Wild Crown

by Tripp Ellis

  "What happened?"

  "Malpractice. That's what happened. He didn't know what he was doing. He cut the blood flow to her nipple during the operation. It became necrotic and died. You'd never be able to tell when she was wearing clothing, of course. But it affected her self-confidence. I could see it in her eyes on stage." Mrs. Van Doorn's eyes welled. "She was so distraught about it when it happened. It broke my heart. She became seriously depressed. I think, maybe, that's when she started using. I don't really know."

  "Why did you want her to drop the lawsuit?" I asked.

  She looked at me like I was an idiot. "Van Doorns are not ambulance chasers. We don't need the money. And that's certainly not something that needs to be aired in the gossip column of the Coconut Key Times."

  "A malpractice suit could expose the doctor and perhaps prevent someone else from suffering the same fate," I said.

  She thought about it for a moment. "I suppose you're right. But I'm sure my daughter wasn't the only woman negatively affected by that man's scalpel. I'm sure there are other suits against him."

  "Can you tell me the name of her attorney?" I asked.

  She groaned. "The one with all the commercials." She mocked the ad, "Have you been injured in an accident? Let the Key Crusher get you the compensation you deserve!"

  "Marty Crusher?" I asked.

  "That's the guy," she replied.

  "Do you have a list of potential suspects?" Mr. Van Doorn asked.

  "We have a long list of potential suspects," I said

  "I'd like to see that list."

  "We usually don't share the details of ongoing investigations."

  "I don't care what you usually do, Deputy Wild. These are extenuating circumstances. And as I mentioned, I am more than happy to compensate you if that is the issue."

  "I'll compile a list and have Sheriff Daniels speak with you about it."

  It was my way of putting him off, and he knew it. But it kept him quiet for the moment.

  I exchanged a glance with JD, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. The malpractice suit against Dr. Fantastic gave him a motive.

  He was now a suspect.

  16

  "Can you tell me about Skylar's friends?" I asked.

  "Skylar was very social," Mrs. Van Doorn said. "She knew everyone. Everyone who was anyone."

  "Who was her closest friend?" I asked. "Someone she might have confided in?"

  "Vanessa Dumont, of THE Dumonts," Mrs. Van Doorn said, snootily. "They were as thick as thieves. Vanessa was her only true friend, I think. Most people wanted something from Skylar. There are so many undesirables out there. Vanessa comes from very old money."

  "Do you know where we could find her?" I asked.

  "I have her number. She lives on that little boat of theirs in the club’s marina. I can give her a call, if you'd like?"

  "That would be great," I said.

  "What specifically do you want to talk to her about?" Mr. Van Doorn asked.

  "Skylar may have shared things in confidence with her friend that she wouldn't necessarily feel comfortable talking to her parents about."

  "I just don't want you to cause a scene, or upset the Dumonts," he said.

  I smiled. "Simple questions. We won't upset anyone," I assured.

  "Let me find my phone," Mrs. Van Doorn said. "I'll be right back."

  She slipped out of the parlor and we shared a few tense moments with Mr. Van Doorn as he glared at us. "You two don't really look like deputies to me."

  "We are a special crimes unit," JD said with a wink.

  Mrs. Van Doorn returned and made the call. "Vanessa, hi, this is Bridget. Am I catching you at a bad time?"

  Vanessa's indiscernible voice crackled through the speaker.

  "Listen, I was hoping you'd be willing to speak with two deputies that are looking into Skylar's murder?" Mrs. Van Doorn listened to Vanessa's response. "Great. I'll send them over right now. Thank you, dear."

  Mrs. Van Doorn hung up the phone, then addressed us. "She's at the marina and she's willing to speak with you. She has an urgent engagement this afternoon, so if you could get over there as soon as possible, that would be great. And keep it brief."

  "Thank you," I said.

  "You'll find her aboard the Pocket Change," Mrs. Van Doorn added.

  "I expect a speedy resolution to this," Mr. Van Doorn said before we left.

