“You look totally out of place sitting at that bar,” Lila said to Maddie.
“Then give me a beer or something.” While Chase was talking with his brother, Maddie had been investigating, which was a whole lot better than sitting around watching Jerry Springer.
“What is it that you’re doing exactly?”
Maddie tapped her little notepad. “Gathering character witnesses. It’s the only way to convince him he’s a good person. So far…” She consulted her list. “he’s gotten some pretty good remarks. Many ‘excellent sailor.’ One ‘narrow-minded,’ ‘one slave-driver when it comes to sailing.’ Several ‘decent guy,’ ‘honest,’ and ‘fairs.’ No one really believes he killed Julie, though they have a hard time refuting the evidence.”
Lila surveyed her with a smile. “How long you known Chase?”
“Not long. Hard to believe,” she said more to herself.
Lila set a frosty beer mug in front of Maddie. “And you’re in love with him.”
“Pretty much,” wasn’t on the list of replies, but that’s what came out. “I know he’s got a life here, with gorgeous women like you, and his sailing. I couldn’t begin to fit into that life. But the Chase I know…he’s different. Not as driven, except to find the truth about his past. Not selfish at all. In fact, I’m the selfish one. I want him to never remember any of this and go back to Sugar Bay with me.”
Lila gave her a warm smile. “He cares about you. I can tell by the way he looks at you, the way he makes sure you’re not left out of the conversation. He used to be that way with me, too.” Her smile fizzled, and she turned to help another customer. Maddie couldn’t really dredge up much sympathy, not in her selfish state.
Sure, he cared about her. Like a friend. Well, mostly, she added, thinking of last night. Okay, she was in love with him, but love would only complicate matters for both of them. So why had they been so drawn to each other the night before?
When Lila returned, Maddie asked, “I know this is a personal question, but it’s for my character research. Do you think Chase is capable of really loving someone?”
Lila gave that some thought. “I think he loved me, but he loved sailing and freedom more. That’s why we’re better off being just friends. No expectations, no promises.”
A knot formed in Maddie’s stomach. Call her selfish, but she’d never handle being second in Chase’s life. All right, there was nothing wrong with being just friends with Chase. Was there?
Her beer went warm as she asked customers who filtered in and out for lunch about Chase, pretending she was a reporter doing a follow-up story. What she found was that the people who had sailed with him—and there were a few—respected him but thought he drove them too hard. Those who didn’t really know him thought he was a hotshot with an attitude.
Lila said, “That’s because if you didn’t sail, he didn’t have much to say to you. Not that he thought any less of you; he simply didn’t waste his time with anyone who didn’t share his passion.” She dumped out Maddie’s full beer mug. “If you want to know who Chase was, watch him.”
“What do you mean?”
“There was an interview on one of the local news channels after he competed in the Cup. Naturally I taped it. You’ll see a tape marked, ‘Chase’ in the right side of my entertainment center.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll head back to the apartment. Chase ought to be back by now.”
But when she returned, Chase wasn’t there.
Chase was right there in front of Maddie, almost within reaching distance. He was sprawled comfortably in a chair, wearing faded jeans and a green shirt that had probably seen many a windblown day. His hair was short. Maddie scooted closer to the television and turned up the volume as the interview proceeded.
“You’d consider yourself a professional sailboat racer then?” the woman across from him asked.
“Not professional. That word’s got a negative connotation when it comes to sailing. But yes, sailing supports me.”
“In the style to which you’ve become accustomed?” the woman said with a laugh.
Chase chuckled too, and the sound shivered down Maddie’s spine. “Oh, yeah, holing up in some rusty cottage in Australia or England preparing for a race, trying to scrounge up a new sail or someone to donate time to fix a generator. Living out of a bag. Real luxury.” His smile had the same effect. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“But your father owns a million-dollar aerospace company. Couldn’t you—”
“I want to make it on my own. That’s the appeal of solo racing, and why I’m pursuing that next. Not to say that up until the time I leave the starting line there’s no one else working with me. I have a team who works their asses off behind the scenes, even for a solo race. Building and designing the boat, getting sponsors, researching the racecourse, helping with the thousands of details.”
