by Tripp Ellis
"I am."
"What gives?"
"Life has a funny way of working out," he said.
"I take it things went well last night? I saw you and Faye having what seemed to be an intimate conversation."
"Yeah, we kinda worked things out."
"Worked things out like you’re friends? Or you're more than friends?"
"We made it official. We're gonna give it a go. We're gonna do the whole relationship thing."
I grinned. "I'm happy for you, man."
"Thanks. It was a little rough there for a while, but telling her how I felt was the best thing I could have done."
"Congratulations."
"So, how’d things go with Sadie?"
I just looked at him and smiled, preferring to keep the details to myself.
A grin tugged his lips. "Nice. She's smoking hot." He paused, then his face crinkled. "Doesn't she have a boyfriend?"
I lifted a surprised brow. "She didn't tell me about a boyfriend.”
Sadie sauntered into the galley at that point, wearing one of my T-shirts as a dress, her bare feet slapping the deck. "I hear you talking about me. No, I do not have a boyfriend. I got rid of that loser a few weeks ago. Keep up with current events. I'm not a ho." She leaned against the counter and gave us both a sassy look.
Crash raised his hands innocently. "My bad."
"Is this what you boys do after every party, gossip about your conquests?"
We exchanged a sheepish glance, then simultaneously lied, “No."
Sadie rolled her eyes, knowing better. "Don't worry. My girlfriends are gonna ask me about every naughty detail. We’re worse than you are."
30
JD stumbled into the galley just in time for breakfast, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
I kept scrambling eggs and frying bacon until everyone was fed.
After breakfast, I said my goodbyes to Sadie and headed over to Mind, Body & Spirit with JD. We wanted to drop in on the morning yoga class that Aaron Pennington taught.
The class was full of hot young beauties wearing tight yoga pants and sports bras. They contorted their bodies in all sorts of unnatural yet pleasing positions. The minute we strolled in through the front door, JD muttered under his breath, “Maybe we should offer yoga classes on the boat."
"I think we already do."
He chuckled.
Aaron noticed us with a nervous glance. He moved through the class, adjusting students, making sure they had the appropriate form. He was probably more hands-on than he should have been in this day and age, but the ladies didn't seem to mind.
We stood at the back of the class, observing. Relaxing music filtered through the air.
After class, the students rolled up their mats, and a few ladies chatted briefly with Aaron before he made his way over to speak to us. He looked unnerved, as well he should be. He put on a good smile. "Gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
“We’d like to talk to you about Vanessa Redman."
His throat tightened. "Who?"
"Cut the crap,” JD said. "You know who. You were a person of interest in her husband’s murder."
He swallowed hard and glanced around to see if anyone had heard the comment.
The students were filtering out the door, and nobody really paid attention.
“You changed your name and moved to a new town," I said. “Seems suspicious.”
"I needed a change of scenery and a fresh start. I didn't have anything to do with Ray Redman's death. You know how rumors start. There was a full investigation. I cooperated with law enforcement. No charges were ever brought."
"That doesn't mean you're innocent."
"What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"
"How long have you been having an affair with Ellie Atwood?" I asked.
“I’m not having an affair with Ellie.”
“Really?” I said, incredulous.
"Ellie and I are just friends. I'm trying to offer comfort in her time of need. That's all."
"It would be a lot better for you if you stopped lying."
"I'm not lying."
"You know, Vanessa Redman didn’t have anything good to say about you. It's my understanding that you ran off with close to a million dollars of her money.”
“I didn't run off with anything. Investments are risky. I fully disclosed the risks to her."
"Ellie is about to come into a sizable sum of money as well. Do you have any investment advice for her?"
The muscles in his jaw flexed. "Like I said, I'm just a friend offering comfort in a trying time."
“Does Ellie know about Vanessa?”
He scoffed. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell her.”
"Do you own a gun?"
"No, I do not own a gun."
“It’s really hard to keep a secret between multiple people,” I said.
“I don’t follow.”
“You worked with an accomplice for both shootings. You conspired with Vanessa and maybe Ellie. How long before one of them flips?”
“No one is going to flip because there was no conspiracy. Your theory is ridiculous."
“I’ve known Ellie for a long time. I'll admit, the whole affair blindsided me. I didn't see it coming. Apparently, Chuck didn’t either.”
“There was nothing to see coming,” he protested.
“Ellie is going to crack under the pressure. And the pressure will increase. The only reason Vanessa didn't rat you out was because she didn’t want to get charged with conspiracy to commit murder."
Aaron’s cheeks reddened. "I've got nothing further to say to you."
I smiled. "We'll see you around."
JD and I left the yoga studio and stepped onto the sidewalk. The fresh morning air blew down the avenue.
"That bastard is guilty as sin,” JD said. “It’s written all over his face."
I looked through the large glass windows of the Yoga studio. Aaron’s nervous eyes flicked about as he made a phone call.
“I bet he’s calling Ellie right now, doing damage control.”
“I think we should check in on her,” JD said.
31
“Oh, hi guys,” Ellie said when she pulled open the door. “I wish you would have let me know you were stopping by. I'm just about to head out."
