Riptide (Sam McRae Mystery #3)

Chapter 27

It was just past 10:30 when I marched up the steps of the blue and gray building in West Ocean City, strode the walkway to Unit #204 and rapped on the door.

No answer. I rang the bell and waited. Nothing.

I pounded on the door. Hard.

I could sense her presence on the other side. Waiting.

I rang the bell again. Over and over. And over.

"Go away!" A muffled voice sounded from inside.

"Avon calling!" I said.

"I'll call the cops."

"Oh, good. We can both talk to them about Greener Way Consultants and Billy Ray. Won't that be fun?"

Silence. The door opened a crack, which widened to reveal Karla. She was dressed in a purple tank top, frayed cutoffs and flip flops.

Well, this is interesting, but I don't have all day.

"Karla, you forged documents, didn't you—?"

"Wait, wait! Come in. Come in."

Suddenly, Karla had become my best buddy. She couldn't drag me into her condo fast enough. She certainly wasn't slamming the door in my face this time.

"Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Water?" Karla hovered near me.

"No, thanks. This won't take long."

I settled onto the sofa and Karla perched on the other end, hands twisting in her lap.

"Karla, what if I told you the EPA is helping to investigate Curtis Little's murder? And they're searching his trailer right about now? And what if I told you I found false compliance documents for poultry producers that Bower Farms did business with? And that those documents were prepared by your company—Greener Way Consultants—and had your signature on them?

"And what if I also told you I found them in Curtis Little's trailer? Would that suggest a possible motive for his murder do you think?"

Karla's face turned chalk white. "No! I didn't. I swear. It wasn't me."

"Did Curtis try to blackmail you?"

Tears leaked from Karla's eyes. She nodded.

I moved down the sofa and sat next to Karla, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Tell me what happened."

Karla sobbed and hiccupped. Finally, she said, "Curtis was greedy. He felt he wasn't getting his fair share."

"Fair share of what?"

"We all took a cut of the larger operation."

"Which was?"

"I didn't ask questions."

Yeah, I thought. I'll bet.

"We were supposed to get equal shares," she continued. "But Curtis said he wanted more, since he brought the workers in. That's all I know. Honest!"

"So, what were you paid for?"

"Billy Ray knew the company couldn't afford the kind of oversight program that the big companies like Perdue have. So he came to me and asked a favor. I did all the paperwork and he got his good PR in return. After that, he treated me like a goddamn queen. He couldn't afford not to, right?"

What was I hearing? Regret? Bitterness? Rage? Self-hatred?

I couldn't help myself. I had to ask.

"Karla, did you love Billy Ray? Or did you do it just for the money?"

She snorted. "What do you think?"

I shook my head. "Like I'd know?"

"Well, now what?" Karla said, backhanding the tears from her cheeks.

"Tell me the truth. Is Dwayne Sutterman's illegal drug trafficking part of the larger operation?"

Karla shook her head. "I don't know, but I wouldn't doubt it." She stared at her lap.

Not an admission, but not a denial, either. "Do you know where he works?"

Karla laughed bitterly. "Dwayne works with the watermen, to the extent he works at all. When he's not hanging out at his place, huffing weed, he's either in a boat on the water or drinking beer with the other lowlifes at the Pirate's Den down near the inlet."

"I see." I rose. "Have you ever heard of Maria Benitez?"

This drew a perplexed look and shake of her head.

"Okay," I said. "I have to go now. Thanks for confirming my theory."

"What?"

I leaned toward her. "Karla, here's a tip. When a lawyer says something in the form of a question, it's usually a hypothetical. Now do you understand?"