Page 11 of Ten Beach Road

“I’m getting that part,” Avery said. “Just tell me the rest. I can’t take another cloud hanging over me.”

“Your father’s estate was sizeable. He left you over two million dollars. Two point two to be exact.”

This didn’t sound bad. In fact, it was far more than she’d expected. She didn’t have expensive tastes or particularly bad habits. She could . . .

“Unfortunately, every penny of it was invested with Malcolm Dyer. You may have read about the Ponzi scheme he perpetrated and the, um, fact that he disappeared with most of his clients’ assets.”

“He took all of my father’s money? All two point two million?”

“He took a lot more than that. Over three hundred million at last count.”

“But they’re looking for him, right? They’re going to make him give it back?”

“Oh, they’re looking. But so far he’s the invisible man. It’s possible that the majority of the money is so far offshore it’ll never be found.”

“You’re telling me there’s nothing left?” The numbness was starting to dissipate now. How dare this crook do that to her father. What right did he have to steal what it had taken her father a lifetime to accumulate? She couldn’t even let herself think where that left her.

“There is one asset. It’s a beachfront, um, well, it just says ‘mansion.’ According to the letter we just received it’s located out on the tip of Pass-a-Grille.” He named the beach just thirty minutes southwest of Tampa that she’d played on as a child.

“I have a beachfront mansion on Pass-a-Grille?”

“Well, actually, you own a third of the alleged beachfront mansion. We had filed a claim and we now have a letter from the trustee assigned to award and distribute Dyer’s seized assets. We haven’t had a chance to send anyone out there yet.”

“Which third?” she asked dully. Maybe the roof was hers. “And what do you mean by ‘alleged’?”

“I can’t really answer any of that. But there are two other co-owners. Two other investors who were taken by Malcolm Dyer. How soon can you get here?”

Avery looked down at her food-stained robe and the bag of crushed potato chips on the floor. She didn’t have a job or anyone to check in with. Of course, she no longer had an income or, apparently, an inheritance.

“Well, it doesn’t look like I can afford a last-minute airline ticket or a rental car.” What little she had in the bank wasn’t going to last long. “I guess I’ll be driving. Why don’t we say the day after tomorrow?”

---