She frowned.
“This will only take a minute,” I said.
She noted my tone. “Is this a social visit or case related?"
"A little of both," I said.
"Have you found something?"
"We're closing in," I said.
"Fantastic. What can you tell me?"
I exchanged a glance with JD.
"You mind if we come inside?"
"Sure." She stepped aside and let us into the foyer. She closed the door and looked at her watch.
"I hope we won’t make you late," I said.
She shook her head. "No. Nothing is more important than this."
"About Aaron,” I said.
"I know things must have looked awkward the other night. Aaron is a dear friend. He's really been supportive and has been someone I could talk to lately."
"Aaron might not be who you think he is," I said.
Her face crinkled. "What do you mean?"
"Well, for starters, his last name isn’t Pennington. It's Patterson.” I told her the story of Vanessa Redman.
Her jaw dropped.
"Still want to tell me there's nothing going on between you two?" I asked. "Now is the time to come clean. Otherwise, you’re just digging yourself deeper."
She hesitated for a moment. Then exhaled a guilty breath. “Okay. Yes. I've been having an affair with Aaron for about six months now." She cringed. "I know you must think I'm a horrible person. The truth is that Chuck and I were having problems. He wanted one thing, and I wanted another."
"Clearly," JD muttered.
She shot him a look. "I don't know how to explain it. It just happened.”
"You just slipped and fell into Aaron’s lap,"
JD said dryly.
"I know you guys were close to Chuck. You must think I'm a monster. But I swear to you, I did not conspire to kill my husband. You really think Aaron had something to do with Ray Redman's death?"
We both nodded.
“And you think he was involved in Chuck's death?"
We both nodded again.
She sighed. "I don't know what to think."
“Has he talked to you about potential investments?"
"He mentioned that he thought I could make a lot of money in cryptocurrency. He said if I wanted, he could show me how to 10x my money."
JD and I shared a glance.
"I don't really understand the stuff.” She paused. “You're saying he ran off with a million dollars of that woman's money, right?"
"It appears that way."
I wasn’t sure if she was playing dumb or if she had been duped.
Her eyes welled, and tears spilled over. "So, Aaron never really cared about me?"
"Doubtful."
“I’m such a fool."
If she was acting, she put on a good show.
"I hope for your sake you’re not involved."
She shook her head, sobbing. "I wasn't. I would never do something like that to Chuck."
JD stifled an eye roll.
“We're gonna find out who killed your husband,” I said. “Bank on it."
She swallowed hard. "I hope you do. Then you’ll know I didn't have anything to do with it."
There was a long, awkward silence.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you from your appointment,” I said.
We let ourselves out and strolled the walkway to the Porsche.
"Think she's lying?" JD asked.
"Time will tell."
We climbed into the car, and JD pulled from the curb. I decided it was time to track down Tommy Halford. He lived on a yacht in the marina at the country club. The slip fees were exorbitant. From what I could tell, he’d done well for himself in the tech industry.
We headed across the island, pulled into the posh club, cruising past well-manicured fairways and trimmed greens. Members zipped around in electric golf carts.
We drove to the parking lot by the main clubhouse. The lot was filled with exotic cars, expensive SUVs, and luxury sedans.
We hopped out and ambled down the path to the marina. It was filled with superyachts, sleek racing boats, and 50-foot sailboats that could take you around the globe.
We wandered around, looking for the Make’n Bacon.
A female voice called out to JD. I recognized the voice instantly, and it made me cringe.
32
The sultry voice belonged to JD’s ex-girlfriend, Sloan—the girl that he fell head over heels for. The one he proposed to after only a few weeks, intending to make her number seven in his list of ex-wives. Sadly, or fortunately, depending upon how you look at it, she turned him down. I’d never seen JD take it so hard. He was in a funk for weeks.
She caught up to us, wearing a short golf skirt, tight top, and visor. The stunning brunette was the total package. It was easy to see why JD had fallen so hard. But she never quite warmed up to the idea of commitment for various reasons. Her career as a pro golfer took precedent.
"I thought that was you," she said. "I haven't seen you in forever."
"It's been a minute," JD said.
"How are you doing?"
JD smiled. "I'm good."
"I see your video bouncing around social media. I heard the show in New York went well. You guys are on your way."
"It seems like it."
"What are you gonna do when you reach the top?"
JD shrugged. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
"Good answer."
"What about you? How have you been?"
"Things are good. The tour is going well. Moving up in the rankings.”
The diamond ring on her finger sparkled, and Jack almost had a conniption fit. His face flushed, and his jaw tensed. He tried to hide it, but his eyes welled. When he spoke, his throat was tight.
“That’s a nice ring,” JD said, his eyes shooting laser beams.
Sloan grew self-conscious and suddenly didn't know what to do with her hands. She fluttered them about. "Oh, yeah. It just kinda happened."
"I see. Who's the lucky guy?"
"Nobody you know."
The veins in Jack's neck pulsed. I could see his blood pressure rising.
“His name is Christian Hutton. He lives here in the marina. I was just on my way to see him," she said, pointing down the dock at a superyacht.
