by Tripp Ellis
"I need you to get over to the Oceanus apartments. Deputies were called to do a welfare check. They found the occupant dead. Get over there and see what's going on."
"You got it." I ended the call. JD and I finished up and darted out of the bar.
The Oceanus was a nice apartment complex not far from the beach on the northeast side. Five floors of luxury apartments with parking underneath.
Two patrol cars were parked out front along with the medical examiner's van.
JD pulled into the visitors’ lot, and we made our way into the lobby and up to the third floor. We followed the commotion to apartment #316.
Mendoza hovered in the hallway near the door. A young man and a woman stood next to him. They looked to be in their mid 20s. Distraught looks twisted their faces. Tears filled the woman’s eyes as she peered into the apartment with horror. The man with her had a look of shock on his face, his eyes wide, and his skin pale.
Mendoza introduced us to Audrey and her husband, Connor. I told them I’d speak with them shortly.
Mendoza pulled us aside. "These two called in the report. They met us here, and we got the manager to let us into the apartment. We found the girl in the bedroom. Name’s Vivian Grey."
The name sounded familiar, but it didn't hit me right away.
JD and I stepped into the apartment and walked into the living room. Camera flashes spilled from the bedroom as forensic investigators documented the scene. Brenda examined the body.
The apartment was nice. Well furnished with a view of the ocean a few blocks away. There were a few plants in the corners of the room. They were all green and had been well cared for. There was a leather sofa, a glass coffee table, and a large flat-screen display—not a bad place for a young professional.
In the bedroom, a gorgeous blonde lay motionless atop the bed, completely nude. I recognized her instantly as the blonde bikini contestant that had gotten into an altercation backstage with Rachel Reid.
On the nightstand beside the bed were three white lines of a substance that appeared to be cocaine. They were next to a dark amber vile that contained more of the powder.
"OD?" I asked.
"Looks that way," Brenda said. “She has residue around her nostrils. There are no obvious signs of trauma."
"How long has she been dead?"
"From the body temperature, I’d say this happened between 10 PM and midnight last night."
Vivian's blank eyes stared at the ceiling, fixed and dilated.
"Can you tell if anybody was with her at the time?" I asked.
Brenda shrugged. “There may have been someone in these sheets with her. I’ll see what I can find.”
"Let's see if we can pull prints from the vile, the nightstand, and door handles."
Unfortunately, this type of thing wasn't uncommon. Excess amounts of drugs and alcohol were par for the course during Spring Break. The ER was filled with kids who’d overindulged in binge drinking or took drugs of unknown origin. Many overestimated their ability to handle their high.
"Well, this is interesting," one of the forensics investigators said, examining the door handle to the bedroom.
We all gazed at him with curiosity.
12
"There are no prints on the door handle,” the investigator said. “Nothing on either side. It looks like it's been wiped down."
That set off a few alarm bells.
As the forensics team continued to work the scene, they discovered there were no prints on the door to the bathroom. No prints on the nightstand or the vial of cocaine. No prints on the door handle to the apartment.
It was clear that someone had been here and didn't want a record of it.
I could think of a lot of possible reasons—panic being the primary one. If you’re doing a bunch of blow with a girl and she ODs, you might not want to be implicated for various reasons. It didn't necessarily mean foul play was involved, but it was suspicious.
I snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves and picked up Vivian’s cell phone from the nightstand. I held the device in front of Vivian’s face to unlock the screen with facial recognition, then scrolled through the recent calls and texts. There were messages from Audrey, Vivian’s mother, and several others. I took a cursory glance at the messages and listened to several voicemails, looking for anything suspicious.
I let the forensics team do their thing and moved back to the exterior hallway to talk with Audrey and her husband, Connor.
"What can you tell me about Vivian’s drug use?" I asked.
The couple exchanged an uncertain glance.
Audrey said, "I don't think it was anything major. She just used recreationally here and there."
I didn't know too many people who could use cocaine recreationally for an extended length of time. Recreation quickly became a habit.
"Do you know if she had any type of medical condition that may have been exacerbated by the cocaine use?"
Audrey shook her head. "So you think she OD’d?"
"We don't know yet. We think there may have been someone with her at the time. Do you know if she was seeing anyone?"
The couple exchanged another glance, and their faces tightened.
"She was kind of seeing her boss," Audrey said. "They weren't really dating. Just hooking up."
"What's his name?"
"Jeremy Beckett.”
"Where did Vivian work?" I asked.
"She was an accountant for Coconut Key Medical Supply."
"What can you tell me about Jeremy?"
Audrey hesitated and shifted uncomfortably. "I never really liked the guy. He always seemed kind of sleazy to me. I think that was her source for cocaine. He was always bragging about getting pharmacy grade shit. And there’s something else…”
I waited for her to continue.