It was strange watching a different Chase than she knew. Definitely him, but only the outside.
The woman consulted her notes. “You have a reputation for having a sixth sense when it comes to wind shifts. Someone even called you a sailing god.”
He laughed. “I’m just a sailor. The sixth sense, a gift from God. I never mix them up.”
“Let’s get to know a bit about you personally. If you had three wishes, what would they be?”
He gave her a suspicious look but gave his answer some thought. “I want to be the top racing champion. Right now, I’m good, but not good enough. I wish that when I die, it’s while sailing, doing something heroic and daring, nothing stupid like not harnessing myself in rough weather. And third, that I die an old salt with lots of stories to tell.”
“What would people be most surprised to know about you?”
“People either think I’ve got a death wish (those who don’t race) or that I’m fearless. Neither is true. I don’t want to die, but I know the risk is there for the choices I’ve made in my life. The part that scares me about dying? To not sail anymore, for eternity, shakes me to my core. But the fear isn’t so debilitating that I would stop sailing and racing, because that’s what makes life worth living.”
“Has there ever been a time when you thought you were going to die out there?”
“Plenty of times. But you don’t really think about it while it’s happening. You’re too busy trying to stay alive, fixing whatever’s gone wrong, or sometimes just holding on. Later you have time to realize just how close you got. Dying is always a factor. No matter how big your ego is, Mother Nature will remind you how insignificant you are. In the end, she always wins.”
“And one last question, Mr. Augustine. What do you have to say to all the single women out there who have daydreams of becoming that one woman in your life?”
“Never fall for a man who’s married to the sea. I’ve already met the woman I wanted to spend my life with, but the sea is a wicked enchantress who grabs a man and doesn’t let him go. It’s hard to compete with the glory, danger and adrenaline, and it’s hard to expect any woman to sit home alone and worry about becoming a widow.”
“Thank you, Mr. Augustine.”
Maddie hit the pause button and touched his face on the screen. This was the real Chase Augustine, not the man she’d fallen for. She wouldn’t have fallen for this Chase, probably wouldn’t have ever met him. Would he return to this Chase?
Lila called to check-in, and Maddie told her he still hadn’t returned or called.
“Probably got caught up in something,” she said. “He did it all the time, got involved in something and forgot to call home. When he does get back, tell him my dad’s boat, Shades of Heaven, is in slip 142. And don’t forget Tombo and Brian are coming by my place later. I didn’t tell them about Chase, and I’m working late. Should I cancel?”
“No, let them come. He’ll be back by then.”
Maddie nibbled on some crackers and cheese and waited. Flipped through People magazine and waited. Chewed her nails and waited.
Finally, she found Patric
k’s number and called.
“Did Chase meet with you this morning?”
“Yeah, why?” That last word was laced with suspicion.
“Because he hasn’t come back.”
First silence, and then, “That son-of-a-bitch ran.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“How well do you know my brother?”
“Not well,” she had to admit. “But I know—”
“No way is he going to give up sailing and go to prison. A guy who goes where he damn well pleases, travels all over the world, has the freedom to do what he wants…I should have called the police yesterday. And I would have if it weren’t for my father’s subtle threats. Now he’s gone.”
“He’s not gone. He has my car.”
“You think he’s going to let a little moral issue like car theft get in the way of his freedom? He’s a murderer, lady. He’s not going to think twice about taking your car.”
She remembered Patrick’s murderous rage the day before. “How do I know you didn’t do something to him? You met this morning, and no one’s heard from him since.”
His chuckle was low and bitter. “I wish I had the guts. What I do know is he’s going to pay for what he did.” He hung up.
She didn’t have time to contemplate whether Patrick’s rage could turn murderous. A knock sounded on the door.