  I acknowledged him with a nod, and the butler showed us out of the parlor. We walked down the driveway, climbed into the Porsche, and JD cranked up the engine.

  "What do you think?" JD asked.

  "I think if they were my parents, that would drive me to do drugs, too."

  He dropped the car into gear and pulled out of the driveway. We left the gated community and headed over to the luxury country club. Membership didn't come cheap. The exclusive club boasted a roster of the most wealthy families on the island—politicians, celebrities, sports figures.

  JD flashed his badge at the security gate, and we pulled onto the property. The grounds were well manicured, and the sprawling clubhouse looked regal. We took the path that led past the tennis courts, past the restaurant and café, past the putting green, down to the marina that was home to some of the most expensive watercraft on the island.

  There were 50-foot cigarette boats. An array of large sport-fishing boats. The majority of slips were occupied with super-yachts. It reminded me of the marina in Monaco.

  This was the playground of the uber-rich.

  We parked the car and strolled down the dock, looking for Pocket Change.

  The Vivere would have fit in nicely over here, though the slip fees were four times what you'd pay on average, plus the annual club dues and initial membership fee.

  We found Vanessa's little boat and crossed the gangway to the aft deck. Jack's eyes widened, and I knew what he was thinking right away.

  A crew member, dressed in all white, greeted us.

  Jack flashed his badge again and asked for Vanessa.

  "She's expecting you," the crewman said. "Right this way."

  He led us through the luxurious boat. We were both in awe from the moment we stepped aboard.

  It was a 140-foot Zanetti Super-Veloce. Pocket Change had sharp, sleek lines and was one of the finest made Italian vessels.

  There were three decks, and a beach club at the stern, complete with bar and TV. When the beach club was closed, it transformed into a swim platform. The aft deck was home to an alfresco dining area with seating for 12.

  Through the glass sliding doors was the salon. The elegant space was flooded with light from large windows. Bulkheads were decorated with tropical wood, and the forward galley was clean and spacious with stone countertops. It had every conceivable modern appliance.

  Stairs led up to the bridge-deck which contained another alfresco dining area and a U-shaped settee. There was even a diving board to starboard. The sundeck above was complete with a Jacuzzi, flanked by sun pads. There was a wet bar with a flatscreen TV, a lounge area, and helm controls.

  The foredeck had another exterior dining area along with sun pads, and a pool. Yes, a pool!

  We didn't have a chance to see any of the staterooms below deck, but I assumed that they were as exquisitely crafted as the rest of the vessel. I wanted to get a look at the engine room, but that wouldn't be in our plans.

  The wheels turned behind Jack's eyes. This was the pinnacle of luxury, and it came with a hefty price tag.

  Vanessa's svelte body lounged on a sun pad by the forward pool. Brilliant rays of sunlight glistened on her tanned, oiled skin. She wore a skimpy black bikini, oversized Chanel sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun off her sculpted face. There was a mojito on a small table next to the sun pad. The gorgeous brunette had ringlets of hair falling below her shoulders. She had full lips and an immaculate complexion.

  The crewman introduced us, then slipped away.

  "Nice boat," Jack said.

  "Thanks," she said, unimpressed. "
What is it you want to know?"

  "Well, we'd like to know who killed Skylar? We're hoping you might be able to tell us about her dealer?" JD said.

  She pulled the sunglasses down and peered over the frame, her eyes shifting between the two of us before raising the glasses again. "I don't know who her dealer was, or is. I don't do drugs."

  "Did you know that Skylar was using?" I asked.

  "She never said anything to me," Vanessa said.

  "Did you notice any odd behavior from her?"

  "Skylar always was a little high-strung," Vanessa said. "I think she just couldn't handle the pressure her parents put on her."

  "How close were you?"

  "I guess she was my best friend. I mean, she's the only one who had any real class. There are a lot of lowlifes on this island."

  "You don't seem too broken up about her death," I said.

  The sunglasses came down for a moment. "We all grieve in different ways."

  The sunglasses went back up.

  JD and I exchanged a glance.

