Wild Rage

by Tripp Ellis

  “Sounds like you don’t care too much for your neighbors,” I said.

  “This used to be a nice, respectable community. But it sure has gone downhill in the last couple of years. I just really haven’t felt safe, to be honest.”

  “It’s easy enough to move.”

  “I shouldn’t have to.” Eleanor frowned. “But I refuse to be a victim. Somebody tries to mess with me, they’re gonna get some instant karma if you know what I mean.”

  “You have a firearm?”

  “You better believe it. And I know how to use it.” She paused, and her eyes grew curious. She whispered. “I know you probably can’t reveal any details, but was Helen… you know… abused?”

  “You mean sexually assaulted?”

  Eleanor nodded. She wanted all the sordid details.

  “We don’t believe so,” I said. “But we’ll need to wait for the full report from the medical examiner.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” she said with an exhale. “I mean, I’m a single, available woman, living alone. I’m in excellent physical condition.” She stood tall, displaying her form, sucking in her stomach, extending her chest slightly. “I’m a prime target.”

  She was almost flirting. She certainly liked the attention.

  “Indeed,” I said, playing along. “I encourage everyone to maintain good situational awareness.”

  “I do feel sorry for Evie. I don’t know what she’s going to do now.”

  Eleanor grabbed her purse from atop a seat cushion and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She fumbled for a lighter but couldn’t find one. “Either of you two have a light?”

  14

  “What does your lighter look like?” I asked.

  “It’s just a cheap disposable,” Eleanor said as she rummaged through her purse. “I keep losing my nice ones.”

  I showed her a picture on my phone of the lighter we had found aboard the Mystic Seas. “Is this yours?”

  Her eyes flicked to the chrome lighter. “No.”

  She pulled a book of matches from her purse and struck one up. The flame flickered as she lit the cigarette, and wisps of smoke drifted with the breeze. She shook the match out and took a long drag, glowing the cherry. An instant wave of satisfaction washed over her.

  She dropped the pack of matches back into her purse, and a mischievous sparkle filled Eleanor’s eyes as she stared into mine. In a tone that bordered on sultry, she said, "Do you have a card, Deputy Wild? You know, just in case I need something or remember an important detail."

  "Sure," I said. I dug into my pocket and handed a card to her.

  JD tried to hide a snicker, amused.

  We thanked her for her time and walked across the dock to Beer, Bongs & Bitches, but Dawson and Zane were nowhere to be found. We strolled back to the Mystic Seas and stepped aboard.

  Sharon and Sterling consoled Evie. The bursts of sobbing had subsided, but her eyes were still red and puffy, and her nose was running. I told her we'd be in touch as soon as we had more information. "Once again, my condolences."

  Evie nodded.

  “What will you do now?" Sharon asked.

  “We’ll speak with Helen's ex-husband, her boyfriend, and anybody else that may have had a motive. Hopefully, the lab will discover trace evidence that will lead us to the killer.”

  “What if this was completely random?” Evie asked.

  “Then, it becomes a lot more difficult to solve.”

  She deflated. “I don't think I can stay here right now.”

  "Just crash with me, babe," Sterling said.

  Evie nodded. "I need to pack a few things, but I don't know if I can go inside right now."

  "We'll go with you, dear,” Sharon said in a soothing voice.

  Evie gave a reluctant nod, then stood up.

  "Is it okay for us to enter?" Sharon asked.

  I looked at the forensics guys, and they nodded. They had just dusted for prints on the door to the salon and multiple surfaces inside. With any luck, the system would turn up a match. But with as many people as came in and out of the Mystic Seas, it might be impossible to narrow down the suspect. There were legitimate reasons for strangers to be aboard the boat.

  Evie stepped inside the salon with her entourage.

  “I’ve got bad news,” a forensics investigator, said. “No prints.”

  “What!?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Zip. Nada. Zilch. The door handle, the breakfast table, the counters, the faucet handles, everything. It’s all been wiped down. Whoever did this took their time and thought things out.”

  A frown tugged my lips. “Check the lighter,” I said, handing him the evidence bag. “There’s gotta be prints on that.”

  “I’ll let you know what we find,” he said.

  We left the boat and headed down the dock to the parking lot.

  "What do you make of all this?” JD asked.

  I shrugged. “I think there are a few neighbors with motive, and we certainly need to look into the ex-husband.”

  We stopped in the main office, and I spoke with the manager, Liberty. She greeted us with a concerned face. I caught her up to speed on the situation.

  She frowned. "That's just terrible. I saw the medical examiner roll out a body on a gurney, but I didn't know who it was until you just told me. I swear I don't know what's wrong with people these days. Such a shame. I liked Helen."

  "It seems like not many people did."

  Liberty rolled her eyes. "You know, people are just too uptight these days. Helen was always nice to me, she paid her rent on time, and she didn't cause trouble. If all of my tenants were like her, I'd have no problems. Sometimes I think people just need to create drama to keep the focus off themselves."

  "Can you think of anyone who may have wanted to kill her?"

  "You think it could have been a resident of the marina?"

  "We’re keeping all possibilities open."

