by Tracy Sharp
He began jotting down suspects. Mr. and Mrs. Cook had filled us in on Shannon’s friends and anyone she had dated over the last year. At the time of her death, she was dating Bailey Pembrooke: seventeen years old, fellow surfer and star swimmer, captain of the swim team and training to be an Olympic swimmer. He did laps at a local pool in the winter from six to seven a.m. When the ocean warmed, and warm was a relative term when referring to the Atlantic Ocean, he swam in the ocean.
“What’s the name of her ex-boyfriend?” Jackson asked me. “The fisherman?”
“Uh...” I looked through the notes we took during our conversation with the Cooks. “Corey Samuels.”
“Right. They broke up in December. Right before Christmas.” Jackson jotted Corey’s name down with white chalk.
“But Shannon’s parents didn’t know who broke up with whom, or why they broke up. They thought Shannon and Corey would get married.”
A motorboat full of young folk sped by, hoots and hollers all the way. I sighed. I couldn’t ever remember being that free. At that age, having fun involved stealing cars.
“Corey helps his dad with his fishing business. Lobster, shrimp and scallops, mostly.” Jackson jotted more notes. Made some lines and squiggles. He turned and looked at me. “I wonder what happened there.”
Jackson loved his lines, squiggles and notes. They helped him think. I was more the hands on kind of detective. I like to get out there. Shake people down. Offend them with my lack of social skills. “Could be anything. Let’s go and find out.”
***
An ex-boyfriend is usually a suspect right out of the gate. The same applied to Corey Samuels. We caught up with Corey bartending at one of the many beachside restaurants. This one was called the Happy Crab.
We each took a seat at a bar stool. We didn’t have to wait long before a pretty strawberry blonde asked what we’d like.
“Is Corey working tonight?” I asked her.
She tried to be discreet as she measured me up. This told me that she either had a thing going with Corey or she wanted to have a thing going with him.
“He starts at nine,” she said, offering a saccharine smile. Her nametag read Dru.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll take whatever dark draft you have. Something that bites back.”
“I’ll have a summer ale,” Jackson said. “Something light.”
She nodded and began filling frosty mugs. I love frosty mugs.
She kept cutting her gaze to me as she worked, while trying to look casual.
I smiled at her, which seemed to make her more nervous.
Finally, she placed our mugs in front of us and then left to take drink orders from people sitting farther down the bar.
“She doesn’t like you.” Jackson took a leisurely drink of his beer.
“I tend to bring that out in people.”
“Yeah. But she’s threatened by you. Think she might be Corey’s new main squeeze.”
“Maybe. But does that mean that Corey is a skirt chaser, or that she’s just possessive and jealous?”
Jackson lifted his brows in the direction of the door. A young guy who looked remarkably like a photo the Cooks had emailed to us from Mrs. Cook’s phone walked into the bar looking windswept.
Dru wasted no time leaning in and whispering to him.
He leaned to the side, looking over at us, then nodded. Dru shot another look at me before going back to the business of taking and filling drink orders.
Corey walked over to us, his brown eyes cautious. “Dru says you’re looking for me. Can I help you?”
Dru served two frosty mugs to a pair of rugged looking men a few seats down the bar from us. Her gaze kept flicking to us. She narrowed her eyes at me.
“Your girlfriend seems nervous,” I said.
Corey shrugged. Said nothing. Waited for us to continue.
Jackson said, “I’m Jackson and this is Leah. We’re looking into the murder of your ex-girlfriend, Shannon.”
Corey lifted his hands from the bar. “I didn’t kill her. Are we done?”
I snorted. “See, now that’s exactly what a bad guy trying not to get caught would say.”
“Maybe. But I really didn’t kill her. I just got back from the cop shop, where they kept me for a couple of hours, asking me every question short of what color my underwear is. I was almost late for my shift. I’m a little tired of being grilled. And you two aren’t cops. I don’t have to talk to you.”