There was a long, awkward silence.
"Well, it was good to see you both,” she said. “I’m glad you're doing well. Take care."
She continued down the dock, her white golf skirt bouncing in delightful ways.
JD and I watched her go.
I patted him on the back. "Let it go, brother. Let it go."
He shook his head. "She wasn't ready for commitment when I asked her."
"She wasn't ready for a commitment… with you," I added.
He scowled at me.
I raised my hands innocently. "I'm just saying. You got off easy."
JD grumbled some more as we strolled down the dock to the Make’n Bacon. It was a 140-foot Benedetti with a Navy blue hull and windswept lines. It was sleek and modern with large windows and scantily clad beauties lounging on the forward sun pads.
We crossed the passerelle to the aft deck. There was an alfresco dining area with ample seating. We banged on the glass door to the salon and waited. A few moments later, a guy in his early 50s with dark hair slid open the door, a piña colada dangling from his hand.
He wore tropical-print board shorts and no shirt. Despite being in his 50s, he looked jacked—well-defined muscles and not an ounce of fat. He had a square jaw, brown eyes, and didn't look anything like the nerdy kid he did in high school. He was definitely on the juice.
I flashed my badge, and we made our introductions.
Tommy looked us up and down for a minute and said, “You’re here about Skyler, aren't you?"
I nodded.
He stepped out of the salon and offered us a seat at the settee. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
"No, thank you,” I replied, taking a seat.
"I heard you found her in a barrel? You got anything to go on?"
"We have a few leads," I said.
"How can I help?"
"We talked to Tiffany McKnight."
His eyes rounded. "Man, she was something."
"From what I understand, you had a thing for Skyler."
He laughed. "I did. I was so in love with that girl. I didn't even know what love was then. Hell, I don't even know what love is now, but I keep looking for it."
He flashed a sly smile.
"Looks like you’ve done pretty well for yourself."
“No complaints here."
"I heard you were so infatuated with Skyler that you’d spy on her.”
He laughed again. "Statute’s up, right?"
I nodded.
"Yeah, I guess I did some crazy shit when I was younger. But you know, hormones."
"Did those hormones make you kill her and stuff her into a barrel?"
He smiled. "Come on, really? I can't be your lead. Surely you’ve got better suspects than me. How about Marshall Noonan? Total loser. That guy always had my vote for a closet serial killer. And just look at how he turned out. I could have sworn I saw him begging for change on a street corner a few months ago."
"Where were you the night Skyler disappeared?"
"Wow, really? You guys are serious?"
"Doing our due diligence."
He thought about it and nodded. "Okay. I can respect that. It was a long time ago, but I'll never forget where I was. If I recall correctly, that was a Thursday night, and I was playing Dungeons & Dragons with Conrad Simmons and Gene Dixon, and I think John Foster was there, but I'm not sure."
"Did you two ever date? Hookup?"
&
nbsp; "I wish. Skyler was way out of my league. Of course, nothing's out of my league now."
"Do you know if she was involved with anyone else besides Marshall?"
"Marshall was her boyfriend."
"That's not what I asked."
"I know what you asked.” He paused. “Yeah, she saw somebody else."
"Older guy. Married, right?"
"I don't know if he was married or not, but he was an older guy." He paused and took a breath. “This was a couple weeks before she disappeared. I never told the cops about it at the time. I didn’t want to sound like some kind of stalker. They interviewed a lot of kids at school. I feel bad about not saying anything. But I followed her one night."
He hung his head, embarrassed.
"Care to elaborate?"
33
"I don't know why, but I used to drive by her house all the time just to see if she was home," Tommy said.
"And peep on her sometimes," I added.
"Can you blame me? That girl was hot, and she had great perky little…" He censored himself before continuing. "Anyway, one night, I saw her sneak out of her window and get into a car with this guy."
"What kind of car?”
“I’ll never forget. It was such a cool car at the time—a candy-apple red convertible Cadillac. An Eldorado Biarritz. Sweet pimpmobile. Anyway, they drove around for a while, and he took her down to Taffy Beach. They walked along the shore, he took her under the pier, and they did the old in and out. At first, I was really pissed off. But then I found myself turned on by the whole thing. Weird, but whatever. They went at it for a while, then finished up. He drove her home. That was it."
"Did you see them together any other time?”
"No. That was the only time."
"Did you recognize the guy?"
"No. I’d never seen him before."
"You think you’d recognize him if I showed you a picture from the era?"
Tommy shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. It’s not like I had binoculars. I didn't get that close."
"You’re sure about the make and model of the car?"
"Positive. I thought it was so cool at the time. I wanted one bad." He grinned. "But I have much nicer things now.”
A topless blonde made her way down the port side passage to the aft deck. She wore big sunglasses, small bikini bottoms, and nothing else. She looked like she'd stepped off the pages of a magazine. Tight, toned abs, long legs that shimmered with lotion, bubbly assets. She was probably 23. She made a pouty face and spoke in a breathy, baby doll voice—the kind of voice you’d do just about anything for. “We're out of strawberry daiquiris. Can you make us some more?"