Valerie pushed her chair back. “Come on, Lacy. Let’s grab a plate and see what’s for dinner.”
“Sure,” she said, glancing at Striker. “Come with us?”
“You go ahead,” Davie said. “We’ll stay and save the table.”
Gillen looked disappointed that her new family was already breaking up. The chairs scraped against the concrete floor as the two women strolled toward a buffet table adjacent to the bar.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Davie leaned toward Striker, keeping her voice low. “Is it even possible Lacy didn’t know Valerie worked at her own restaurant?”
“Under different circumstances, I’d say it was unlikely, but she seems naïve and way too trusting. She’s telling us a lot of personal information. We have to assume she told Valerie, too. I’m wondering if Valerie followed her here to find out what Gillen knows about her husband’s money-laundering scheme.”
“You think Lacy is in danger?”
“Possibly. We need more information about Valerie. Right now we don’t even know her last name.”
“Would the hotel clerk give us her passport number if we tell her who we are?”
Striker shook his head. “I doubt it. We might have more luck asking local law enforcement, but we’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s no guarantee we can even find a police station close by.”
“Let’s just ask your new best friend Lacy. Once we know Valerie’s full name, you call Detective Quintero and have him run her name through the system.”
Striker reached under the table and tapped her knee. Davie looked up and saw Lacy Gillen heading for the table, carrying a plate piled with food.
“What did I miss?” she said. “You two look like you’re cooking up trouble.”
Striker stood. “Just discussing the age-old question—beef or chicken.”
Gillen giggled as she settled into her chair. “I took a little of both. Why do buffets bring out the worst in people? I couldn’t fit another thing on my plate. No way I can eat all this. You two better go before they run out of food.”
Striker gestured toward the buffet table. “Davie?”
“I’m not that hungry. Could you just get me a salad?”
Striker nodded. “Sure thing.”
Gillen called after him. “Get the mango chutney. It’s brilliant on the fish.”
Davie glanced at the buffet line. Valerie was still loading food onto her plate, so she had Gillen to herself, at least for a minute or two. “What are you doing after dinner?”
She spread the chutney on her fish. “No plans tonight. Tomorrow Valerie and I are going on a boat cruise around the island. Hey, why don’t you two come with us? Check with the front desk. I’m sure the boat can hold two more people.”
“That sounds great. I’ll ask them to add us to the reservation. What’s Valerie last name?”
She clapped her hands with enthusiasm. “That would be so much fun. It’s Ferrick, but the reservation is under my name.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t mention it to Valerie until I can confirm. I don’t want her to be disappointed if it doesn’t work out.”
Gillen put her index finger in front of her lips like a shushing librarian. “Our secret.”
“Jon and I are going to take a walk on the beach after dinner. Would you come with us?”
“I’d love that. I’ll tell Valerie.”
Davie leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Maybe we should wait. If the boat tour doesn’t work out, you’ll be with Valerie the whole day tomorrow. Jon and I would love to spend some quality time alone with you. Would that be okay?”
She looked pensive as she considered the idea. “I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“We don’t want that, either. I suggest we walk you to your room after dinner, but instead of going inside, you just keep walking with us. Beautiful night. Moon. Warm breeze. Sand between your toes. It’ll give us a chance to talk in case the boat trip doesn’t work out.”
Gillen tilted her head and smiled. “Was this Jon’s idea?”
Break her heart now or later? If Davie told her what she wanted to hear, it might crush her spirit when she found out the truth later. Worse, it could make her less likely to cooperate.
“It was my idea, but I know it’s what he wants.”
She looked disappointed. “Okay. Just the three of us then.”
Davie gave her the thumbs-up sign. “Your food is getting cold, so I’ll stop talking. I’m going to see what’s holding up my bro.”
Davie joined Striker at the buffet table where he was juggling two plates, his and one filled with salad.
“Valerie Ferrick,” she whispered.
Striker gave her the plates. “Can you handle these? I have to make a phone call.”
Valerie was sitting next to Lacy when Davie returned to the table. She seemed sullen and annoyed that her alone time with Lacy had been interrupted.
“So, Valerie,” Davie said. “Where are you from?”
She didn’t respond. Gillen seemed uncomfortable with the silence so she answered the question herself. “Actually, it turns out Valerie lives not far from me—in Miami. Two Floridians. Just one more thing we have in common.”
“Have you heard of Lacy’s restaurant?”
“She wouldn’t have heard of it, Davie. It’s been out of business for a while now.” Gillen looked up from her rice and peas. “Where’s Jon?”
“Looking for the … uh, facilities, I think.”
That excuse seemed to satisfy Gillen but not Valerie, who kept a watchful eye on the hall leading to the restrooms.
The restaurant was full of people now. Striker returned a few minutes later and the conversation turned to neutral subjects—the best time to snag a beach chair, the nearest shopping opportunities, and the breakfast room hours. Valerie was pleasant but didn’t contribute much to the conversation. After the waiter had cleared the dinner plates, Gillen and Valerie went to the dessert table. Davie stayed behind with Striker.
