Wiped Out

by Tamara Woods

  She'd grown to be a master. Her mama would've been proud.

  She took a few deep breaths and tried to concentrate on the problems at hand instead of her anger.

  What could possibly make someone want them out of the way?

  From what she'd learned from cop shows and detective novels, the crime was usually committed for love, jealous, or money. It didn't make sense to kill them for money, since there was no guarantee that either of the women would've definitely won the competition. There were just too many variables there. And if they'd gotten endorsements and such, it was the same thing. If someone else was up for the jobs, it couldn't be certain that these casting companies would definitely go with any one person. And as far as she could tell, Gamilla didn't really owe anybody any money.

  Or did she?

  She glanced up at Ayden who was escorting one of the guests to his make shift interview room. "Detective, when can we leave?"

  "No one can leave until we've secured the area and interviewed everybody" he said. "Get cozy. It's going to be a while."

  Keith turned to her after the detective had walked away. With a sly look on his face, he said, "One thing, we didn't get a chance to talk about."

  She looked up at him with a quizzical lift to her brow.

  "That couple, the wife I mean, did she—?"

  "Let's just never speak of this again."

  He nodded. "Fair enough."

  They fell silent. Fraya pulled out her phone and crawled through social media to keep occupied. Time dragged by and finally she was able to talk with Ayden. Rod had given him access to a library on the first floor. It was full of gorgeous books that were probably bought more for looks than their content. She sat on the edge of one of the buttery leather couches. Ayden stood while questioning her.

  "This is a pretty exclusive party, Fraya. How did you end up here?" The detective had a pen and a pad at the ready for notes.

  She gave him a brief rundown of Keith's invitation. When he asked her more about her movements at the party, she tried to recall it as crystal clear as possible. She was glad she was able to talk to him so soon after. It brought things into focus.

  "Would you say you knew the deceased?"

  "Liz? Not at all. I met her here tonight. And I saw her Facespace page."

  "Would you say you were a fan of hers?"

  "No, I didn't know anything about the surfing world until I found Gamilla...like that," she finished lamely.

  "Wouldn't you say it was an extraordinary coincidence that you were around for both of these murders?"

  "Coincidence. More like a curse," she murmured.

  "I don't believe in coincidences. I think there's much more here than meet the eye, Miss Taylor."

  "Ayden.” She gave him a flat look. “I've been incredibly upfront and honest with you. You know that I have no stake in any of this, other than wanting justice. Can I give you some impressions of things that I noticed?"

  "No, I'd rather use the actual facts and the law to guide my investigation, instead of women's intuition."

  She rolled her eyes. "Could you please be more of a cliché?"

  "How about I tell you if I find that you're holding back this investigation, I'll make sure you serve time."

  "I can't be trying to solve it with my 'women's intuition' and trying to stop the investigation at the same time, Ayden. You have to pick one. Are we done here?"

  He told his deputy to take her out and bring in Cam. As she was escorted into the hallway, Cam walked into the house with his head down. She waited until the coast was clear before slinking back into the hallway. She pretended to look at the paintings on the wall while she listened in at the door.

  "I don't know what I can tell you."

  "Let me be the judge of that. When did you last see Liz?"

  "I saw her by the pizza oven. We were talking to that one black chick and that one dude that's a friend of Rod's. I totally ran out of there. Liz was so disrespectful, brah."

  "And now she's gone. Did you think she was too disrespectful to be alive?"

  "Dude, what? No! I just walked away from her when she got like that. She liked to tick people off. It was her thing."

  "What else was her thing? Did she have a boyfriend?"

  There was a significant pause.

  "She had a something. I don't know if I'd call it a boyfriend."

  "Who was it?"

  "Dude, I don't know if I should say anything."

  "If it's potentially important to this investigation, then you should definitely tell me."

  A long pause and Fraya held her breath.

  "She and Gam had a...sugar daddy. They called themselves sugar babies."

  Fraya's eyes widened. Sugar babies?

