by Rachel Woods
“At least it wasn’t a hit and run,” said Vivian, willing herself not to dwell on the similarities between what had happened to last night’s victim and her best friend’s heinous, senseless murder. Amal had been hit by a car, run down in the middle of the night by a twisted psychopath.
“Guess there’s not that much to the story.” Sophie exhaled. “You think it’s worth pursuing?”
“Where was he found?”
“Oyster Farms,” said Sophie.
“Really?” asked Vivian, her interest growing. Oyster Farms, a working-class neighborhood, was known for its modest homes, well-kept lawns, and quiet streets. The residents were by no means wealthy, but they made a decent living and made a point to live peaceable lives.
“There’s not much crime in Oyster Farms,” said Vivian.
“That’s why I was thinking it might be worth pursuing the story,” said Sophie. “Who knows? Maybe the guy was shot somewhere else and then dropped off in Oyster Farms.”
“Maybe,” said Vivian. “See what you can find out and email me the first draft in a few hours.”
“Great!” Sophie smiled. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Before you go,” said Vivian. “Good job on the Little Turkey motel murder story.”
Sophie beamed. “Thanks! I just wish I could have gotten more information about a motive.”
“You did find out that there are no suspects at this time,” said Vivian. “Make sure you keep in contact with Officer Fields for any updates.”
After ending the video call with Sophie, Vivian closed her laptop, leaned back against the couch cushions, and rubbed her eyes. She was proud of Sophie for her aggressive pursuit of some very interesting stories. Unfortunately, Vivian feared that no one would be interested in reading them. The entire Palmchat Island chain was riveted by the murder of Besi Beaumont and residents were rabid for news about the story. Because of Burt’s decision not to cover the story out of respect for Derek’s privacy, the Palmchat Gazette had suffered some of its lowest traffic numbers, according to the online data metrics reports. People wanted to read about Besi Beaumont, and if they couldn’t get the news they craved from the Palmchat Gazette, then they would get their fix from other publications.
Staring toward the pool, watching the sunlight dance on the water, Vivian contemplated a plan to make up the online traffic deficiency. The Palmchat Gazette needed an exclusive, explosive story related to the Besi Beaumont murder. She needed to convince Burt to let her interview Derek Hennessy and the rest of the wedding party. If she could explain to Burt that his decision was negatively affecting the bottom line, then maybe—
“Excuse me, Vivian.”
Jumping slightly, Vivian glanced over her shoulder.
Melanie Adams, her face drawn, pale, and blotchy, stood behind the couch. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No, it’s fine,” said Vivian. “I was just lost in thought.”
“Mr. Shaw said you wanted to talk to me,” said Melanie, fingers curled around the ends of a shawl wrapped around her hunched shoulders. “I’m sorry I wasn’t available yesterday. I just haven’t been up to talking to anyone about anything after I spoke with the police.”
“I understand,” said Vivian as Melanie walked around the couch and sat down.
“What did you need to talk to me about?”
Vivian hesitated. Melanie looked so forlorn and despondent. Vivian didn’t want to upset her with questions about Besi’s death, and if not for Burt’s request, she would have forgone the inquiry.
“I hate to ask you this,” said Vivian, pausing before she went on. “But, Burt wanted me and Leo to find out if there is any possibility that Winnie could have hurt Besi.”
Twisting the ends of the shawl into a knot, Melanie stared at her. “You mean, is Winnie’s confession real? I don’t think so. I doubt it.”
“Kelsea showed me a text from Winnie that said—”
“That Winnie would kill Besi over Derek?” Melanie rolled her eyes. “Kelsea showed me that text.”
“You weren’t bothered by it?” Vivian asked.
Melanie said, “Winnie is always threatening to kill people over some perceived slight or offense. It’s sort of her thing. No one takes her seriously.”
“Do you think you should have taken Winnie seriously?” asked Vivian.