“Vivian confided in me that she discovered something funny with the books. She said it looked like Jeremy was stealing from the company. They supply a lot of hospitals and surgical centers. He was purchasing counterfeit products and passing them off as the real thing. She also said that a lot of equipment and supplies would go missing. The Accounts Receivable indicated the items had been paid for, but she couldn't find any matching deposits. She was really conflicted about what to do."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I mean, I don't think she wanted to see Jeremy go to jail, but what he was doing could have real-world consequences. Clinicians and surgical staff depend on those supplies. People could die."
"I take it you two were pretty close?”
“Vivian was my best friend. We've been friends since grade school. She wasn’t just some ditzy blonde. She was a genius. People didn’t give her credit. They just saw her tits and didn’t look beyond.” Audrey’s eyes filled, and a few tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Do you know if she confronted Jeremy about these allegations?"
"I don't know,” Audrey said, wiping her eyes.
"Do you know where we can find Jeremy?"
"I think he lives on a boat in Mangrove Bay."
"You'll be able to catch him if he did this, right?" Connor asked, anger flushing his cheeks.
"We will do our best,” I assured.
He didn't seem pleased by my answer. "What does that mean?"
"It means we will pursue every available lead. We don't know if we’re dealing with a homicide yet."
"But if she died from an overdose, isn’t the person who sold her the stuff responsible?" Audrey asked.
"Yes,” I said.
"So you could charge Jeremy with murder?" she asked.
"Let's not put the cart before the horse. I promise we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Connor gave a subtle nod.
“What about Rachel Reid?” I asked.
“What about her?” Audrey replied.
“They got into it backstage at the preliminary. Seemed like they had an ongoing feud.”
“They couldn’t stand each other,” Audrey said.
“Was it a competition thing?
”
“Yeah, and I think Vivian may have slept with her boyfriend once.”
“That could be motive,” JD muttered.
“You think, or you know?” I asked.
“Vivian told me she did,” Audrey replied. “But I didn’t see it with my own eyes if that’s what you’re asking?”
“Is there anything else I should know about Rachel?” I asked, sensing there was more.
“Well, they used to be roommates.”
I arched a curious eyebrow. “Rachel lived here, in this apartment?”
“Yeah, but not in the last six months. Rachel had gotten evicted from her apartment for some reason. I could never get the full story. Anyway, Vivian let her crash on the couch for a month or so while she got her situation sorted. That was back when they were actually friends. We all went to high school together.”
“And that’s when Vivian slept with Rachel’s boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“And since then, they’ve become mortal enemies,” I said.
“Pretty much.”
“Good to know.”
“Do you know where we can find Rachel?”
“I think she lives in this building.”
“Really?”
“It wasn’t until after Rachel moved out that she found out about Vivian and Kane.”
“Do you know what unit she lives in?”
“Apartment #504, I think.”
I gave them my card and took their information.
We knocked on neighboring doors and spoke with residents, but nobody had seen anything.
We took the elevator up to the 5th floor, hoping to find Rachel.
13
Rachel looked quite a bit different from the last time we had seen her. She answered the door with her hair in a ponytail, no makeup, and wearing baggy pink sweatpants. She looked damn good without makeup, even though she did look tired. I figured last night had been a late one for her.
She had a curious look on her face. “What do you two want? Don’t tell me I'm getting disqualified for yesterday?"
"Not exactly," I said.
Her brow knitted together.
"Where were you last night between 10 PM and midnight?"
"I was out with a friend. Why?"
"Vivian Gray is dead,” I said.
Her brow lifted, and her eyes rounded. "Really?"
"Really."
"What happened?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out."
Confusion turned to concern. "And you think because we got into a fight yesterday that I had something to do with it?"
I shrugged.
"Oh, no. No way!”
"You two did have quite the history."
She sighed. "We didn't like each other. That was no secret. I mean, she slept with my boyfriend. I'm supposed to just get past that?"
"Are you still together with your boyfriend?" JD asked.
Her face crinkled. "Hell no!"
"Did you ever do any illicit drugs with Vivian?" I inquired.
"No. Are you kidding me? I know what that stuff does to your body.”
"Were you aware of Vivian’s recreational drug use?"
"Yeah. She used a little bit."
"You’re a nurse, right?"
Rachel nodded.
“Which unit?”
“Cardiac care.”
“Are you drug tested?”
“Pre-hire. But I haven’t been tested since. Though, they claim they can do it at any time. Not a big deal. Like I said, I stay clean. Margaritas are my only vice.”
“Who were you with last night?”
“My friend, Keira.”
“I’ll need her contact information.”
“Sure.” She grabbed her phone and texted Keira’s contact information to me.
“Where did you two go last night?”
She thought about it for a moment. “Tide Pool, then Turtles, then Reefers, then Mutiny, if I remember correctly.”
“Do you know who Vivian’s dealer is?”
She shook her head. “Did she OD? Do you think the drugs were laced with something?”
“What makes you think that?” I asked.
“The questions you’re asking. I’m not stupid.”
“It’s too soon to tell. Right now, we just want to know if anyone was with her at the time of death.”
