The Last Breath

by Danny Lopez

  “He passed away a couple weeks ago,” I said and nodded toward the water. “He drowned in the Intracoastal.”

  She poked her head forward. “Uh-huh?”

  “The police said someone saw him on a kayak that night.”

  “And?”

  “Did you see him?” Tessa said.

  “Thursday night, two weeks ago,” I said.

  “You’re not the police.”

  “No.” Tessa laughed. “We’re his friends.”

  The woman patted down her dress at the base of her stomach and touched her earring, a nice golden circle that weighed down her earlobe. “They had a lot of parties over there. Loud music and talking, going ’til all hours. Rather annoying if you ask me.”

  “Yeah.” Tessa chuckled. “That sounds like Liam.”

  “Well, we don’t take well to that. We like quiet. Between the parties and the motorboats and those water motorcycles … this place is driving me insane.”

  “Did your husband see him that morning?” I said.

  She drew a breath and turned to the inside of the house. “Charlie!” she yelled in a shrill voice. “You see the neighbor ridin’ a kayak last Thursday night?”

  “Two weeks ago,” I corrected her.

  A voice inside the house yelled back, “What’s that?”

  The woman raised her voice so it echoed across the large open living room. “I asked if you seen the neighbor last Thursday?”

  “What neighbor?”

  “Jesus Christ,” the woman muttered, then she yelled again, her pitch cracking from the effort. “The one from next door. The kid. Did you see him on his canoe last Thursday?”

  “I didn’t see anything,” the man yelled back. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

  The woman turned to us with a sad grin.

  “You didn’t tell the police that you saw him that morning?” I said.

  She studied Tessa for a moment, then addressed me. “I just told you. We didn’t see anything. We don’t know the neighbor. We don’t know any of the neighbors here. We keep to ourselves. That’s how we like it. Peace and quiet.”

  “And you didn’t talk to the police,” I said again.

  She frowned and spoke real slow and mean. “We. Did. Not. Talk. To. The. Police.”

  Tessa smiled and reached for the woman’s shoulder, but the woman’s eyes grew wide, and she pulled her shoulder away. Tessa froze, her hand hanging between the two of them.

  “Anything else?” the woman said.

  I shook my head. “Thanks for your time.”

  We walked back toward Liam’s house in silence. Just as we reached the driveway, Tessa laughed. “She wasn’t very nice, was she?”

  “Proof that money can’t buy you happiness,” I said.

  “There you go again,” she said. “You sound just like Jaybird.”

  “Well, maybe he’s on to something, after all.”

  We entered Liam’s cottage. I went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. I guess it was an impulse. I wanted a beer, but it wasn’t my house. And I had work to do.

  Tessa sat on the sofa where Jaybird had slept earlier and picked up one of the real estate brochures. “What now?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “There’re too many angles. I have to talk with Detective Kendel, get the name and address of this witness of his. But I also want to go home and look up the properties of Beach City Holdings, see if I can find anything on Terrence Oliver.”

  “We can go to my place.” Tessa tossed the magazine aside and stood. “You can use my computer. I don’t have to be at work ’til five.”

  We walked out of the house, leaving the door unlocked. I drove north on Midnight Pass. Just as we came upon the entrance to the Sanderling Club, a white Maserati GT pulled out ahead of us.

  “Well, hello,” I said.

  “What?”

  “That car,” I said. “It belongs to the Flemings.”

  “You suspect his folks?”

  “I suspect everyone.”

  CHAPTER 15

  WE FOLLOWED THE Maserati off the key over the Stickney Point bridge then north on Tamiami Trail.

  “What if they’re just going to Publix?” Tessa said.

  “Then we’ll go to Publix.” We stopped at the traffic light on Bee Ridge Road, three cars behind the Maserati. “And we can get a six-pack of beer and some snacks.”

  “Fun job,” she said.

  “But if they’re not going to Publix, that’s another story.”