“Maybe I should have.” Melanie exhaled. “Maybe if I had taken Winnie seriously, then maybe Besi wouldn’t be dead.”
Vivian shook her head. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” asked Melanie, her face a mask of despair. “I was Besi’s assistant, her maid of honor. I should have protected her. Should have made sure she was okay. I owed her that. I owe Besi so much. She was the best friend I ever had. She was the only one who was always nice to me when we were in school. I wasn’t rich like her, or Derek, or Leo, or Kelsea. My dad was a teacher, and that’s how I ended up going to school with the rich and famous. And trust me when I tell you that the trust fund babies let me know that F. Scott Fitzgerald was right about the rich being different. The super rich are even worse.”
Vivian nodded, saying nothing, deciding to let Melanie fill the silence.
“Besi wasn’t like that, though,” said Melanie. “Her family had billions, but she never tried to make me feel inferior because I didn’t have money or social status. She was always so nice to me. She defended me. She accepted me and included me. I can’t believe that she’s gone and she’s never coming back.”
Melanie’s quiet sobs pricked Vivian’s heart, reminding her of her loss, and she said, “I know how you feel.”
Wiping her eyes, Melanie looked confused. “What?”
“I lost my best friend, too,” said Vivian, praying she could keep the tears at bay. “She was murdered.”
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” said Melanie, her expression pained.
Pushing away the depressing thoughts, Vivian took a deep breath. “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt Besi?”
Looking away, Melanie twisted the ends of the shawl together.
“That’s all I’ve been doing since she was shot,” said Melanie, glancing at Vivian. “Trying to think of who wanted to hurt her. And, actually, I think I know who might have killed Besi.”
21
“And you think this guy killed Besi?” Vivian asked ten minutes later, as she and Melanie sat in the sitting area of the guest bedroom Melanie had been assigned.
Exhaling, Melanie removed the shawl, rolled it into a ball, and placed it on the small table between the two winged back chairs they sat in.
“I don’t know for sure,” said Melanie. “I think it’s possible, but …”
Vivian exhaled, trying to temper her disappointment. “But you don’t know the guy’s name.”
“I have no idea who he is,” said Melanie. “That’s why I didn’t tell the cops about him. I want to give the police evidence they can use. I want to give them more than just speculation or conjecture. I want to give them something that leads to the killer, but all I know is that some guy was harassing Besi. He was sending her threatening emails.”
“But, you never saw the emails, right?” Vivian asked, confirming what Melanie had told her moments before.
Shaking her head, Melanie said, “Besi just told me about the emails.”
“When did the guy send Besi the threatening emails?”
“Maybe about six months ago,” said Melanie.
After quick calculations in her head, Vivian said, “That would have been around February.”
Nodding, Melanie said, “I’d forgotten about those emails until yesterday when I was getting Besi’s things together. I came across her phone. It was beeping, signaling that she had messages and emails. So, I checked the messages, and then—”
“How did you check the messages?” asked Vivian. “Wasn’t Besi’s phone password protected?”
“As her assistant, I have the password to her phone,” said Melanie.
“Derek used to have the passwords until Besi asked me to change them.”
Vivian asked, “Why did Besi want you to change her passwords?”
“When she was in the Aerie Islands to get her surgery,” said Melanie. “I got a call from the Rakestraw Blake Center saying that Besi had missed her appointment.”
“Besi didn’t get the surgery?”
“No, she did,” said Melanie. “I called her after the Rakestraw Blake Center called me—I was listed as her emergency contact—and she told me that someone stole her purse, with all her credit cards and identification and her passport. She missed the surgery because she was at the police station filing a complaint,” said Melanie. “Anyway, she rescheduled the surgery. But, she was afraid her accounts would be hacked, so she told me to change all the passwords.”
“Let’s go back to the threatening messages Besi received six months ago,” said Vivian. “I know you didn’t see the emails, but did Besi tell you what they said?”
