“Everything.”
Rick shivered. Yes, he was still wearing wet clothes. Yes, he was freezing his butt off. But what really got him was that Captain Jack had done exactly the same thing. He gambled everything on one roll of the dice and Rick was now stuck with the payback. “You’re telling me your stock tip cost Jim Gordon everything he had. Is that what you’re saying?”
Monica’s jaw fell as she stared at Rick. “Jim was broke?”
Rick ignored her. “What did he do, Brad, threaten to report you for insider trading?”
The man’s face went stone cold. He swallowed hard and avoided eye contact. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and calm. “No, nothing like that. Jim was a big boy. He realized the risks of investing.”
Quick recovery, thought Rick. Time to press harder. “Especially when you’re dealing with illegal information?”
Monica’s eyes narrowed to a laser-like focus. “So the rumor’s true? You really did cost him everything?”
“Shut up, Monica.” Brad leaned closer to her. “You knew nothing about what was going on.” His voice turned razor sharp. “Or what Jim was really like.”
Rick clutched his towel tighter as he took the final step to the top of the landing and faced off against Brad. “Tell me. What was he like?”
“Ruthless. Dude was as mean as they get.” His eyes cut sideways to Monica. “He just kept her around to pass the time.”
“You liar, we were getting married.”
“Nice little fantasy, Monica. It was never going to happen.”
Her lower lip quivered. “No…you’re just trying to upset me.”
“There’s no need for anyone to work hard on that one.” Brad puffed up his shoulders and snickered. “You go all drama queen when you’re coffee’s too hot.”
Before Monica could respond, Rick leaned forward until his face was inches from Brad’s. “She’s never complained about ours.”
Brad shrunk back from his aggressive stance and rolled his neck in the way people do to loosen up. “Yeah, well, it’s just a figure of speech.”
“How about you give me a figure of speech for your arrangement with Jim?”
“Finished,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Did you argue?”
“Some.”
“Would you rather talk to the SEC?”
Brad scowled at Rick. It was the kind of signal Rick had hoped for. He finally had exactly what he wanted, Brad on the run.
“You wouldn’t,” he stammered.
“You’ve probably violated more laws than I can count. I might ask the FBI to pay you a visit, too.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s take a step back. We can keep this low key. Sorry if I got a little carried away.”
“What happened with Jim?”
Brad took a deep breath and looked around. “This is between you and me. She needs to leave.” He inclined his head toward Monica.
“She stays. I want a witness in case you decide to change your story. Start talking or I start dialing.”
After a long pause during which Brad chewed on his lower lip, the words began to tumble out. “One of my tips was wrong. I’d heard this software company had a deal in the works with the US Navy for this super-secret app. The source had contacts involved in the procurement process on the inside. Don’t you see, man? This was the score of a lifetime. A no-name company gets a contract worth millions and the stock goes through the roof. I told Jim about it. He needed money to finance the expedition. I tried to warn him about the pitfalls of leveraging his money, but he wanted to go big.”
“Don’t BS me, Brad. I’ve dealt with inside traders before. You didn’t give him any kind of warning, did you?”
“Okay, so I oversold the stock a bit. Everybody does it.”
“Why did the deal with the Navy fall apart?”
“The app failed the final test. The stock tanked. Right into the crapper. Jim blamed me, but it wasn’t my fault. My source flat-out lied to me. He knew all along the company couldn’t deliver.”
“Seriously?” Rick scoffed. “You expect me to believe someone inside the US Navy gave you a bogus stock tip so he could watch you lose money?”
“I ain’t lying, man. Funny thing is, it wasn’t me the guy wanted to get. It was Jim.”
Rick laughed and shook his head. “Really. Who did this?”
“Heath Santiago.”
Rick faced Monica, and they gaped at each other for a few seconds.
“The same Heath Santiago who is staying here?” Rick recalled his conversation with Alex. How she’d told him Santiago had been following Gordon’s treasure-hunting activities for years.
