Murder in Paradise

by James Patterson

  “The Riviera Club,” I said. “You’ve got it wired.”

  “Note the time line in the corner of the screen.”

  “What about it?”

  “This video spans nearly seven hours, yesterday, with Corzine in view the whole time. And Valentine went missing during the first two hours.”

  “So? Corzine gets a pass because he’s drinking with his buddies on camera at the time? Bin Laden was in Pakistan when the Towers came down. He still got it done.”

  “And if Corzine was involved with Valentine’s disappearance, or with what happened to your fiancée, we’ll get him for it. You can see that we’re on him.”

  It was true, they were. But that wasn’t all I saw. At the far end of the bar, a nondescript little guy in a baseball cap was nursing a beer, watching the Tigers on TV.

  Grady Baker. Mr. Invisible was on the job, too. And Hilliard clearly didn’t know who he was. Score one for our team.

  “Okay, you’re on it,” I conceded. “What do you want from me?”

  “Work with us, Brian. Tell Valentine to turn himself in. We can protect him.”

  “I already told you. If he contacts me, I can tell him what you’re suggesting. That’s the best I can do.”

  “Damn it, that’s—”

  “Hey!” Chief Paquette said, poking her head in. “If you two want a license to fight, the county clerk is on the third floor. What’s the problem here?” She stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

  “No problem,” Hilliard said as she glared at me.

  “I definitely have a problem,” I said, “but not with the lieutenant. I just got pulled over by a psycho state trooper.” I quickly recounted my run-in with Dex Molinere.

  “Did any witnesses see what happened?” the chief asked.

  “The cottage sits on forty wooded acres, so no, no witnesses.”

  “You’re an attorney, so you know the procedure, Mr. Lord. File a complaint, and I’ll find the corporal and have a talk with him. But unless he’s dumb enough to admit to it…”

  “It’s his word against mine,” I sighed.

  “Not quite. He was here yesterday. Paid me a courtesy call, in fact, in full uniform.”

  “What did he want?”

  “You know what he wanted. To locate his wife. He wasn’t wearing a sidearm.”

  “What?”

  “He left his weapon in his car to impress the hick town police chief with how harmless he was. Popping in unarmed.”

  “Were you impressed?”

  “Sonny, we’re only a few miles up the shore from a town they call Murder City. Firearms aren’t optional in my department, and I know that Staties are required to carry, even off duty. Molinere ignored his own unit’s regulations in order to blow smoke at me, which had the same effect on me as seeing that six-year-old mug shot. This guy’s a wrong cop, which makes him dangerous.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Follow up on your complaint. I’ll pick him up, have a serious talk with him, and hopefully, send him packing. In the meantime, tell your uncle Josh to move his lady friend again. The neighbors have noticed.”

  “You know about that?”

  “I’m the chief of police. In this town, I know almost everything. Except for one important piece of information.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Molinere,” she said simply. “Any idea where he is now?”

  Chapter 28

  Dex

  Crouched in a cluster of cedars across from the Lord cottage, Corporal Dexter Molinere wiped the sweat from his eyes. He’d swapped his uniform for his National Guard jungle camouflage, which made him nearly invisible in the piney woods behind the Lord cottage, but the outfit was made of rip-proof canvas that didn’t breathe, and he was already sweating, despite the early hour.

  He’d been in place for an hour, watching for any sign of life within. A shadow, a blind quivering—any sign from Sherry that gave her away.

  She was in there. He damn well knew it. And she was alone, now that he’d chased her hotshot boyfriend away. The thought of the two of them together, Sherry opening her robe in front of him, baring her breasts—

  His jaw locked. At the same time, he couldn’t help savoring the image. He wondered how it would feel to watch Sherry put out for someone else.

  Maybe they could try that to loosen things up a little. Sherry was always complaining he was too uptight, too controlling. He’d show her how loose he could get and bring a little excitement to the sack.

  But first, he had to find her and get her home. Away from the bastard who’d—

  He shook off the anger that threatened to take him over. First things first. Find Sherry. Force her to come back.

  Moving out of the pines, he trotted up the driveway to the house. Casing the cottage was easy, because most blinds were up and the curtains were open to the morning sun.

  Slinking around the building warily, he peered through every window, keeping low and using his police training to remain unobserved.

  He made a full circle of the house without seeing Sherry or any other sign of life. There were no indications anyone was using the place but the lifeguard.

  There was one coffee cup on the kitchen table, not two. No blankets or pillows on the sofa, but they’d probably be sleeping together anyway, up in Lord’s bedroom.

  The second-floor blinds were drawn and there was no easy access to the room. He couldn’t see anything he could climb—no trellis or ladder or trees close enough to the building to give him a quick look.

  He’d have to break in.

  Damn. Dex didn’t like the idea. It was risky, especially since he’d already leaned hard on Lord. The chump could be coming back any sec with the local yokel law, and no explanation would cover his ass if they caught him inside the house. Still…

  He had to know if Sherry was in there. And there was only one way to find out.

  He circled the house to the front porch that faced the beach. With luck, he’d hear a vehicle approaching in time to get away without being spotted. The beach was all but deserted, with a lone person strolling along the water in the distance. But the person was too far down the shore for Dex to see.