  “Who called himself their sugar daddy?”

  “Rod, dude. He’s the one holding the bag.”

  "Miss Taylor, could you please return to the garden?" A police officer Fraya didn't know came up behind her.

  With a slight shrug, she motioned to a painting. "That's fine, I was just checking out Rod's artwork."

  "You've been checking it out for some time now."

  She gave in good-naturedly. She'd been caught. At least she wasn't being yelled at. When she emerged from the hallway, she spotted Rod standing by himself. A quick glance over her shoulder showed the detectives were busy.

  Fraya came closer to Rod, Cam’s confession heavy at the front of her mind. "How are you holding up?" she asked.

  Shrugging, he lit a thin cigar. "It's been a horrible week. I don't know how this is going to affect my bottom line."

  "What do you mean?"

  He shook his head. "Nothing, no need to talk about business." He looked down at his phone. Business was international these days, but it seemed like overkill to check things out so early in the morning.

  The more he ignored her, the more she felt the need to push. Without an opening, it would be too obvious. That was when she remembered the maze, Keith’s suggestion.

  “Hey, Rod, I wanted to ask you. What are those flowers in the maze?"

  He looked up sharply at her, his eyes narrowed. "What flowers?"

  "The ones at the top of the shrubs. They were gorgeous. What do they smell like?"

  "They're Angel Trumpets," he said. "I think they're native to Hawaii. I haven't smelled them before. I don't know what they smell like."

  He gave her another look that she couldn't quite interpret. Before she could ask another question, the married swingers sauntered their way. Not again.

  She quickly excused herself and headed for Keith. He leaned against a column with his arms crossed and his head tilted back. She took a moment to really look at him. His hair was dark and mussed, like he'd been dragging his fingers through it. Around his mouth was relaxed, but lines she didn't normally notice were pronounced in his forehead. His chin was strong and angular. She watched his Adam's apple move as he swallowed.

  "Take a picture. It'll last longer," he said, doing a PeeWee Herman impression. She hadn't heard that voice in so long, she sputtered in surprised laughter. His eyes opened slowly, and his mouth quirked in amused.

  "Sorry,” she said, still laughing a bit. “I didn't want to bother you."

  "It's all good." He pushed off of the column. "Did they already talk to you?" At her her nod, he let out a sigh. "Let's get the hell out of here then. I'm exhausted."

  After it was all said and done, Keith drove them home in silence, both of them lost in their thoughts. She didn't have anything she wanted to say to him. In fact, she couldn't wait to get out of the car. She thought about begging off the next day's surfing competition. She would be so exhausted and the event would start fairly early. She wondered if they would postpone it because of the deaths. Could they afford to? Considering what Rod had said about his company, the answer was probably no.

  So many questions and not enough answers. She had to go.

  CHAPTER NINE

  At the Aloha Waves Conference, the beach was packed with spectators. T
he trade winds blew in earnest and the sky was clear, a perfect day for surfing. The announcer said the waves were bitchin', which was apparently a good thing. The crowd teemed with beautiful people in beachwear ranging from skimpy to skimpier. Fraya felt borderline frumpy since her bathing suit wrap was pretty long and most of her cleavage was covered. She had her pulled up in a bun, and covered it with her big, floppy brimmed hat.

  After last night's escapades, Fraya was dragging but trying to keep upbeat. The two cups of coffee currently coursing through her veins helped on that end. She and Keith worked their way toward the huge corporate tent at the front. The crowd worse than a high school football game on a Friday night.

  Some people had been smart enough to come early and claim a spot to "camp" for the day, creating their own sun relief with lean-tos, and sun shades. Somebody must have been grilling some huli huli chicken further down the beach. The comforting smell cut through the salty tang of sweat and the overpowering odor of sunscreen. A few pop-up stands sold food stuffs, and a lot of people had their own coolers.

  "Hey, you two, over here."

