For the first time since Brendan had said they were taking on Melissa Fairbroad as a client, Sofia felt the righteous indignation that she thought the job ought to have given her. Melissa might have played a part in her husband’s death, Sofia wasn’t naive enough to think otherwise, but that still didn’t change the fact that she might be being railroaded. By the cops. Or possibly by the real killer.
Stark leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk. His phone rang. He picked it up, gave the briefest of answers to whatever question he’d just been asked, and turned his attention back to Sofia. “We all know the person who called in the tip is involved. Now we have to prove it. He’s our best hope to show that Melissa Fairbroad is innocent.”
“It could have been someone who went onto the boat to steal something or someone trying to return a piece of borrowed rope or someone who smelled something funny and went to investigate,” said Brendan. “It’s a good lead, but we don’t want to pin everything on it.”
He was right.
“But to know that, first we have to find them.” Brendan glanced over at Aidan. “Aidan’s been doing some digging.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Stark. “What did you turn up?”
Aidan reached into his briefcase, pulled out two files and laid them down on the desk. “I’d bet that the tipster is one of these two.”
Stark opened each file in turn and took his time leafing through the contents. “Trimble I knew about. Melissa mentioned that he and Nigel’d had some run-ins.”
“Bet she never mentioned Moonbow,” Sofia said, her comment earning an irritated glance from Brendan.
Stark looked up from the files. If he had been annoyed by how Sofia had spoken about his client, it never showed. Sofia imagined that maintaining a poker face came with the job.
“You’re correct,” he said quietly. “She omitted that particular relationship. It’s regrettable, but understandable. Often people want to keep certain private aspects of their life private. Even from their attorney.”
“Now she knows that someone dimed her out, she might be more forthcoming about Bobby Rogers,” said Brendan.
“I’m sure she will,” Stark said. “So out of these two, Brendan, who do you think?”
Brendan stuck his hands in his pockets. “We don’t want to forget that it might be a third individual, but if I had to pick from just these two, I’d say if she was involved, my money would be on Rogers. If she has nothing to do with it, then Trimble.”
Stark took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “She wasn’t involved. I know that might be hard to believe seeing as she’s not the most sympathetic person in the world. But that’s the truth.”
“You mean that’s what she told you,” Brendan said.
Stark nodded. “That’s what she told me.”
“But then she didn’t tell you about her affair either,” Sofia said.
Stark smiled. “That’s true. But I believe her when she told me that she wasn’t involved in what happened to Nigel.”
“Would you have told us if she’d admitted to you she did it?” asked Sofia.
“Of course not,” said Stark, the smile still flickering on his face. “Look, keep digging. See what else you can turn up on Moonbow and Trimble.”
“And if we can’t find anything beyond what we already know?” asked Sofia.
“Then I’ll do my best with it when it comes to trial. But in this case, I’m not sure my best will be enough,” said Stark.
27
Brendan drove them back to the office. The mood was downbeat. Melissa’s fingerprints on the gun made Stark’s job an uphill task. They could throw her conman lover and Tucker Trimble into the mix, but a jury would fixate on the gun. Sofia knew that she would. Melissa looked guilty.
Back in the office, Aidan had barely sat down at his desk when he leapt back up again, heading for the door.
“What is it?” Sofia asked, running after him.
“You know how Nigel’s boat is moored at Marina Del Rey?” Aidan said. “Well, guess what, that’s where Moonbow has been renting an apartment. Exact same complex.”
Sofia grabbed her jacket. “I’m coming with you.”
For once, Aidan didn’t argue.
Nigel had kept his boat, a thirty-four foot motor cruiser called Imperial Sunset, in the Dolphin Bay complex in Marina Del Rey. Marina Del Rey, or simply The Marina as it was known to locals, was a small upmarket community made up of large apartment complexes favored by singles and divorcees. It sat just south of Venice Beach and north of LAX airport.
