Designed to Kill (21 page)
“I believe that’s correct, Sergeant.”
“You’re coming back tomorrow?”
“That’s right.”
“Make sure you call as soon as you get back.”
“Scout’s honor,” I said.
I hung up the phone with a feeling that Lieutenant Cassel would not be offering congratulations for the excellent investigation I was conducting. I remembered telling Sherry Hoffman I was a private investigator and wondered if she had lodged a complaint.
25
The drive up to I-10 took about thirty minutes, putting us on the interstate at
. From there to
Biloxi
was right at
, leaving plenty of time to nose around
Biloxi
. But Jill had drunk an extra-large glass of fruit tea for lunch, which should have forewarned me of things to come.
Only the first few miles of the divided highway were in
Florida
. We had barely negotiated the on-ramp to I-10 when Jill looked around.
“We’d better stop at the
Alabama
Welcome
Center
,” she said. “As I recall, there’s not another rest area until
Mississippi
. I don’t think my tea can make it that far.”
So we stopped. And before getting under way again, I thought about my call to
New Orleans
. If I could locate Ollie O’Keefe before making contact with Detrich, I might stand a better chance of bluffing my way through to some useful piece of information.
I got out my cell phone and punched in the O’Keefe number. After being greeted by the answering machine, I left a new message: “This is Greg McKenzie again. I had to leave my condo, but I will keep my cell phone on.” I left the number and pressed the
END
button.
“Do you really think they’ll return your call?” Jill asked.
“I should certainly hope so. Wouldn’t you be curious enough to dial the number and find out what it was all about?”
“Yes. But most people aren’t like me.”
I grinned. “Thank God. I’d hate to be in love with most people.”
———
We cruised on down through
Mobile
and made another brief stop at the
Mississippi
Welcome
Center
. Then we headed for Ocean Springs, a small town famed for the pottery and paintings of the
Anderson
brothers, and crossed the long causeway into
Biloxi
. This was a scaled-down version of Vegas with grits, gumbo and gambling. We drove up to the Gulf Royale Casino at around
. The hotel’s entrance was decorated in royal purple, emblazoned with colorful coats of arms, crowns and scepters. Though we had no reservation, we checked into the hotel without any problem. Wednesday was not a big day for casinos.
The room was nice, with a king-size bed, a large TV and a round table with two chairs beside the window, which overlooked
Biloxi
’s protected segment of the Gulf. After getting settled in, we headed back to the lobby, which served both hotel and casino.
Judging from the woman’s remark at his office, I figured Detrich for a real gambler, meaning he would not likely show up at the casino until that evening, when the crowd was larger and the payoffs more frequent. We had some time to kill, so I suggested to Jill that we have a look at Tidewater Construction’s office. I recalled my
Tallahassee
source had said the company was located in the Coastal Bank Annex.
A hotel bellman gave me directions to the building, and we returned to the Jeep. We found the Coastal Bank a few blocks off
Beach Boulevard
in the middle of town. A three-story structure painted white and bearing an Old South look, the bank stood beside a low, brick building with
ANNEX
etched in stone above the entrance.
We found a parking place on the next street and began to stroll back toward the bank. I pulled my Titans cap on as usual to protect my thinly shielded scalp. The afternoon felt more like midsummer, the sun beaming down from a nearly cloudless sky. We had dressed accordingly. I wore a sport shirt with sailboats on it and navy slacks, which seemed appropriate for the location. Jill was dressed in tune with the regal splendor of the casino—pale lavender pants, shirt of yellow and lavender stripes. I thought we should pass for a couple of reasonably well off vacationers.
At the Coastal Bank Annex, we noted a corridor extending back from the entrance. The windows on one side were lettered
PERSEID PARTNERS
, while on the other side the sign read
TIDEWATER CONSTRUCTION
.
“Let’s have a look at the Partners,” I said.
Inside, the office resembled a real estate agency, with chairs arranged about a coffee table bearing news, architectural and boating magazines, complemented, of course, by tropical plants and framed photos of seascapes. A pert young woman with flowing brown hair and a long dress covered with red hibiscus blossoms sat at a desk in the center. Behind her I saw the entrance to a hallway lined with offices.