“But you are a waiter. So if we want to order food, you have to talk to us. Or we can get you fired for being rude and making a pass at me,” I said.
He made a face. “I didn’t make a pass at you.”
“I said no!” I shouted, leaning into him. “What part of no don’t you understand?”
He looked around quickly making downward motions with his hands. “Okay, okay.”
I sat down, smiled sweetly. “We’re listening.”
He scowled at me. “It’s a bit upsetting.”
“That your ex was found dead and missing parts on the beach?” Jackson asked. “It was upsetting for my partner who found her, I can tell you that.”
“Yes,” I said. “It was a bit of a shock. And I’d imagine it was upsetting for Shannon, being abducted and murdered and all.”
Jackson said, “She break up with you, Corey?”
Corey let out a huge sigh. “You two really aren’t leaving until I talk to you, are you?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Might even cry roach. Clear out your tippers for the entire night.”
Corey laughed. “It would take more than that to keep these die-hards away.”
“Look,” Jackson said. “We just want to find out what happened. Her parents want to know.”
Corey nodded, looking down at the bar. “They are great people. Really kind, you know? Not fake but genuinely caring people. I loved them. Still do.”
Jackson and I both stayed silent, giving him the room to speak.
He turned, saw that Dru was still watching, and leaned in, speaking low. “She broke up with me before Christmas. I work with my dad, fishing. Lobster, shrimp, scallop diving. Long days. Sometimes we’re out on the boat for days. Sometimes a week or more. Depending on where we go.”
“Hard work.” Jackson popped a peanut in his mouth.
“Yeah. But my family has been fishermen for generations. It’s in our blood. And I love it.” His gaze became far away. “Love being out on the ocean. It’s peaceful. Like nothing can get to you out there. It’s another world.”
“I can see that,” I said, taking a long drink of my beer. The mug wasn’t frosty anymore but the beer was still cold. “It’s gorgeous out there.”
Corey nodded. “It really is. The things you see, they’re amazing. Whales. Dolphins. Sharks. Once we got a shark caught in the net.” Corey lifted his shirt, showed us a pattern of scars dotting his shoulder and upper arm. He grinned. “Small shark. Baby Mako. But she got me before I was able to free her from the net and back into the water.”
“Yikes,” I said. “She gave you quite the love bite.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. It’s okay. Wasn’t her fault. She was just scared.”
Jackson nodded. “Shannon not so much into the whole fishing thing?”
“She was okay at first. But like I said, long days. I didn’t see her much. And when we found out that shrimp fishing would be cancelled this year because the shrimp population is so low, she just backed right off. I’d be home more. And she wasn’t thrilled.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “That must’ve smarted.”
“It did. We make an okay living but it depends on our catch. And the catch depends on a whole lot of things. We rely on shrimp fishing for that season’s income. That’s why I’m working here. Need the cash.” He filled a glass with soda and took a long drink. “Good thing I got my scallop diving license last year. They aren’t issuing any more right now. It’s tough out there. Anyway, Shannon and I had been planning a trip to the Keys. We had to cancel.
She wasn’t into it by then anyway. I found out why.”
“Another guy,” Jackson asked him.
Corey nodded. “Of course. It’s an old story. That shit happens all the time. Takes a special girl to stay with a fisherman.” He tilted his head toward Dru, who was unloading mugs and glasses from a dishwasher. “Dru, her dad’s a fisherman, too. She understands. She waited for me, too. The whole time I was dating Shannon.”
“Seems like she’s a better fit for you,” I said.
“Yeah. She’s been patient. It’s taken me awhile to get over Shannon.”
“They didn’t get along?” I asked him.
Corey shrugged. “Dru didn’t like Shannon. She was a bit jealous of her, I think. We had a history together, and Shannon is...” he caught himself. “Was, beautiful in that golden girl way. You know? She was flawless.”
“She had other plans, though,” Jackson said.
“Yeah. Plans that didn’t include me. But they included Bailey.”
“Bailey Pembrooke,” I said, cracking a peanut and tossing the shells on the floor, along with all the others.