Dolphin Bay was a large apartment complex built back in the early eighties that also offered boat docks. It was gated and had security guards to make sure only residents, boat owners, and their guests could drive in. It was a pretty fancy address for a professional chakra-opener.
Sofia pulled her red Tesla into one of the visitor’s parking spots near the apartment’s leasing office. She and Aidan got out. They had an apartment number for Moonbow, but Sofia had already called the Organic Spa to book a fake appointment and worked out that he wouldn’t be home for at least an hour. In the meantime, she and Aidan would try to take a look at Nigel’s boat and see if any other boat owners were around and willing to talk.
It was a pleasant day as they walked toward the slips. Warm but not hot, probably in the high sixties—T-shirt weather. A few cotton-wool clouds scrolled across an otherwise perfect blue sky. With the pressures that came with his job, Sofia saw how having a boat down here, even if he rarely had the time to take it out, would have been a great retreat for Nigel. On a day like today, it was hard to imagine this part of the city as being at the center of anything as gruesome as a murder.
Aidan’s cell phone rang. He looked down at the screen. “Excuse me,” he said, stepping away to take the call.
From the smile on his face Sofia suspected it wasn’t work-related. He finished his call and walked back over.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
“Second date?” she said.
He didn’t say anything.
“So what’s the lucky gal’s name?” It was so unusual to see Aidan being evasive that she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to give him as hard a time as he gave her when it came to dating.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Come on, just her first name. It is a woman, right? You’ve not Eve for Steve or anything?” Sofia knew that would get a reaction from him. She had never heard Aidan say anything straight-out homophobic, but like most straight men he could get touchy about any suggestion that he was less than a hundred percent hetero.
“Sofia. Her name’s Sofia,” Aidan blurted out.
Sofia put her hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh while Aidan looked embarrassed. “Seriously?”
“It’s a pretty common name,” he said, bristling.
“It’s not that common.”
“Well, it’s not special,” Aidan countered.
“You might want to save telling her that for the fourth date. Women love hearing how not special they are.”
“You’re a riot,” said Aidan.
Before Sofia could tease him any further, she spotted someone, the face obscured by a white captain’s hat up on the deck of a nearby boat.
“Excuse me,” she called out.
The person stopped moving and looked over, then took off a hat and shook out a long mane of streaked blond hair before straightening up and leaning on the brush that had been swabbing the deck. As soon as the figure turned, Sofia realized it was a woman because she was sporting pretty impressive silicone boobs. At least she assumed those boobs were silicone given how little they moved. She bet that, in the event of the boat capsizing, they could double as flotation devices. From Aidan’s slack-jawed expression, he seemed to be thinking something very different.
“Put your tongue back in and let me do the talking,” Sofia told him.
She strode down the gangway.
“Hey!” she said brightly, harnessing as much fo
rmer child star perkiness as she could muster. “Or should I say ahoy?”
Next to her Aidan muttered, “I can’t believe you just said ‘ahoy.’ Who are you, Gilligan?”
The silicone blonde ran gleaming red-polished fingernails through her mane. “You’re not reporters, are you?”
“No, ma’am,” said Sofia. “We’re investigators. It will only take five minutes tops. I can see you’re busy.” One of the first tricks she had picked up from Brendan was to give people a time limit. Most people were prepared to give you five minutes of their time even if you ended up taking more. “We’ll ask you a couple of questions, and then we’ll get out of your hair. By the way, who does your hair? It’s fantastic.”
“Oh, Giorgio in Santa Monica,” said the blond boat owner.
“No kidding,” said Sofia, nudging Aidan to follow her up and onto the deck before the blonde changed her mind. “My hairdresser moved to Phoenix of all places, and I haven’t been able to find anyone I like since.”
“You’ll be lucky if you can get in with Giorgio,” she said. “But tell him I sent you.”
Sofia put her hand out. “I’m Sofia, and this is Aidan. We’re from Maloney Investigations.”