  The light turned green. The Maserati weaved easily through the light traffic all the way down the Trail, around Sarasota Bay, and got into the turning lane for John Ringling Causeway that led to Lido and Longboat Key. We were six cars behind. I could see a sliver of the curved white rear panel. I followed the little Italian sports car as it revved up, taking a left onto the causeway and then a quick right up the ramp to the Ritz-Carlton Hotel.

  Tessa smiled. “Beats the Publix.”

  The Maserati pulled up at the entrance. Three valets ran up to it.

  I stayed back on the crest of the drive about twenty yards away.

  A valet opened the door of the Maserati and offered his hand to the driver. Brandy Fleming stepped out of the car wearing a sexy purple minidress with no sleeves and a low V that showed off her tan back. She wore her hair down. At the end of her curvy legs she had on a pair of shiny black stilettos. She looked hot the way an expensive escort looks hot.

  Tessa leaned forward. “Who’s that?”

  No one came out of the passenger side. Brandy paused at the back of the car. She raised the trunk and pulled a cream-colored Louis Vuitton bag from it.

  “Liam’s stepmom,” I said.

  Brandy smiled at the young valet who offered to carry her small bag. Instead of giving it to him, she slung it over her shoulder, tossed her hair to the side like a pro, and marched into the Ritz like she owned it.

  “Damn,” Tessa said. “She’s a fine piece of ass.”

  I looked at Tessa. “Really—”

  “Well, she is, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah. And she knows it.”

  “So, what do you think?”

  “I don’t know, late lunch with the bridge club?” I pulled the Subaru slowly to the entrance. “Go inside and see where she goes.”

  Tessa gave me a conspiring grin. She hopped out of the car and skipped quickly into the Ritz. The valet came to the car, pulled the door open for me.

  I stepped out. “I’m just picking up a package from the desk. Can you keep it close?”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  Sir. I liked that. I figured people like Mr. and Mrs. Fleming were used to that kind of treatment. The only people who called me sir were the valet parkers at the Ritz and the grocery clerks at the Publix.

  When I walked into the foyer, the finely groomed bell captain started toward me with a friendly smile. I raised my chin toward Tessa. “I’m with her.”

  I walked straight past him to where Tessa was standing, staring up at the numbers atop the elevator doors.

  “What’s up?”

  Tessa pointed to the numbers as they illuminated one after another. It stopped on the ninth floor. “There. She went to the ninth floor.”

  “Really?”

  She turned to face me. “The lady,” she said sarcastically, “walked into the lobby, paused at the front desk where she was given a key and a smile. Then she walked with confident strides to the elevators and went up to the ninth floor. Any questions?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Why?”

  “Really?” she said and smacked me on the chest. “Are you that dense, Dexter?”

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go get a drink and wait this out.”

  She looked at her watch. “I have to be at work in a couple hours.”

  The bar didn’t offer a good vantage point to spy on the elevators and the entrance to the hotel, but if Brandy Fleming was meeting someone for a little afternoon delight, it would probably take a while for he
r to come out. I leaned on the polished counter and was pleasantly surprised to see a tap for Copek’s Siesta IPA.

  Tessa ordered a rum and Coke.

  “You seem like a … I don’t know, a chocolatini type,” I said.

  “I am, but not in the middle of the afternoon, dressed like this.”

  “You’re so … Margaritaville,” I said and quickly scanned the bar—plush chairs, mahogany tables, dark amber lights—empty except for two men in business suits sitting at opposite sides of a table near the windows that faced the back.

  The bartender came with the drinks. I paid and raised my glass. Tessa touched it with hers. “Here’s to us,” I said. “May we be successful in our search for truth.”

  She smiled, turned the little blue straw in her glass, then fell serious. “And may Liam find peace.”

  That shut me up fast. I hadn’t known Liam. I saw him as a project, a puzzle I needed to solve. Tessa reminded me he’d been a person, someone with feelings. A nice guy. And now we shared a friend.

  Damn.