“Heath wanted to destroy Jim,” Brad said. “I only found out after this all fell apart. This deal nearly killed my business. The guy had thirty-five years in the Navy, man. He’d been in procurement for decades. Knew everything inside and out. I knew him, too. He was, like, the perfect source. And he burned me on our first deal. All because he had this hate thing going on with Jim. You want something good on Heath Santiago? Screw him. I can help you big time.”
Rick raised one eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. If Brad wanted to talk, he was willing to listen. Rick snuck a sideways glance at Monica. She looked to be in shock. No worries, he thought. As long as she didn’t interrupt.
“Go on.” Rick had been in the same wet clothes for so long now they were actually starting to dry. Why bother changing now? He waited while Brad seemed to ratchet up his courage, but before he even started, Heath’s door opened.
Heath’s gaze flicked from person to person before settling on Brad. “I was on my way down to the wine tasting, but this looks pretty serious. What lies are you telling now, Brad?”
“No lies at all, Heath. Why don’t you tell these two how you set up this entire weekend so you could destroy Jim?”
Heath watched Brad impassively, then turned to Rick and shrugged. “What of it?”
Chapter 45
RICK
Heath Santiago stood stock still with his feet shoulder-width apart. His attitude. His posture. He looked as defiant as a man could get. But, this wasn’t the Navy where he might have had some semblance of control over procedures. This was a murder investigation. And trying to stonewall wasn’t going to fly. If Heath wanted to act tough, two could play. Rick held the man’s gaze and didn’t back away. “Are you admitting you set up this weekend?”
Heath spoke deliberately, apparently choosing his words with precision. “I did arrange it. I did not kill Jim. However, I wish I had. Someone else took away that final pleasure.”
“So you came here intending to commit murder?” Rick asked.
“Yes.”
“And you sent out the invitations?”
“Correct, again.”
“I remember your registration. Your zip code is different from Cadman’s, yet the invitations were postmarked with his.”
“I rent a virtual office in Cadman’s neighborhood. It was all quite simple, actually.”
“So you wanted us to believe Cadman was the one who got everyone here.”
Heath clasped his hands behind his back and waited, saying nothing.
“Well?”
“You haven’t asked a question.”
Rick was so tired of these jerks. “Stop playing games,” he snapped. “Why did you let us believe Cadman arranged everything?”
“Because he’s guilty,” Brad said with a giant smirk on his face.
Rick cast a dirty look at Brad. “I asked him, not you.”
“He doesn’t bother me.” Heath’s voice held not a hint of emotion. “I knew sooner or later the truth would prevail. I’m a great believer in the truth coming out eventually. In my opinion, Cadman would never have gone to trial. And, as I said, my original plan was to murder Jim. Hence, I left a trail that led away from me. However, once he was dead—I realized someone had beaten me to the punch, and I had to remain silent.”
“Would you have let Cadman go to jail?”
“I told you, it never would have gotten that far.”
“Answer the question,” Rick pressed. “Would you?”
“Cadman’s not exactly the most innocent of people. He’ll lead you to believe he’s so pure, but he’s got his share of skeletons.”
“I don’t care what he’s done as long as it’s not committing murder,” Rick snapped. “But I have my answer about you.” Whenever new guests arrived, they brought with them stories and excitement. What this group brought was pure antagonism. But, premeditated murder? That was on a whole different level.
“What about Hayden?”
Rick spun on his heel at the sound of the voice. Reese stood on the second-floor landing a few feet away glaring at Heath.
“What about him?” Rick asked.
“Don’t you know? It’s the boy’s club. Right, Monica?”
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered.
“You’re more obtuse than I thought.” Reese turned her gaze to Rick. “Heath, Brad, Hayden, and Mark. They’ve been like a little club. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t have a secret handshake. It was all part of beating Jim to the treasure, right Heath?”
“You’re making it up as you go along.” Heath shook his head. “Personally, I don’t like these guys. And I sure didn’t want to share anything with them. You could be right about the other three though.” He shot a quick glance at Brad. “This one, Hayden, and Mark—kind of like the Three Musketeers.”
