by Tripp Ellis
I arched a curious eyebrow. "So, Olivia was having an affair?"
"Call it whatever you want," Ivy said.
"And who is the boy-toy?" JD asked.
"Grayson Henry. He's a maintenance guy at the club, of all things. Don't get me wrong, he's hot as hell. I'd screw him. But he doesn't have two nickels to rub together."
"So, it's like that?" JD asked.
She scowled at him. "No. But if you're going to get involved with someone, it doesn't hurt if they have money."
JD and I exchanged a glance.
"Well, thanks for your time,” I said. “It's been enlightening."
JD and I strolled away from the gorgeous beauty and left her to soak up the sun.
"The girl is cute, but she's too shallow, even for me. And that's saying a lot," JD muttered.
Our next stop was the Coconut Key Country Club. The exclusive resort boasted a stunning golf course, five-star dining, an Olympic-sized pool, and a day spa that offered massages, facials, cryotherapy, acupuncture, and a host of other luxury wellness treatments. The high membership fee and monthly dues kept the riffraff out—but the gold badge always provided access.
We strolled into the main lobby of the clubhouse and asked for Vivian Sawyer.
The concierge greeted us with a smile. He wore formal attire. With a few keystrokes, he pulled up membership information on the screen. "Mrs. Sawyer is on court number three this afternoon."
He pointed us in the right direction, and we strolled through the clubhouse, past the golf pro shop, and stepped outside. We followed a walkway past the putting greens toward the outdoor tennis courts. Electric golf carts sipped around. Members dined in an outdoor café. A water fountain in a man-made lake sprayed a stream high into the air. It trickled back down, dancing on the surface, providing a relaxing steady tone.
The clunk of rackets against yellow tennis balls echoed through the air as we drew closer. Thunk. Pop. Thunk. Pop. Sneakers shuffled across clay courts.
When we arrived at court number three, Vivian grunted as she served a tennis ball that barely cleared the net. It whizzed through the air and landed in the far corner of the court.
Her opponent sprinted to return it, then batted the ball back.
The volley went back and forth for a few moments until Vivian hammered the yellow ball to the opposite corner, too far for her opponent to respond.
Vivian wiped her brow, and her chest heaved for breath. She spun her racket and prepared for her next serve. She may have been in her early 40s, but she had a better body than most 24-year-olds. She wore a short black skirt and tight top. She had straight black hair pulled back in a bun, and the Botox in her face was well-placed. Her forehead was smooth, yet she was still able to arch her eyebrows. A little lip filler, probably a nose job at some point, and routine facials made her look closer to 32 then 42.
She tossed the ball into the air, ready to bat it across the court. JD decided that was the opportune time to shout, "Mrs. Sawyer?"
She stopped mid swaying and craned her neck toward JD and scowled.
Jack flashed his badge and said his favorite line. "Deputy Donovan, Coconut County Sheriff's Department. We’d like a few words with you."
Her face crinkled, as much as it could, and she motioned to her opponent to take a break. She strolled across the court toward us, looking curious and perturbed. "What can I do for you?"
"Nice backhand," JD said.
"Thank you, but something tells me you're not here to discuss my form."
"Tell me about your relationship with Olivia Carson?"
"Relationship?” She scoffed. “If I had to classify us, I would say we were frenemies. Why do you ask?"
"You're aware that she's been murdered, right?" I asked.
"Yes, but what does that have to do with me?"
"You just stated you were frenemies.”
Vivian rolled her eyes. "Is this about my comment?"
"What comment is that?" I asked.
"The offhanded remark that I made during the last tournament. Is that why you are here?”
“What did you say?"
"Surely you have a better lead than me?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Just being thorough," I said.
She huffed, then relented. “I said the only way I was going to beat Olivia Carson is if she was dead. Then I made a crack about buying a gun or hiring a hitman. It got a lot of laughs, and it was said in jest. Can’t people make jokes anymore, or have jokes been banned too?"
