by S. L. Menear
He stared out the narrow floor-to-ceiling windows in the corner. “Those charges were bogus. Greedy tarts hoping for a big payday turned vindictive when he refused to pay them off. It was their word against his. He was never convicted of anything.”
She checked her notes. “Over the years, twenty-eight women accused him of rape. You didn’t find that number excessive for an innocent man?”
He frowned. “I’m surprised there weren’t more. Gold diggers are a dime a dozen.”
She sucked in her breath to maintain her composure. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted him dead?”
He choked on his Scotch. “No, why do you ask? Was he murdered?”
“Cause of death has not been determined, so we’re looking into every possibility.”
He peeked at his watch. “I just remembered I have a client coming in.” He stood. “If there’s nothing else?”
She stood. “Thank you for your time.” She handed him her police business card. “If you remember something helpful, give me a call.”
“It would be helpful if you’d have dinner with me tonight. Sevenish?” He grinned.
“I have plans, but thank you, and have a nice day.” She bolted for the main door.
Her other interviewees turned out to be worse than Branson, the sessions resulting in multiple passes, lewd suggestions, and no clues to help her catch a possible killer.
After a long, frustrating day, she relaxed in a hot shower, dressed to the nines, and drove next door to Jett’s house.
Sophia answered the door with the puppies flanking her and wagging their tails. “You must be Gwen. Jett will be down in a minute. I’m Sophia DeLuca, the dog nanny.”
She leaned down and petted the dogs. “Careful, Auntie Gwen has to stay clean for the opera.” She straightened and offered her hand to Sophia. “So nice to meet you.”
“I suggest you take a chair opposite one of the sofas, and I’ll keep the little ones next to me.” Sophia led her into the spacious great hall beyond the foyer. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No thanks.” She regarded the diminutive woman. “I heard you blew away a bad guy your first night here. Well done.”
She held her hands palms up. “The way I see it, anybody who draws on a Calabrese must want to die.”
“I’m glad Jett has you to look after things. It’s obvious the puppies adore you.” She smiled at the dogs, snuggled against Sophia on the couch.
“Jett told me about her mother communicating with her in dreams. What do you think about that?” Sophia asked.
“Her family moved next door when I was twelve, so I knew her parents most of my life. Atsila was an extraordinary woman. If she and Victor were murdered, I want to help catch the person responsible.” She lowered her voice. “I haven’t said anything to Jett yet, but it occurred to me that her mother might be trying to protect her from the killer.”
Sophia’s jaw dropped. “You mean their killer might want to murder Jett too?”
“It’s possible. Why else would her mother invade her dreams after two years?”
Jett walked in. “What’s possible?”
Gwen stood. “I was just telling Sophia about my new theory.” She explained it.
Sophia lifted her skirt and revealed a handgun in a thigh holster. She patted the weapon. “No worries. I’ve got things covered.”
It was Gwen’s turn for a jaw drop. “You’re not concerned about living in potential danger?”
“Are you kidding? My life in Silver Lakes was a snooze, surrounded by geezers complaining about their medical problems and pressuring me to join all their senior-living clubs. Life here is almost like being back in Brooklyn. I like the danger. It makes me feel alive.”
“Well, Jett, you really lucked out finding her. She’s exactly what you need.” She checked the time. “We have to go. See you later, Sophia.”
They drove to the Kravis Center in downtown West Palm Beach and valet parked. The two-story lobby covered in glass on three sides had a lovely outdoor terrace and fountain on the main level.
Gwen headed for the Will-Call booth. “I’ll pick up our tickets. Liz said to meet them inside by the bar.”
Jett waited for Gwen and then pointed at the nearest end of the bar. “There they are.”
Clive handed them glasses of red wine. “Welcome, ladies. You look lovely.”
Liz introduced them to several of the old-guard Palm Beachers. Soon, they were immersed in conversations.
