by Dani Pettrey
They ran through the typical questions—how well she knew Kat, if she saw Kat after practice, when she saw her last. But Libby moved forward with the question burning on her mind. She’d asked every competitor, but no one had seen Monika between seven thirty a.m. and four p.m. the day Kat turned up dead. “Any chance you saw Monika after yesterday’s practice?”
“Actually, yeah.”
Libby’s heart lightened. Finally.
“Where?”
“Heading off toward the old marina.”
“The old marina?” She turned to Ben, who had joined them in the room.
“No one uses it anymore,” he explained. “It’s become a boat junkyard. We needed a nice new-looking marina for all the cruise tourists.”
“Well, I was curious, so I followed her for a bit.”
“And?” Libby asked.
“I saw her meeting with a man.”
“Recognize him?”
“He had a baseball hat and sunglasses on and I was a distance away, so I couldn’t say, but he was carrying a bag in his hand and the two of them headed up over the hill together.”
“And then?” Libby asked.
“I turned back around. I was meeting the Canadian girls for lunch.”
So Monika was lying. Libby knew it. They’d have to talk to her again.
“Anything else you think might be helpful?” Jim asked.
“There was this guy.”
“With Monika?”
“No, hanging around the tournaments. I saw him in Cali and then again here. Seemed to always be watching Kat from a distance.”
“Did you report him to anyone?” Libby asked.
“Yeah, I told Kat.”
“And?”
“She just brushed it off. Said he was probably some shy fan. Nothing to worry about.”
That didn’t sound like Kat.
“Can you describe him?” Jim asked.
“Tall, lean. I think he had dark hair, but it was hard to tell. He always wore a hooded sweatshirt and sunglasses—even on cloudy or rainy days. Weird, huh?”
Libby leaned forward. “Did you say a hooded sweatshirt?”
“Yeah. A black knit one.”
Just like she’d seen at the hospital earlier today.
EIGHT
What now?” Ben asked as Sylvia left the room. He wondered about Libby’s interest in Sylvia’s hooded mystery man.
“We ask Monika what she was doing by the old marina and why she lied to us,” Jim said.
It took a bit of searching, but they found Monika out by the old marina, of all places, her back to them, deep in conversation with a man. The man caught sight of them, and she turned, her eyes full of fear.
“Jakob?” Libby asked.
“You know him?” Ben said.
“He’s an assistant trainer for Kat and Sasha.”
“So for the two Russian swimmers in this race?” And Monika’s main competition.
“Yes.”
Interesting.
“What are you two doing out here anyway? Trying to get your stories straight?” Libby said, approaching. “It’s already too late. We know you lied to us, Monika. What? Did the two of you conspire to kill Kat, knock the competition out of the way? You couldn’t wait another week? You know this was her last season.” Rage and indignation for Kat and how she’d been murdered in cold blood boiled in her veins.
Monika stepped toward her. “It’s not like that.”
“Monika,” Jakob cautioned.
“We don’t have a choice. We have to tell them.”
“I’ll get fired, and you’ll get pulled out of the competition.”
“It’s better than them thinking we murdered Kat.”
Libby’s face scrunched. She looked as confused as Ben felt. “What’s going on here?”
Monika reached back and took hold of Jakob’s hand. “We’re in love.”
Libby’s head bobbed. “Seriously?”
Monika looked at Jakob with eyes full of affection. “Yes. We know it’s against the rules, which is why we were meeting in secret, which is why I couldn’t tell you the truth.”
Ben looked at Libby, curious if she was buying it.
“You could have told me,” she said.
“Like you wouldn’t have ratted me out to get me out of the way.”
“If I beat you, I want it to be fair and square,” Libby said. “Not because I busted you for dating the competition’s coaching staff. But how do we know you two didn’t do anything to Kat?”
“Because we saw her leave on a boat with another man.”
Libby’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Why didn’t you say something before?” Jim asked.
“Because I would have had to explain me and Jakob.”
“You could have just said you saw them while jogging,” Ben said.
“I thought it better not to open any possibility of you finding out.”
“So this boat, this man. What can you tell us?” And why did they leave from the old marina? Because they didn’t want to be seen together either, perhaps? Had Kat gone willing? So many questions raced through his mind, and no doubt Libby’s. He wondered where Jim would start.
“Not a lot,” Jakob said.
“Let’s start from the beginning,” Jim said. “You came here and . . .”
“Waited for Monika to show,” Jakob said.
“I heard footsteps down on the rocks below the hill and thought it was her. I looked down, but it was Kat.”
“Did she see you?”
“No. I ducked back as quickly as I could. I couldn’t risk her seeing me with Monika.”
“So then what?”
“I crouched back behind a tree and saw Monika coming over the hill. I waved her to me, signaling for her to hurry and stay quiet. A few minutes later we saw a boat leaving the marina. Peering around the tree we saw Kat still in her practice gear, standing near the stern talking with a man.”
“Can you describe the boat?”
“White boat. Decent size. Maybe a twenty-eight-footer.”
