Deadly Sins

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “Thanks, Sloane. I’ll text you Layla’s number. See if you can get her to tell you where they were last night, and then call those places and press them for any details they have. I’m throwing a few things in a bag and catching the next flight out of here. Leaves in a few hours.”

  “Nick?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do me a favor and breathe, okay?” I said. “We don’t know what’s happened yet, so let’s not assume the worst.”

  It seemed like the right thing to say, but somehow, I knew it wasn’t.

  CHAPTER 4

  Cade met me at the door when I arrived home. “Where’d you run off to in such a hurry this mornin’? I came home to see if you wanted to go to lunch, but you were already gone.”

  I leaned over and kissed him. “I had an appointment.”

  He raised a brow. “Oh...kay.”

  “I went to see Elodie.”

  “The therapist?”

  I nodded. “I texted her this morning to see if she had an opening, and she’d just had a cancellation so I went over.”

  He walked into the living room and sat down. I followed.

  “Is everythin’ all right?” he asked.

  I wanted to say something, but instead, I nodded.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  I thought about what Elodie had said about opening the door of conversation, but right now, another door begged my attention. “I do, but I need a few minutes. During our session, Nick called.”

  “Why?”

  “His wife went to Australia for her friend’s wedding, and he believes she’s missing.” I filled him in on the details. “I’m sure she’s fine. Probably just a wild night out with friends.”

  “You said she seemed like the innocent type when you met her.”

  “She did, but I’ve only been around her once. Who knows what she’s really like?” The more I thought about it, the more I believed there was a plausible explanation as to why she hadn’t returned to her friend’s house yet. A few hours wasn’t long enough to warrant genuine concern. I decided to wait a bit longer before making calls, so I sat next to Cade. “I saw Elodie because I’m trying to work through what happened with Shelby.”

  There. I’d done it. The door was open, although he didn’t seem too eager to walk through it. It was his turn to nod and say nothing.

  “I want you to know I’m okay if you want to talk to me about anything,” I said. “Anything to do with Shelby, I mean.”

  He pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. “The last time I mentioned her to you, you walked away. Later I saw you on the back porch sippin’ a glass of wine, cryin’.”

  I had no memory of it. “I wish you would have told me.”

  “I figured you needed more time to process everythin’, and I understand. In some ways, I do too.”

  “I’m just used to us talking through everything. It feels different this time.”

  “You’re right. I’ve spent too much time wonderin’ if you could handle havin’ a conversation if I brought it up, and I should have just asked you instead.”

  “I should have asked you too,” I said. “I’m glad we’re talking about it now. Let’s work through it together, okay?”

  My phone buzzed. It was Nick. “Hey, I was just getting ready to make those calls.”

  “She’s ... you don’t need to worry about doing that anymore ... I just ...”

  “Nick, what’s going on?”

  “The police commissioner just called. A couple of officers found her.”

  His voice cracked as he spoke. My “Oh Shit” radar was officially up.

  “Where? Is she okay?”

  “Facedown in a lagoon, Sloane. She’s dead.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Dead. A word I hadn’t expected. It didn’t seem real, and yet it was. Nick was at the airport, waiting to board a plane to Sydney, which would then transfer him to Cairns.

  “What can I do?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” Nick said. “There’s nothing anyone can do for her now.”

  The line went silent. He was gone. I put the phone down and glanced at Cade. “Nick’s wife is dead.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t think he knows much yet. The police told him they found her in the lagoon.”

  “Drowned?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

  I did a search of the lagoon on my phone. “Says here it’s only five feet deep at its deepest. Even if she’d been drinking, she would have been able to keep her head above water, right? Without more details, it’s hard to know what happened.”

  “You should go.”

  “What?”

  Cade ran a hand along his jawline. “I have an idea of how Nick is feelin’ right now. He’s a mess, Sloane. Probably will be for some time. He’ll need a friend.”

  Cade was the most trusting, compassionate man I’d ever known. Sometimes I felt unworthy of him. “Are you sure you don’t mind me leaving?”

  “You haven’t taken a case for months. It’ll be good for you. When you get back, I’ll be here, and we can talk about where we want to go.”

  “Where we want to go?”

  “I received an offer on the house this mornin’. It’s a good one. I’d like to accept it, if you don’t have any objections.”

  “It’s your house, Cade. You should do whatever you think is best.”

  “It’s our house. Your opinion matters.”

  “I’m fine with accepting the offer if you are.”

  “Good. I’ll get the ball rollin’.”

  We’d discussed where we might want to relocate once the house sold, but we never settled on anything. The plates of my life were all spinning. In a few short hours, everything had changed.

  CHAPTER 6

  I decided to video chat with my closest friend Maddie, medical examiner and fellow friend of Nick’s.

  When the video connected, she said, “Wow, you look different. I like the caramel highlights in your hair.”

  I didn’t look different. Not really. I’d added a few simple chunks of color. Otherwise, my hair was still the same short, dark pixie cut I’d had for years, but recently I’d ditched the curling iron, replacing it with a soft, wavy, not-so-perfect, natural look. It accentuated my oversized doe eyes nicely.

