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“No, you’re fucked up, fucking retired cops,” said Nine. “I have a feeling that if I go to the D.A., he has a lot to say about you boys. We weren’t doing anything except enjoying dinner. Now you’ve ruined that, and I’m pissed off that I didn’t get my dessert.”
While three of the men writhed on the floor in pain, a fourth stood just watching it all. He was the one in charge.
“Why are you in Atlanta?” he asked.
“Told your friends. Just enjoying a few days away,” said Gaspar.
“A Ranger and a SEAL don’t just get away in Atlanta. It’s too humid, it’s too crowded, and it’s too fucking far from anything you would want.”
“Mister, I don’t know who you are, but last I checked, a man can travel wherever he likes, whenever he likes. I don’t need one damn reason to visit your city. That’s the beauty of America.”
“You should go back to Louisiana,” said the man, smirking. Nine laughed, shaking his head as he heard Victoria’s voice in his ear.
“And you, retired Captain Paul Scheel, should go back to Macon where you were born and raised. Maybe get those piss-poor SAT scores hidden before someone realizes what a real dumbass you are.”
The man was so stricken with shock and surprise he couldn’t move. Nine held out his hand for Erin, Gaspar doing the same with Alexandra. As his brother and friends laughed, the men left the restaurant, waving at them.
“Thank y’all for a good time,” smiled Tailor. “Let’s do this again soon.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Glad to see you, boys, but what the hell are you doing here?” asked Gaspar as they walked into their hotel suite.
“Victoria thought we should come and take a look at a few things. About halfway between historical Andersonville Prison and the Jimmy Carter National Park, there’s an old plantation. Split Creek Plantation. It was a rundown antebellum home about twenty years ago, then suddenly, this group of men bought it.”
“Let me guess, they were former police officers,” frowned Nine.
“Yep. Atlanta PD. All of them. They bought the place and turned it into a luxury retirement home. Tennis courts, swimming pool, full-time medical care, all of it. Twenty-grand per resident, per month.”
“What the fuck?” muttered Gaspar.
“They were full within the first sixty days. Forty residents at twenty-grand a month. You do the math.”
“That’s nine point six million a year,” said Alexandra. “Even with expenses, they’re bringing in a beautiful amount of money.”
“I’m not done,” said Alec. “After a year, two residents died. No one questions that because they’re old, and most have health issues. The next year, three residents died. Now, the state is looking into it because one of the residents married one of the cops who owns the place.”
“Let me guess, he was left a lot of money,” frowned Nine.
“He was left with nine fast food franchises, which he promptly sold for a hefty profit. By year five, they’d opened eleven more luxury retirement communities. That’s what they call them. They like to tell the residents that they’re in the safest possible location because, of course, it’s run by cops.”
“I bet they forget to tell them how many people are dead after they marry the cops,” said Alexandra.
“I’m sure that’s not in the brochure,” said Tailor. “Doug and Miguel are going out there tomorrow to see how they get treated. Maybe our cops don’t like same-sex couples or men in general. Most of the residents seem to be women. We’ll see.”
“We think they’re splitting the profits within their core group,” said Nine. “We watched them handing out envelopes to men at the bar.”
“How many of these people had children? I mean, we know that Mike Dodd married Browning’s daughter, but he’s also playing footsy with the women at the home. So what’s the deal?” asked Nine.
“Browning’s daughter died in a drowning accident while on vacation in Bermuda. Witnesses said Mike was on the beach when it happened but that she was pulled under by the current and drowned,” said Rory.
“Well, that was a quick relationship. I’m going to guess that Mike inherited everything and went back to Maison Soleil for his next victim,” said Gaspar.
“That’s what it looks like. Another thing we’ve discovered,” said Rory. “There are no female cops involved in this that we’ve seen so far. Any women who are involved, aren’t part of the APD.”
“But they have to know about what’s happening,” said Alexandra. “The woman at the nursing home that Kari and the others spoke with, the nurses, all of them have to somehow be aware. Who are they?”
“I guess we’re going to find out,” said Rory. “Miguel and Doug should let us know in the morning what happens. For tonight, get some rest, and we’ll meet up at breakfast and wait to hear from them. Then we can get the fuck out of here.”