“I talked to Quintero and texted him the photo. He did a quick search and guess what? Valerie has several arrests for check kiting and embezzlement. No convictions. He’ll keep looking to see what else he can uncover. We need to talk to Lacy in private before she gets on that boat. We’ll tell her who we are and see where the conversation goes.”
“It’s already arranged,” Davie said. “Lacy is going to ditch Valerie after dinner. It’s a secret so wait for my cue and be prepared for Valerie to push back.”
“Let her try.”
46
After they’d finished eating, Valerie stood. “Lacy, let’s go to the bar in the lobby and have an after-dinner drink.”
Gillen cast a nervous glance at Davie. “I’m sort of tired.”
Davie stood and nudged Striker up from his chair. “Me, too. Jon and I will walk you to your room.”
Valerie was fuming but didn’t seem inclined to start a tug-of-war. “Fine. I’ll see you in the morning. The taxi driver is picking us up in the lobby at eight sharp.” Then she stomped out of the dining room.
Gillen looked concerned. “She seemed upset.”
“Tired from traveling?” Davie said. “I’m sure she’ll get over it.”
The three of them left the restaurant and stepped onto the beach. Gillen linked her right arm through Davie’s and her left through Striker’s as if they were middle-school pals at the mall. They chatted amicably for a few minutes while Davie’s apprehension grew about Gillen’s reaction to the truth.
“I’m so glad we met,” she said. “I thought coming here would make me sad again, but meeting you and Jon and Valerie changed everything.”
Davie was about to break her heart and shatter her sense of safety. She waited for Striker to take the lead, but he didn’t. After ten minutes of walking, Gillen stopped and stared at the water, g
rasping the apple charm in her hand.
“I love your necklace,” Davie said. “It must have a history.”
“Nate gave it to me when we got engaged. He always told me I was the apple of his eye. Corny, I know, but also sweet. When I came back to the islands this time and looked out at the water, I thought about him. So many unanswered questions.”
Davie fingered her own touchstones, her grandmother’s earrings. “I’m sorry you’re still grieving.“
She sighed. “I know people get bored when I go on and on about Nate’s death.”
“Losing someone we love,” Striker said, “leaves an emptiness that’s hard to fill.
Gillen turned and put her hands on his chest. “You’re such a lovely man, Jon. But the truth is when I stopped working at the restaurant my relationship with Nate deteriorated.”
Striker seemed unsure of what to do. “Running a business is a lot of pressure.”
Gillen dropped her hands to her sides. “Nate seemed stressed all the time. Whenever I asked him what was going on, he’d shut me down. He became so secretive and distant I began to think he was having an affair. It broke my heart because despite all our ups and downs I thought he and I were forever.”
Davie remembered Detective Brooks telling her about Nate Gillen’s philandering. “What made you think it was an affair?”
She walked toward the water until the waves lapped at her feet. “He was surrounded by attractive young women—customers, waitresses, and his new hostess. He was constantly telling me how beautiful Sabine was. She even had a beautiful name. Later I realized there was no affair. He just wasn’t attracted to me anymore. It’s my fault. I’d gained some weight and—”
Davie interrupted, feeling a mixture of anger and sadness that Gillen would carry the blame for a failed relationship over a few extra pounds. “You’re a beautiful, vivacious woman, Lacy. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
She glanced at Striker with a sad little smile, as if wishing those words had come from him. “Thank you.”
“How did you learn about your husband’s death?” Striker asked.
Lacy stared toward the water, as if she were in a trance. “The night before he died, Nate came home kind of late. He seemed upset, almost afraid. I asked him what was wrong. He told me he caught Sabine snooping through his office and had to fire her. He wouldn’t give details. Next thing I knew, he said he had to call his business consultant and disappeared down the hallway. I finally went to sleep and when I woke up the next morning, his side of the bed hadn’t been slept in. I was frantic. I called the restaurant and all our friends. Nobody had seen him, so I called the police. Later that day, the sheriff knocked on my door and told me they’d found Nate’s body the night before. He’d been killed on the side of the road in a hit-and-run accident.”
“That must have been devastating,” Striker said.
“Everything was a blur. A few days after Nate died, the police were at my door again, telling me Sabine Ponti had disappeared at sea and was presumed dead.”
Davie and Striker exchanged a look. Her frown was meant to say, Are you going to tell her or shall I?
“Lacy,” Striker said, “I have a confession to make.”
She turned toward him and smiled. “I might have one, too, but you go first.”
“I didn’t tell you the truth. Davie isn’t my sister. She’s my partner.”
Gillen’s facial muscles went slack. “Oh, I didn’t know. You’re in a relationship?”
Striker reached into his pocket and pulled out his department ID. “Yes, but not the kind you’re thinking of. We’re homicide detectives with the Los Angeles Police Department.”
Gillen stared at Striker’s ID. She crossed her hands over her chest and struggled to catch her breath. “I don’t understand.”
“We’re investigating the murder of Sabine Ponti. We think it may have something to do with your husband’s death.”
“But Sabine died in a boating accident in Florida.”