“I don’t know much about what was going on in her life. We weren’t really on speaking terms unless it was to call each other names.” She slumped. “It’s really sad. We used to be best friends.”
“Do you know Audrey Davis?”
She nodded. “We were never really close, but when Vivian and I had a falling out, Audrey was definitely on Team Vivian.”
“But Vivian screwed you over, right?”
“Vivian and Audrey were always tight. I’m sure Vivian was able to make herself out to be the victim. Audrey certainly wasn’t going to take my side.”
“Did you know about Vivian’s relationship with Jeremy Beckett?”
“No.”
I gave Rachel my card and told her we might be in touch.
“This isn’t going to affect my competition, is it?” she asked with worried eyes. “I mean, you guys are judges, and you’re talking to me like I’m some kind of suspect.”
“We only judged that preliminary,” I said.
“And we both gave you 10s,” JD added.
“Then I guess I have you to thank for making it to the semifinals,” she said.
“So you’re still in the running?” JD asked.
“Yep.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Let me know what you find out. I know we weren’t on good terms, but I’m not happy about Vivian’s death. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”
I nodded, and she closed the door. We ambled down the hallway, and I called her friend, Keira.
She confirmed Rachel’s alibi.
“Think they’re telling the truth?” JD asked after I ended the call.
I shrugged. “I doubt Vivian let Rachel into her apartment last night to do cocaine and roll around in the sheets.”
“Now that’s a visual,” JD said.
We left the apartment and headed over to Mangrove Bay to speak with Jeremy.
14
Jeremy lived on a 45-foot sport-yacht named Prescription. He was drinking beer with a buddy in the cockpit, listening to music. Like most marinas, there were various parties aboard different boats. Some residents enjoyed the loud revelry, and some didn't.
We stood at the stern and flashed our badges.
Jeremy was a handsome guy—early 30s, square jaw, blindingly white teeth, and short brown hair. He wore a T-shirt and board shorts. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes. "Afternoon, deputies. What can I do for you?"
"We’d like to talk to you about Vivian Grey," I said.
"Sweet girl,” he said, a perpetual smile on his face. “What do you want to know?"
"Well, I'd like to know how she died."
Jeremy's smile faded, and his jaw dropped. He pulled the sunglasses off, revealing his blue eyes. "She's dead!? How?"
"We don't have an official cause of death yet."
“But I just saw her yesterday."
"When?"
"At work."
"Did you see her after work?"
He hesitated. "No."
"Are you sure about that?"
He was silent for a moment, then stammered, "I mean, I didn't see her. I went by her apartment, but she wouldn’t let me in."
"Why did you go to her apartment?"
"Because I wanted to see her."
"It's my understanding you two had a thing."
"Where did you hear that?"
"Is it true?"
"We were hooking up.” He muttered, “It's sort of against company policy, but sometimes you gotta break the rules."
"Seems like you break the rules a lot," I said.
His eyes narrowed, and his brow knitted with c
onfusion. "What do you mean?"
"Vivian may have died from a cocaine overdose. Cocaine which she may have gotten from you?"
"What!?"
I shrugged. "That's what I hear."
"Where do you hear this from?" He paused, and his eyes squinted. "It's that bitch, Audrey. Isn't it?"
I said nothing.
Jeremy shook his head dismissively and scoffed. "I don't know what she told you, but she's lying. Okay? I never gave Vivian any coke. That's absurd."
"I also hear that you’ve been embezzling from your employer."
Jeremy's face soured. “Whoa! What are you talking about? Where does Audrey get this stuff?"
"You know we're going to talk to your employer. I'm sure he'll want to audit the books. If there's any impropriety, it will be found," I warned.
"You guys can't be serious. Go ahead. Audit the books. You’re not going to find anything.” He paused. “I mean, where are you guys going with this? You think that I went over to Vivian’s apartment and gave her so much coke she OD’d? Why? I liked Vivian. I wasn’t in love with her, but I liked her.”
“Maybe you liked her until she accused you.”
“I’m done talking to you guys. I want a lawyer."
"You're not under arrest," I said.
“And I want to stay that way.”
“Is that an admission of guilt?”
“No. It’s common sense.”
He had a point. Talking to cops could only get you in trouble. No convicted felon ever said, “I wish I’d told the cops more.”
“Suit yourself,” I said ominously before leaving.
We strolled the dock toward the parking lot. I texted Isabella and asked her to pull Jeremy’s cell phone records along with Rachel Reid’s.
"I don't like that guy," JD said.
"Neither do I.”
“The little bastard's smart, though. He admitted visiting Vivian's apartment.”
“If anyone can place him at the scene, he's got an excuse," I said.
"Vivian was threatening to rat him out,” JD said. “That's reason enough for murder.”
“The toxicology report will tell us a lot.”
We hopped into JD’s car and headed to our appointment to look at the Trans Am. On the drive, I did some digging. The medical supply company was owned by a guy named Graham Miller. I got his number from Denise and gave him a call. I explained the situation with Vivian and Jeremy.