  "What am I supposed to do? Wallow around, depressed? Am I supposed to become suicidal because I lost my best friend? Sorry. Not going to do that. Skylar would want me to continue on with my life to the fullest."

  It sounded well rehearsed.

  "You have to understand, Skylar is the talk of the town,” she continued. “I've had so many phone calls, and have been asked so many questions about this by all my friends, that I’m a little over it."

  "We're sorry to trouble you," I said, with a hint of disdain.

  "What did you two like to do for fun?" JD asked.

  Vanessa shrugged. "We liked to shop. We were really good at that."

  "I bet."

  "We'd go clubbing. We threw a lot of parties on the boat. I mean, that's really all there is to do around here."

  "And during all those parties, you never saw her use any cocaine?" I asked.

  "No," she said innocently. "I don't throw those kinds of parties." She paused. "Look, I wasn't with Skylar 24/7. She could have had a whole other life, and apparently she did."

  "Did she ever talk to you about the malpractice suit?" I asked.

  Vanessa hesitated for a long moment. "She was really upset about that. I mean, my God, she's disfigured! Was disfigured. The doctor basically turned her into a freak. She lost her boyfriend over the whole ordeal, and she got really self-conscious around guys after that. It totally changed her. She became more… reclusive. I guess we probably didn't hang out as much after that either. She just wasn't as… fun! I mean, it kind of made it hard to meet guys when she was around because she didn't want them to see her naked. I'm not gonna say she was a ho before, but she liked to have fun, let's put it that way."

  "Do you like to have fun?" JD asked.

  The sunglasses slid down her nose again, and she glared at Jack. "Listen, I'd love to chat some more, but I have a pressing engagement. Edward will show you out."

  The sunglasses went back up.

  That was the end of the conversation.

  "I think we can find our own way," I said.

  We thanked her and headed aft. We spiraled down the steps to the main deck, walked through the salon taking in the elegant appointments, then crossed the gangway to the dock.

  "She's full of shit," JD said.

  "Whatever gave you that impression?" I said, dryly.

  He looked back at the super-yacht as we walked away. "That was a damn nice boat. I'm thinking we need an upgrade."

  17

  "Can you do me a favor?" I asked with my phone to my ear. "Look into this Dr. Fantastic, would you? See if there are any other malpractice suits against him."

  Denise huffed. Her voice crackled through the tiny speaker in my phone. "Like I have so much free time right now."

  "When you can get to it," I said.

  "I'll see what I can do," she replied, then hung up before I could say anything else.

  My phone rang again as we left the super-yacht in the distance and walked toward Jack's Porsche. I took the call.

  "Did you forget something?" Alejandro barked.

  "Oh, shit!" My eyes rounded as I realized my mistake. "I'll be right there! Go ahead and start without me."

  I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket.

  "What's going on?" JD asked.

  "Interviewing bartenders."

  "That should be fun," he said, dryly.

  We hopped into his car and sped over to the marina. We pushed through the doors of Diver Down while Alejandro finished up with an interview. He was in a secluded area toward the back of the restaurant. There were several other applicants waiting at a table near the bar.

  The man that was interviewing with Alejandro stood up from the table, shook Alejandro's hand, then strolled toward the exit. We passed by him and rushed to the table.

  "Sorry I'm late," I said, taking a seat. "Official business. How's it going?"

  "I've interviewed two already," Alejandro said. He gave a subtle shake of his head, indicating his displeasure with the applicants.

  I smiled. "So, I didn't miss anything?"

  "Are you ready for the next one?" he asked.

  I nodded, and Alejandro waved over the next contestant.

  A big, burly guy ambled toward us. He had a red curly beard, a ball cap on backwards, and forearms that looked like he could crush pecan shells in his palms with ease.

  He introduced himself and we shook hands, and I was right about his grip. He said his name was Bert and handed us his resume.

  Alejandro looked over it. "I see you worked over at the Cranky Crab?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, it was a fun place."

  "Why did you leave?"