"Would you care to tell us where you were at the time of the murder?" JD asked.
She thought about it for a moment. "I was here, at the club."
"Doing what?" JD asked.
"Working on my backhand," Vivian sneered at him.
"Who were you playing with?" I asked.
She arched a lascivious eyebrow at me. "Myself."
She let it hang there for a moment.
"The machine was lobbing balls at me," she continued.
I could tell exactly what JD was thinking.
"You can check the register, if you like. All club members are required to check in when they arrive on the premises."
"Do you own any guns?" I asked.
"I don't. But my husband does."
"What kind?" I asked.
She shrugged. "A few hunting rifles. A couple of pistols."
"What caliber?"
She looked at me, flatly. "How would I know?"
"You don't shoot?"
"It's not really my thing."
"Well, I guess we’ve taken up enough of your time," I said.
"Happy to help," she said with a forced smile.
"I've always wanted to learn how to play tennis," JD said. "Maybe you could teach me?"
Her eyes said not on your life, but Vivian was a good sport and smiled. "I'm always eager to get new people into the game. The more the merrier." Her eyes flicked to mine. "What about you, Deputy Wild? Do you play?"
"I can swing a racket."
"Well then… Perhaps you and Deputy Donovan could be my guest at the club one day for a game of… doubles."
"You mean two against one?" JD asked.
"It's the only way you two would stand a chance." A cocky grin curled on her face.
"Sign me up," Jack said.
I thanked her again, and we turned back to the clubhouse. I called over my shoulder, "By the way, do you know where we could find Grayson Henry?"
Her face went long, and she had a nervous twitch. Then she played it off, casually. "I don't know. Why do you ask?"
"No reason. There are just a few things we’d like to talk to him about."
"Oh, really. Like what?"
"Sorry, ma'am. Official police business."
She forced another awkward smile. "I don't know what time he gets off, but he's usually around pretty late."
"Good to know,” I said. “Thanks again."
We strolled away, heading back to the clubhouse.
Vivian watched us, curiously.
17
We found Grayson hunched over the engine of a riding lawnmower. His shirtless chest glistened with sweat and was smudged with oil. It was easy to see why the ladies around the club fought over him. He had sandy blond hair, blue eyes, chiseled features, and damn near an 8-pack of abs. His bicep flexed as he turned a wrench.
"Grayson Henry?" I asked.
He pulled his head away from the engine, wiped the sweat from his brow, and surveyed us. His eyes narrowed. "What can I do for you?"
JD flashed his badge. "We’d like to talk to you about Olivia Carson."
He frowned. "It's really a shame what happened. I liked Olivia. She was always good to me."
"From what I hear, she was very good to you," JD said.
A hint of recognition flickered in his eyes. "I don't think it was a big secret that we hooked up a few times."
"Seems like you hooked up with quite a few married ladies around the club," JD said.
Grayson shrugged. A cocky grin curled on
his lips. "What can I say, they like the services I provide. Who am I to say no?"
"The fact that they are married doesn't bother you in the least?" I asked.
"They're going to do what they want to do, whether it's with me or someone else. Why should it be someone else? There are a lot of hot little cougars running around here."
"Don't you worry that a jealous husband might come looking for you?"
He scoffed. "Around here? Most of these men can't punch their way out of a paper bag."
"I've got a 9mm that punches through paper bags pretty good," JD said.
A sly grin curled on Grayson's face. "I'll be sure not to mess with your wife."
"No trouble there. Don't have one."
"Give it time," I muttered. “I’m sure number 7 is just around the corner.”
Jack frowned at me.
"Out of curiosity, where were you when Olivia was murdered?" I asked.
Grayson’s face twisted. "Why would I kill her? I mean, that's what you're asking, isn't it?"
"You catch on quick," JD said.
"I was here," Grayson said.
"Can anyone verify that?" I asked.
"Check the work logs." He paused for a moment. "You could talk to Vivian Sawyer, but I doubt she'd say anything."
"We already talked to her."
