Page 60 of Your Every Wish
Emma picks up a sports jacket from the floor and rehangs it. “There’s a possibility they were looking for something else. Bookmaking is illegal in California. Perhaps they thought he was running an operation out of his home.”
“I doubt it. He was too smart for that. Besides, if he was, why live in Vegas half the year?”
She turns in place. “He sure had a lot of clothes for a guy who was a recluse.”
I reach for a sweater under a couple of pairs of shoes. Cashmere. I try to flatten out the wrinkles with my hands. “Is it worth taking any of this stuff?”
“We should donate it to the Goodwill or one of those organizations that help unemployed men find jobs.”
Leave it to Emma. Miss Do-gooder. “I don’t know how you and I are even related.”
“Kennedy, you’re a good person masquerading as someone who doesn’t give a shit. But I’m on to you.” She grins.
“And you’re delusional. Come on, let’s explore the backyard.”
There’s a set of French doors from Willy’s bedroom that opens onto a patio. There’s no infinity pool, just a garden-variety kidney-shaped one. They’re a dime a dozen in Vegas.
“It doesn’t appear that the agents were interested in anything back here.” Emma steps closer to the pool.
“Looks like it could use some chemicals.” The water isn’t Jell-O green like the pool at Cedar Pines, but it needs a cleaning. “You think the pool boy was let go?”
“The entire staff. You see that over there?” She shields her eyes and I follow her direction across the expansive yard.
“Is that what I think it is?”
We walk around the pool and across the yard where the grass is nearly four feet tall to what is indeed a putting green.
“I knew he bet on golf, but I had no idea he played.” Then again, why would I?
“Hmm, I wonder where his clubs are. I didn’t see them in the house.”
“Probably the garage. Let’s find them.” I turn back.
The house has an attached four-car garage, which seems like overkill for the modest size of the home. But it’s here that I have the highest hopes. We have to go back inside to get into the garage because we don’t have a key to the exterior door, or the automatic opener.
We work our way to the laundry room, which connects to the garage. Expectant, this is where I hold my breath waiting to land the jackpot.
But the space is empty and when I say empty, there’s not so much as an oil stain on the epoxy floor.
“What? Wow.” I walk around the cavernous space, disappointment stabbing me in the gut. “You think the feds seized his cars, too?”
“Could be, but it does seem odd. Asset forfeiture usually involves property used or derived through a crime. I suppose if he bought the cars with the money he got from insider trading, they could take them. And Willy did love his cars. According to my mom, he loved cars as much as he loved gambling. He did get his start in the car business, after all.”
I stare up into the rafters. No golf clubs either. Not even a rake or a shovel. “Don’t they have to give us an inventory of what they took?”
“I would think so. But I’m hardly an expert in property seizures. We can ask Mr. Townsend.”
The whole trip is a bust. Besides the watch, ring, and glassware, there’s nothing of value here. And I don’t know any more about Willy than I did before he died.
I turn around and return to the house.
“Where are you going?” Emma calls to my back.
“To look for something.”
A few minutes later, she finds me in Willy’s closet. I’ve dragged one of the dining room chairs in and am searching the top shelves.
“What are you looking for?”