Brad puffed himself up like a rooster preparing to enter a fight, but Rick motioned him to back off. “I get it. There’s no love lost between any of you. But, you’re not starting a fight in my B&B. I’ll have you all thrown in jail.”
“I don’t tolerate insults,” Brad glared at Heath. “Especially from skinny old geezers like him.”
Heath took a small step forward and Rick stopped him with a hand on his chest. “He wants you to take a swing. Don’t fall for it. He’s a lot younger and stronger than you. Don’t be stupid. Besides, I will call the cops no matter who starts a fight.”
Running his tongue around the inside of his cheek, Heath seemed to settle down. It was becoming obvious that Brad had to be the “little birdie” Cadman referred to. Rick fixed a casual stare on him and waited.
“What?” Brad growled.
“So exactly how did you know where Cadman’s monopod was in those rocks? When we searched the area, we didn’t find it.”
The color slowly drained from Brad’s face while the others closed ranks around him.
To the side, Heath chuckled. “Looks like one of the musketeers has something to hide.”
All Rick wanted to do was tell the idiot to shut up, but he held his silence, knowing anything he said might break the spell he now had over Brad.
“I can’t believe that dirtbag talked,” Brad said. “He was supposed to keep this between the two of us.”
Rick wasn’t about to correct the assumption. Best to simply let him think Cadman had ratted out his source. “What he didn’t tell me was how you found out.”
Brad screwed up his face for a second, then said, “It’s all going to come out now. Hayden told me he saw Cadman taking photos. Later, when Jim was killed, I got worried for Cadman. You’ve seen how forgetful he is. Guy’s got a memory like a sieve. That’s all. I didn’t want him to get in trouble.”
“When was he taking these photos?”
“Last night. Sunset. According to Hayden.”
“Before Jim was killed,” Rick said.
“Well, hello, if he left it down there last night, the killer could have found it easily.”
Not likely, thought Rick. Neither he nor Deputy Cunningham had found it during their search. “So you’re assuming Cadman’s monopod was the murder weapon.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess so. Never really thought about it.”
“That’s BS, Brad, and you know it,” Reese said. “Everything you do has a profit motive.”
Rick had to agree. From what he’d seen, Brad didn’t have an altruistic bone in his body. And he was obviously an accomplished liar. The only way to get the truth out of this jerk was to force it out. He’d talk to Hayden first, then circle back once he had something to use as leverage.
“We’re not done,” Rick said as he strode away. He also had a new theory to test. What if Cadman left the monopod in an obvious place and the killer moved it after murdering Gordon? At last, it was starting to feel some traction. And a chance to change into something that didn’t smell like fish.
Chapter 46
RICK
Rick checked the time as he changed into a dry T-shirt and jeans. It was nearly four-thirty. Even Heath hadn’t seemed in much of a mood to attend the wine tasting by the time Rick walked away from the conversation with the treasure hunters. Given the tense mood hanging in the air, it would probably be better if they didn’t have anything to drink.
All the guests were told about the afternoon event when they checked in. Whether they attended was a completely different question. Rick stopped on the third step from the bottom of the stairs. Hayden was not only there, but appeared to have been doing a little sampling of his own.
His normally clear blue eyes were glassy and his five o’clock shadow was working overtime. He sat on one of the gray couches, wineglass in his hand, his laptop on the couch next to him.
Rick watched him for a few seconds. The man who had been so particular about precisely positioning his breakfast wore a T-shirt he hadn’t tucked in completely. His head lolled in lazy circles as he contemplated the laptop screen. Could it be the murder? Or something else? Time to find out. Rick took the last three steps and tried to sound cheerful as he approached.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kalstone.”
“Afternoon,” Hayden mumbled.
The hors d’oeuvres Marquetta had set up included several varieties of crackers and cheese. A bottle of Chardonnay and a half-empty bottle of Zinfandel were on the bar.