  Moving quickly, he trotted up the steps to the front door, took a packet of lock picks out of his breast pocket, and went to work on the deadbolt. Christ, the damn thing had to be a hundred years old. The tumblers were rusty and hard to turn, and some interior springs were likely broken.

  Twice he thought he had it, but the door wouldn’t budge. Not a hair. Sweat was dripping on the backs of his hands as he worked. He decided to give it one last try. If he couldn’t pop it, he’d circle around and have a go at the kitchen door.

  Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he glanced quickly down the beach—Goddamn! A person was headed straight for the house, barely a hundred yards off now. Was he coming here or just strolling this way? Dex couldn’t be sure, but he couldn’t get caught on this porch.

  Keeping to the shadows, he edged around the corner of the house, crossed the drive to the pines, and then crouched down in the shadows.

  He waited to see which way the beach stroller went.

  And hoped to hell it was Sherry.

  Chapter 29

  Someone was in the house.

  I knew it the moment I stepped in the kitchen door. I’ve been coming home to the cottage my whole life. I know every groan and grumble, and the way it feels when it’s empty.

  But it wasn’t. Someone was here. I snatched up my Louisville Slugger and circled the ground floor. I slid through the kitchen, the dining area, and the living room, hoping I’d find Molinere lurking…

  A floorboard creaked and I froze and listened carefully. No. It wasn’t a floorboard.

  It was the front porch swing, creaking in the breeze. Only there was no breeze.

  I yanked open the door, expecting to find the trooper—

  “Hey,” Carly Delaney said.

  “Hey, yourself. What are you doing
here?”

  “I’ve been thinking. After your test? When we talked, on the raft? What you said about…old times?”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s been bugging me. I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. Come sit by me. Please.” She patted the seat tentatively, as though she expected me to say no.

  I sat down beside her, and the swing fell into an automatic rhythm that put us in sync. That was the way it had always been with us, back when we were too young to know how rare and fine a thing that really was.

  Neither of us spoke for a bit. She was lost in thought. I was curious but unwilling to push things. That was something else I remembered from those old days. Pushing Carly was not a good idea.

  “So here’s the thing,” she said abruptly, turning to me. “What you said about our timing being off, back in the day?”

  I nodded.

  “You were right, it was. Looking back now, it’s almost comical to think about those stupid teenybopper relationships that all seemed so terribly important at the time, that turned out to be…well, to not matter much.”

  “You married one of yours,” I pointed out.

  “Not for long,” she sighed. “I swear I knew it was a huge mistake right when my dad walked me down the aisle. But the church was full, our friends and families were there. So…? We said till death us do part and split up within the year. Dennis is in real estate now, in Houston, with a new pre-fab family, two of hers, one of theirs. He sends me Christmas cards.”

  “Staying in touch? Or rubbing it in?”

  “A little of both, I imagine.” She laughed with more regret than humor. But then she cocked her head. “Marrying Dennis was a mistake,” she continued, “but it wasn’t the biggest one I made. You know, back in the day, I almost asked you not to go.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Before you enlisted? I knew you were leaving, and I was—afraid for you, of course, but more than that? I was afraid we’d miss our chance. And we did.”

  “Carly…”

  “Look, I know we were just kids. If I’d told you how I felt, it probably wouldn’t have changed a thing. But if you’d asked me to wait for you, I would have. I wouldn’t have made the mistake of marrying Dennis.”

  She waited a beat, letting her words sink in. Then she sighed. “Maybe our timing’s all wrong again now, and it’s too late. Maybe we had our moment and missed it. But this time, I’m not letting us miss out on something because I didn’t tell you how I feel.”

  I didn’t say anything because there was nothing to say. I’d known Carly all my life, but suddenly, I wasn’t sure I knew her at all.

  She was right, our timing was terrible. Again. But deep down?

  I didn’t care.

  She’d bared her heart to me. It was an incredibly brave thing to do. And right now, I was in no position to say anything in response. I think she got that.

  “Look at the time,” she said, glancing at her watch and rising from the swing. “Your shift starts in twenty. Can I walk you down?”

  “That…would be great,” I said, standing up. “I’ll just lock up.”

  We walked down the shore to the park together, barefoot in the sand. Somewhere along the way, we were holding hands. It felt so natural, I’m not certain she even noticed.

  But I did.

  Chapter 30

  Dex

  As he lurked in the shadows, Molinere watched Brian stroll off toward the park with that woman. For a manic second, he’d thought she was Sherry, but a quick glimpse confirmed that he’d been wrong.

  He’d drawn his weapon on reflex, but then slid it under his belt at the small of his back. The last thing he wanted was to explain a sidearm to some yokel cop, but it was a chance he’d have to take.

  As Dex watched Brian walk away, he realized he had a window of opportunity. He had enough time to get into the house for a quick, thorough search. He’d take Sherry at gunpoint if necessary and get the hell out of Vale County.

  After slipping out of the trees, he trotted across the drive to the kitchen door. That lock was new, well-oiled, and he was inside in under a minute.

  He closed the door quietly behind him, drew his weapon, and made a quick search of the first floor, clearing each room in turn.

