by Tripp Ellis
"What about her boyfriend?" I asked.
"The DNA found in the victim does not match any of the DNA samples we collected from Owen, or Isaac,” Brenda said. "Even if it had, it wouldn't mean much. A guy having consensual sex with his girlfriend is not unusual.”
"What about the other victim? Reese Jordan?”
"I was never able to recover any usable DNA from her remains. I still can't say if these two murders are related," Brenda said. "But the press is already picking up on the connections. They're dubbing this guy the Seaside Stalker."
I rolled my eyes. "Thanks. Let me know if you find anything else out."
"Will do."
I hung up the phone and slipped it back into my pocket.
"I say we go up to Oyster Avenue, hit a few bars," I said.
"Now you're talking." JD grinned.
"I want to ask around about Grace."
"What happened to taking the rest of the day off?" JD asked.
"I doubt the killer is taking a day off,” I said. "He's probably searching for his next victim as we speak, if he hasn't found one already."
JD grimaced. "You certainly are a buzz kill."
I shrugged.
JD mixed two roadies, and we walked to Oyster Avenue, mingling with scantily clad girls along the way.
Most of these college kids were too young to remember the singer that JD resembled. But a few older people stopped us and asked for his autograph. JD was more than happy to indulge them. Jack had been the recipient of countless free drinks over the course of his career as a result of the mistaken identity. He never saw the harm in it. He always said, “These people will have a fun story to tell, and it makes them feel excited. It’s a win-win for everybody.”
We arrived at Oyster Avenue at sunset and drifted into Trim. The club was designed to look like the deck of a sailboat. There was a mainmast in the center of the bar with a sail and a spinnaker. The walls were painted like the open ocean. Seabirds hung in the sky. A giant squid was painted on the horizon. The name was in reference to trimming the sails, but it had another meaning as well. The place was packed with gorgeous beauties. Lots of snug bikini tops and shorts.
A live band played on stage, and music filled the bar.
JD and I sauntered toward the main bar. It was possible that Grace had frequented the establishment, but it was hard to say. Jack mainly wanted to see the sights contained within.
We ordered a drink, and I flashed Grace's picture to the bartender. He shrugged and shook his head. This fact-finding mission wasn't going to turn up much, I feared.
We stayed for a while and listened to the band. I wanted to move on to another bar, but Jack insisted we stay for one more drink. He was talking to a cute little redhead and wasn’t about to leave the premises.
I decided I probably should try to relax and blow off steam.
About the time I settled into the idea of having a leisurely evening, there was a commotion by the entrance, and a crowd gathered round. Two big bodyguards escorted a young blonde through the club as people swarmed around her, screaming and hollering.
At first I didn't know what the hell was going on, then I recognized the blonde—even with her dark sunglasses on and the brim of her pink baseball cap pulled low.
There was pandemonium and chaos.
Girls screamed and cried with hysteria.
People reached out hands, trying to touch the celebrity.
Chloe-C was one of the biggest pop stars on the planet. She was scheduled to play a free concert on the water, and I had heard rumors about her making impromptu visits to bars on Oyster Avenue, sitting in with the local bands.
The thick, musclebound bodyguards escorted her to the stage, and she stepped up and took the microphone. The band members parted, almost bowing in reverence.
She howled into the microphone. "Hey Coconut Key! This is Chloe-C! Are y'all ready to par-teeeeee?”
The crowd roared in response.
"You are all coming to see my show, aren't you?"
There were more screams and howls.
"It's going to be the biggest, baddest, concert ever. People will still be talking about it 20 years from now, and you'll be able to say you were there!”
Chloe-C was a living, breathing hype machine. She knew how to sell herself, and everyone was buying.
She exchanged a few words with the band, and they agreed on a song they all knew. The drummer kicked off the beat, and the guitarist strummed the rhythm. The bass player laid down the funk, and Chloe's seductive voice washed over the audience like silk.
The place erupted with cheers.
Chloe was talented. There was no doubt about it.
I liked her music. It was catchy. You couldn't help but sing along with the chorus. I was an old school rock 'n' roll guy, but I could appreciate her music.
Apparently there was one person in the audience that couldn't. He pushed through the crowd, pulled out a gun, and aimed it at the stage.
My eyes went wide at the sight.
20
I sprinted toward the shooter, plowing through the crowd, bowling people over—much to their displeasure. There were angry scowl's and obscenities hurled in my direction.
The thug aimed the weapon at Chloe-C. His finger wrapped tight around the trigger. Hatred filled his eyes.
I lunged for him just as he squeezed off a round.
Muzzle flash flickered, and the deafening bang rang my ears.
My hand grabbed his forearm, forcing the pistol toward the ceiling as it went off. The bullet smacked a light hanging from a grid. Glass shattered as the light popped. Shards rained down, sprinkling the crowd.
The band stopped playing.
The club filled with screams, and everyone hit the deck.
I tackled the shooter to the ground and wrestled the weapon away from him. By that time, Chloe-C’s bodyguards swarmed to help.