"And where did she say she was?" Grayson asked.
"On the tennis courts."
He chuckled. "She was... for a little while. Then I took her into one of the cabanas by the pool and, well… you get the picture."
"She failed to mention that," I said.
"Understandable." He paused. "Look, Vivian didn’t kill Olivia. No way. She was with me. Have you talked to Ivy Quinn? What about Olivia's husband? From what I read in the paper, Olivia was shot at point-blank range, and there were hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of jewelry still in the store. Nothing was stolen? Please...” he scoffed. “I saw on the news where you popped a rapper who was knocking off jewelry stores. You guys say he didn't kill Olivia. Sounds like you’re running out of options, aren't you?"
"Which is why we're talking to you," JD said.
"Grasping at straws,” he said, dismissively. “Look for the person who has the most to gain. How would I benefit by killing Olivia?"
I shrugged. "There are only a few reasons people kill each other. Sometimes it's out of passion. Sometimes it's out of greed.”
"Like I said, I liked Olivia. But I like a lot of women. And I didn't stand to gain anything by her death.”
"Did Olivia ever talk to you about Ivy, or her husband?" I asked.
"We didn't do a lot of talking, if you know what I mean." He thought about it for a moment. "I remember talking to her one time and asking her why she didn't just leave Chuck if she was so unhappy? She told me she couldn't. She said it was complicated. I assumed it had something to do with their business. You know, divorces can get messy. But I see a lot of them around here."
"Seems like you might be the cause of a few of them," I said.
He shook his head. "I'm just a symptom of a deeper problem. Something was wrong in their marriage long before they hooked up with me. Women in happy marriages don't just fuck the maintenance man. Half the people around here are so over-leveraged it's not even funny. They’ve got the big house, the nice cars, the private school for the kids, designer clothes, the club membership and dues... They may look rich, but they're stressing about money. They’ve got to work more so they can spend more. They have less time with each other. Couples grow apart. Maybe the wife isn't getting as much attention? Her needs aren't getting met."
"And in steps a guy like you," JD said.
Grayson smiled. "A lot of nice things can happen when you make a woman feel pretty and desirable."
"Do you know if Olivia had money troubles?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Like I said, our conversations weren't too deep. But she was stressing about something." He smiled. "And I was happy to relieve her stress."
We asked him a few more questions, then left the boy-toy in the maintenance garage and strolled back toward the clubhouse.
"Maybe I should become a pool boy around here," JD said with a sly grin. "The pay probably sucks, but the fringe benefits are good."
I rolled my eyes. "You're not exactly 25."
JD scowled at me. "Are you kidding me? That guy is a two pump chump. He may look pretty, but he lacks experience. I have an eagerness and a willingness to please that is unrivaled." His eyes sparkled.
Fernando Gallo sat at a table in the outdoor café that overlooked the putting green and the man-made lake. Jack grumbled when he saw him. "There's that bastard funding Ed Carrero's campaign."
"Play nice," I said.
"Oh, I'll be nice. I'm just gonna tell him he's putting his money into the wrong candidate."
We strolled past the table, and JD kept his mouth shut. But a sneer twisted on his face, and he gave the mega-donor the side eye. I was nervous JD would do something inappropriate, but he managed to control himself.
"Deputy Wild," Fernando said as we passed.
I stopped and addressed the man, though I had never met him in person before.
He was in his early 40s, had dark hair, tan skin, brown eyes, and handsome features. He wore a white linen suit with a blue shirt and matching pocket square. The suit was impeccably tailored. The gold Rolex on his wrist glimmered. His hair was salon styled, and he was groomed to perfection. He spoke with a mild Latin accent that was mostly imperceptible.
"I recognized you from the TV," Fernando said. "I just wanted to thank you for what you've done. Bringing the Sandcastle Killer to justice. That was no small feat."
"Thank you, sir," I said. "I couldn't have done it without my partner JD, and Sheriff Daniels, of course." I just had to throw Daniels’s name in there.
