Fortune Hunter (A Miss Fortune Mystery Book 8)

“No. Everything you laid out was based on either instinct or logic. That’s the basis of solid police work and how some of the biggest cases get cracked. But I won’t disagree that you’re lucky to be alive.”


I cocked my head to the side and studied him for a moment. “You don’t seem surprised by anything I said. You didn’t that night, either.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I suspected, but I didn’t have enough proof to take it to the DA.”

“What put you onto Nolan?”

“Like you, I had a feeling that something didn’t add up, more than the obvious. Nolan said he heard a scream, then a shot, implying that Gail saw the man shooting her, but Gail’s eyes were closed as if in a deep sleep. I know eyes can close after death, regardless of what position they were in when it occurred, but in my experience, that’s rarely the case with violent death. It didn’t feel right.”

I nodded. That had been my experience as well.

“I asked them to screen for drugs in the autopsy,” he continued. “She had a large dose of Ambien in her system. I couldn’t find where Gail had ever been prescribed the drug. But Nolan had.”

“He drugged her. But without being able to prove that, it looks suspicious but not enough so to get a court order for a camera.”

“Not to mention I didn’t have a motive, until you told me about the insurance policy.”

“Francesca will probably spend the rest of her life cursing that assistant for being so efficient.”

Carter nodded. “If her assistant hadn’t made that phone call that Ida Belle answered, we might have never known about the policy.”

“I assume Nolan Bishop wasn’t his real name. Have you figured anything out yet? Or can’t you say.”

He laughed. “Like you care whether or not I’m supposed to tell you. If you thought you could get away with it, you’d break into the sheriff’s department to read my case file.”

I didn’t bother to argue.

“Today, I managed to track him back to his last mark, but I’m sure the more I dig, the more layers I’ll uncover.”

“And?”

“The man we know as Nolan Bishop was the personal assistant to an invalid named Nolan Bishop, except that man was legit. The real Nolan Bishop’s wife died, leaving him with a hefty insurance policy, all aboveboard, and he took on our Nolan as a personal assistant. When the real Nolan died of heart failure, he left everything to our guy.”

“No autopsy?”

Carter shook his head. “The real Nolan Bishop was a very sick man with a bad heart. He had no living relatives, and since he was at home alone when he died, no one suspected foul play.”

“But you do.”

“I’d bet my deputy’s badge on it, but since the real Bishop didn’t have family waiting in the wings, it doesn’t matter now. Still, I sent everything I had on our case to the police in California. If anything, maybe they can learn from it. God knows I just got an expedited education in the long con.”

“The whole thing is rather sobering. I mean, I deal with people who run entire criminal organizations based on secrecy and lies but this was so…”

“Personal?”

“Yeah. It makes it harder to process.”

Carter nodded.

“So our Nolan stole the man’s identity and disability,” I said. “Then he moved across the country where no one was likely to recognize the name and set up shop. It is all rather convenient.”

“And since he observed the real Nolan collect a huge insurance policy, no questions asked, he knew what his next scam would be.”

“It’s still mind-boggling that someone would go to that length—play that kind of role—for so long.”

“If I had to guess, I think he enjoyed the attention, and he didn’t have to be in character all the time. Gail worked long hours in New Orleans. Nolan worked from home so no one bothered him during the day. He was free to pull the shades and live as an able-bodied person with no one the wiser.”

“Did he create fake messages from the catfish on Gail’s Facebook account?”

Carter nodded. “There was an exchange that night. He probably did it after Gail passed out from the Ambien. It was short, but enough to give us the idea that Nolan wanted us to have.”

I looked down at the table, feeling a bit guilty about everything. “What did you say in your report…about shooting Nolan?”

“I said that someone had been in the house the night before and I was keeping an eye on it—all of which is true, by the way.”

“So you were already there when I climbed in the window?”

“Across the street behind the bushes. I left my truck at the sheriff’s department as a decoy. Apparently it worked since you showed up.” He grinned.

“Your impressive forethought aside, what made you think Nolan would return to the house that night? He’d been there all day.”

“An old-fashioned hunch? I honestly don’t know that I thought Nolan would return so much as I just had this feeling that I ought to keep watch for a while. Then you came along and things got interesting.”