Two men stood on the stoop, and they both double-checked the number on the door when they saw Maddie.
“Tombo and Brian?” she asked.
“I’m Brian,” the dark-haired one said. He wore perfectly creased Chinos and a green Polo shirt with the collar flipped up. “Where’s Lila?”
“She’s working. I’m Maddie Schaeffer. Come in.”
They slowly walked in. She gave them the story she’d concocted. “I’m a reporter for the Herald doing a story on Chase Augustine.”
They both stopped. Brian said, “We’re not talking to a reporter. He was our friend.”
“I don’t believe he had anything to do with that woman’s death,” she said as they turned back to the door. “Julie wasn’t even his type.”
“She was a slut,” the man who must be Tombo said. He was tall, on the gangly side, and wore the rumpled look well. A current passed between the two men, and Tombo said, “She was, and you know it.”
Brian was less convinced of Maddie’s story, though she wasn’t sure which part. “Actually, this is a project I’m undertaking on my own. The paper isn’t interested in an old story. I was intrigued, especially since Chase can’t defend himself.” She had to remember to speak of him in the past tense. “I’ve been reading up on Chase’s life, and it doesn’t add up. Do you think he was seeing Julie?”
“No,” Brian said. “I…dated her for a while.” He glanced at Tombo, then back at Maddie. “But if you print that, I’ll deny it and sue you for defamation.”
“Sit.” She brought two beers. “This is all off-the-record.” She had to keep herself from jumping right in and asking about Tuesday nights. “Was she a slut?”
Brian shook his head. “Not in a sleeping-with-everyone sense. In an only-dating-guys-with-money sense.”
Tombo said, “Soon as she found out Brian’s trust fund limited what he got, she was out of there.” He took a drink as though he’d been thirsty for days.
“She didn’t hide her aspirations. She liked money. She’d grown up poor and was determined to make something of herself…by marrying into it. She got a job at the marina; that’s how I met her. Then she started making friends and partying with the crowd.”
Maddie asked, “Did she cheat when she was seeing you?”
“Not that I know of.”
Tombo stretched out his tanned, hairy legs. “She was a user. Of people, I mean, not drugs. She deserved to die.”
“Don’t say that to a reporter,” Brian hissed. “She prints that, and you’ll be a suspect, too.”
She hadn’t thought of anyone else being involved. “Do you think someone else was on that boat besides Julie and Chase? Could someone have set him up?”
They exchanged glances again, wired together it seemed. “No way to prove if there was,” Brian said.
Maddie covered her unease by reaching for a cracker. “What about fingerprints?”
“They checked the boat, but that didn’t help. A lot of people went out with Chase. Including me and Tombo. We were working on a campaign with him.”
She blinked. “He was going into politics?”
“Not that kind of campaign,” Tombo said, grabbing up a handful of the crackers and washing it down with a slug of beer. “A sailing campaign. We were working on tactical strategies and sponsors since Chase wasn’t taking money from his daddy. We had to admire him for that.” He glanced over at Brian. “Okay, I admired him for that. Having to scrape money together regularly makes me appreciate guys who come from money but do the same.”
“Look, I can’t help it if I get twenty grand a month. I knew you held it against me.” Brian focused on Maddie again. “Anyway, we met every Tuesday night and worked on the particulars. Chase liked to conduct his meetings under sail.”
Maddie’s chest eased a bit. “Tuesday nights.”
“If we weren’t participating in regattas, we practiced maneuvers and tactics four or five times a week,” Tombo said, helping himself to more crackers. “We’d been doing it for years. Until…”
“Yeah, until that,” Brian said. “So there were a lot of people on Chase the Wind over time. We did rogue sailing weekends, no deodorant, no chicks, no beer—he never let anyone drink while the boat was under sail—just hard sailing. Even then he pushed us like slaves; he’d forget it was supposed to be fun.”
“Even if we couldn’t drink,” Tombo said, upending his bottle. “Can I have another one?”