  “I was about to say the same about you,” I said. “No pigtails today?”

  “I’ve decided it’s time to make peace with the fact that no matter how youthful I feel, I’m not in my twenties anymore.”

  She wasn’t in her thirties, either. Neither was I. “Mid-forties is not old.”

  “Depends on who you ask.”

  She’d traded out her usual platinum-blond pigtails for a dozen braids, which she’d rolled on top of her head into a messy, braided bun that actually looked like it had been styled by a professional.

  “You hear about what’s going on with Nick?” I asked.

  Maddie replied, but I didn’t understand what she’d said.

  “Am I on speakerphone?” I asked.

  A few seconds passed and then she said, “Sorry. I was cleaning my bone cutter. Is Marissa pregnant?”

  “Pregnant?”

  “I know they’ve been trying.”

  “I don’t know anything about a pregnancy. Marissa has been in Australia for a wedding this weekend.”

  “Oh, yeah. He mentioned he was flying out for it. After the wedding, he’s taking her to Bali for a week. Lucky girl.”

  How fast things change. “Maddie, Nick called me a bit ago. Marissa was found dead this morning.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I told her everything I knew.

  When I finished, she said, “And you’re headed there now—today?”

  “There’s not another flight for several hours, and it will take a day to get there ... but, yes.”

  “Does Nick know you’re coming?”

  “Not yet. He’s in the air. His phone’s
off.”

  “Where are you right now?”

  “About to get on a plane to Salt Lake City. From there, I fly into Los Angeles, and then to Australia.”

  “How long before you’re in Salt Lake?”

  “A little over an hour,” I said. “I’m about to board now. Why?”

  “I have a lot of vacation time built up.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’ll see you in an hour.”

  CHAPTER 7

  When we arrived in Cairns the next day, I called Nick. He didn’t answer. Maddie contacted Victoria Bennett, the coroner for the North Queensland region. Maddie explained who we were, how we were affiliated with Marissa, and said we were looking for Nick. Victoria was reluctant to give Maddie any information over the phone, but she said Nick had called asking questions about his wife’s autopsy, and she expected him to drop by in a few hours. She told Maddie where he was staying.

  “He’s at the Laureate,” Maddie said.

  “Let’s go see if he’s there.”

  Twenty minutes laterm Nick opened the door to his hotel room, his eyes wide, staring at us like were holograms, figments of his imagination that weren’t real. He looked rough, his face red and blotchy, his eyes worn, like he hadn’t slept.

  “What are you two doing here?” he asked.

  “We didn’t want you to be alone,” I said.

  “We thought you might want to see a familiar face,” Maddie added. “Well, two familiar faces.”

  Nick tipped his head down, wiping the moisture pooling inside his eyes. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re here.”

  He threw his arms around both of us, and we all just stood for a moment, sandwiched in a melancholy embrace.

  “What do you know so far?” Maddie asked.

  “Not much yet,” he said. “Marissa was found by a woman, a female tourist staying in a hotel across the street. She was taking her dog out and saw something floating in the lagoon. She got closer, saw Marissa, and called the police. Marissa was already dead when they got there.”

  “What else did they tell you?” I asked.

  “Right now, they think it was an accident. They think she drowned because she’d been out drinking all night.”

  “And you? What do you think?”

  “There’s something more here. Something I don’t know. I’m sure of it. Before I leave here, I will find out what it is. I’m headed over to speak with the coroner.”

  “Good,” I said. “We’re coming with you.”

  CHAPTER 8

  We found Victoria Bennett bent over Marissa’s body when we arrived, hovering a few inches from her face, inspecting her hair. She looked to be around my age, mid-forties, and was a ginger with a straight bob reminiscent of Mia Wallace in Pulp Fiction. Every visible inch of her was freckled.

  She glanced at the three of us and straightened. I glanced at Nick. His face was pale, his body stiff. He stood by the front door, staring across the room at his deceased wife.

  Maddie approached Victoria.

  I placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this right now. You don’t have to see her if you’re not ready. Let us handle it. We’ll tell you everything the coroner says.”

  I expected him to refuse my offer, but he gave me a slight nod, pushed the door open, and went outside to get some air.

  “What’s going on?” Victoria asked.

  “He’s still processing everything. We’ll give him a few minutes, but I’m not sure he’s ready to see her yet.”

  “But, I need to tell him—”

  “Why don’t you tell us, and we’ll tell him.”

  “That’s not the way it works.”

  “We have his permission, and I’d like to make things as easy on him as possible. I hope you understand.”

  She considered my request. “Maddie just told me she’s a medical examiner in Utah. I guess I could talk to you both, this one time.”

  Maddie pressed her hands together like she was offering up a prayer. “Perfect. What have you discovered?”

  “Little to suggest anything other than an accidental drowning.” Victoria looked at Maddie. “Have you ever performed this kind of autopsy before?”

