They circled the hedge and stepped onto a section of sidewalk, which ran along the busy road.
A sprawling single-story building was beyond the townhomes, and a “Sales Center” sidewalk sign was near the front door.
“It looks like they’re open.” Carlita held the door and followed Mercedes into the building.
The man behind a desk met them at the counter. “Welcome to Coastal Adventures. Can I help you?”
“We noticed you have townhomes for sale and wondered if we could get some information,” Carlita said.
“Of course. Please…have a seat.”
“We’re kind of in a hurry.” Carlita tightened her grip on her purse. “I’ll take whatever information you have with me.”
The man reached behind the counter and handed Carlita a brochure, similar to the one Kim Turbell had given her. “Our prices start in the low two hundreds for a two bed, two bath townhome. The units increase in size and price, the closer you get to the water.”
Carlita flipped the brochure open and scanned its contents. “We also noticed an entertainment complex down the street that’s opening soon.”
“Next month. Do you live around here?”
“No,” Mercedes answered. “We live in Savannah and noticed your signs on Tybee Island, as well. Are townhomes available there too?”
“We.” The sales representative cleared his throat. “Those probably won’t start selling until sometime next year. This project is wrapping up first, followed by St. Simons Island, Georgia. Tybee Island will be last.”
“Is there a contact person for that location?” Carlita thought about Turbell.
“There is. Let me find out who that would be.” The man returned to his desk and leaned in to study his computer screen. “Kim Turbell runs the Tybee Island sales center. She’ll be able to help you with more information.”
It was apparent the man had no idea Turbell had died, which Carlita found interesting. “I’ll be sure to check with her.” She thanked him for the information and waited until Mercedes and she were out of the building before speaking. “He has no idea the woman is dead.”
“Unless he just wasn’t saying anything.” Mercedes pursed her lips. “I’m not sure how helpful this trip to St. Augustine was. We couldn’t convince Elvira to return home. We have no idea who owns the other properties on Tybee.”
“It’s not a complete loss. She did give us some limited contact information. I’m beginning to suspect one of the Tybee Island property owners may be responsible.”
“I think her ex or soon-to-be-ex is behind the attacks,” Mercedes said. “Look at this place. Atlantic Deep has a lot of money tied up in the Coastal Adventures’ projects. I’m sure it’s the same case on St. Simons Island. Elvira even told us they need the four properties to move forward on Tybee Island. Either one of the other owners is trying to pressure Elvira, maybe even going as far as trying to scare her into selling, or it’s her ex.”
“What if it is her ex? He would have motive and opportunity. If Elvira is out of the picture, there’s a chance he could take control of her businesses and get his hands on the property. The only problem with this theory is the property could be tied up in court for who knows how long.” Carlita tossed her purse on the floor. “It’s time to head home and face Detective Wilson.”
The return trip took longer than expected. They ran into traffic again when they reached the Jacksonville area. “Why would anyone want to live in this mess?” Carlita frowned as she stared through the windshield at the sea of taillights.
It was late afternoon when they finally pulled into their parking lot. Carlita, who had developed a headache, grabbed her bag from the trunk and rubbed her temple as she fell into step with Mercedes.
“You okay, Ma?”
“I have a headache.”
A small noise caught their attention.
Dernice was standing in her doorway, watching them. “I’ve been waiting for you. How did it go?”
“We found Elvira. She’s in St. Augustine, working with an attorney to finalize her divorce.”
“She’s living above a pirate museum. Which, by the way, is pretty cool,” Mercedes said. “She wasn’t keen on talking when we tracked her down, but she finally gave us some information. She seems to think Gremlin is behind at least some of what is going on.”
“Because he wants her properties,” Dernice said. “It makes sense. He forces her to sell to Coastal, divorces her and then takes half of her assets. But why kill the salesperson?”
“Money.” Carlita shrugged. “Maybe money was the motive.”
“Did she give you names or addresses?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to check my email.” Carlita and her daughter made their way inside with Dernice trailing close behind. “Why didn’t she give me the information?”
“We’re talking about Elvira here. Who knows? She also didn’t strike me as feeling any pressure to hurry home. Back to the Tybee property, she was acting as a real estate agent, collecting a fee from one of the other property owners for helping negotiate the sale.”
“Hold that thought. While I’m here, I need to chat with Luigi for a second.” Dernice slipped past Carlita and strode to the end of the hall.
Mercedes headed upstairs, but Carlita hung back, curious to find out what Dernice was up to.
Luigi’s door opened, and he joined them in the hall. “Hey, boss lady.”
“How was the job today?”
“Boring.”
“Good. Which means no bad news,” Carlita quipped.
“The gig was smooth sailing. I’m ready for another assignment.”
“That’s the spirit.” Dernice fist pumped the air. “I have another job lined up over at the civic center. It starts at eight Monday morning and runs all day. It’s a cooking contest. Last year, they held it at the Savannah