She got two more beers for them. “Julie met someone on Tuesday nights. What time did you guys meet?”
Tombo said, “From four to whenever. We sailed for a couple of hours, then retired to Salty’s where we could drink.”
“So you were always together on Tuesday nights?” she asked, trying not to sound as relieved as she felt.
“Mostly.”
That little bit of hope faded. “What do you mean, mostly?”
“Sometimes we couldn’t make it on Tuesdays. Why?”
“Why couldn’t you meet?” she asked.
Brian shrugged. “Sometimes Chase had something else going on. I didn’t ask what it was; I’m not his girlfriend. Maybe he was hooking up with Lila.”
Maddie didn’t want to think about that.
“Or one of us had something going on,” Tombo said. “’Member that time I was so hungover from that birthday party, I couldn’t even think of sailing the next day?”
Brian frowned. “How could I forget? Who do you think you yakked all over?”
“Can you pinpoint which Tuesdays he canceled?” Maddie interrupted.
“That was months ago,” Brian said. “I can’t remember. Can you?”
Tombo shook his head. “They say drinking kills your brain cells. I think they’re right. I can’t even remember what I did last weekend.”
“What about the last night…when it all happened?”
“We went for a sail, went over some sponsorship possibilities, that kind of thing,” Brian said. “Chase was dark that night. In a mood. He’d probably had a snarl with his dad. Always tension between them. Allister likes to control his sons, and Chase wouldn’t be controlled. When Chase pursued solo racing, without the company’s sponsorship, it got ugly between them again. They must have had it out that day. We cut the meeting short and went to Salty’s.”
“And got trashed,” Tombo said with a grin. “Got into this whole discussion about parental control, then the usual argument about legalizing pot. I’m for it,” he said with another grin. “Chase isn’t. Wasn’t. Anyway, he said he was going to crash on his boat, since it was right there and all. Surprised he didn’t just live on it. I would if I could afford a boat like th
at. That was the last time we saw him.”
“And you didn’t see Julie anywhere?”
“Nope, but like I said, we were pretty zoned. Nobody saw her, though. The police questioned everyone who was there that night, trying to pin down that she and Chase were having some kind of an affair. Julie didn’t hang out at Salty’s once she started seeing Patrick. She kept herself pretty discreet when she went to the boat that night.”
“Could she have been meeting someone else there?” Maddie had to find something to latch onto. Her one hope was already dashed. She looked at Brian. “You?”
“Not me.” He stood and grabbed up his keys. “I had nothing to do with her in the year since we split. But whoever she was seeing, he isn’t saying a thing.”
She stood, too. “You think it’s possible she was meeting someone else there, and that person killed her?”
The two glanced at each other again. Brian said, “Why would they meet at Chase’s boat? We’ve thought about it, believe me. Maybe…maybe she showed up, you know, hoping to make a move on him. Maybe she startled him, and he overreacted. Maybe he panicked and figured he’d dispose of her body, took her out there and accidentally fell overboard.”
It had come to this, then, that Chase had still killed her and tried to cover it up. “You sound pretty sure he wasn’t seeing her.”
“He didn’t go for brunettes,” Tombo said.
“And no matter how much of a hard-ass Chase could be, he was honorable. To steal anyone’s girl…” Brian shook his head. “He wouldn’t have done it.”
“I know,” Maddie said.
Brian regarded her with curiosity. She’d probably given herself away by being so involved with her “story.” Tombo didn’t seem to wonder at all; he was too busy grabbing up not only his beer but also the one Brian hadn’t drunk. She pretended not to notice.
Brian said, “Better yet, ask him yourself.”
She felt her face flush. “What?”
“I don’t believe he’s dead. I think he’s out there somewhere.”
Tombo chuckled. “Maybe on a deserted island with a couple of chicks.”
Brian kept his eyes on her. “He was too good a sailor to die out there. And I think you know something about it.”
Heavenly Stranger Page 24