  “Drowning?” Maddie asked. “Only once.”

  “And was it an accident?”

  “It was a homicide, but proving it wasn’t easy.”

  Maddie and Victoria exchanged a silent, understanding glance. They were on the same wavelength. I wasn’t.

  “Why was it hard to prove?” I asked.

  “The process of determining a person drowned by force or by accident is the same,” Victoria said.

  “Take me through it so I can understand,” I said. “I want to know as much as I can about what Marissa experienced.”

  Victoria nodded. “The way it usually happens, at first Marissa’s lungs would have filled with water, making it hard for oxygen to get to the bloodstream. When water reached the airway, her larynx closed, stopping more water from reaching the lungs. Water then entered her sinuses, the oxygen in her blood declined, and she most likely lost consciousness. Once breathing ceased, her heart would have continued to beat at an accelerated rate until it stopped beating. At that point, she died.”

  “How much time would have passed from beginning to end?”

  “Not much. Minutes at most. You ask a lot of questions. What is it you think happened?”

  “I’m not sure. I just want to make sure Nick has all the details, no matter what they are.”

  “Let’s say hypothetically that it was something more like foul play. Proving it will be hard, Sloane,” Maddie said. “For starters, Victoria would hope to find physical wounds on Marissa’s body, any cuts or bruises that can’t be explained.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Then we need a witness. Someone who saw what happened before Marissa died.”

  “I still have a lot of examinations to do,” Victoria said. “Right now, I don’t have a lot of answers either way.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “I’m doing my best. I don’t want to rush it and miss some of the finer details. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but results, especially in a situation like this, take time.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Is there anything you can tell me now?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. The back of her hand has a black ink stamp on it about an inch in diameter. It’s barely visible, but it’s there. Guessing she got it when she entered one of the nightclubs, but it’s too faded for me to make out which one.”

  It was a simple, minute detail. Even so, it was better than nothing.

  CHAPTER 9

  The bride-to-be lived in Edge Hill, a suburb of Cairns. After ringing the doorbell without success, I pounded on the door a few times, and we waited. There were three cars in the driveway. Someone had to be home. A woman with blond hair loosely braided down her back cracked the door open and blinked at Maddie, Nick, and me, as if she were too tired to bother with verbal pleasantries.

  She rubbed a hand across her tear-stained cheek, and said, “Hey.”

  “Are you Layla?” I asked.

  “Nope, I’m Val.” She tipped her head at Nick. “I’m guessing you’re Marissa’s husband, right? I recognize you from her photos on Facebook.”

  Nick, who seemed disinterested in engaging in pleasantries as well, said, “Yep.”

  “I’m Sloane,” I said, “And this is Maddie. We’re Nick’s friends.”

  “Layla’s this way.”

  She turned and shuffled down the hall, scraping the bottom of her slippers as she went. The slippers made an irritating scratching sound, one of my biggest pet peeves.

  Pick up your damn feet when you walk. It’s not that hard.

  We followed her to the kitchen and found two more women sitting on barstools. Each had a glass of red wine in hand. Two more half-full glasses were sitting on the counter along with four empty wine bottles and a fifth that was a
bout ten percent away from being polished off. I glanced at a round, metal, red clock on the wall. It wasn’t even two o’clock yet. To their credit, all of them looked worse for wear, and I assumed they’d been crying over the news of Marissa’s death and relying on alcohol to cope. I didn’t blame them.

  “Layla and Georgia,” Val said, “this is Marissa’s husband.”

  “Hey, I’m Layla.”

  Georgia jerked her chin up, but said nothing.

  Having made the introductions, Val wandered to the bathroom.

  Layla was tall and slender, with straight brunette hair to her shoulders, and a delicate, heart-shaped face. She slid off her chair, swigged the remaining wine in her glass, set the glass on the counter, and threw her arms around Nick, as if they’d known one another for years.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I blew you off the other night when you called. And I’m sorry I wasn’t looking out for her. I should have taken you seriously when you called me. It’s just ... this kind of thing rarely happens here. Believe me. This is a safe place. I thought she would be all right. I really did. If I knew she’d end up—”

  Arms dangling at his side like an uncomfortable rag doll, Nick broke from the embrace and stepped behind me. It pained me to see him so debilitated, validating my reasons for being there for him. The awkward quiet of the room was unnerving. I attempted to break the silence, but Nick stopped me.

  “What you did or didn’t do doesn’t matter anymore, Layla,” he said. “My wife is dead. All I care about is finding who’s responsible for what happened.”

  “We’re responsible,” Layla said. “All of us. We should have been with her at the end of the night, and we weren’t.”

  “You’re right. You should have been there. But what I need to know is how she died. I need to find out who killed her and why.”

  Val returned to the kitchen, propping herself up on a barstool. “Killed her? No one killed her. It was an accident. A horrible, unfortunate accident.”

  Nick shook his head. “Think what you want. I’m not buying it.”

  Layla placed her hand on her hips. “I know it’s hard, honey. We’re all struggling to believe she’s gone.”