Page 53 of Camino Ghosts

Mercer listened as if enthralled, though Diane had already covered all the details. Bruce was a gifted raconteur, especially after some wine. He liked nothing better than a long dinner “on the porch” with writer friends and other admirers. As always, Noelle said little. She was content to listen to the others and speak only when she had something to add.

Mercer was delighted with the new twists and turns. She had written 51,000 words, which she judged to be about half the book. And, most important, she had stopped thinking of tossing it. She liked her narrative so far and knew the best was yet to come. Not only would it be long enough but the subplots were spinning. Diane had blitzed through the draft in three hours and said it read like a crime thriller.

“When can I take a look at it?” Bruce asked.

“How about when it’s finished?” Mercer replied.

“Come on. I’m intrigued by your first effort at nonfiction, which is one of my strong suits.”

“Along with everything else.”

“No, not true. I don’t read much poetry. I think I should read the first half and do so with a red pen.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Which is a nice way of saying no.”

“I’ll think about it. The first half is still pretty rough.”

“I disagree,” Diane said. “I devoured it this morning before breakfast. It’s amazing. The stuff about the ex-slaves on Dark Isle is so compelling.”

“Thank you.”

Bruce poured some more wine and said, “Come on, Mercer. If you want me to sell this book I need to read it.”

“And you will, as soon as I finish.”

“Which will be?”

“Depends on the story. If the Barrier Island Legal Defense Fund wins Lovely’s title dispute, then there will be a happy ending this summer. Right, Steven?”

“I suppose. However, there is always the possibility of an appeal. That’ll eat up a year, maybe a year and a half.”

Diane said, “The average appeal from chancery court takes fourteen months in Florida.”

“My ace paralegal,” Steven said with a nod across the table.

Bruce said, “Well, I can’t wait that long.”

“You’ll have other books to read while you wait,” Mercer said.

“Are you kidding?” Noelle said. “He’s reading three a week now.”

“Just part of my job,” Bruce said with a smile. “Reading great books, drinking great wine.”

11.

There was no shortage of London-based law firms that specialized in Caribbean tax schemes and offshore maneuvering. Gifford’s lawyer in Charleston found one with a tiny branch office on Montserrat. For a fee, and it was never clear whether the fee was aboveboard or below, the lawyer accessed the government’s register of foreign companies and individuals claiming to be domiciled on the island. Rio Glendale was one of 8,700. Its Articles of Incorporation, which were treated as highly confidential under the island’s laws, were signed by Nate Gooch, a junior partner under Pete Riddle. Half of Rio Glendale’s stock was owned by Delmonte Land; the other half by Sandman Ventures. Both companies were owned by a Boca Raton–based subsidiary of Tidal Breeze. All of the entities were privately held and under the thumb of Wilson Larney and his family.

It was a decent effort at hide-and-seek, but not terribly creative. However, Wilson and the boys never thought they’d be sued over Old Dunes. The real pros in the business went through Singapore and Panama and left no trail whatsoever.

12.

In mid-April, one month before the trial, Steven arranged a meeting with Judge Salazar in her office down the hall from the courtroom. The purpose was to discuss the trial and decide who would testify and in what order. Before they got around to it, though, Steven startled her with “Judge, I have some rather troubling news for you.”

She responded with a confused look. “Okay.”

“It has come to our attention that your son, Lenny, is building condos at Old Dunes.”

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