Sag Harbor was once a whaling village. Over the past century, it had become a haven for wealthy industrialists during the summer months. This old fishing community was now filled with high-end boutiques, the same ones that could be found on Fifth Avenue and Rodeo Drive. Unless you were a megastar with a net worth over twenty million dollars, you had a small historic cottage on less than an acre of land. If you wanted to remodel it, you were limited when it came to what you could do on the outside, and it could cost hundreds of thousands to renovate. A lot of that 1880s wood could get rotten over the decades. Centuries. If you wanted to say you lived in the Hamptons, you had to pay the price and play by the rules, and these little towns had lots of them.

Surrounding the quaint hamlet were acres of estates and cottages alive with tulip trees, the tallest hardwood on the East Coast. This made it easy for Sasha to find ample locations from which to peer into the second floor of the house. She followed Corbett’s movements as he turned on the light in the hallway, then the ones in the master bedroom suite. Not any sign of a feminine influence. Maybe he was too much of a narcissist to have a girlfriend, even as wealthy as he was.

Sasha snapped a few more photos. The small balcony off the bedroom could provide easy access, so she took several shots at different angles. No security cameras. She guessed that since it was over 140 miles from New York City, and not necessarily an easy trip on a two-lane highway, they didn’t get a lot of lowlifes showing up in Sag Harbor. Made sense. It was a long haul, so someone had to be motivated enough to make that trip. Sasha thought for a moment. Except for several murders, all of which were about sex or money or both. Another type of white-collar crime. Domestic violence. She immediately gave thanks for people like Myra and the sisters. At least some women would get justice.

After observing Corbett for another hour, she saw him go into the bathroom and return wearing a robe and slippers. Was that some sort of a family crest on the toe? Seriously? Who was he trying to kid? They didn’t know a whole lot about the trio of scumbags they were dealing with, but they were learning new info every day. And one thing they did know was that there were no aristocrats in Corbett’s family tree.

It looked like he was in for the evening. Sasha took a good look around. No one in sight. She climbed down from the tree, returned to her car, and headed back to her motel. She needed to check on the blueprints of the office. That would be tomorrow’s target.

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

London