Corey nodded. “He’s a surfer, like her. They started surfing together.”
“A swimmer, too, huh?” I asked him.
“Yeah. Mr. ‘I’m gonna win a gold medal at the Olympics. Look at my outstanding physique.’ The guy’s always posing and flexing. I swear he swims just to see his own reflection in the water.”
I laughed. “Oh yeah? Pretty flashy, huh?”
“Yeah. He’s got a harem.”
“Really,” Jackson said. It sounded more like a statement than a question.
“Go talk to him. I guarantee when you see him he’ll have two or more girls hanging off him. No joke.”
“Okay. Will do.” I leaned in. “So, if you were to throw out a name, who do you think, in Shannon’s group, is capable of killing her. I mean, it seemed pretty personal. Whoever did this tied her up and fed her to the sharks.”
Corey’s face kind of fell in on itself and he looked like he was going to be sick. He shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know anyone who could do that. Even Mr. Perfect.” He looked toward the window at the breakers. “Whoever did that is an animal.”
A mixture of horror and grief moved over his face; brief, but genuine.
If Corey had murdered Shannon, he was honestly sorry she was dead.
***
Corey had said that Bailey pretty much lived at the Bass Bay College pool, where he swam laps twice a day. He said that Bailey now preferred the heated pool to the ocean, and called him a pussy.
Jack had pulled up a map on his phone. The college boasted an Olympic sized pool, and was open until ten p.m. for students. Bailey had achieved a scholarship to the college because of his swimming abilities, and would be attending Bass Bay in the fall. If we were lucky, we’d catch him finishing up.
We spotted his Jeep Wrangler in the parking lot. I’m a big fan of the Wrangler. A nice, rugged vehicle. Bailey’s Wrangler was the newest edition. Those aren’t cheap.
As luck would have it, the door to the entrance of the pool house opened and Bailey emerged, tapping away on his phone. He was flanked by two lovely brunettes who had no doubt been watching him practice.
“Nice wheels,” I said to him as the three of them approached his Jeep.
The three looked up at me. Bailey grinned. “Thanks. It gets me places.”
“That’s the newest edition. Graduation present?”
His brows furrowed a little. “Uh, yeah. Do I know you?”
“Nope. I’m Leah Ryan and this is my partner Jackson Quick. We were hired by Shannon Cook’s parents to investigate her murder.”
Bailey looked like a deer in the headlights. He recovered quickly and spoke to his two girlfriends. “Get in. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I wanted to see the reactions of the girls as Jackson and I asked questions. In a murder investigation, you never knew who was involved. But if need be, we’d have to approach the girls on their own. I didn’t want to push the issue and have Bailey clam up because he didn’t want his chicks to hear what he was saying about Shannon. Things they perhaps didn’t know about.
The girls looked wary of me and Jackson as they got in the car, their eyes wide and their expressions cautious, if not downright nervous. Perhaps they should be, if there was the slightest chance that their playboy boyfriend was capable of murder. But strangely, women never tend to be scared for themselves in these situations. They always think that either their boyfriend is innocent, or that the last woman had it coming and that they themselves are different; undeserving of violent treatment and somehow special.
Until the guy wraps his hands around their throat. Then they’re shocked as hell.
Bailey’s face was lowered and he looked at us from beneath his brows, like he was looking at an enemy.
“Chillax, Bailey,” I said, making my voice annoyingly cheerful. “We’re not accusing you of anything. We’re not the cops. We just want to ask you a few questions.”
He seemed to relax a little. His shoulders lowered from where they were bunched up around his neck. “Okay.”
“We understand you and Shannon were dating,” Jackson said.
“Yeah. We were.”
“You seem to be a hit with the ladies,” I said.
He shrugged. “I do okay.”
“Bet that didn’t go over so well with Shannon.” I smiled.
“She was okay with it. We were exclusive, but I have a lot of friends. I’m not the kind of guy to just ditch his friends because I have a girlfriend.”
