Read Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 3) for Free Online Page B

placed the envelope in my purse and held up my cell phone. “Do you mind if I record our conversation? I'm terrible at taking notes.”
    Her eyebrows knit together. “Um, I don't know. That seems risky to me.”
    “I won't share this information with anyone except Carter.”
    Brook sat down at the counter opposite me. “Okay, fine. What information do you need to get started?”
    I made sure the phone was recording, then placed it on the counter. “First, let's talk about the blackmail letter. How was it delivered to you?”
    She glanced at the phone in front of her like it was a bomb about to explode. She folded her hands on the counter. “Certified mail. I had to sign for it. The name of the sender was phony and so was the address.”
    “What was the name?”
    “Lindsay Bolt. According to my online search, the only Lindsay Bolt I could find in Florida is eighty-six years old.”
    “Was the letter hand-written?”
    “No, it was typed on plain white paper. I memorized every word. One hundred thousand dollars cash or I'll send your husband a copy of this photo. Bring the cash to West Palm Beach Airport at ten o'clock Monday morning and go to gate 3 baggage claim at United Airlines. Go into the ladies restroom and leave the cash inside the trash bin and then leave immediately. If you contact the police or tell anyone, I will expose you.”
    “Very clever,” I said. “A busy place. People have suitcases and luggage. Someone could have easily taken the money out of there without raising an eyebrow. Did you stick around to see if you recognized anyone coming or going?”
    “I was too paranoid,” she said, shaking her head. “I got the hell out of there.”
    “At least we can assume it’s a woman. A man walking into the ladies room would certainly draw attention.”
    She nodded. “I figured the same thing.”
    “I can go to the airport and check for surveillance cameras,” I said. “We might be able to catch the person on video. Do you happen to have a photo of Angela? How about her home and work address?”
    “I don't know her current address. I think she moves around a lot. And I doubt she has a job. Like I said before, she was living off of her father's handouts. Dennis has a photo of her on his desk. I'll go get it.”
    When she returned and handed me the photo, she said, “This was probably taken a few years ago. I have no idea if she's grown her hair out since.”
    The photo was taken on a yacht of some kind. Dennis stood in the middle of Andrew and Angela. They had their arms around each other, obviously posing for the picture. Dennis's face beamed as sunlight reflected off his balding head. Andrew wore dark sunglasses and a polo shirt. And then there was Angela, squinting at the camera. She had short, blonde hair with plain features, but it was hard to get a proper sense of her from the photo. “Thanks,” I said. “I'll return this to you.”
    “Don't bother,” she said. “I have no use for it.”
    “I should be able to get a current address from the DMV records, but I might need to ask Andrew if he knows where his sister is staying.” I tucked the photo inside my purse and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I need you to sign this. It's a contract for the job.”
    Brook signed the contract without reading it then slid it across the counter to me. “So when will you start working on this?”
    “I'll do a preliminary background check on Angela to see what comes up. Do you know if she's ever been arrested?”
    “Not to my knowledge, although it wouldn't surprise me.”
    “Why would it not surprise you?” I asked.
    “Because she has a temper. When Dennis told her he was cutting her off, she threw a stapler at him. Knocked him right in the forehead.” Brook slapped the side of her head as if to demonstrate the violence. “Can you imagine your own child throwing something at you? He should have called the cops. He had a goose egg the size of a gold ball for a week after that.” Brook crossed