Page 26 of Rage's Solace
Rigs shoots him an annoyed look. “Does it matter? You knew what I was talking about, right?”
“Yeah, I get your point. Did he find out who the prints belonged to?”
“Not as of yet. They’re working on scraping together enough evidence to haul Priscilla’s father-in-law in for questioning. If that happens, they’ll take his fingerprints and swab him for DNA. I’m told the fingerprint match will happen relatively quickly, but the DNA will take a week or two at best.”
Siege asks, “Anything else?”
“Nope, our contact is dedicating all his time to the bunny box.”
Zen speaks up, “I found something interesting. Priscilla’s parents went missing seven years ago off the coast of Wilmington, North Carolina. I found out about that because Conrad’s old man filed a missing person’s report. He mentioned a boating incident. Their boat was found on the drift, there was blood, but their bodies were never recovered. From what I could tell, the local police department ruled both as accidental deaths.Said they got caught in a storm surge that likely pulled them overboard.”
Shock roils through my gut. “What? I’m not sure Priscilla is aware that they’ve been declared dead. She told me they live on the East Coast.”
“That’s not all,” Zen says. “There was a hefty insurance policy of 4.3 million dollars that was paid out to guess who?”
Siege growls, “Out with it. This isn’t a fucking game show.”
“One Malcolm Whitmore, Priscilla’s father-in-law.”
“The fuck?” I say looking from one club brother to another. “Why would the beneficiary be the old man rather than Priscilla?”
Zen leans forward and grins. “Because the old man is the one who took out the policy with the approval of the parents. He was listed as the next of kin and the beneficiary, so that means the police and the insurance company would have no need to go digging up additional family members to notify. They created a neat little feedback loop to keep it all between themselves.”
Rigs slaps his hand down on the table. “Maybe Priscilla thinks they’re still alive because they are.” Looking at me, he says, “You told us that Priscilla’s family manipulated her into marrying Conrad in exchange for a stipend. Maybe it wasn’t a stipend, so much as an insurance policy. If they staged their deaths and split the payout, there are a lot of places in the world where a couple could live a nice long time off a few million dollars.”
Relieved that her parents likely weren’t dead, I relax back into my seat. “Priscilla isn’t doing so well right now. I hope andpray her shitty parents are running some kind of insurance scam because I don’t want to see her messed up all over again about them turning up dead.”
Siege speaks up. “Do we actually have any intel on the old man? Malcolm Whitmore has lived his whole life in this town. Someone has to know something about him.”
Zen answers, giving more information than any of us anticipated. “Malcolm Whitmore is seventy-three years old. It took me forever to figure out what he did for a living because all his holdings are run through shell companies. It’s like Russian nesting dolls but eventually I drilled down on how he makes his money.”
“Well, don’t leave us in the dark, brother.”
I glance at Rigs who seems excited to unravel some more of this mystery.
Zen keeps talking. “He’s a hard money lender. Most of his money is in offshore accounts. I’m still tracking down all the businesses he’s lending money to, but one drew my immediate attention. It’s called High Seas Boat Rentals, the very same company that rented Priscilla’s parents the boat that ended up on the drift.”
Words pop out of my mouth before I can stop them. “This whole situation with her parents is shady as fuck. I’ll bet my bottom dollar they’re still alive and living the good life in Mexico or some such shit.”
“I agree,” Siege says. “Unfortunately, they’re not our problem right now. We need to find out who’s delivering dead shit to your house.”
Zen continues talking. “I wonder if there might be an insurance policy on Conrad. I’ve been searching for that, I’ll let you know what I find.”
I turn to Siege. “I’m thinking about having a little sit down with Malcolm Whitmore. Maybe with proper persuasion he’ll tell us what the fuck is going on.”
Rigs advises, “We should wait and let the police have a crack at him first.”
I ask, “Why? They’re fucking useless. We can squeeze information out of him.”
“We need our contact because he has access to a crime lab, so let’s not alienate him just because we’re anxious.”
I hate to admit it, but Rigs is right once again. “Fine, I’ll hold off for now.”
“To be honest, I don’t think we’re gonna find an old man’s fingerprints on the bunny box,” Rigs explains, “Men like him have people for that kind of shit.”
“That’s fine,” Siege interjects. “We’ll track down the fucker that did this and wring information out of him about who’s pulling his strings. I want the person in charge, not their stupid lackey.”
I ask Zen, “Did you run across any information on Conrad’s brother, Ashton? Priscilla said he’s kind of weird.”