“Did she stay in contact with Corey, the ex?” I asked him.
He hesitated. Blinked.
“Ah. You didn’t want her to, right?” Jackson said.
“He wanted her back. It’s different.”
“Ooooh. Okay.” I nodded, making a show of finally understanding the situation. Sarcasm, a daily staple.
“Whatever. Is that all you wanted to know?” His defenses were back up, and he jiggled his keys in his hand, impatient.
“No,” I said, then stood there, watching him.
“What else do you want to know? I kind of have to be somewhere.”
“Do you know of anyone who might’ve wanted to hurt Shannon?” Jackson said.
“Besides Corey? No.”
“I thought you said Corey wanted her back,” I said.
“He did. But he was obsessed. Following her everywhere. Until he started seeing that strawberry blonde he works with. The nutty one. I’d watch her, too, if I were you.”
“Nutty?” Jackson asked.
“Yeah. She threw a fit one night when Shannon and I stopped in at the Happy Clam. Every other place was packed that night. It was the only place that didn’t have a line going out the door. Anyway, she flipped out when Shannon walked in. Started screaming at her, screaming at Corey. It was loony-tune time. Shannon and me, we just left. Got some fast food instead.”
Dru wasn’t big. She couldn’t be more than a buck fifteen, soak and wet. She wouldn’t be able to carry out what was done to Shannon. Not on her own, anyway. Could she have had a partner?
“You guys got along, then?” Jackson asked him.
“Yeah. You know, it was still all fresh and new. Everything is awesome at that point. Shannon was cool. She had her surfing. We were both looking toward the Olympics. Both wanted the gold. It was neat having a girl who was as driven as I am.”
He didn’t seem exactly broken up about her having been murdered, though. “What do you think about what happened to her?”
He looked at me like I was strange. “What do you think? It was messed up, chick. That’s what I think.”
He shook his head, got in his Jeep of waiting girls, and drove away, still looking at me like I was the weird one.
***
Shannon had a large group of friends, but Mr. and Mrs. Cook narrowed her best friends down to three, with her closest friend being Nina Dursh, whom she’d known since pre-school.
The hour was growing late, but Shannon’s parents had mentioned a pre-July Fourth bonfire on the beachfront of the largest, most luxurious hotel in Bass Bay, the Sea Bluff. Shannon had planned to attend the bonfire. She wasn’t there in person, but she was there in spirit.
Full dark had fallen, but there were lanterns set along the front of the hotel, and many of the people at the bonfire, most teenagers or early twenties, placed flowers on a growing pile in front of a large photo of Shannon. In the photo, she was riding a wave, arms out, and a huge, joyful smile on her tanned face. Her sun-streaked blonde hair streamed out behind her.
“I took that picture,” a petite girl said next to me.
I turned to look at her. Her curly red hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her face was free of make-up. A spattering of freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. She glanced at me, eyes watery.
“It’s a fantastic shot. You caught her in a really happy moment,” I said, looking back at the shot.
“You’ve got a good eye,” Jackson said. He offered his hand. “I’m Jackson. This is Leah. Were you close with Shannon?”
“Best friends since we were two,” the girl said, shaking Jackson’s hand. “Practically inseparable. I’m Nina. Are you police?”
Jackson shook his head. “Nah. Private detectives. Trying to find out who did this to Shannon.”
Nina hunched her shoulders; seemed to try to crawl into herself. “I can’t explain it. She was with us. We were all surfing. She vanished. Literally. Just like that.” She swiped at a tear, took a deep, shaky breath, and tried to gather herself. When she spoke again, it came out as a whisper. With the sound of the waves and the people around us, I almost didn’t hear her. “It was like the sea swallowed her up.”
I knew how fast someone could be taken. In the time it takes to turn back around. Gone. As if they’d never been there, right behind you. Nothing left but a fallen bike. “I’m so sorry.”
Her green eyes found mine, and they were red and slightly swollen. “Have you ever lost someone close to you?”