The blonde’s expression seemed to freeze a little. “You’re not police office officers? When you said investigators…”
Sofia had said investigators for precisely that reason. As soon as people heard the phrase “private detective” they got creeped out. She left the private off when she could. “If it makes you feel better, Maloney Investigations is run by Brendan Maloney. He’s a retired homicide detective with the LAPD, and Aidan here is also retired LAPD.”
The blonde seemed to notice Aidan properly for the first time and shifted into flirt mode. “You don’t look old enough to be retired.”
“I was injured in the line of duty, took early retirement,” said Aidan, openly ogling the woman’s boobs.
Sofia had realized over the years that big boobs to a man were the equivalent of a moving pocket watch to someone about to be hypnotized. Both objects made their eyes glaze over and made people very open to suggestion, no matter how ridiculous the suggestion might be. She was pretty sure that, if requested, Aidan would cluck like a chicken and flap his wings, possibly jump right off the boat, if he was suitably distracted by a pair of 34 triple Ds.
“Injured?” the blonde pouted. “How terrible. Are you okay now?”
“He’s great,” said Sofia. “He’s just started seeing a woman with the same name as me. What are the odds? Anyway, can we ask you a few things?”
“Of course,” said the blonde, her eyes never leaving Aidan.
“Right,” said Aidan, ripping his gaze from the woman’s chest. “You probably heard about a boat owner called Nigel Fairbroad.”
“Oh, yes,” said the blonde. “Poor man. I can’t believe something like that could happen here.”
This was a great start.
“So you knew him?” said Sofia.
“Well, I wouldn’t say knew. I didn’t actually realize it was him until I saw his picture on the news and made the connection. He was the guy with the cute accent I’d say hello to when he came down to take his cruiser out for a spin. He was always so polite, but then British people are kind of like that.”
“Can you remember the last time that you saw him, Ms…?” said Sofia.
“Carolyn. Carolyn Reynolds,” said the blonde.
“So can you recall the last time you saw Nigel, Ms. Reynolds?” asked Aidan.
“Okay, this is freaky,” said Carolyn, warming to the topic now that she had gotten going. “But I’m fairly sure the last time I saw him was the, you know, the night he disappeared. I might even have been the last person to see him alive.”
Given that he was shot in the face, Sofia kind of doubted that.
“Really?” said Aidan. “That’s something. Have the police spoken to you?”
“Oh, yes,” said Carolyn. “They took a statement when they came down this morning, but between you and me, they didn’t seem all that interested in what I had to tell them.”
“And what did you have to tell them?” asked Aidan.
“Just that I saw Nigel the night before he was found dead, and that he took his cruiser out, but that I never saw him bring it back in,” Carolyn said.
Sofia couldn’t believe the cops who spoke to Carolyn wouldn’t have been interested in a detail like this. Someone who was dumped into the Pacific taking his boat out hours before he died wasn’t exactly a minor detail. But it did leave one question.
“Was he alone when he took it out? Or did you see anyone with him?” Sofia asked.
“The cops did ask me that. I don’t know. I mean I can’t say for sure. I heard him talking, but he could have been on his cell phone. I didn’t actually see anyone.” She looked at Aidan and Sofia in turn. “I’m sorry. I wish I could say for sure.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Aidan. “You’ve been really helpful. You didn’t by any chance catch any of what he was saying? Maybe he called this person he was speaking to by name?”
Carolyn took a step and leaned again on the brush. She bit down on her lower lip and looked up, obviously trying to conjure up her memory of that night. “Yeah, you know, I think he did.”
Sofia traded a glance with Aidan. Neither of them had any great hope that coming down here would yield anything, so this was a bonus. If she had overheard the name Moonbow or Bobby or Tucker, then Stark could use that to link them to what happened. After all, Carolyn couldn’t say for sure if he’d been on the phone or talking to someone who was in the boat with him.
“I’m sure he mentioned the name Melissa. It kind of rung a bell because that’s his wife’s name. He’d mentioned her to me before.”
Sofia’s heart sank. Nigel mentioning his wife’s name was exactly the opposite of helpful to them. She looked over at Aidan. His expression had changed, too.