"Have you eaten?” Fernando asked. "Please, join me. I'd be honored."
I exchanged a glance with JD. "Sure, we'd love to."
I could tell JD wasn't keen on the idea. He still had an angry scowl on his face directed toward Fernando, but I figured it might be an opportunity to get to know him a little better and maybe make a case for Wayne.
We took a seat at the table, and Jack formally introduced himself. A waitress quickly brought us silverware, glasses of ice water, and extra menus. I noticed there was another place setting at the table. Apparently, Fernando had another lunch guest that hadn't yet arrived.
I looked over the menu. There was everything from cheeseburgers to filet mignon. Fresh seafood, Italian cuisine, Asian dishes. It truly was a mixed grill. In my experience, country club food could be hit or miss. I wasn't sure what to anticipate.
"What's good here?" I asked.
"Everything," Fernando said. "They brought in a new chef last year. Since then, the quality of the food has dramatically increased."
Jack surveyed the menu and went to the most expensive item. "I don't know about you, but I think I'll have the Kobe beef filet."
"An excellent choice," Fernando said.
"Are you expecting another guest?" I asked.
"Yes. My girlfriend." He looked around the café. "She went to powder her nose, and she's been gone for 20 minutes. I'm not sure what they do in there, and perhaps I don't want to know." He spotted her across the café. "Ah, there she is!"
Fernando flashed a brilliant smile.
My eyes followed his to see a gorgeous brunette strutting toward us. I did a double take, and my jaw dropped. It was my shoplifter!
"Gentlemen, this is my Karina," Fernando said as she arrived at the table. "Karina, this is Deputies Wild and Donovan.”
"Call me Tyson," I said as I stood up and shook her hand, gazing at her in disbelief. I stammered, "It's a pleasure to meet you."
JD had an amused smirk on his face. "Jack Donovan."
"I'm sorry, do you two know each other?" Fernando asked.
"No," Karina said. "He just looks so familiar," she said as she took a seat.
I returned t
o my chair.
"Deputy Wild is the man who brought the Sandcastle Killer to justice. We all owe him a debt of gratitude."
"Please, I was just doing my job."
"And doing it well," Fernando said. "Coconut Key needs men like the two of you. This place would be overrun with drug dealers and thieves if not for the dedicated officers of the County Sheriff's Department."
"I have to give all the credit to Wayne Daniels," I said. "He sets the standard."
"Tell me," Karina said. "What was it like to kill a killer?"
I shrugged.
"Was it satisfying? Did you enjoy it?" Karina asked with a sparkle in her eyes.
"I enjoyed making sure he would never hurt anyone again."
The waitress passed by the table and took our order.
"It's so thrilling to have a real hero at our table," Karina said. "Isn't it?"
Fernando smiled. "Indeed."
"You must be one of Coconut Key's most eligible bachelors," Karina said. "I should set you up with one of my girlfriends."
"Something tells me Deputy Wild doesn't have any trouble in that department," Fernando said.
"No, I'm sure he doesn't," Karina said with a devious glint in her eyes.
The waitress returned with a round of drinks, and Fernando toasted. "To new friends!"
We all clinked glasses and sipped our drinks.
"What is it that you do, exactly, Mr. Gallo?" I asked.
"Please, call me Fernando." He took a breath and thought about how to explain his business. "I look for companies that could be profitable, but lack sufficient cash flow to expand. That's where many small businesses get in trouble. They experience rapid growth, but the receivables don't come in fast enough to cover the expansion. And a lot of small business owners just don't know how to manage the growth. That's where I come in. I supply operating capital for a modest return on investment. I have companies operating all over the globe."
"That's impressive," I said.
"Fernando is always traveling," Karina added.
I had learned firsthand what she did during her free time.
"I'm trying to cut back on the travel. It gets exhausting after a while."
Fernando's eyes surveyed me. Karina seemed to enjoy the game. She thrived on chaos and danger. I couldn't tell if Fernando knew what had transpired between us. It was an awkward position to be in.