5:00 PM, June 14, 2003, Palm Beach “How do I advise you of the deposits?” “You fax me the receipts immediately.” “Who takes care of the wire transfers?” “I do. I fax you the confirmations. We meet once a month to exchange originals.” “What about the cash you receive directly?” “I deposit it, and transfer it overseas, faxing you copies of the paperwork. Originals you get when we meet.” “I thought Paredes made those deposits?” “He did, but he was stealing, so I’ll take care of them from now on.” They were sitting at a sidewalk table at Olive’s on Worth Avenue in Palm Beach on a warm, sunny day. Isabel had arrived late that morning from Mexico City, and taxied to Bryce’s condo, where she found the door unlocked and a note from Powers telling her to meet him at Olive’s at five. Next to the note were the keys to a Saab 9000 that was “hers to use” while she lived in the condo. She unpacked and took a long bath, and then went into Palm Beach, where she strolled, not buying, but observing the fashion scene and soaking up the luxury of Worth Avenue, among the grandes dames of the world’s shopping streets.