“Did you tell the cops that?” Aidan said.
“Oh yeah,” said Carolyn cheerfully, happy that she’d recalled this additional detail for them. “Now that they were interested in.”
I bet they were. Sofia gave her a weak smile.
“They asked if I remembered if he was talking to her or about her, but honestly I couldn’t say for sure,” Carolyn continued.
Aidan shifted gears. “But you couldn’t say for sure whether you saw Melissa Fairbroad?”
Carolyn shook her head.
“Would you recognize her if you did see her? Had you noticed her down here with Nigel before?” Sofia asked.
That prompted another shake of the head. “Nope, and before you ask, I hadn’t seen him with any other women either, which was kind of surprising.”
“Why was that surprising?” Sofia asked, her curiosity genuine.
“He was a producer. I mean, those guys are usually pretty bad for horn-dogging around. I used to do a little acting so I know how that whole deal works. Y’know, the casting couch.”
Sofia couldn’t recall having seen Carolyn in anything, or run into her at any castings, though she doubted that they would have been up for the same roles. Carolyn had about twenty years on her, and at least three cup sizes.
“What about other people? Did he come down here with friends?” Aidan asked.
“Not that I remember, no. He kind of kept himself to himself for the most part. The only person he really had any time for was Dave. Dave has the cruiser next to Nigel’s. Nigel used to ask him about boat stuff. Dave’s ex-navy. What he doesn’t know about boats isn’t worth knowing,” said Carolyn.
“Thanks, Carolyn. That’s been really helpful. Listen, could I get your number in case we forgot to ask you something and need to get in touch?” Aidan took out his cell phone and handed it to Carolyn. “You can punch it in for me right here.”
Carolyn smiled and took Aidan’s phone. “You always ask witnesses for their phone number?”
“Just the pretty ones,” said Aidan.
Sofia suppressed
the urge to roll her eyes. If this was the kind of cheesy line Aidan used on his Tinder dates, then no wonder he’d struggled to get a second date. Just the pretty ones. Gag.
“You’re welcome aboard any time, Mr. Maloney.” Carolyn handed his cell phone back, and her hand lingered against his about two extra seconds. Sofia was horrified to see that Aidan’s corny line had worked so well. It just made women in general seem stupider.
She and Aidan walked farther down the dock. Nigel’s cruiser was sealed off with yellow crime scene tape. She was happy to push some boundaries but climbing aboard a crime scene wasn’t one of them. The sheriff’s department would probably have collected all the forensic evidence they needed, but they still wouldn’t take kindly to a couple of private investigators climbing all over their crime scene. In any case, the evidence would have to be released to Stark during the discovery process.
Dave, the ex-navy man, was on deck as they approached. Sofia introduced herself and Aidan. Dave seemed affable.
“You were on that TV show?” he said to Sofia.
“Guilty as charged,” said Sofia.
“My grandkids loved that show,” Dave said.
“That’s great,” said Sofia.
“And now you’re a PI?” Like everyone else in the world, Dave seemed flummoxed by Sofia’s career change. It was as if she had run away from the circus to become an accountant or something.
“Yup, thought I’d try doing it for real instead of playing one on TV. Carolyn said you were in the Navy,” said Sofia, hoping to move the conversation away from her puzzling career change.
“Twenty-five years,” said Dave, proudly.
“I appreciate your service, sir,” said Aidan.
It came off a little ass-kissy but Sofia felt that it was a definite improvement on his “just the pretty ones” line.
“I had a great time,” said Dave. “I’d recommend it to anyone.” He smiled at Sofia. “If you’re ever thinking about another career switch….”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” Sofia found herself warming to him. He seemed pretty normal for LA. She was pretty sure Dave thought Tinder was something you used to start a camp fire. If he’d been twenty years younger, she might have used one of Aidan’s cheesy lines or asked him for his number.
A is for Actress (Malibu Mystery Book 1) Page 12