Davie caught her gaze. “She died of a gunshot wound in Los Angeles a year ago.”
Gillen took a sharp step back. “I want to go back to my room now.”
Striker moved closer. “I’m sorry. You have a right to be upset, but we need to ask you a few more questions about Ms. Ponti and your husband.”
She stared at the ground, not responding. Davie stood watching but made no effort to comfort her, not knowing how she’d react. She was concerned they’d blown any chance of getting information from her.
Striker spoke in a soft soothing voice. “We suspect Valerie Ferrick isn’t who she claims to be. We believe she worked at your husband’s restaurant, possibly as the bookkeeper. She may have followed you here.”
“Valerie? That can’t be true. Why would she do that?”
“We think somebody was laundering money through the Seaglass. Valerie worked as the bookkeeper, so she had to know about it. She might also know the source of the dirty money. We’re not sure what she wants from you, but we’re worried you could be in danger.”
Lacy Gillen wrapped her arms around herself in a supportive hug. “Nate told me he kept a hundred thousand dollars hidden under a heater vent in the office in case of emergency. I thought it was odd he didn’t put it in the bank, but I never questioned his judgment. The day after Sabine disappeared, I went to the restaurant to pick up the money. It was gone. Maybe that’s what Valerie is looking for. She thinks I took it.”
“Did you report the theft?”
“No. It sounds crazy but I always wondered if Sabine stole it. I guess I should have told somebody, but it seemed wrong to accuse a dead woman when I had no proof. What was I going to tell the police? Maybe Nate changed his mind and deposited the money in the bank and forgot to tell me.”
It was hard to believe Lacy Gillen was so clueless, but if she was lying it was an Oscar-worthy performance.
“What happened to the restaurant after Nate died?” Davie asked.
“I hired a commercial real estate broker to sell the place. He told me the restaurant was barely breaking even and no buyer would be interested. I didn’t understand. I thought the Seaglass was a success, but there was hardly enough money in the bank to pay our vendors.”
“What about the land?”
“We didn’t own it. I felt bad about the employees, but I had no choice but to walk away.”
Striker put a hand on Gillen’s shoulder. “We think you should leave the island tonight. We’ll go with you to your room and help you pack. Then we’ll take you to the airport and make sure you get on a flight.”
“When you get home, stay inside,” Davie said. “Don’t answer the door unless it’s family or close friends. We’ll call you when we know more.”
Gillen seemed disoriented. “I’m paid through the week.”
“I’ll tell the hotel you had an emergency,” Striker said. “They might give you a refund.”
“The airline will charge me for changing my flight.”
“Lacy,” Davie said. “Now isn’t the time to think about that. We’re concerned for your safety. I know it’s a lot to absorb, but we’ll feel better once you’re safe at home.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll go.”
Davie walked with her to her room and stood by as she packed. Striker booked her on a flight to Fort Lauderdale connecting through San Juan, Puerto Rico. When the taxi arrived to pick them up, they rode in silence to the airport on Beef Island. She and Striker waited in the lobby until they saw Lacy Gillen’s plane taxi down the runway. Then they caught a cab back to the hotel.
47
Davie and Striker were booked on a return flight out of the airport on St. Thomas, but there were no ferries leaving Tortola until the next day so they had no choice but to spend the night at the hotel. The sun had long disappeared over the horizon. The bar was closing, so Striker snagged a coupl
e of beach towels and a half-full bottle of champagne from the lobby bar and they headed to the beach.
They were alone on the sand, just she and Striker, watching the twinkling masthead lights of the sailboats anchored offshore. Davie kicked off her flip-flops and moved her shoulders back and forth in the sand until she’d molded herself a cradle to fit her back.
She heard laughter from the cockpit of a catamaran anchored nearby. “Those people sound like they’re having a real party out there.”
“Do you sail?”
The water lapped at the shore as a breeze lifted the corner of her cotton sundress, exposing one leg. “None of my friends have boats, so I’ve never been out. You?”
“I grew up in Annapolis. My mom was what you might call a real mariner. She taught me to sail when I was a kid.”
Davie propped up her head with her hand, noting that her shoulder was better but still sore. “What about your dad?”
He picked up a shell from the sand and skipped it into the water. “He was a busy man. She gave him an honorable discharge from the Striker Navy early on.”
Davie understood family dysfunction but didn’t want to read too much into Striker’s comments. Maybe his childhood had been normal and happy. If it wasn’t, he’d tell her eventually—or not.
“It’s interesting that Lacy Gillen came back alone to the place where she and her husband fell in love and spent their honeymoon. I can’t imagine how that would feel.”
“Which part can’t you imagine? Losing a spouse or falling in love?”
Just beyond the shoreline Davie heard splashing in the shallow water, perhaps a school of fish. Speculating about that was a good excuse not to answer right away. “Mostly I can’t imagine a man watching me dance on the sand at Foxy’s and think I was anything but a hot mess.”
He started to respond but held back. “Foxy’s is a fun place. You should go sometime.”
The Second Goodbye Page 21