  "I don't really know. I stay out of tenant business. I take the checks and handle the complaints." She paused. "You think this could have been a random event? A burglary gone wrong? Or do you think she was targeted personally?"

  "Too soon to tell at this point.”

  Her face tensed again. "Well, I'll keep my eyes and ears open."

  "You get the security cameras fixed by any chance?" I asked.

  "No, but now might be a good time to look into it. I'll have to call the company that installed them."

  "Might make the residents feel safer,” I said. "Call me if you hear anything. Take care of yourself."

  "Believe me, Deputy, I will."

  We left the office and walked across the parking lot to JD's Porsche. We hopped inside, and JD cranked up the engine. My phone buzzed with a call from Denise as JD pulled out of the parking lot.

  "I was just about to call you," I said.

  "Always thinking about me, aren't you?" she teased.

  "You know it."

  "I tracked down the bike messenger. He works for Speedy Shores and he's coming down to the station to answer questions."

  "Voluntarily?"

  "Yup. Says he's got nothing to hide. I talked to the manager, and she doesn't remember seeing the person who sent that package. Said it was dropped off in one of the boxes outside. The shipping number belongs to a law firm—Hargrove, Williams, & Associates, LLP. The manager at Speedy Shores says if you know the format of the shipping number, it's easy to make one up. She says it happens all the time. She also mentioned that it's possible the person that mailed that package worked for the law firm at some point in time and had access to their shipping number and retained it."

  "Can you get me a record of all current and past employees at the firm?”

  “That’s my next call.”

  “Any word from the ATF?"

  "Agents Blake and Ross stopped by and picked up the letter."

  "Alright. We'll see you in a few."

  I ended the call and told JD to head to the station. We zipped across town, and my phone
buzzed again. This time it was a text from Chloe. I read it as we pulled into the parking lot at the Sheriff's Office.

  [I decided to do it. Why not?]

  [That's fantastic. When are you going to share the link?]

  [Right now. Cross your fingers.]

  [Thank you. I know it means a lot to JD.]

  "Fasten your seatbelt," I said as we climbed out of the car. Chloe's going to share the video.

  A wide grin tugged Jack's lips, and he pulled a fist in triumph. "Yes!"

  We stepped inside and waited a few minutes for the bike messenger to show up. He pushed through the front doors a few moments later, looking around, confused. It was the same guy from the video—same glasses, mustache, and spandex bike shorts. We approached him and introduced ourselves.

  "Thanks for coming," I said. "We just have a few questions."

  "Sure thing," he said. "I'm not in any trouble, am I?"

  "Not if you didn't send that letter."

  "I just dropped it off. I don’t know who sent it. They just give me a stack of stuff to zip across town, and when I’ve delivered everything, I go back for more."

  "So, you never saw the sender?”

  "No. Sometimes people will flag me down on the street and try to hand me an envelope. I'll take it if it's got the shipper number on it, but that's rare. We focus on same-day delivery. We can usually get a letter across town in an hour if you pay extra.”

  "And this batch of deliveries came from the office on Crestview Drive?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Would you mind giving us a sample of your prints so we can rule them out if we find anything on the envelope?"

  "What is the deal? What was in that letter?"

  “We think it was from the pipe bomber.”

  His eyes widened. "No shit!?”

  "There could be trace evidence and fingerprints on it,” I said.

  "If I let you take my fingerprints, am I gonna end up in some database somewhere?"

  "No. This is just temporary and will be used for elimination purposes.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

  He thought about it for a moment. "Okay, yeah, I guess. Why not?"

  We escorted him through the station to be printed. His fingerprints would be scanned into the system. We didn’t store data long-term, but the FBI did. It was another data point in their vast network. In the current age, nobody ever liked to delete data. Once in the system, you were always in the system.

  Afterward, we thanked him for his time, and he went about his way. JD and I were pretty convinced he wasn't our suspect.

  We found Denise at her desk. Her fingers clacked away at the keyboard. The office was filled with the daily hustle of activity.

  “Anybody want coffee?” JD asked.

  Denise and I nodded.

  He made a beeline for the coffee pot.

  “See what you can dig up on Helen Carter,” I said. “Also, see if you can get a current address on Rex Rayford.”

  “Sure thing. What do I get in return?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Hmm, I’ll think about it and let you know,” she said coyly.

  Her graceful fingers stroked the keys. Within seconds, Rex Rayford’s info popped up on the display screen. Her eyes scanned his background. “Looks like a really nice guy. Domestic abuse. A few DUIs. Drunk and disorderly. A real charmer. Looks like Helen called the department a month ago when he showed up drunk at Mangrove Bay. Arrested and charged with criminal trespass.”

  I gave Denise a list of names to run background checks on.

  My phone buzzed again. It was Evie. “Deputy Wild?”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I just realized something I thought you should know.”

  15

  “Helen’s cash box has been cleaned out,” Evie said. “It’s all gone.”

  “How much?” I asked.

  "There was probably a couple thousand dollars in there. She kept it in an old cookie tin. Do you think this could have been a robbery?"