I slapped cuffs on the shooter’s wrists and collected the weapon once he was secured. JD called Sheriff Daniels, and a bodyguard, named Xander, sat on the shooter until the patrol units arrived.
When the commotion was over, Chloe stood up clutching her heart with a look of shock on her face. When she caught her breath, she grabbed the microphone. “Let's hear it for our hero!"
The club erupted with cheers.
"I guess you're not somebody until they try to kill you?" Chloe-C said.
There were more hoots and hollers.
It didn't take long for deputies to arrive and cart the shooter away.
Chloe pointed at me. "You, sir! Come up here!”
I shook my head.
"Get up here! Now!" Chloe demanded.
The crowd cheered me on.
I shrugged, rolled my eyes, and ambled toward the stage.
Chloe reached her hand out, clutched mine, and pulled me onto the riser. She lifted my hand up in victory, and the crowd cheered again.
I stood there, mildly embarrassed.
"What's your name?" Chloe asked.
"Tyson,” I said into the microphone.
"Let's give it up for Tyson!”
There were more howls and applause.
Chloe covered the microphone and whispered into my ear. "I'm having a party on my boat in the marina at the country club. Come by tonight."
Chloe's eyes sparkled at me.
"How can I turn an offer like that down?"
"You can’t.” She smiled.
She leaned into the microphone. “This next song is dedicated to Tyson!”
Chloe exchanged a word with the band, then launched into one of her hits, Right Time.
You were in the right place
At the right time.
You stole my heart,
Won’t you be mine?
You were on the front-lines
Of a good time.
Make me feel all right,
Really blow my mind.
It was a silly little pop song that had stayed at number one on the Billboard charts for six weeks, only to be
knocked off by her other single, Make it Last, which was the title track from her second album.
I stayed on stage, feeling awkward, while she sang the song.
Afterward, she kissed me on the cheek and made me promise to swing by her after-party at the marina.
Who was I to turn her down?
The crowd went crazy for Chloe-C. She played a few more songs, then left the stage. Fans swarmed around her, asking for autographs. She signed as many as she could, then the beefy bodyguards escorted her from the bar and hustled her into an SUV at the curb. She was whisked away as throngs of fans crowded the vehicle.
People couldn't stop talking about her afterward.
I'm sure the incident would be the top story on all the gossip blogs the next day. Chloe-C continues impromptu concert after assassination attempt, the headlines would probably read.
You couldn’t buy that kind of publicity.
We had an invitation to an exclusive party, and JD wasn't about to let that slip away. We caught a rickshaw over to the marina at the country club. The security guard at the front gate was checking names from a list. I flashed my badge, and we strolled up the main drive. We walked past the clubhouse, down to the marina. There were several parties aboard super-yachts, but it was easy to find Chloe-C’s.
She had the biggest crowd.
Bodyguards stood on the deck by the gangway, making sure only approved guests boarded the luxury yacht. Xander recognized us from the club and waved us aboard. He shook my hand before we strolled across the gangway. "Thanks for making us look good. That could have been disastrous."
"Like Chloe said, right place, right time."
He chuckled, and we traversed the gangway to the aft deck. The boat was filled with the jet set crowd. Pretty, affluent people that either had a connection to the singer, or a connection to a connection to the singer. You had to be somebody to get aboard this boat.
The Italian yacht was created through a joint partnership with the famed shipbuilder Adimari and the exclusive fashion designer Di Fiore. The hundred-foot boat was an instant classic. No expense was spared in the luxury appointments. There was a spacious aft deck, and a foldout beach club to stern. There was a complete garage with tender storage, and a crane for easy deployment. The salon was impeccably crafted with an old world luxury design, detailed as only Di Fiore could. The salon enveloped passengers in breathtaking opulence. From the custom mirror on the ceiling, to the array of inset lights that resembled chandeliers. Decorative gray wood paneling was highlighted with silver flake paint. There was a flybridge above, and a sky-deck above that. It wasn’t the largest ship on the water, but it was one of the most exquisitely appointed.
Waitstaff in formal attire served champagne, wine, and mixed drinks, along with hors d'oeuvres.
Chloe's eyes widened when she saw me. She dashed across the deck and wrapped her arms around me. "Thank you so much for coming."
"Thanks for inviting us," I said.
She released her embrace and thanked me again for saving her life.
“Does that kind of thing happen often?" I asked.
She groaned. "I have some crazy fans. It's nuts. I think that's the same guy that broke into my house last month. I had a restraining order against him, and I think that pissed him off. Most of these people are harmless. They wait outside my house, follow me to the grocery store, follow me around while I’m shopping. They just want to catch a glimpse of a celebrity and maybe get an autograph. And I'm happy to sign autographs. I wouldn't be anywhere without my fans. But every now and then, somebody goes overboard. And I've been getting death threats ever since I made that social media post. I never really took them seriously. I just thought they were keyboard warriors, living in their parents’ basement. But I have to admit, I'm a little freaked out. I'm hiding it well at the moment, but I'm sure I'll break down into a nervous wreck once everyone disappears."
"You might want to step up security at your free concert," I said.
She nodded. "I will. I'm going to talk to Xander about it. He's my head of security. You guys met at the bar."