  Rod waved from his lounge chair. Half of his face was covered with aviator glasses and he toasted them with a bottle of water. He was again surrounded by women who may have been attracted to his mind or his money, probably more of the latter than the former. Fraya pulled her chair bag off of her shoulder and put it out. Keith settled in beside her.

  "What's happened so far?" Fraya asked.

  "Not a lot.” Rod reassured her. “They're just warming up."

  The Aloha Waves Conference had local celebrity Alfie Daze hamming it up on the microphone, eliciting laughter from the audience. He then called for a brief moment of silence for Liza and Gamilla. The entire crowd sobered up. Fraya glanced over at Rod and he was on his phone typing out a text during the moment of silence. He noticed her looking at him and put his phone away.

  "Did you know Gamilla well?"

  "He knew her very well," said the redhead sitting nearest to them. Her catty smirk only affirmed what Cam had said.

  Rod shot her a look over his glasses and she subsided and leaned back on her lounge chair. Did he ever introduce "his women?" He just acted like they were more like props rather than companions. Odd.

  "Did you two date?" Fraya asked, pushing her sunglasses up her nose. The sun was blinding as it reflected off the water. And she didn't want him to see her eyes. She felt a little uneasy around him, but didn't want to show it.

  He shrugged. "I wouldn't say we dated. That words a bit too strong. More like, we enjoyed each other's company."

  Fraya nodded and scanned the crowd. She spotted Cam in the distance, looking toward them. She had the impression he did not like seeing them there. She recognized a few of the other people, but didn't know them by name.

  Today was the long board competition. There were several different heats. Some people were competing in more than others in order to be eligible for best all around.

  Fraya found herself only occasionally checking out the surfers. She was more interested in the people around her. Rod only paid attention to his harem when he needed one of them to fetch something for him. Or massage his shoulders. Fraya was waiting for one of them to feed him grapes. It was obnoxious, but if that's what they were into, who was she to judge?

  Keith stayed on his phone more often than not, making the occasional note on a pad he'd brought with him. When he'd hear the name of someone he wanted to watch, he would put his pad down and pay attention.

  For her part, Fraya watched the contenders. She recognized Trent among them. After meeting him yesterday, he hadn't seemed like a bad guy after all. It wasn’t like strangers on the internet had a total view of what the surfer was like. She'd just have to go with her gut.

  "Hey, Rod, have you been paying attention to the mayor electoral race?" Keith asked, leaning over Fraya.

  "Of course, I have to keep my eye on how these cookies crumble."

  "Are you backing any of them?"

  As they started talking politics, Fraya tuned out, looking around and taking in the crowd. A family with a little one who laughed and played in the sand with a shovel and bucket. Some things were eternal, like the joy of playing in the dirt as a little kid. On the other side, a couple was held hands, smiled into each other’s eyes.

  She felt that pang again, the one where she wanted to have a relationship, but still felt so gun shy about it. Then she looked over at Keith, taking in his easy disposition. His ability to go from smoking ganja in a converted van to chatting about politics with one of the riches guys on the island was intriguing. Was awkward even in his vocabulary? She wasn't sure how to feel about him entirely, but she did know he was a good friend.

  Beyond that, who knew?

  Forcing her eyes back to the water, she found herself caught up in the drama of the surfing event. Keith handed her a pair of little opera glasses and she felt rather chic watching the surfers paddle against the waves, then standing proud, moving and grooving in the moment. Their faces shifted from sheer concentration and furrowed brows to jubilant exaltation. And sometimes the crushing defeat of having a bad run. It seemed like they were dancing with the surf, like they were performing some kind of cosmic ballet. Powerful moments to see.

  Fraya turned to the crowd and found Trent staring at them again. This time, with those chic little glasses, his features were clear. His teeth were clenched. His nostrils flared. The exposed anger and hatred on his face made her shiver inside. She put her glasses down for a bit and shuddered.

  Keith broke off his conversation. "Are you cold?" He reached for a beach blanket.

  "No, I'm good. Someone must've walked over my grave," she said and inwardly grimaced at her word choice. "Eh, you know what I mean."

