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."

Rory, Alec, and Tailor took the suite across the hall, spreading their big bodies out in their own space. Although they didn't expect trouble at the hotel, additional safety precautions were placed on the door.

By nine the next morning, there were trays of food delivered to the room as they waited to hear what happened with Doug and Miguel. Although they had comms devices on, something was interfering with the signal, and that worried the men.

At eleven, the two older men walked in the door.

"Well?" asked Gaspar.

"Well, they don't like men who live together, that's for sure. You could tell immediately that they were looking for a woman to con. We were asked for tax returns, bank records, all of it. I thought that asshole was going to shit his pants when he saw our bank account," smirked Doug.

"Anything on the women that work there?" asked Erin.

"The two we interacted with were definitely former ladies of the night. Miguel recognized their mannerisms, demeanor, all of it. One of them was even tattooed by her former pimp. I think our cops made some pretty unusual friends and hired them to keep the residents happy, so to speak. And it's not just the female employees. Orderlies, physical trainers, all of them are in on this."

"How do we prove all this?" asked Nine.

"We have to find the money," said Alexandra. "We need to get back so that I can start working with Jean and the others on tracking where this money is coming from and going to."

"You heard the lady. Let's go home."