Reaching for the shawl again, Melanie said, “Besi said the guy was hounding her about meeting with him. He would tell her not to ignore him and said that she would lose everything if she refused to meet with him.”
“So, he didn’t threaten to kill Besi?” asked Vivian.
Eyes darting, Melanie twisted the ends of the shawl around her fingers. “No, not directly, but Besi was afraid of him.”
“Do you know if Besi ever met with the guy?”
“She met with him in March,” said Melanie. “She only agreed to the meeting because she thought the guy was a bookie who wanted money for a gambling debt that Derek couldn’t pay, which upset her because Derek had promised to stop gambling. She was scared that Derek was in trouble again.”
“Again?” asked Vivian.
Melanie rolled her eyes. “Besi was always bailing Derek out of jams. I didn’t think she should meet with the guy. I wanted her to let Skip handle it.”
“Skip?” asked Vivian, finding the name familiar.
“Skip Taylor,” said Melanie. “Derek’s fixer.”
Nodding, Vivian remembered Leo telling her about the conversation he’d overheard between Derek and Skip Taylor.
“The two of them, Besi and Skip, were working together to make sure Derek stopped gambling so much and stayed out of trouble,” said Melanie. “Anyway, Besi met with the guy, and when she returned, she seemed distracted, but she didn’t talk about it much, just said she was going to deal with it.”
“It just occurred to me,” said Vivian. “If you have Besi’s phone, then you can show those threatening emails to the police. They can trace the guy’s IP address and find out who he is and where he lives.”
“I wish I could, but when I was checking the current messages and texts on her phone,” said Melanie, “I couldn’t find the threatening emails. Besi might have deleted them.”
“Do you know if she told Derek about the messages?” asked Vivian, thinking that Leo could question his old prep school nemesis.
“I’m not sure,” said Melanie. “But, they might be on the other phone I found in Besi’s things.”
“What other phone?” Vivian asked. “Did Besi have two phones?”
“Not that I knew of,” said Melanie. “But, the other phone was in her suitcase, so I assumed it was hers, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Why not?”
Wrapping the shawl around her shoulders, Melanie said, “Because the new password didn’t work on the phone I found in her suitcase. Besi had me change the password to something weird. Anyway, when I tried the new password, it didn’t work, so maybe the other phone doesn’t belong to Besi.”
Vivian asked, “What was weird about the new password?”
Melanie stared at her for a moment and then shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t matter if you know the new password. It’s Guillermo Davis. Besi’s old passwords were complicated, letters and numbers and symbols, upper and lower case. And she had a different password for every device she owned and for all of her accounts at various banks and stores. But, she wanted all the passwords changed to that name—Guillermo Davis.”
“Did she tell you why?”
“I had a feeling that name meant something to her,” said Melanie. “Maybe Guillermo Davis was someone she knew, but when I asked her, she just said it was a name she made up, and she figured no one would ever guess that it was her password.”
Considering Melanie’s theory about Besi’s new password, Vivian removed her phone from the pocket of her denim blazer and entered the name Guillermo Davis in her notetaking app.
“Anyway, I’ll give you both of the phones,” said Melanie. “Maybe the cops can find something to help them find Besi’s killer.”
“Hopefully,” agreed Vivian standing.
Melanie looked up at her, and said, “I didn’t tell the cops this, but … “
“But?” prompted Vivian, taking a seat again.
“Sometimes, I wonder if Besi was killed because of Derek.” Glancing toward the wall of French doors, Melanie said, “Because of his gambling problem. I wonder if the guy who was harassing Besi killed her because she wouldn’t pay any more of Derek’s debts.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” said Vivian.
Melanie looked at her again. “And then I think that Besi was killed by accident. What if the people Derek owed money to sent someone to kill him?”
Vivian frowned. “You think Derek was the target?”
Nodding, her green eyes shining with tears, Melanie said, “But, the killer missed that low life son of a bitch Derek and killed Besi instead.”