Opera night with the duke and duchess was turning out to be fun and festive. They enjoyed glasses of Robert Mondavi’s 50 Harvests Cabernet Sauvignon in the lobby bar before the show. Liz and Clive knew how to work the room and have a good time. Gwen and Jett relished the celebrity treatment with everyone crowding around the icons of British nobility.
Gwen nudged Jett. “Is that Pierce Lockwood standing over there?”
Jett turned just as he spotted them. He sauntered across the lobby and joined them.
“Hello, ladies. You look stunning this evening. I see you’re here with the Duke and Duchess of Colchester.”
“What about you? You’re not flying solo tonight, are you?” Jett asked.
“No, my parents roped me into escorting Prissy Parker.” He rolled his eyes. “We’re here with her parents and mine.”
“They mean well.” Gwen smiled. “I meant to ask if you know anyone who might want to kill Denton Donley. I’m working every angle.”
Pierce paused in mid-sip of his Scotch. “The news didn’t say anything about murder.”
“We don’t have a cause of death yet. Murder is just one possibility we’re checking.”
Pierce shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t know him well enough to speculate.”
Chimes signaled it was time to be seated for the performance.
“See you later, Pierce.” Gwen set her glass on a high-top table and followed Jett and her aunt and uncle into the orchestra seating section, where they sat five rows from the stage.
During the intermission, their party gathered at the bar for second glasses of wine and more socializing. Gwen stood at a high-top table with Jett while her aunt and uncle made the rounds.
“What time are you leaving for the Bahamas?” Gwen surveyed the room.
“I’m meeting the men tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. My uncle is borrowing a friend’s propjet that has plenty of room for all our dive stuff.”
“I know you’ll be careful. Let me know what you find down there.”
The chimes sounded. Intermission was over.
Gwen surveyed the bar. “I don’t see my aunt and uncle.”
“They’re probably inside the theater.” She set her glass down. “Let’s go.”
They slipped into their seats beside Liz and Clive moments before the lights dimmed.
Later, she hugged her aunt and uncle after the performance. “Thanks for a fun evening. Jett and I have to run. We both have busy days tomorrow.”
The valet pulled up in Gwen’s Mercedes, and she and Jett hopped in. After dropping her off, Gwen returned home feeling relaxed. She slept soundly. No nightmares about the carjacker.
Seventeen
JETT
I rose early and played with Pratt and Whitney before breakfast, teaching them to catch a canvas-covered foam frisbee. Half the time, they played tug-of-war with it, trying to make each other let go. I didn’t bother doing laps in the pool because I would get plenty of swimming later in the Bahamas.
My cell rang. It was Gwen. I said, “Hey, I’m just about to leave. Wish me luck.”
“Oh, Jett, I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know how I’ll face Detective Hottie and the chief.”
“What’s wrong?”
“A man died last night at the Kravis Center while we were there.”
“What happened? Was he murdered?”
“Not sure yet, but the circumstances are similar to the Donley case. It was another rich guy from Palm Beach, Bradford “Binky” Worthington. He’s had four wealthy
wives who died under suspicious circumstances, but prosecutors couldn’t prove he killed them.”
“But we didn’t see an ambulance or any cops there.”
“After most people had left, he was found dead on the outdoor terrace sitting on a bench with a cigar and a glass of Scotch.”
“The mayor had a cigar and a Scotch. Was Worthington’s whisky poisoned?”
“I don’t know. West Palm Beach Police have jurisdiction over this one. I’m on my way in to face the teasing. Wish I hadn’t told my coworkers about the opera.”
“I know what you’ll be doing while I’m gone. I hope you crack the case. I’ll call when I get back.”
“Be careful, and try not to have too much fun with three handsome men.”
“How do you know they’re all handsome?”
“Because you’re lucky that way. I’d bet my Mercedes the SEAL and the guy from the dive shop are almost as handsome as your uncle.”
“The SEAL is. I haven’t met the other guy yet.”
“Take pictures and text me. I need something to make me smile today. Bye.”
I tossed my bags into the trunk of my dad’s sedan and left the SUV for Sophia in case she needed it for the puppies. Pierce drove up as I exited the front gate. I pulled over.
