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Authors: H. Terrell Griffin
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“State your name for the record, please.”
“Abigail Lester.”
“Where do you reside?”
She gave her address on Longboat Key.
“That’s in Sarasota County?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.”
I went through a litany of questions and elicited that she had lived her entire life in Sarasota County, graduated from Sarasota High School and gone to college at the University of South Florida’s Sarasota campus. She had taught in the Sarasota County school system for seventeen years and had been married to Bill Lester, the Longboat Key chief of police, for fifteen years. Her father was dead and her mom lived in Sarasota in the house where Abby had been raised.
When I finished, Swann said that he had no questions.
Judge Thomas looked at his notes for a moment and then said, “I’m going to grant bail of one hundred thousand dollars with conditions. Mrs. Lester, you will have to wear an ankle monitor that will alert the sheriff’s office if you go more than one hundred feet from the base unit that will be in your home. If you need to leave your home for any reason, such as meeting with your attorney or going to the doctor, you will need to get permission from the probation officer who will be assigned to you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Abby said.
“Anything else, gentlemen?” the judge asked.
“Your Honor,” I said. “Can you order the sheriff’s department to set up the monitoring system today so that we can get my client released?”
“I’ll transmit the order within a half hour or so. You should be able to take her home today.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“Anything further?”
Swann and I both said no.
“Court is dismissed,” the judge said, and the TV screen went blank.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was almost five o’clock when J.D. called the Haycock home. Lyn answered. “It’s good to hear from you, J.D.,” she said. “How have you and Matt been?”
“We’re fine, Lyn, but I need to come by and talk to you and Mike.”
“What’s up?”
“It’s part of an investigation I’m involved in.”
“Well, sure, J.D.,” Lyn said, a bit hesitantly. “You’re always welcome. You know that. Mike just called to tell me he’s on his way. He should be home in a few minutes. Come on over now, if you’d like. Is this about Linda Favereaux?”
“It’s not a big deal, but I’m just trying to get a little background on her and her husband. Sammy told me you’d had dinner together recently, and I thought maybe you could shed some light on them.”
“I’m not sure how much we can help, but I bought a bottle of Villa Maria Sauvignon Blanc from Publix this morning.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
* * *
Mike and Lyn lived in a bayfront townhouse not far from the police station. They were gracious hosts who threw Super Bowl parties that had become legendary. Mike, who was nearing retirement, was an executive with a multinational company with offices in Bradenton. He and Lyn had lived on the island for a number of years and had no plans to leave.
“Sit down, J.D.,” Lyn said. “I’ll get you a glass of wine.”
“I shouldn’t. I’m still on duty.”
“We won’t tell,” Mike said.
“Well, then,” J.D. said, “you talked me right into it.”
“Lyn said you’ve been talking to Sammy.”
J.D. nodded. “Everybody on the island knows if you need to know something about anyone, Sammy’s the source.”
Mike laughed. “You can say that again. I’m afraid we can’t be much help. We didn’t really know the Favereauxes that well.”
“How long have you known them?” J.D. asked.
Mike looked at Lyn. “A year, maybe?”
“That’s about right,” Lyn said. “We met them at the bar at Pattigeorge’s one night, but they weren’t regulars. We saw them a few times after that, and a couple of weeks ago, Jim invited us to dinner. That’s how we ended up at Euphemia Haye.”
“Did they tell you anything about their backgrounds?”
“No,” Mike
“Abigail Lester.”
“Where do you reside?”
She gave her address on Longboat Key.
“That’s in Sarasota County?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.”
I went through a litany of questions and elicited that she had lived her entire life in Sarasota County, graduated from Sarasota High School and gone to college at the University of South Florida’s Sarasota campus. She had taught in the Sarasota County school system for seventeen years and had been married to Bill Lester, the Longboat Key chief of police, for fifteen years. Her father was dead and her mom lived in Sarasota in the house where Abby had been raised.
When I finished, Swann said that he had no questions.
Judge Thomas looked at his notes for a moment and then said, “I’m going to grant bail of one hundred thousand dollars with conditions. Mrs. Lester, you will have to wear an ankle monitor that will alert the sheriff’s office if you go more than one hundred feet from the base unit that will be in your home. If you need to leave your home for any reason, such as meeting with your attorney or going to the doctor, you will need to get permission from the probation officer who will be assigned to you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Abby said.
“Anything else, gentlemen?” the judge asked.
“Your Honor,” I said. “Can you order the sheriff’s department to set up the monitoring system today so that we can get my client released?”
“I’ll transmit the order within a half hour or so. You should be able to take her home today.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“Anything further?”
Swann and I both said no.
“Court is dismissed,” the judge said, and the TV screen went blank.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was almost five o’clock when J.D. called the Haycock home. Lyn answered. “It’s good to hear from you, J.D.,” she said. “How have you and Matt been?”
“We’re fine, Lyn, but I need to come by and talk to you and Mike.”
“What’s up?”
“It’s part of an investigation I’m involved in.”
“Well, sure, J.D.,” Lyn said, a bit hesitantly. “You’re always welcome. You know that. Mike just called to tell me he’s on his way. He should be home in a few minutes. Come on over now, if you’d like. Is this about Linda Favereaux?”
“It’s not a big deal, but I’m just trying to get a little background on her and her husband. Sammy told me you’d had dinner together recently, and I thought maybe you could shed some light on them.”
“I’m not sure how much we can help, but I bought a bottle of Villa Maria Sauvignon Blanc from Publix this morning.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
* * *
Mike and Lyn lived in a bayfront townhouse not far from the police station. They were gracious hosts who threw Super Bowl parties that had become legendary. Mike, who was nearing retirement, was an executive with a multinational company with offices in Bradenton. He and Lyn had lived on the island for a number of years and had no plans to leave.
“Sit down, J.D.,” Lyn said. “I’ll get you a glass of wine.”
“I shouldn’t. I’m still on duty.”
“We won’t tell,” Mike said.
“Well, then,” J.D. said, “you talked me right into it.”
“Lyn said you’ve been talking to Sammy.”
J.D. nodded. “Everybody on the island knows if you need to know something about anyone, Sammy’s the source.”
Mike laughed. “You can say that again. I’m afraid we can’t be much help. We didn’t really know the Favereauxes that well.”
“How long have you known them?” J.D. asked.
Mike looked at Lyn. “A year, maybe?”
“That’s about right,” Lyn said. “We met them at the bar at Pattigeorge’s one night, but they weren’t regulars. We saw them a few times after that, and a couple of weeks ago, Jim invited us to dinner. That’s how we ended up at Euphemia Haye.”
“Did they tell you anything about their backgrounds?”
“No,” Mike
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