22
“You got more information than I did,” said Leo, walking to the bed where his wife sat with her legs crossed, staring at the screen of a cell phone. “Maybe you are the world’s best investigative reporter.”
Earlier at dinner—Lemmie’s famous goat stew eaten in the breakfast nook in the kitchen, just the two of them—they’d discussed the progress of their informal investigation into Besi’s murder. Leo didn’t have much to report, but Vivian had gotten an earful from Melanie.
“You have to stop doubting me,” said Vivian, giving him a sly smile.
Leo crawled onto the bed and positioned himself behind his wife. “Zeke and Jacob have no idea who would have wanted Besi dead.”
“What did Tom say?”
“He thinks Winnie did it, but in some sort of twisted logic, he blames Derek for Winnie’s actions,” said Leo.
“Tom is heartbroken and grieving,” said Vivian.
“I’m starting to wonder if Melanie might be right,” said Leo. “Maybe some bookie did send a hitman to kill Derek.”
“You did overhear Derek and Skip talking about someone who wanted a lot of money from Derek,” reminded Vivian. “Maybe they were discussing a gambling debt.”
“I don’t think so. Derek didn’t seem to know the guy which was why Skip said he had to find out more about him,” said Leo.
Nodding, Vivian said, “If the guy was a bookie, then Derek would know him. So if the guy isn’t a bookie, then who is he and why does he want money from Derek?”
“Who the hell knows?” Leaning forward to rest his chin on Vivian’s shoulder, which gave him a view of the cell phone’s screen, Leo asked, “You find anything interesting on that phone?”
“Actually, I did,” said Vivian.
“Is that Besi’s real phone?” asked Leo. “Or, the mystery phone Melanie found in Besi’s luggage?”
“It’s her real phone,” said Vivian. “The new password doesn’t work on the mystery phone.”
“So whatever is on the mystery phone,” said Leo, “remains a mystery.”
“I think I know how we can unlock the mysteries on the mystery phone,” said Vivian. “But, first—”
“Hey, you think if I say mystery one more time, we can take a shot?”
“Don’t be silly,” said Vivian. “Anyway, you asked if I’d found something interesting. Well, Besi got a text message last Wednesday from Skip Taylor, which
said, ‘We need to meet. Call me’. And then, in Besi’s call log, I saw where she did call Skip.”
“Maybe they met somewhere,” said Leo.
Vivian asked, “Wonder what Skip wanted to talk to her about?”
“Probably fixing Derek’s problem. But, wait, Skip sent Besi the text on Wednesday?” asked Leo, a memory sparking in his mind. “That is interesting because the day before, on Tuesday, is when I caught Derek and Skip talking about Derek’s problem. Skip claimed he was leaving the island that day.”
“Obviously, he didn’t if he and Besi met on Wednesday,” said Vivian. “And you know what else is interesting?”
“That we keep using the word interesting?” joked Leo, planting a kiss on Vivian’s neck.
“Would you prefer curious?” suggested Vivian.
Leo considered the word. “I’m okay with curious.”
“What’s curious is last Wednesday is also the same day Besi faked a headache and took the BMW to go shopping,” said Vivian. “I’ll bet she went to meet Skip to discuss Derek’s problem.”
“I’ll bet you’re right.”
“How much?” asked Vivian.
“What?”
“How much will you bet me?”
Flummoxed by her question, Leo stammered, staring at his sexy wife as she put Besi’s phone in the drawer of the bed table and then returned to her position next to him.
“While you’re thinking of a suitable wager,” said Vivian. “I want to ask you—”
“Aren’t you going to give Besi’s phones to the police?” asked Leo.
“I’m going to give them to Stevie,” said Vivian. “Maybe his hacker cousin can find the strange emails on Besi’s phone and figure out the password on the mystery burner phone and find something useful.”
Shrugging, Leo said, “As you were saying…”
“As I was saying what?” Vivian tried to recall the conversation thread before Leo had interrupted her.
“You wanted to ask me something?”