“Can I help you?” she asked, smiling.
I smiled back. “We’re interested in a little information on your company.”
“Were you interested in a particular project, like The Sand Castle?” She pointed to the corner of the desk, where a couple of stand-up displays were filled with brochures. “Or something more general for investors?”
“More general,” I said.
She pulled out a folder headlined “Join us and shoot for the stars...” Then I realized where I had heard of Perseid. The Partners was named for a meteor shower that provided a display of shooting stars during late summer. I took the brochure, thanked her, and Jill and I headed back out to the sidewalk. I thumbed through the folder quickly as we strolled toward the bank next door.
“What’s the deal on Perseus?” Jill asked.
“Not Perseus, Perseid.”
“The name of the meteor shower comes from the Greek god Perseus. He killed the Gorgon Medusa. Don’t you remember your Greek mythology?”
I grunted. “At this age, I do well to remember what I had for breakfast.” I held out the brochure. “Here’s our buddy.”
Beneath a photo of a smiling Evan Baucus, a brief bio listed him as a former principal in a venture capital firm and a former residential real estate developer. According to the brochure, Perseid was involved in development of several projects besides The Sand Castle. They included a shopping mall, an apartment complex and an office building, all in
Mississippi
or
Alabama
. Shares in the projects were available to investors. Architects’ renderings of the various structures were included in the colorful brochure.
When I pointed out the list of projects to Jill, she cocked her head in a questioning glance. “Do you suppose Tidewater is the contractor on the other projects?”
I looked up at the lettering over the door next to the sidewalk where we stood—COASTAL BANK.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe somebody in here can tell us if they’ve bungled some other jobs.”
26
Inside we found double doors to a typical bank lobby. We saw a line of teller positions stretching across the back and cubicles labeled LOAN OFFICER
at one side. The doors were locked, however, as it was well after normal banking hours. But another door next to the elevator was lettered with LEONARD QUINN, BRANCH MANAGER. The sign indicated the office was open until
. I was impressed. A banker who didn’t keep banker’s hours.
We went inside and found a secretary with short white hair who told us the manager was in and would be happy to see us. She ushered us into a fairly spacious office with simple but tasteful furnishings. I introduced Jill and myself. Mr. Quinn invited us to be seated. He appeared late forties, a short, heavyset man dressed in gray gabardine slacks, short-sleeve white shirt, blue tie. His jacket hung on a coat tree beside the desk. With a relaxed smile, he leaned back in his plush executive chair, the one extravagance in the room.
He spoke in a slow drawl. “How can I be of service?”
“We’re a couple of retirees from
Nashville
,
Tennessee
,” I said. “I wondered what you could tell us about your next door neighbors, Perseid Partners?”
“Were you thinking about investing in one of their properties?”
“We had that in mind. But first we wanted to dig up a little more information on whom we’d be dealing with.”
“More folks should do their research that well,” Quinn said. “My congratulations.”
“So what can you tell us?”
“We handle some of Perseid’s accounts. They seem to be doing all right. There was a bit of a problem in one of their projects last weekend, though. A balcony fell at a new condo in
Florida
. They say it was an engineering design situation.”
“I heard about that. A couple of people were killed.”
“Yes, I’m sure it was quite a blow to them.” He swung his chair to one side, then the other.
“Does Tidewater Construction build all of their projects?”
He nodded. “To the best of my knowledge.”
“I notice their office is next door also.”
“Yes. The company is headed by a Mr. Detrich. I really don’t know much about him.” Quinn smiled. “He uses a different bank.”
I pointed to the brochure. “There didn’t seem to be anything in here about it, but I understand the Partners is a subsidiary of a corporation called Perseid, Limited.”
“That’s true. They don’t give out much information on the company. All I’ve seen are a few innocuous news releases, but I’m told it’s an international conglomerate headquartered in the Caymans. I believe the home office is in
George Town
.”