  I had to shut down the neurosis. This was neither the time nor place to evaluate myself and my relationship with Liam and Jaybird. And Tessa.

  I turned in my seat, took a long drink of beer. Tessa pointed to the side of the bar with her little blue straw at a large red sofa between the elevators and the wide staircase that led to the backyard of the hotel. “Let’s sit over there.”

  I followed her to the divan. From that place, we could see the side of the elevators and the three main doors to the front entrance. I knew Brandy Fleming could go out another way, but she would have to get her car. There was a decent chance she would exit this way. Besides, she had no idea we had followed her here.

  “So, tell me.” Tessa leaned back and crossed her legs, her flip-flop dangling from between her toes. “How did you get into this line of work?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  She glanced at her wrist. “I’ve got, oh, I don’t know, an hour or two.”

  “Coincidence,” I said honestly. “It’s not as if I do this all the time. After I got laid off, I met some guy, a creep who roped me into a complicated case that almost got me in a heap of trouble.” I pointed at my ear. “Even got myself a little battle scar.”

  She leaned forward and examined the side of my face. “Yeah, I noticed that last night.”

  “Too polite to stare?”

  She shook her head. “Just didn’t get a chance. What happened?”

  “Guy put a cigar out in my ear.”

  “Ouch”

  “You’re not kidding.”

  “Why?”

  “To get me out of Mexico City.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Anyway, I guess I got a bit of a reputation after I solved that case. The editor of Sarasota City Magazine recommended me to Bob Fleming.”

  “Does it pay well?”

  I shrugged, leaned forward, forearms on my thighs, glass in both hands. “Better than journalism, that’s for sure.” But I had mixed feelings about all of it: the life, the job, the money. It felt dirty, yet I kept telling myself I was helping someone. “And I guess I’m pretty good at it.”

  “At tailing women?”

  “Funny,” I said. “Helping people.”

  “I remember you from the paper. You were like, the superstar. Everyone talked about how you wrote some phenomenal article that nailed a bunch of bad cops.”

  I smiled at my beer. “Those days are long gone.”

  “Yeah, but it must’ve been great for you. Everyone in the newsroom was in awe.”

  “It’s all in the past.”

  “I had such a crush on you.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “It’s true.” She smiled and brought her glass to her lips. “Well, sort of. You were going through a divorce, I think.”

  I laughed. “Journalists, we thrive on gossip, huh?”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  I stared ahead at the elevators wondering why we were here. I didn’t imagine that whatever Brandy Fleming was doing here had anything to do with Liam’s murder. What I really needed to do was check out the property listings for Beach City Holdings, try to find Terrence Oliver. And nail down Detective Kendel for the name and address of the witness. I glanced at the clock on my phone. We hadn’t been here an hour.

  “Getting impatient?” Tessa said.

  “No,” I said, “but there are a million other things I’d rather be doing.”

  “Oh, like what?”

  I sat up and took a sip of beer. “I don’t know, like getting drunk.”

  I stared ahead at the deserted lobby, hoping Brandy wasn’t planning on ordering room service and spending the night. Then I glanced at the bar, at the two men in suits. One of them was in his forties, portly, round cheeks and chin, bald head. The other was younger, maybe early thirties, blond, good looking in a Young Republican kind of way. He looked vaguely familiar. But I couldn’t place him.

  “You keep changing the subject,” Tessa said.

  I looked at her. “No, I’m not.”

  “So, how did it work out?”

  “How did what work out?”

  “The divorce.”

  I was no longer angry about my divorce. I didn’t blame anyone but myself. I just hated how bitter things can turn when two people are supposed to love each other. And then, of course, there was Zoe. Having her so far away—not just in a physical state but in a mental way—turned my stomach sour.

  “I mean, if you wanna talk about it.”

  I studied the pattern the foam made at the top my glass, like a thin round island in an amber sea. I held up the glass. “You’re going to have to pump a lot more alcohol in me to get that story.”