He jumped out of his car. “Hey, Jett, I was hoping to catch you for an impromptu breakfast at the Banyan Isle Bistro. I’d like to catch up after the strange goings-on at the polo match and the opera. I’m getting worried. Seems like somebody has it out for wealthy younger men like me.”
I peeked at my watch. “Sorry, I have a plane to catch. I’m going scuba diving with Hunter and some friends. Would you like to join us?”
“Wish I could, but I have clients in court today. When will you be back?”
“In a day or two. Why don’t you call Gwen? She’s handling the Donley case, and she’ll look into the other case to see if there are similarities.”
“Good idea.” He leaned over and gave me a soft kiss. “Have fun and call me when you get back.”
His sweet kiss flooded me with warmth. I smiled as he drove away.
I parked next to my uncle’s hangar and lugged my duffle bag to the King Air 350iER. The men had almost everything loaded in the roomy turboprop aircraft.
Snake turned around, gave me the once-over, and grinned. “Dang, woman, I’ve never seen you out of uniform. You look hot in shorts.”
Hunter crossed his arms. “Cool it, big guy. You’re not here for romance.”
“Speak for yourself.” Snake hugged me.
I kissed his cheek. “Thanks for coming. Kidding aside, you know what happened in Afghanistan with Commander Jones. I’m taking a break from so-called romance.”
“Sorry, Jett. Everybody at the base knows what he did to you. We gave him such a hard time he asked for a transfer.”
“Too bad everyone didn’t know about his fiancée.” I switched gears. “My focus now is on finding out if my parents were murdered. And just so you know, my mother was Hunter’s older sister.”
A tall man finished loading equipment into the baggage compartment and joined us. “Hi, I’m Justin Newton from Pura Vida Divers. You must be Miss Jorgensen.”
I smiled at the six-four man in his early thirties with blue eyes, chiseled features, and a fit physique. Gwen was right. Three handsome men.
“Please, call me Jett, and thanks for joining our dive excursion. We’re counting on you to help us with the correct trimix and decompression fills in the Bahamas.” I offered my hand.
“No problem. I enjoy a challenge, like diving on a deep crash site.” He gently squeezed my hand. “I hope we find what you’re looking for.”
Hunter herded us to the entry steps. “Time to launch. Climb aboard while I button up the cargo hatch.”
I went forward to the cockpit. Buckling into the copilot seat, I scanned the instrument panel.
Hunter joined me. “I’ll give you some stick time once I get us on course. You’ll love flying this propjet. She’s smooth and fast.”
“And it has Pratt & Whitney turboprop engines.” I grinned. “Which reminds me, I sure do love my puppies. Thank you.”
“I knew they’d be perfect for you. How’s their training working out?” He handed me a printed card with the aircraft’s checklists.
“Training the puppies is easy. I don’t know if it’s the wolf in them, but they seem to instinctively know what to do. They’ve never had an accident in the house, and they alerted me to the intruder without making noise to draw his attention. Of course, it didn’t matter because Sophia shot him.”
He froze with his hand on a switch. “Sophia shot an intruder?”
“Oh geez, I forgot to tell you. So much has happened since you left Sunday morning after Mike told us the maid and Sims had been poisoned.” I filled him in on the intruder murdering the guard, Sophia shooting the intruder, and the mystery involving two rich dead guys from Palm Beach.
“I don’t like this. The body count’s getting high, and you’re in the middle of most of it.” He shook his head. “Your life could be in danger.”
“Gwen thinks Mom is trying to protect me from the killer by helping us expose him.”
“Then let’s get cracking. Read me the Before Start checklist.”
Eighteen
I checked my handheld GPS and signaled the Bahamian captain of the live-aboard dive boat to stop. He dropped anchor over the crash site while Justin helped Hunter, Snake, and me organize our dive tanks. The boat rocked in three-foot swells covered with white caps in the brisk east wind.
