast plans this morning. We’re meeting some old friends. Be careful, you two.”
“We will,” Kit promised. “Have a good breakfast.” She ended the call and immediately called Navarro to share the information they’d gathered, from Kent Crawford’s hidden income to Gerald’s location.
“I’ll send someone to the hospice to get Gerald’s alibi,” Navarro said. “And I’ll get a warrant started for Crawford’s banking. Where are you headed next?”
“Back to Shady Oaks,” Connor said. “We need to talk to Benny Dreyfus. I want to know what he and Flynn argued about and what Flynn said that Dreyfus didn’t listen to.”
“Keep me updated, and don’t speed too much, Connor.”
Kit ended the call with a snort. “He’s got your number.”
“I’m a good driver,” Connor insisted, but he eased off on the gas pedal. “Go to sleep, Kit. I promise I’ll get us back in one piece.”
Chapter Seven
Shady Oaks Retirement Village
Scripps Ranch, San Diego, California
Tuesday, November 8, 10:45 a.m.
Kit ended the call with their lieutenant as Connor pulled up to the entrance of Shady Oaks. She’d been napping when Navarro had called, but the sound of his voice had had her instantly alert. And good thing, too, because her boss had come through in a big way. “Navarro says we should have signed search warrants for Kent Crawford’s house, financial records, and his car by one or two o’clock. They still haven’t found Crawford’s car, though. Navarro’s got uniforms out checking all the area garages and chop shops.”
“His killer might not have taken the car,” Connor said. “If it was parked in one spot in that neighborhood for a few days, some car thieves could have grabbed it.”
“I know, but I’m hoping that Crawford left something in the car to explain where all that money came from.”
Connor put the department sedan in park, then turned to face her. “He started investing with Dave ten years ago.”
“Same time that he started working at Shady Oaks. I thought of that. A hundred grand is a lot of money, though. If he’d stolen that much right away, surely someone would have missed it.”
