Page 74 of The Newcomer
“Let me talk please,” she interrupted. “You know about Scarlett’s connection to a man named Evan Wingfield, correct?”
“Correct,” Joe said tersely. “Letty worked for him, when she first arrived in New York, right? It wasn’t clear to me what her job was.”
“Wingfield owns dozens of Airbnb units all over the city. Mostly Manhattan and Brooklyn, and most of them illegal. From what we can tell, he hired Scarlett as a sort of concierge. He put her up in an apartment in a building where he owns several units. Her duties included making sure the Airbnb guests got into his units quietly, without raising attention from the other tenants in the building. At some point, it appears they began a romantic relationship. But after Tanya moved to the city, Wingfield dumped Letty and took up with the younger sister. She moved in with Wingfield and had his kid.”
“Maya,” Joe said.
“Right. The sisters, naturally, were estranged for a couple years after the kid was born, but then they reconciled—right around the time Wingfield and Tanya broke up. Tanya Carnahan, by all accounts, had some serious substance-abuse issues, a fact that Wingfield tried to use against her when he sued for custody.”
“Wingfield and Tanya weren’t married, right?” Joe asked.
“Correct. But they were domestic partners, and he was listed as father on the kid’s birth certificate.”
“Maya,” Joe interrupted. “Her name is Maya. I still don’t understand how the FBI got involved in all this.”
“I’m getting there,” Vikki Hill said. “The bureau’s public corruption unit has had an ongoing investigation into Evan Wingfield’s illegal Airbnb business activities for the past eighteen months, which we initiated after we learned that he’d bribed a New York City housing inspector, as well as two members of the city’s zoning appealsboard and a city council member. At that point, the bureau sent me in undercover, posing as a new inspector. And within minutes of meeting with me, Wingfield made not-so-subtle references to ‘arrangements’ he’d made with other inspectors.”
“The guy wasted no time,” Joe said.
“He’s efficient, I’ll say that about him. In my subsequent meetings with Wingfield he complained bitterly about his estranged girlfriend and what their custody battle was costing in legal fees,” she said. “But he didn’t mind the money he spent bribing me with cash, Broadway theater tickets, and trips to Vegas.”
“Why didn’t you just arrest him then? Maybe Tanya Carnahan would still be alive.”
“Because we knew that what we had on him was just the tip of the iceberg. We knew he’d bribed others, he bragged about it to me. But then Tanya started threatening to report him to the feds. Somehow, she knew about me, even knew my name, although she didn’t know I was actually undercover law enforcement. We didn’t know where she was getting her information. Wingfield was worried. He told me he’d begun thinking of ways to shut her up.…”
“And yet you still didn’t think it was time to pull the plug?” Joe shook his head. “Christ!”
“The bureau acts at its own speed,” Vikki said. “We were getting closer, and then, well, out of the blue, Tanya was killed and her kid vanished.”
“Murdered by Evan Wingfield.”
“We assume so, yes. He was there that day. Told the detectives they’d argued, but she was alive when he left. He’s been proclaiming his innocence very loudly and very publicly. And blaming Letty Carnahan.”
“I hope you’re not buying that bullshit,” DeCurtis said.
“The NYPD is investigating the murder aspect. But we know that Letty was at her sister’s brownstone the afternoon Tanya was killed. Witnesses placed her there. Security cameras placed her there. She grabbed the kid, took her sister’s car, and fled. Why didn’t she cometo the police with her suspicions? You gotta admit, the optics aren’t good.”
“I don’t know about the optics,” Joe said. “I only know when she arrived here, she was clearly terrified. I was suspicious at first, sure. I’m a cop.”
“You knew that authorities were searching for the kid. And you also knew Scarlett Carnahan was wanted for questioning in her sister’s death, but you still didn’t notify police in New York?” Agent Hill’s voice was sharp. “Ever hear of obstruction of justice? Or doesn’t that count down here in Florida?”
“I didn’t know she was a fugitive at first,” Joe said. “That morning she arrived here, all I had was suspicions. Anyway, my mother was not going to turn away a woman with a little kid in tow. As for Letty, we’ve gotten to know her. My mother trusted her enough to give her a job at the motel. She saved one of our guests’ life, when he was having a heart attack. She actually jumped on a meth head I was trying to arrest, kept the woman from cracking my skull with a baseball bat. Take it from me, that woman is not a murderer. She’s just not.”
“Has she said anything to you about what brought her down here?”
“No,” he admitted. “She’s intentionally vague about those kind of details, but who can blame her? Anyway, a few days after she arrived I put two and two together. Now I’ve got a pretty good idea of why she showed up at the Murmuring Surf.”
“Agreed,” Vikki Hill said. “Once we started looking into Tanya Carnahan’s past we found her arrest record. We figured it out by the process of elimination. The sisters were close and there were no other family connections that we could find. In fact, we know that Tanya drew up a will in the months leading up to her death. It names Letty as the child’s legal guardian.”
Joe sipped his beer. “Have you considered another suspect in Tanya’s murder? I mean, other than Letty, or even Wingfield?”
“You mean Declan Rooney? Tanya’s old boyfriend? Kind of areach, don’t you think? I know he’s still at large, but what would his motive be for killing her?”
“Money, for one thing. We never recovered any of the jewelry or gold or silver they’d been buying—an estimated hundred and fifty thousand dollars that’s never been accounted for. When we arrested Tanya, she claimed Rooney and his partner, Chuck Sheppard, had absconded with all of it,” Joe said. “But what if she actually did have the loot—and was supposed to meet up with him but didn’t?”
“That’s an extremely far-fetched scenario you’ve cooked up,” Agent Hill remarked. “Any proof to back it up?”
“Nope.” Joe leaned back on his barstool, his eyes drifting toward a wall-mounted television over the bar. “Is the bureau aware that Evan Wingfield probably isn’t the child’s biological father?”