"Good. If there's anything we can do to help, let us know."
She put a hand on my arm. "Aw, you guys are so sweet." She gazed at me curiously for a long moment, then said, "I know you." Another moment, and she had placed my face. "Bree Taylor. We didn't meet, but I saw you in Monaco with her, and who could forget what happened next? I don't know why I didn't snap when you first told me your name. Tyson Wild. You wrote the Bree Taylor story?"
"I didn't really write the story. I put together a timeline of events and helped another writer flesh out the story."
“What’s next for you?”
I shrugged. “I'm talking with the studio about a TV show.”
“That sounds exciting.”
"It’s a Florida mystery series, loosely based on our adventures.”
“Sounds fun. I really want to get into acting. Let me know when you start casting.”
“It’s all just talk at the moment.”
“Who is your agent?” Chloe asked.
“Joel with Inventive Artists Agency.”
Her eyes widened with excitement. “I love him. He’s so great. I’m with another agency right now, but don’t tell anyone, I’m thinking about switching.”
“I thought you were with IAA?”
She groaned. “I was. And I regret leaving.”
“Joel is a good guy. One of the few. I’m sure he’d love to have you as a client. I can call him and let him know you’re interested.”
“Maybe put a little bug in his ear,” she said. “I’ve been too embarrassed to call my old agent, Declan.”
“I’m sure you’d be happy with Joel.”
We exchanged numbers, and she said she would be in touch. “Well, I need to be a good host and mingle. You guys stay as long as you like, eat and drink your fill, and I'll get you backstage passes to my show.”
“My daughter is a big fan,” JD said. “I know she would love to meet you.”
“And I’d love to meet her.”
“She’s making a special trip back from Los Angeles just to see your show.”
Chloe smiled. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“She’ll be so excited,” JD said.
“I’ll see you soon, Deputy Wild." Chloe flashed a flirty smile and winked at me, then drifted away to mingle with other important guests.
Somebody mistook Jack for the '80s rock star he resembled. The guy was in his mid-40s and old enough to remember the aging hairband. I'm not sure what his connection to Chloe-C was. His eyes widened with excitement, and he shook Jack’s hand. “Tom Strathmoore. You probably don't remember me. We met a LONG time ago. I'm sure we’ve both killed quite a few brain cells since then."
The two chuckled.
"I didn't know you were in town,” Tom said.
Jack shrugged, playing along.
"I am stoked about the reunion tour. I can't wait."
"It's going to be a doozy," JD said.
The man smiled and drifted away to mingle with other guests.
We made our way to the bar and ordered two drinks. JD stuffed a few bills in the tip jar as the bartender slid 2 whiskeys across the counter.
JD and I clinked glasses.
"To stopping assassination attempts," he said.
"And to not killing anybody in the process," I replied.
I sipped the whiskey and surveyed the crowd. My eyes caught sight of my nemesis, and I groaned with displeasure as she approached the bar.
21
“My, my,” Finley said as she sauntered to the bar. "You certainly get around."
I smiled and shrugged innocently.
"Pretty fancy circles to run in for a deputy?"
"And how did you find yourself here?" I asked.
"I sold Chloe a condo last year. She's a sweet girl, I like her." Finley changed topics. "I heard about what happened. I'm beginning to think it might not be safe around you."
"It's much s
afer around me," Jack said, eyeing Finley's sumptuous form.
She gave him a doubtful glance.
"Jack, have you met Finley, the evil real estate developer that's going to destroy Diver Down?”
Finley rolled her eyes. "I am not evil."
“So, you’re the one we hate?” Jack said, shaking her hand. “I guess if I had to get bulldozed by anybody, I'd want it to be by you.”
"I'll take that as a compliment, I think," Finley said. "I'm really not the bad guy here. I'm not as bad as Tyson makes me out to be."
"That's a shame, because I like bad," JD said.
Finley chuckled. "What about you, Deputy Wild? Do you like bad?" There was a naughty glint in her eyes.
"I've been known to chase after bad people,” I said.
Finley muttered to JD, “It seems Deputy Wild and I are in competition for the same piece of property." She kept her sultry gaze aimed at me. "I have to warn you, I am a fierce competitor. I don't like to lose."
"Neither do I.”
"I'm sure this could get very interesting," Finley said.
"I'm sure it could."
I wasn't sure if we were still talking about real estate.
"You know, I'm all about making things a win-win when it comes to business. And pleasure."
I arched an intrigued eyebrow.
"I think I have a solution that could work for both of us," Finley said with a deliciously devious sparkle in her eyes.
"I'm all ears," I said.
"You'll get what you want, I'll get what I want. And we will all be happy."
I stared at her for a long moment, then exchanged a skeptical glance with JD.
"Before we become mortal enemies," Finley said. "I think you should see one of my properties. I want you to experience my full vision."
"I'd certainly like to see more of your… property," I said.
A thin smirk curled on her full lips. "Why don't you come with me? I think you'll like what you see."
Jack put his elbow in my ribs, encouraging me to take her up on her offer.
I surveyed the ruthless mogul curiously.