  "Did she have a habit of taking clients in the evening?"

  "Not really. She usually saw people in the afternoons. Sometimes in the early evenings when people got off work. If it was somebody she knew, maybe she’d take a late client. But she never would have let somebody she didn't know schedule a reading after dark.”

  "Thanks for letting me know,” I said. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  "Thank you, Deputy." Evie ended the call.

  JD returned with 3 cups of coffee and handed them out.

  "Thank you, JD," Denise said with a smile.

  JD grinned back. "My pleasure."

  Somebody must have put on a fresh pot of coffee because it wasn't half bad.

  “You hungry?” JD asked. “I’m starving.”

  "What do you have in mind?"

  “Big Tony's. I'm in the mood for pizza."

  “Oooh, pizza,” Denise moaned. “I want to go. I can do a late lunch.”

  "I guess we can let you tag along," I said, trying to contain my enthusiasm.

  She looked at the clock. "I'm almost on break, but we’ll have to make it fast. My schedule isn't quite as flexible as yours. I’m working till 11 PM tonight.”

  “Long day,” I said.

  She nodded.

  We left the station and took Denise's banana yellow SUV to Big Tony's pizza joint. Big Tony was a reformed gangster who, among other things, ran a high-stakes poker game at the Seven Seas.

  How I got to be friends with Tony is another story, but he had put his life of crime behind him, for the most part. He was still connected and knew everybody in the business. Tony was a family man now and ran a nice Italian restaurant and a New York-style pizza joint.

  It was the kind of place that had red leather booths and black and white pictures of the old country on the walls. You could get every type of pie imaginable—thick crust, thin crust, deep dish. You could have your pizza custom-made, or you could grab a pizza by the slice.

  We decided to split a large custom between the three of us. We placed our order at the counter and waited to be served. I asked for Tony, but he wasn’t in.

  "It's so good to get out of the office," Denise said as we slid into a booth. "I feel like I spend every waking minute in that office. You guys have it easy."

  "I don't know about easy," JD said.

  Denise rolled her eyes. "Please, you two do whatever you want, whenever you want. You get to do all the fun stuff."

  "We get shot at more than you do," JD said.

  "There is that," Denise replied.

  We shot the breeze and talked about the cases until the pizza arrived. It was hot and cheesy, and the marinara was sweet and zesty. We all stopped talking and filled our mouths.

  My phone buzzed again with a call from Chloe. I grabbed a napkin and wiped my hands, then pulled the phone from my pocket. “What's going on? Did you share the video?"

  JD's eyes flicked to mine, waiting to hear the reaction.

  "I did, and we have a problem."

  "What kind of problem?" I asked hesitantly. I didn't need any more bad news.

  JD listened intently with a concerned face.

  "Have you not been paying attention?" Chloe asked.

  "No, it's been kind of busy around here."

  "You should get on social media."

  “Is the song not getting a good response?" I stammered.

  "Well… It depends on what your idea of a good response is. I mean, the video has been live for less than an hour now and it already has 40 million views."

  I lifted an impressed eyebrow. "40 million views,” I said so JD could hear. "That sounds like a good thing."

  JD smiled.

  "Yes and no," Chloe said.

  "Okay. Give me the bad news."

  "Well, it kind of set off a shit storm. I mean, you would not believe some of the comments. Every entertainment and music blog has picked it up and is condemning the video for its gratuitous depictions."

  "Whoops,” I
muttered.

  "Yeah, whoops. My publicist is in damage control mode. He wants me to pull any reference to the video."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I don't know."

  "Any press is good press, right?" I said hesitantly.

  "You know how it is these days. You get on the wrong side of the media, and your career is over."

  “Is it all bad?”

  Chloe paused. "I'm scrolling through some of the comments now. Honestly, the people that like it really like it. They say it’s a spot-on throwback to the ‘80s."

  “That’s encouraging.”

  "I'll call you back. My publicist is calling." Chloe hung up the phone.

  JD had already pulled out his phone and was searching the web. A sly grin curled on his face as he visited the different websites and streaming platforms. He turned his phone to show me the display. A proud grin curled his face. He had pulled up the top 100 daily chart on the largest streaming platform.

  All I Need by Wild Fury was #19 and climbing.

  "I told you we were gonna rattle some cages." Surprisingly, he seemed unfazed by the negative publicity.

  16

  “I’d say we officially broke the Internet,” JD boasted.

  “I think you certainly accomplished that,” I said.

  His phone rang, and he surveyed the display. “Well, would you look at that? It's that clown from the record label we met in Los Angeles."

  JD let the phone ring a few more times before answering. "Hello?"

  I could hear Jonathan’s voice crackle through the speaker on JD's phone as he held it to his ear. "Hey, Buddy! It’s Jonathan with Auralogic Records. I just want to say congratulations. You certainly did it. Absolutely amazing. I knew you guys were gonna break big. It was just a matter of time. I'm sure this is only the beginning."

  "We have plenty more songs to release," JD said.

  "Don't let any of this negative publicity phase you. You can't pay for that kind of exposure. I'm telling you, what you guys did is pure marketing genius."