  He nodded. "How are you doing with all of this?" His deep voice, sent shivers down her spine.

  "I'm all right...I think. It's been a lot, you know?"

  She looked out into the ocean. There was a lull between heats and people were grabbing snacks. Kids were ran around each other and played in the sand. Not many people were splashing around in the water.

  Keith drew her attention again when he said, "It's pretty hard to imagine a world-renown surfer being a cold-blooded killer. They're competitive, but still pretty...chill, for lack of a better word."

  Fraya knew what he meant. Back home football teams had backyard brawls that rivaled the Hatfields and the McCoys. Here, the surfers seemed more focused on competing against the ocean rather than each other. Of course, there was Liz and Gamilla, Fraya thought. But maybe they were the cases that proved the point.

  "Rod, did you, Liz, and Gamilla ever hangout together?" she asked.

  He carefully put his phone down. His eyes were hidden behind the glasses, but his mouth was a grim slash. "Why would you ask that?"

  "I don't know. Is it that unreasonable? You seem like the patron saint of surfing. They were surfers. It makes sense." She shrugged, stifling the urge to squirm in her chair. Even though she couldn't see his eyes, it felt like they were burning into her.

  "Didn't you have them over last month or something?" Keith asked, gazing out at the ocean with his opera glasses on.

  Rod's mouth tightened, "You're right. I must have forgotten. They came over to finalize some bits about the contest and to have dinner."

  "I'm sure it was lovely," Fraya said, holding her glasses up to her eyes. Her phone vibrated again, and she glanced down at the screen.

  Leilani: Have you seen it yet?

  Fraya: No, what's up?

  Leilani: They found out what the first girl died from.

  Fraya: Already? And they already sent a press release about it?

  Leilani: No, no, Ayden talked about it.

  Fraya: What was it?

  Leilani: A flower. I forget what it was.

  Fraya: Was it murder?

  Leilani: They're not saying yes or no. Maybe accident?

  Fraya: K, if you remember the flower, let me know.

&nb
sp; Leilani: KK. Ttyl.

  Fraya pushed her phone into her crossbag and sat back in her seat. A flower, huh? She swallowed the lump in her throat. An accident didn't sit well with her. But how could someone poison somebody with a flower? She pulled her the brim of her hat down a bit more. Her Mama used to say, her face was like a freshly cleaned window. Transparent. Internally, she was freaking out. What could she do now? The sun started feeling too hot, the sand too abrasive. Everything felt wrong. She wanted to be in the comfort of her own home.

  She thought back to Gamilla's last words. What did he not know? And who was "he"?

  Lost in her musings, she wasn't paying attention to what was happening around her until she heard the mumbles and grumbles of the crowd get louder and then rise to a roar as. Fraya was knocked over flat before she knew it when Trent and Rod tussled. Keith pulled her up and out of the way before he waded in to separate the two

  "Knock it off!” Keith yelled. A guy in a red visor and a pair of board shorts that were straining around the waistband came running up from the shore. From his panicked expression, Fraya assumed he was Trent's manager.

  "You dirty, filthy, lying scumbag! You know how she felt about you and you do this?" Trent was straining to get at Rod, even with his manager trying to restrain him.

  Rod calmly stood up, took a monogrammed handkerchief out of his swim trunks pocket and dabbed at the blood on his lips. "Your theatrics are growing tired, Trent. I suggest you learn how to control yourself," Rod said.

  Trent gritted his teeth and lunged forward again.

  "She would not want this for you. You're going to get disqualified for your behavior. Think about what you're doing," his manager said. "C'mon down to the water. Get into your zone. Focus."

  Trent crumpled under the weight of his manager's words. He wisely allowed the guy in his red visor to take him back to the front. Fraya scanned the front and noted Cam taking it all in. The girls had surrounded Rod, simpering and offering sympathy, somehow managing to swipe their well-filled bikini tops against his arm. Fraya felt Keith's hand on her back.