“And the man?”
“Average size and build. Brown hair. Nice suit.”
“Suit, as in dress suit or swimsuit?”
“Dress suit and tie, which I thought was odd for a day at sea.”
“How did Kat seem? Nervous? Happy?” Libby asked.
“She was intent on what he was saying but kept looking around too. Like she wanted to make sure they weren’t seen.”
“And then?”
“They sailed out of the marina and we went on our picnic.”
“Did you see the boat or Kat come back?”
Monika and Jakob shook their heads.
“When she wasn’t at practice this morning . . .” Monika began.
“You should have said something,” Libby said. “It could have meant saving her life.”
Ben stiffened. Or at least identifying her killer sooner.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to get Jakob fired.”
“We’re talking about a woman’s life,” Libby said, frustration clear.
“We had no idea she was going to die,” Jakob said.
“What happened?” Monika asked. “No one has said what happened to her. Did she fall overboard? Did she drown?”
“She was murdered,” Jim said.
“Murdered?” Monika choked. “I know I suggested Libby might have done her in, but I didn’t really think . . .”
“We can do it discreetly, but I need you both to work with a sketch artist, see what you can remember about the boat and the man you saw.”
They both nodded like scolded schoolchildren, and rightly so.
“I’ll go ask around the docks,” Ben said.
“I can send Tom,” Jim offered.
“I know Tom’s your deputy, but he’s so new and he doesn’t know the guys at the docks like I do,” Ben said. “Let me help you out with this.”
Jim nodded. “Okay. I’ll drop these two off with Marge for the d
rawings and then head over to the Russians’ lodgings and question them.” He looked at Libby. “You want to come?”
“Actually, I think I’ll go with Ben.”
Ben arched a brow. Not that he minded time with Libby, but . . . why did she want to come with him? He ignored the thrill that shot through him at the ludicrous thought it might be because she liked his company and wanted to spend more time in it.
“The Russians won’t speak with me around. They loathe me. And I’m not just going to sit this one out, so I’ll go with Ben.”
He swallowed. Of course it was a sensible reason.
Jim nodded to Ben. “Keep me updated.”
“Will do.”
NINE
Why do you assume they rented the boat?” Libby asked, following Ben down to the marina, not wanting to think about how much she enjoyed his company.
“Most do,” he said, offering her a hand to step over the bowed dock board, and she took it—from his expression, surprising him
“What if they didn’t?” she asked, not wanting to let go of his hold just yet.
He exhaled. “Then this will be a dead end.” His thumb caressed the top of her hand before he finally pulled back.
She shoved her hands in her pockets, her skin still alive with his touch. “Let’s pray that’s not the case.” She’d made it her personal mission to see her onetime friend’s killer found and to determine whether or not it had anything to do with her actions at Berkeley so many years ago.
Ben started with the harbormaster, who pointed them in Willy Craig’s direction.
“Willy has the biggest rental operation, which affords a nice level of anonymity,” Ben said as they approached the man with the clipboard, directing a handful of teens how to better scrub down his ships. “Hopefully not too much anonymity, in our case.”
“Hey, Will,” Ben began.
“Ben.” He looked over his shoulder. “And?”
He was old enough to be Libby’s father but was certainly not looking at her like one. She took a step closer to Ben. Him she trusted, which was amazing given the short amount of time she’d known him. But given the circumstances they’d endured and the fact he’d basically saved her life on Tingit, it only made sense.
“Libby Jennings,” Ben said, introducing her to Willy while taking his own step closer to her. The scent of seawater and fresh air lingered around him.
“What can I do for you two?”
“We’re looking for a boat you may have rented out late yesterday morning.”
He laughed. “Well, that narrows it down.”
“It was to a man in a suit.”
“Oh, that dude. Hard to forget Mr. Businessman.”
“Was he with anyone?”
“Not that I saw, but he assured me he could handle the boat. Paid cash up front. Brought it back in pristine condition.”
“You remember his name?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“Remember which boat?”
“Maybe Killing Time, but I can’t be certain.”
Well, that would be ironic.
“Mind if we take a look at your logs?”
His brown eyes narrowed. “What’s this about? Don’t tell me you think it has something to do with that body you brought in.”
“Witnesses put her on a boat with the suit yesterday.”
“Great.” He exhaled. “Go on ahead.” He pointed to his largest boat, which as Ben explained also served as Willy’s home and office. “Place is yours.”
“Thanks.”
“Too bad about that lady. But she was probably a Commie.”
Libby halted, heat radiating up her neck. Yes they were the enemy, but Kat was a person. She wasn’t the politicians running her country.
More importantly, she was a human being and had been murdered in cold blood.
Libby understood the hatred and fear between countries. She’d succumbed to it herself, assuming the worst of Kat simply because of where she came from. And being this close to Russia had to be unnerving, but Willy’s antagonism toward Kat, a woman he didn’t even know, gnawed at her.
Maybe Kat had been trying to defect. Libby prayed that was the case and it wasn’t that Kat was a spy using her profession and the time it allowed her in the States to gather intel for Russia.
