Page 48 of Smuggler's Cove
“I will get on it right away, but it may take some time. Bureaucracy moves slowly.”
Detective Burton snorted. He knew all too well.
“Do you still have the original envelope the paperwork was in?” Sidney asked.
Madison reached into her portfolio. “Yes.”
“Return address?”
She turned the large manila envelope over. “No. Just your name and address on the front. You said it was delivered by hand?”
“Yes.”
“Was the delivery person wearing a uniform?” Burton asked.
“That, I cannot say. It was dropped off at reception.”
“Do you have security footage?” Burton asked.
“Yes. I will check with our IT guys and see if they can pull up anything. And I can check with the front desk in the lobby. They should have something. People cannot get in the building without showing ID.” Sidney sent a quick text to both.
“That would be a big help,” Burton replied.
Madison wondered why, but Burton quickly answered her thoughts and turned toward her. “Until we can figure out what happened here, we need anything that is connected to your uncle.”
Madison remained calm, while her inner voice was screaming. She’d spent half her existence dodging drama and building a new life. She did not ask for any of this: from her father’s financial crime spree, to a decrepit marina, to a dead body.Why? Why? Why?Had she not paid her dues? Had she not fought back well enough so she would no longer have to fight? They say there is a reason for everything. Now, Madison thought she must have been a horrible person in a previous life.
Burton could see the concern on her face. “Ms. Wainwright, I realize this has been very disruptive and unexpected. We will get to the bottom of it. All I ask is that you be patient, and of course, cooperate.” Burton’s impression of the siblings was that they were well-educated, polite, and sincere. He had them checked out after he phoned them the night before. He called his go-to private investigator, Ross Licitra, who gave him the skinny on them. She was a successful editor; he, a well-respected professor. Burton also knew their lineage and how they’d fended for themselves after their father’s arrest and conviction. At least they did not seem spoiled and entitled, another thing he was often surrounded by. He didn’t know which was worse—old money or new money.
“Detective, you can be certain we will do whatever we can to assist you,” Lincoln assured him.
“We appreciate it.”
They could hear voices in the background, coming from Sidney’s side of the call. “We have a photo of a young man. Signed in as Josh Hanover.”
Burton looked at Madison and Lincoln. “Ring a bell?”
Madison shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell for me,” said Lincoln.
Burton typed something into his tablet. A few seconds passed. “Josh Hanover. Eighteen. Lives nearby.” He typed something into his cell phone.
“Do you think Uncle Kirby gave him the envelope and asked him to bring it to New York?”
“It’s possible,” Burton answered. “I’m sending an officer over to his house now.”
Things were becoming more mystifying as the minutes passed. “This is all so very strange,” Madison ruminated. “Sidney? Uncle Kirby died of a heart attack, correct?”
“Yes. Why?”
“The timing of everything. I wonder when he gave this fellow the package.”
“Good point,” Sidney agreed. “The will was dated June of last year.”
“But he could have given the package to Hanover at any time and said to deliver it when he passed away,” Lincoln added.
“Let’s see if young Mr. Hanover can enlighten us.” Burton looked down at his phone. It was one of the officers. Hanover was out on a tuna boat. He let out a huff of air. “However, we are going to have to wait for him to return from the tuna trip.”