“We’ll dive with the trimix doubles and clip the other tanks together beside the anchor,” Justin said. “We marked our tanks for the decompression stops, so we shouldn’t have any confusion on the ascent. And we have two tanks marked LIFT for inflating all the lift bags if you decide to raise something big to the surface. Check your dive computers and ensure your gas blocks are selected to your trimix tanks.”
I checked both my dive computers and my mask. “Will the integrated comm units in these full facemasks work when we’re on the bottom?”
Justin said, “They have a range of six hundred feet, so you’ll be able to talk to the boat captain too.”
“And I brought some tactical lift bags from the SEAL’s equipment locker.” Snake held one up. “Snap the cuff closed around something under two hundred and fifty pounds, and a CO2 cartridge will instantly inflate the bag and yank the item to the surface.”
Justin smiled. “These will be great for lifting small pieces of wreckage.”
Snake handed a tactical lift bag to each of us. “Just clip it to your vest.” He thumbed at the weapons. “And don’t forget the spearguns and dive knives, just in case.”
I nudged Snake. “Are you expecting a shark attack?”
“Naw, but SEALs like to be prepared for anything.” He sat on the side rail. “Let’s go. I’m gettin’ hot in this wetsuit.”
After donning our dive gear and double-checking everything, we rolled backward into the ocean and waited for the captain to hand over all the extra tanks we would take down with us. We descended ten feet, checked our dive computers again, and did a comm check before continuing down.
The warm water helped calm my anxiety. I wasn’t sure how I’d react to visiting the place where my parents died. Suck it up. They aren’t there now, and I want to find out what happened to them.
We descended slowly in the crystal-clear ocean, clearing our ears. Penetrating sunlight transformed our air bubbles into sparkling diamonds as bright-colored fish darted around us, and a huge school of small Atlantic silversides zipped past. A loggerhead turtle the size of a tractor tire glided past me and turned in front of the men.
As we descended deeper, the light in this tranquil world dimmed into shadows as huge schools of crevalle jacks swam by. Some fish were close to four feet long. But the jacks were small compared to the Goliath grouper we encountered. The size of a MINI Cooper sedan, the huge grouper meandered by unco
ncerned with four scuba divers.
As the depth increased, so did my sense of foreboding. How would I feel when I faced my parents’ watery crash site? After several minutes, we reached the anchor resting on the sandy ocean floor a hundred and seventy feet from the surface.
Although the water was cooler at this depth, my full wetsuit kept me comfortable.
A five-foot barracuda flashed past, chasing a school of spadefish that resembled large angelfish except they had silver bodies with irregular black vertical bands.
Justin said, “Clip all the tanks together, and then I’ll tie them to the anchor.”
Once the spare tanks were secured, I checked my compass and pointed. “Locate the wreck and find the tail section. It should be right over there on a 330-degree heading.”
We swam in calm water to a dark, raised area covered with soft corals, sponges, and barnacles. As our spotlights passed over the wreck, gray colors turned into bright oranges and yellows. Red lionfish hovered over the site, their bold zebra-like stripes and elongated dorsal-fin spines making them look beautiful while hiding their painful venom.
My stomach churned when I shined my powerful dive light on the airplane’s cabin. Don’t get upset. Nobody’s in there now. Focus on the mission.
Disturbed by my light, a Spotted Eagle Ray sprang up from the bottom silt and swam past me. Its back was covered with white dots on a black background.
Finding the tail section turned out to be harder than we’d expected because it wasn’t with the rest of the wreckage. The fuselage was in one piece, but the wings had been ripped off, and the cockpit windshield had buckled. The entire wreck was covered with bright orange, yellow, and red sponges, truncates, anemones, sea worms, and corals that only revealed their colors in the spotlights and camera flashes.
“Look at this.” Hunter pointed and took pictures of charred areas marking the attach points where the tail should have been. His flash illuminated large orange and yellow sponges.
“Good thing Hunter paid to have divers retrieve the bodies, or my parents and the pilots would still be belted into their seats.” I stared at the cracked fuselage.
