Chapter Thirty-Four
Detective Clark banged on the door to a nice McMansion on the northern most boundary of the city of Driftwood. His partner said, "Why not use the door bell?"
"Ah, didn't see it," so he gave it a push and an audible sound came from inside of the spacious home.
A few moments later and a middle aged gentleman answered the door and asked, "May I help you?"
Both detectives produced badges and identification confirming who they were and announced they were seeking information on Randy Mara.
"I'm sorry, but the terms of his will were that we are not to divulge any information about him or we risk loosing our inheritance," the man reported to the law enforcement team.
They thanked him for his time and turned to walk to their unit. LaShay said, "Three strikes, we're out!"
"Let's talk to the District Attorney on this and find out how the provisions of a will like that can be enforced or maybe even sidestepped," the senior detective said.
LaShay turned and leaned her shapely rear end on the fender of the unit they were using. "Three family members all saying the same things." She looked up in the clear sky and watched a few circling seagulls for a moment. "Steve, I have to admit, I'd protect my small fortune behind a statement like that, but here's what the statistics say. Most inherited wealth is gone within a decade unless it's reinvested wisely."
"Fine, name one investment that you consider wise?"
"110 Oceandrift Court."
"Okay, you got me on that one. So what are you suggesting?"
"Steve, there's another pattern hear, but we aren't seeing it!" she said.
"Okay, the obvious one is we have a house that eats people. People that get rich and suddenly leave with the exception of Mark Waters who left before he got rich," he said to her.
"Right, but there is a smaller pattern too," she explained.
"What?"
"The smaller one is they go in, but when they disappear they haven't come out! All their stuff is left in the house! Everything. The Garvey's left behind everything, Waters too. Even Mara had his belongings distributed evenly to his family."
Clark looked at his partner and asked, "So, you're suggesting they're still in the house somewhere?"
"It's only an idea. We've got nothing else. Mara's family is tight as a clam. Garvey didn't have any that we know of, and Waters just now gave everything to his sweetie! She probably doesn't know squat yet."
"What if she does?" he asked.
"Okay, are you thinking she is going to talk to us?"
"We can ask, right?"
LaShay said, "We might as well try."
****
Sylvia read the sign that pointed the direction to the San Fuentes County Jail, "Where the hell is San Fuentes?" she thought. The police car she was riding in turned right and drove down a driveway into what looked like a basement entryway for police cars. The officer parked the car and Sylvia watched the officer mumble something into the microphone to the police radio in the car before actually turning off the car.
The officer came around and opened the door for Sylvia and again she was grabbed by the arm and assisted out of the car. They walked together across the parking lot to a large door, not a word was spoken between them. Sylvia watched as the officer pressed a button that sounded a buzzer on the other side of the door. Another, louder buzzer, sounded and the officer reached for and opened the door. "Not quite a luxury hotel," Sylvia thought to herself.
She proceeded through the booking procedure, complete with mug shot and fingerprinting. Then to add to her humiliation, she was thrown into a coed holding cell, still in the black cat suit and black high heeled boots. Every guy gave her a good leering once over and some of the scariest looking women in there did too! All of the bench seats had been taken so she found a spot on the floor just inside the door to call hers and sat there. One of the guys said to her from across the room, "They're not gonna let you stay there. You're too close to the door."
She realized he was probably right, so she spotted an area on the wall near the back and made that her temporary home. No one said anything else to Sylvia until she heard her name, "Sylvia Garcia?" get called by a uniform at the door.
"Right here," she announced as she stood up.
"Your Public Defender is here to talk to you," the uniform said.
She approached the door and she was directed to turn around and put her hands behind her back. She felt handcuffs go back on. The door she was standing next to opened and she was waved through, taken by the arm and briskly walked to a room with no windows, a few chairs, a table and florescent light coming from the ceiling. She felt the handcuffs removed and then was instructed to sit in a chair at the table.
What felt like an eternity later, a man from the Public Defenders office came in, with his briefcase. He wore his hair a little too long for his face, he was graying around his ears and eyebrows. Considering the time of day it was, he could use a shave as well. He silently set his briefcase on the table and opened it. Inside he found some documents, put them out on the table and after sitting down and putting glasses on, he briefly glanced through the paperwork. Finally he set everything down and said, "I'm Tim Jennings, your attorney," and extended his hand to shake Sylvia's.
"Hi Tim, I'm Sylvia Garcia."
"Of course you are. So, what's going on Sylvia?"
"How much time do we really have?"
"As long as we need, as long as I'm here."
"I'm going to be brutally honest with you. I have no idea how I got here. I have no idea where I am. And I have no clue to what even the month or year is! No one is telling me anything. But! I also know how to make this all go away," she said.