  "Needed a change of pace," he said. "The Cranky Crab can get pretty crazy. It's loud, the patrons are obnoxious, and we were understaffed quite often." He looked around. "This place seems more relaxed. Lots of regulars. Seems like a cool vibe."

  "Have you taken any alcohol safety training programs?" Alejandro asked.

  "No."

  Florida law didn't require it. You didn't need a license or certification. You just needed to be over 18 and not convicted of a felony within the previous five years. There were a few other considerations as well.

  "How long were you at the Cranky Crab?" Alejandro asked.

  "Three years."

  "Any felony convictions?"

  He shook his head.

  "Tell me your attitude toward customer service. How would you handle it if a customer sent a drink back?"

  "I don't have that problem. I mix good drinks."

  "What would you do if you discovered someone underage drinking in the bar?"

  "Kick them out."

  "We have a policy that everyone gets carded, regardless of how old they look. Once you get to know the customer, it's not necessary, but we like to be in compliance."

  "So you want me to card the 70-year-old guy with gray hair at the bar?" he asked, pointing to Harlan.

  "If you’ve never seen him before, then yes," Alejandro said.

  "What if that pisses him off?"

  Alejandro shrugged. "I guess he can find somewhere else to drink."

  "It's your show. I'll do whatever you want. I work hard, I show up on time, and I don't miss shifts."

  Alejandro smiled. He glanced to me and asked, "Do you have any questions?"

  I shook my head.

  Alejandro smiled, stood up, and shook the man's hand. "We'll be in touch."

  The burly guy thanked us and ambled away.

  JD looked at me and shook his head. He didn't approve.

  A hot blonde about 5'2", wearing a skimpy bikini top and hot-pants sauntered toward us.

  She drew JD's attention.

  She drew everyone's attention.

  Her pert assets struggled against the taut fabric, yearning to be free.

  JD muttered in my ear, "Hire her!"

  The knockout introduced herself as Summer and shook our hands.

  JD
practically drooled. His tongue hit the floor.

  She took a seat across the table from us.

  "So, tell me a little bit about your bar-tending experience?" Alejandro asked.

  Summer shrugged and smiled. "Well, I've been to a lot of bars, and I have consumed a lot of alcohol."

  "So, you've never served drinks before?"

  "Oh yeah, all the time. At parties, or when I have friends over—I make really good strawberry daiquiris." Her blue eyes flared.

  "Okay…" Alejandro said, disappointedly. He looked at me. "Do you have any other questions?"

  "I've got a question," Jack said, not able to take his eyes off her sumptuous, all natural endowments. "I'd like to get my hands on one of her daiquiris." He lifted his eyes long enough to address her face to face. "Do you think you could whip one up for me right now?"

  A bright smile flashed on Summer's face, revealing her perfectly straight white teeth. "Sure. I'd love to!"

  She stood up, and Jack escorted her behind the bar. He looked over his shoulder and winked at us as they drifted away.

  "If you hire her, I quit," Alejandro muttered.

  18

  We interviewed the rest of the applicants, but Alejandro didn't seem too impressed with any of them. I told him when we found someone we liked, I would run background checks on them just to make sure they were on the up and up.

  Jack and Summer ended up making three pitchers of strawberry daiquiris, and both of them got pretty tipsy.

  It was time to shut it down.

  Alejandro returned to his duties behind the bar. He thanked Summer for her time, and told her we'd be in touch.

  "Does this mean I get the job?" she slurred.

  "We'll let you know," Alejandro said.

  She looked at him with sad, puppy-dog eyes. "That means no, doesn't it?"

  "It means we'll be in touch," Alejandro reiterated.

  "But I make really good daiquiris. Tell him, JD!" she pleaded.

  Jack lifted the fruity drink and grinned. "Sheer perfection."

  I rolled my eyes.

  "I'm sure they're wonderful," Alejandro said.

  She pouted, turning out her bottom lip. "I just don't understand. Why doesn't anyone want to hire me? I'm fun, I'm bubbly, I'm entertaining."