“I can’t tell you who thought of it,” Sadie said, “but you get the idea. Having hot babes like Valentine wearing David Klein jewelry gets women flocking to the stores.”
“Val’s taken Delilah’s place as Klein’s spokesperson,” Ethan said carefully, interested in what Sadie might have to say about that.
When the phone went silent, he cast a worried glance in Val’s direction, his gut telling him this wasn’t good.
“What is it?” he pressed.
“Nothing I can put my finger on. Just that Julian Latham is also a Klein shareholder. One who makes some very interesting trips out of the country.”
“Mexico?” he guessed.
“South America.”
“Colombia,” Ethan said. “Latham’s gotta be involved in the drug trade.”
“Could be drugs, but Julian isn’t going to Colombia. Every three months, he takes a first-class American Airlines flight direct to Caracas, Venezuela. Simón Bolivar International Airport. He makes a return trip home three, sometimes four days later.”
“Sounds like drugs to me.”
“According to his tax records, Julian runs Latham Property Management, a company his father owns. They manage apartments and strip malls owned by Latham Enterprises.”
“If it’s legit, why’s the son going to Caracas?”
“Good question. Whatever he’s doing, he isn’t doing it in the city. He takes a suite at the Gran Melia the night he arrives, checks out the next morning, then checks back in a few days later, the night before he heads back to Miami. No idea where he goes in between.”
Ethan’s glance returned to Val. He didn’t like her working for people who might be involved in an illegal drug operation.
He turned back to the open phone line. “The question becomes, is Julian’s little enterprise personal? Or does it have something to do with his interest in David Klein?”
“And if it’s connected to Klein, does it have something to do with Delilah Larsen’s murder? That’s the real question, hotshot. Guess you’d better figure it out.”
He sure as hell better. “One more thing: Any idea how Latham made his money?”
“He was a hedge fund manager. They all seem to walk away rich, don’t they?”
“Seems like. Thanks, Sadie.”
“I’ll keep digging. Go to work,” Sadie said and ended the call.
Val walked up beside him. “Maybe Peter Latham didn’t really make his money in the stock market. Maybe he made it running drugs, then used the drug money to buy shares in David Klein. Maybe he and Jason partnered up, infused some of the drug money into the company to turn it around.”
“Maybe. I’ve got a friend, a guy who works for the DEA in Miami. I’ll give him a call, see if Latham or his son are on any of their watch lists.”
“That’s a good idea.”
His cell phone chimed again. He glanced at Val, had a bad feeling his plans for getting her naked were going to have to wait. “Brodie.”
“Ethan, this is Ross Mosher, Seattle PD.”
He knew the guy, a detective in the vice squad, tried to think why Mosher would be calling instead of Hoover. “Hey, Ross, what’s up?”
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, buddy, but your ex-girlfriend got busted for drunk driving a couple of hours ago. She had her kid in the car with her. She says you’re Hannah’s father. You need to come down here, Ethan. Your little girl’s asking for you.”
His stomach knotted. Sweet Jesus, Ally was drunk before noon, his little Hannah sitting alone at the police department. “Tell her not to worry, Ross, I’m on my way.”
“I’ll make sure she’s okay.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Ethan ended the call.