  She looked past me at the bar. “I don’t know. At these prices?” Then she frowned. “Is Fleming taking care of your expenses?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not how it works. If you want to get me drunk, you have to pay for it.”

  She turned away and stared at the front of the building. My eyes traced the outline of her profile, the angular line of her jaw and cheekbone. She seemed like someone who was very much in control of her life—and having a good time. I imagined she got hit on by drunk frat boys all the time. She had to be quick with the comebacks. Take nobody’s shit.

  “Why don’t you tell me about you and Liam,” I said.

  She tilted her head to the side, her pretty brown eyes on me. “I already told you.”

  “I mean tell me more. What was the relationship like? Were you in love?”

  She laughed and held up her rum and Coke. It was almost empty. “You’re going to have to buy a hell of a lot more of these to get that kind of juice out of me.”

  “Well.” I stood. “I’m ready for another.”

  I went to the bar and ordered another round. When I came back, I glanced at the time on my phone. “I don’t know how much longer we should stay.”

  “She could be here all night,” Tessa said. “If it were me, and I was rich, and I was meeting my lover, I’d stay a while. I’d order room service, champagne, the whole shebang.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Maybe we should get a room,” she said. “You know, for surveillance.”

  I grinned. “I thought you had to go to work. Besides …” I gestured toward the lobby with my beer. “Don’t you find this a little too much?”

  “What, the hotel?”

  “The opulence. It’s so over the top: the chandeliers, the uniforms, the smiles, all the yessirs and yes ma’ams. It’s so not me.”

  “Oh!” Tessa laughed. “You’re one of those.”

  “One of what?”

  “You hate the rich.”

  “No,” I said sharply. “I hate show-offs. And I hate waste.”

  “Wow. I don’t believe it. Dexter Vega, you’re jealous.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’re jealous of the people who can afford a place like this.”r />
  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Yes, you are. You don’t like people who are better off than you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re going to tell me you wouldn’t like to bring your lover to a place like this and be pampered? Have a couples massage, drink champagne, have a decadent meal at Jack Dusty’s?”

  “Sorry. Not my thing.”

  “God!” She laughed and took a drink of her rum and Coke. “That explains everything.”

  “Explains what?”

  “That chip on your shoulder. You’ve got a vendetta against the one-percent.”

  “Gimme a break, Tessa.”

  “You’re more like Jaybird than you know.”

  I laughed. Jaybird. I was sure that skinny hawk-nosed rasta had the answer to the puzzle. Almost one hundred percent. “We need to find him.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Tessa said, “if he doesn’t show up at work tonight, he’s going to need to find another job.”

  “I’m serious,” I said. “He has to know more than what he’s told me. When I talked to him at the drum circle, he was pretty out of it—”

  “The witness!”

  “Goddamn it,” I cried and stood, looked around the bar. “He must’ve been the one who spoke to Detective Kendel. But …”

  “But what?”

  “When I spoke with him, he didn’t say he’d been there or seen Liam going out in the kayak.”

  Tessa covered her mouth with her hand. “And?”

  “That son of a bitch.”

  “No. Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe he was high. Maybe it just escaped him. I mean he’s a little strange but—”

  “A little?”

  Tessa forced a cough and nodded toward the front of the hotel. “Heads up.”

  Brandy Fleming had just strutted out of the elevator, her stiletto heels clacking on the tile all the way to the front desk.

  “Keep an eye on her.” I set our drinks on the closest table and pointed to the end of the bar. “I’m going that way.”

  I walked quickly around one of the large columns and stood by the side, hidden from view. Brandy Fleming was still wearing her sexy purple minidress. But she looked a little different, hair slightly disheveled. Maybe it was my imagination, me thinking of what had gone on in a fancy suite on the ninth floor. She set her bag on the counter. She seemed to be paying for the room—cash. Tessa stood in front of the elevators, looking up at the numbers and turning away, pacing back and forth, stealing glances at the front desk.