Ben took Libby’s hand, leading her into Willy’s office before she or he said anything to Willy that would get them kicked out.
“Remember the bigger picture,” Ben said, giving her hand a soft squeeze. “We need to find her killer. Willy’s just . . .”
“I understand.” She exhaled. “They are our enemy. We are at war with them. But Kat . . .”
He cupped his hand over hers, warmth spreading through her limbs. “I understand too.”
Her gaze locked on his, and something powerful shifted between them. She swallowed, knowing she should pull back, but oh so wanting to lean in. . . . She shook her head, attempting to clear her brain. “What exactly are we looking for?” she finally managed to say.
Ben cleared his throat, taking a step back as he shook out his hands. He grabbed Willy’s most recent rental logbook and flipped it open. He cleared his throat again. “Names we recognize, so we can rule them out. Willy would have recognized a local.”
“And names we don’t recognize?” she asked.
“We give them to Jim to track them down.” Ben scanned the names. “I see our typical fishing charters.”
“I recognize several names too,” she said. “Trainers who probably wanted to take out a boat on their afternoon off. Coaches control the competition rentals.”
“Gotcha, but they are still suspects, as Willy wouldn’t have recognized them.”
“I hardly doubt any of them would get dressed up in a suit to take a boat out.”
“Perhaps if they were trying to impress a beautiful lady.”
She cocked a brow. “So you thought Kat was beautiful?”
“Well, I didn’t meet Kat when she was alive, but I think she was beautiful, in a generic sort of way.”
She was curious to see where he was going with this. “Generic?”
“Tall, brunette, big eyes, high cheekbones. You see it often.”
“Uh-huh. I can see how model-like qualities must get redundant.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
He exhaled. “I prefer a more natural beauty.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So . . . plain?”
He stepped to her, standing but a breath away. “I’d hardly call fair skin”—his gaze followed the curves of her face—“soft, round cheeks, full lips, and sultry eyes the green of the Aegean Sea plain.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came.
Ben swooped in and kissed her, cupping her face, splaying his fingers through her hair.
Her mind temporarily shut down, and her heart took over. His kiss deepened and—
Willy cleared his throat. “Find what you were looking for?” he asked with a gigantic smile.
Maybe she had after all these years.
Gathering their list of names and excusing themselves, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment, they stepped past Willy in the narrow passage and headed for the sheriff’s station, where Jim hopefully had some answers.
He watched the two leave the marina. So they’d made the connection to the boat. No matter. It’d been scrubbed down. Brought back cleaner than when they’d left. Question was, why were they digging so hard?
TEN
So what did you find?” Jim asked as Ben and Libby entered Yancey’s sheriff’s station.
Ben handed Jim the list they’d compiled from Willy’s log. “The names highlighted in yellow are locals, in green are with the tournament—”
“And blue?” he asked.
“Neither of us recognized them. They could be tourists.”
Jim exhaled. “I count three unknowns.”
Ben nodded.
“I’ll have Tom trac
k them down, find out where they’re staying. Maybe they are visiting a local or watching someone in the tournament.” He took a bite out of his sandwich. Smelled like bologna. “Sorry. Way past lunch,” he said, wiping the mustard from the corner of his mouth.
“Lunch? It’s more like dinnertime.” Which meant he and Libby needed to grab a bite too.
“They all paid cash,” Jim said, scanning the notes Ben had made.
“That’s not at all unusual,” Ben said. Most folks did.
“I suppose not. Just makes them harder to track.” Jim took another bite.
“How did it go with the Russians?” Libby asked.
He swallowed before speaking. “About as good as you anticipated.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“Nothing useful, I’m afraid. Other than you are their top suspect.”
“I can’t even be a suspect,” she said with irritation. “I was at regular practice and then with the team until I met Ben for the tour.”
Jim exhaled. “Try reasoning with them.” He added some salt to his sandwich before putting the top slice of bread back on.
“When will the officials arrive?” Ben asked.
“The man from the State Department will be here tomorrow, hopefully before the Russian ambassador shows. I’d hate to have to try and hold him off until the U.S. official arrives.”
“And in the meantime?” Libby asked.
“I’ll get started on these names.” Jim tapped the paper.
“And us?” she asked.
Ben liked the sound of that. “We eat.”
Libby frowned. “Not exactly the riveting mystery angle I was hoping to track down.”
“Even cops need to eat.” Ben lifted his chin at Jim chomping down on his bologna sandwich, the Oscar Mayer song running through his head—the jingle was contagious.
Libby bit into the juicy burger at Gus’s Diner. “Mmm.”
“Told you they were great,” he said, across the red vinyl booth from her. The place was packed, the scent of burgers and milkshakes swirling in the air.
“You weren’t kidding.” If she was going to cheat on her training diet, this was the way to go.
He smiled, watching her.
“What?” She swiped at her chin. “Do I have sauce on my mouth?”
“No. I was just . . . Never mind.”
