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TAMPA - Nan B. McKee radiated sweetness. She had a big, friendly smile, a disarming Tennessee twang and handsome cards advertising her South Tampa real estate business.
So friendly and accommodating was McKee that when Tampa jewelry dealer Carolyn Garrido traveled to New York on business, McKee offered to look after her teenage son.
"She was everybody's best friend," said Garrido, 45. "She knows everyone in South Tampa." It was difficult to walk into a high-end store, Garrido said, without finding an acquaintance of McKee's.
Now, McKee, 52, of 2118 S Venus St., is accused of orchestrating the May 17 home-invasion robbery of Garrido's Cleveland Street home, in which masked attackers tied and gagged Garrido and her son and stole some $200,000 in jewelry and watches.
McKee could face up to life in prison if convicted on charges of kidnapping, home invasion robbery and conspiracy to commit home invasion robbery.
Arrested last Wednesday, McKee is being held without bail in Hillsborough County Jail. This Friday, prosecutor Darrell Dirks, fearing the suspect could vanish if she gets out, will ask a judge to hold her there without bail until trial.
Carolyn Garrido, 45, runs a New York jewelry business but lives in South Tampa and sells to local customers by referral. Three weeks before the home invasion, she told police, a woman who called herself "Catherine" contacted her saying she wanted to buy a watch for her boyfriend.
"Catherine" said she heard about Garrido through a doctor she met at an Orlando convention. She set up an appointment to meet at Garrido's home on May 17 to examine watches. When "Catherine" knocked that night, Garrido turned off the alarm and opened the door to let her in.
That was when two masked gunmen rushed inside, Garrido said. They forced her into her office. A third gunman found her 16-year-old son, Beau Garrido, upstairs and forced him downstairs.
"This is all your spoiled brat son's fault," the attackers said, according to Carolyn Garrido. "This is what he gets for bragging about his expensive watches. We've been watching him. We've followed him to school."
The attackers warned them if they told police, they would kill Beau. The attackers made off with diamonds, rubies and topazes, Channel and Fendi purses, Rolex and Cartier watches.
Curiously, the attackers seemed to know exactly where Garrido's office was in the house. And they somehow knew that Beau Garrido kept a personal box full of watches.
Garrido gave Tampa detectives another lead: the cell phone number of the mysterious "Catherine." Police found that the number came from a phone owned by McKee, but McKee told police her cell phone had been stolen.
Around the time of the attack, police say, McKee contacted someone named Michelle J. Deavers, a 32-year-old St. Petersburg woman. From a photo lineup, Garrido identified Deavers as the woman who called herself "Catherine," which led to Deavers' arrest in July on charges of robbery and kidnapping.
Authorities got another break last Wednesday, when Deavers pleaded guilty to the charges and agreed to tell what she knew to prosecutors. In exchange, the Hillsborough County State Attorney's Office did not oppose her being released from jail on her own recognizance while she awaits sentencing, with the condition that she be monitored daily.
With Deavers' cooperation, authorities arrested both McKee and 31-year-old Thierry Montreuil, a Brandon man accused of being one of the attackers. He lists his occupation as a Costco cashier.
"It's been horrible," said Garrido, six months after the attack. "They put a gun to my son's head. They gave him a choice between living and dying."
Garrido said McKee was a gambler who traveled to casinos across the country. Last year, Garrido told police, McKee planned to buy $30,000 in jewelry from her but confessed that she gambled away the money she would have used. Garrido said McKee also admitted to using her jewelry to file a false insurance claim for a staged burglary in Tennessee.
Authorities are investigating whether McKee is involved in other attacks. "She was very good at what she did, pretending she was your friend when she wasn't," said Garrido.
She said McKee spoke often of her pets - dogs, fish, and cats - and possessed a disarming charm. "I guess that's the Southern way down here," said Garrido, who is from New York. "Everyone smiles."
- Times researcher Cathy Wos contributed to this report.