Without waiting for an invitation, Rick poured a taste of the zin into a glass and carried the bottle to the couch where Hayden sat. As if on autopilot, Hayden’s glass came forward. Rick filled it, then offered a toast.
“To happier days.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Hayden gulped down a mouthful of wine. “Where is everybody?”
Rick eyed his glass, wondering how Hayden hadn’t heard the voices coming from the second floor. What the guy didn’t know, he couldn’t worry about. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll be here soon. So you’re a writer. What are you working on? Anything good?”
“It’s always good with writers, except when it’s bad.” He gave Rick a drunken grin as he drained the last of his wine.
“I hear you. I’ve done a little writing myself.” Rick filled Hayden’s glass and indicated the laptop with a nod. “Is that your latest project?”
“I’m abandoning it. It was supposed to be this noir epic saga that spanned five generations. It reads more like a B documentary than fiction.” He reached over and slammed the lid of the laptop. “Piece of crap.”
“Have you written other books? I’ll look you up.”
“Nothing published yet. Too many competing projects. I get one thing moving, it stalls, and I’m on to something else.”
“Well, let’s not talk writing. You’re the Vice President of this group. Impressive.”
“Not so much. Nobody else wanted the job.”
“Gotcha.” Rick sipped from his glass. “Shame to waste a good zin. Last call. Let me top you off.”
Hayden’s expression glazed over as he swilled down his wine. He extended his hand for the refill.
“Good man,” Rick said.
Now that Hayden was on his way to a full-blown drunk, Rick figured he wouldn’t do well at lying. It was time to play a little game called Do You Remember What Lie You Told?
“I wish I was as good a photographer as Cadman is,” Rick said. “There’s a special bond between writers and photographers. Don’t you agree?�
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“No. Photography’s not my thing. I have more appreciation for painters than shutterbugs.”
“You’re right, painting’s a real talent. But, you’ve seen Cadman work, right? I understand you saw him taking photos down by the water.”
“What are you getting at?”
Hayden’s words slurred as he slumped to one side. If he listed much further, he was going to be sleeping on his laptop.
Rick raised the bottle and inclined his head toward Hayden. “Last call.”
As Rick poured, Hayden asked, “Didn’t we do last call already?”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.” He winked, then raised his glass. “Salud!”
“Right on.” Hayden knocked back another swallow.
“You told Brad you saw Cadman down there, right?”
A pair of vacant eyes peered back at Rick. It was as though the mind behind them wanted to focus, but couldn’t. “What of it?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing. I don’t understand why you’re involved with this group. A writer. Working on the great American novel. Doesn’t that take up a lot of time?” Rick leaned forward and lowered his voice again. “I mean, everybody’s got an angle. You have to be making money off this. How are you doing it?”
Hayden slouched down and smiled. It was one of those self-satisfied smirks, the kind most people shared only with a mirror. “Services, man. I sell services to treasure seekers.” He snickered. “These people are so desperate they’ll buy anything.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, research. The secret to finding ‘the big score.’” He emphasized the words with a bad falsetto, then snickered. “I’ve sold the same treasure hunter’s guide a bundle of times. Even had maps to lost treasure.” He laughed again. “It’s the Gold Rush all over again. Everybody wants to be rich, but nobody wants to work.”
Kind of like you, Rick thought. But, Hayden was way too drunk to be doing any introspection. “Nice business model. Did Jim know about it?”
His eyes drifted shut and Hayden arched his neck backwards. He breathed slowly with his mouth open. For a moment, Rick thought he’d fallen asleep, but when he looked at Rick again, the anger was obvious. “He knew about it. He called me out on it, too. The scum. The man never did a lick of research himself and he had the nerve to call me a fraud. Said I didn’t believe in the cause. All he cared about was making money. It was all about the bottom line for him. I think the man bled green.”
A Treasure to Die For (A Seaside Cove Bed & Breakfast Mystery Book 1) Page 16