  Nothing. No sign of Sherry.

  With his weapon leading the way, Dex tiptoed silently up the stairs, pausing at the second floor landing to listen. For a moment he thought he heard a sound from outside. The crunch of gravel? A car rolling up?

  He edged to a window that offered a view of the driveway and couldn’t see a car, or anything out of place.

  He picked up his pace, searching each of the upstairs rooms. Still nothing. Only one room even appeared to be in use. He looked at the graduation pictures of the lawyer with his mom and dad, and another with the lawyer and a taller man in basketball uniforms. This had to be Brian Lord’s room.

  Dex took special pains to look for any sign that Sherry had been there. He checked the bathroom for her perfume or shampoo, looked under the bed for her suitcase, and peeked into the closets.

  But again, there was nothing. Not the slightest hint of her. As his frustration mounted, he grew less and less careful with his search, yanking out dresser drawers, dumping them on the bed, and pawing through them for any trace of his wife.

  Shit! Dex lost it, hurling a nightstand across the room to smash the mirror on a closet door.

  In a rage now, he dropped to his knees, groping between the mattress and a box spring. He upended the bed, dumping it on its side.

  He knew she’d been here. He wanted to scream. He wanted to smash every piece of furniture in the place—but he froze.

  Damn. There it was again. The same noise he’d heard before. Maybe it wasn’t outside the house, though. Was it inside?

  He’d searched downstairs so he knew those rooms were empty…

  Regardless, it was time to get the hell out. He couldn’t risk being caught here.

  But as he started down the stairs, he heard the damn noise once more, and realized why he couldn’t place it before. It was coming from inside the house, and it was muffled. Someone was shifting around in the closet at the foot of the stairs.

  Had he checked it? He should have, but he’d been in such a big hurry to get upstairs…he must have walked right past it. And he could only think of one person who’d be scared and dumb enough to hide in a closet.

  Taking the final steps two at a time, he jerked open the closet door.

  “Surprise!”

  But it wasn’t Sherry.

  A skinny guy in a black suit with dark hair and widow’s peak emerged from the closet. He was holding an automatic, aimed straight at Dex’s head. The gun was big, about 10 mil or a .45.

  But it didn’t matter. There was no time for finesse. Molinere had trained for this a million times…

  Police procedure 101: Take control.

  “Lower your weapon!” Dex roared, dropping to a combat crouch with his hand poised above his gun belt. “Get on your knees! Now!”

  But that was when he realized his hand wasn’t poised over a sidearm. He wasn’t wearing a gun belt. Or a uniform. He was in camo, and his automatic was concealed in the small of his back.

  The guy in the closet didn’t even blink. “Or what?” he asked mildly. “You’ll bleed on me when I blow your head off?”

  “I’m a police officer,” Dex managed. “I’m going to show you my identification.”

  “You move your hands and I’ll show you what your brain looks like,” the man said. “I heard you searching around up there. Did you find the file?”

  Dex blinked, trying to craft an answer. Then realized it was already too late.

  The man cocked his weapon. Dex wasn’t sure which was worse, staring into the gun muzzle, or the eyes of the man who held it. They were both lifeless.

  “You don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, do you?” he said.

  “I—no. I don’t know about any f
ile,” Dex said, swallowing. “I’m looking for my wife.”

  “Under the bed?” the man snorted. “Did you find her?”

  “No.”

  “That sounds like a predicament—for both of us. What am I supposed to do with you?”

  Chapter 31

  The sky was dark, gloomy, and overcast on my second day as a lifeguard. But it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

  With a chill breeze coming off the lake, the sun had barely peeked out before it disappeared behind a wall of dark clouds. A few moms showed up with their kids in tow, gamely unfolding their lawn chairs, and handing out pails and shovels. They were hoping the clouds would burn off.

  They didn’t.

  By midafternoon, some teens got a volleyball game going. A few people gathered to watch, but not a soul dipped a toe in the water.

  The empty day gave me plenty of time to stare out over the surf. I thought about Jimmy Valentine going missing and Corporal Molinere showing up.

  But mostly, I thought about Carly, and the way she’d laid her heart on the line.

  In a way, it was like the bomb had sent my life pinwheeling back through time, and crash-landed me on this beach.

  But somehow, it didn’t feel like a step back. Being on the beach felt like the most natural thing in the world to me. It felt like I was fated to be here, almost. As though I were getting a do-over, a second chance to live my life. This time, I could do things better and get them right…

  Suddenly, my cell phone rang. It was Grady Baker.

  “Hey Grady, what’s up?”

  “A lot. I’ve been working the Riviera Club, watching our friend. I was able to snap a picture of his gofer, but I’ve got no idea who he is, and Corzine may have spotted me. I think I’m burned, man.”

  “Jesus! Are you okay?”

  “No. I’m in my car, headed for my apartment to pack a bag. I’m bailing out, Brian. If you want the picture, pick it up quick. Once I’m gone, I’m staying off the grid. There’s an Irish pub on the corner near my place called Riley’s. I’ll wait as long as I can, but you need to get here yesterday, man. I got a bad feeling about this.”