Lacy said, “We’re not giving up, Michael. We’ve uncovered enough to believe that Greg Myers is telling the truth, or at least something very close to it. We can’t walk away.”
“I’m not suggesting that, not now. In three weeks, we have to either serve the complaint on McDover or inform Greg Myers that our initial assessment leads us to believe that his complaint has no merit. I think we all agree that it has merit. So, we serve the complaint, then subpoenas for all of her files and records. At that point, she’ll be hiding behind a wall of lawyers, so every request we make will be contested. Let’s say we eventually get her files. Court files, legal files, files relating to the cases she has heard or is currently handling. We still subpoena her personal financial records unless we have probable cause to believe that she has committed theft, bribery, or embezzlement.”
“We know the statute,” Hugo said.
“Of course we do, Hugo, but just humor me, okay? I’m trying to assess where we are, and since I’m the boss I’m allowed to do so. You want to go back to the golf course?”
“Please, no.”
“Anyone sophisticated enough to operate behind such elaborate shell companies is probably not going to keep her personal financial records in any place where we might find them, right?”
Lacy and Hugo nodded, pleasantly humoring the boss.
And then there was silence. Michael kept pacing and scratching his head. Hugo sipped his caffeine and tried to activate his brain. Lacy doodled on her legal pad, thinking. The only sound was the pecking from Sadelle’s keyboard.
Michael finally said, “Sadelle, you’ve been quiet.”
“I’m just a paralegal,” she reminded them. Then she coughed, almost gagged, and continued, “I’ve gone back eleven years and tracked thirty-three construction projects in Brunswick County, everything from golf courses, shopping centers, subdivisions, the mini-mall at Sea Stall, even a movie theater with fourteen screens. Nylan Title from the Bahamas is involved in many of them, but there are dozens of other offshore companies that own other offshore companies, and LLCs that are owned by foreign corporations. Personally, I think it’s a clear sign of somebody trying real hard to keep things secret. It smells bad. It’s also unprecedented, really, to see so many offshore companies paying so much attention to a backward place like Brunswick County. I’ve dug some in the records of the other Panhandle counties—Okaloosa, Walton, even Escambia, where Pensacola sits—and while all of them have had far more development than Brunswick, they have far fewer offshore companies involved.”
“No luck with Nylan Title?” Hugo asked.
“None. The laws and procedures in the Bahamas are impossible to penetrate. Impossible, unless of course the FBI gets involved.”
“That will have to wait.” Michael looked at Lacy and asked, “Have you talked to Myers lately?”
“Oh no. I talk to Myers only when he decides he wants to talk.”
“Well, it’s time for a conversation. It’s time to inform Mr. Myers that his complaint is in jeopardy. If he can’t come through with more information, and quickly, then we might have to dismiss it.”
“Are you serious?” Lacy asked.
“Not really, not yet. But let’s keep the pressure on him. He’s the one with the inside source.”
—
It took two days and a dozen calls to three different cell phone numbers to get a response from Myers. When he finally called her back, he seemed excited to hear her voice and said he’d been thinking about another meeting. He had more information to pass along. Lacy asked if he might be able to meet at a more convenient place. St. Augustine was lovely and all, but it was a three-and-a-half-hour drive for them. They had busy schedules; evidently he did not. For obvious reasons, he preferred to stay away from the Panhandle. “Lots of old enemies there,” he sort of bragged. They agreed on Mexico Beach, a small Gulf-side town about two hours southeast of Tallahassee. They met at a local dive near the beach and ordered grilled shrimp for lunch.
Myers rambled on about his bonefishing exploits near Belize and his scuba-diving adventures in the British Virgins. His tan was even darker and he looked a bit thinner. Not for the first time, Hugo caught himself envying the carefree lifestyle of this guy who lived on a nice boat and apparently had no financial worries. He drank beer from a cold, frosty mug, something else Hugo envied. Lacy was far from envious and found Myers even more irritating. She couldn’t have cared less about his various adventures. She wanted facts, details, proof that his story was valid.
With a mouthful of shrimp, Myers asked, “So how is the investigation going?”
“Pretty slow,” Lacy said. “Our boss is pressuring us to find more dirt or we may have to dismiss your complaint. And, the clock is ticking.”