Third Strike

by Kathi Daley

  “I’ll start with the residents of Gull Island who attended the party,” Alex began as the group listened intently. “Fortunately, four of these five people still live on the island and are willing to speak to us when we’re ready to begin our investigation.”

  “You’ve already spoken to everyone on the list?” asked George Baxter, a sixty-eight-year-old writer of traditional whodunits.

  “I’ve spoken very briefly to more than half the people on the list so far,” Alex confirmed. “I figured it would save us some time if I did a bit of the legwork ahead of time.”

  “Okay,” I said, marker in hand. “Who do you have?”

  “Heather Granger dated Trey Alderman all though high school. It was assumed Trey and she would marry at some point, and Heather had even applied to the University of South Carolina and sent in her acceptance there as soon as she found out that was the school he’d decided on. Shortly after their high school graduation, Trey broke up with her. He offered the standard we’re-entering-a-new-phase-in-our-lives speech and asked her if she wanted to consider attending one of the other schools where she’d been accepted to make things less awkward.”

  “What a creep,” Brit said with a hint of disgust in her voice. “If he didn’t want his old girlfriend to interfere with his groove, he should have changed schools.”

  “The University of South Carolina was Trey’s choice in the first place,” Alex pointed out. “Heather was only going there to follow him.”

  “Whatever.” Brit rolled her eyes.

  “So what did Heather decide to do?” I asked to prevent an all-out argument. “Did she change schools?”

  “She didn’t go to college at all. From what I understand, she was pretty broken up when Trey dumped her from out of the blue, and most of the people I’ve spoken to said she sank into a bit of a depression. She has, however, gotten on with her life since then,” Alex assured us, looking directly at Brit. “She’s engaged to a chef she met just after Trey’s death and they’ve bought that old storefront on the wharf and are opening a restaurant.”

  “If she has moved on, why is she on your list?” Brit asked.

  “Because she hadn’t moved on at the time of the party. In fact, I’ve heard she was quite enraged when Trey showed up with his new girlfriend, Rena Madison.”

  “Tell us about Rena,” Brit suggested.

  Alex hesitated. “I’d planned to cover the locals first and then move on to the visitors to the island who attended the party.”

  “It’s okay. I can hop back and forth between the two lists, and I’d like to hear about Rena as well,” I said encouragingly.

  “Okay,” Alex agreed, sorting through his notes. “Rena Madison was a popular cheerleader at the University of South Carolina. She started dating Trey when they were both juniors. From what I could find out, she’s both beautiful and popular, and while she was majoring in communication, she had big plans to make a name for herself in modeling. While she didn’t say as much to me, based on what others have told me, Rena was using Trey to advance her career. I can’t speak to what was actually in her heart, but Trey’s best friend from high school, Hudson Dickerson, shared with me that Trey planned to dump Rena as soon as he was drafted, so in a way it appears they were using each other.”

  “Like I said, the guy was an ass.” Brit’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “Why are we trying to find out what happened to him again?”

  “You’re helping me write a book based on a set of circumstances I’m exploring. Trey Alderman may not be a sympathetic character, but I do find him an interesting one.”

  “Oh, right. Okay, continue.”

  I could see Trey’s cavalier attitude toward the women he dated had become a sore spot for Brit. It would appear the blond-haired pixie was a lot more of a romantic than she let on.

  “Do we have reason to believe Rena knew Trey planned to dump her?” asked Jackson Jones, a never-married, forty-two-year-old, nationally acclaimed author of hard-core mysteries and thrillers, who was as famous for his good looks and boyish charm as he was for the stories he penned. Jackson currently lived on Gull Island as mild-mannered Jack Jones, small-town newspaper owner.

  “I spoke to a woman named Candy Baldwin. She was and still is Heather’s best friend and has lived on the island all her life. She said Rena did know what Trey planned and had told everyone at the party she’d find a way to get her revenge.”

  “Do you have the sense Candy is someone whose word can be trusted?” Jack asked.

  Alex shrugged “I’m not sure. She’s a nice enough woman who’s since married her own high school boyfriend, Hudson Dickerson.”

  “Trey’s best friend?” I clarified.

  “Yes. It seems all through high school Trey and Heather and Hudson and Candy weren’t only best friends but best couple friends. It’s been suggested to me that Candy took Trey’s breakup with Heather and the end of their little group almost harder than Heather did. I can’t say for certain yet, but it seems Candy might hold a pretty big grudge against the victim, so I guess I’d take anything she tells you with a grain of salt.”

  “Should Candy and Hudson both be added to the suspect list?” I wondered.

  Alex nodded his head. “I would definitely consider Candy a suspect at this point. Hudson was Trey’s best friend; as far as I can tell, he didn’t have a motive to want to hurt him, but he was at the party and the game, so at the very least he’s a witness. Add him to the list of people we should follow up with.”

  I made a few notes on the whiteboard, then asked Alex to go on.

  “There are two locals we haven’t discussed yet,” he said. “Dexter Parkway was a bit of a nerd in high school, went on to pursue a career in computer science, and is currently working on a doctorate at Harvard. While in high school, he was an unpopular geek who saw Trey as something of a hero. Dexter idolized Trey and spent quite a lot of time not only following him around but doing his homework, while Trey treated him like a trained dog.”

  Brit didn’t say a word, but I saw her face was quickly becoming an interesting shade of scarlet.

  “If Dexter idolized Trey, why would he kill him?” asked Victoria Vance, a thirty-seven-year-old romance author and my best friend.

  “I’m not saying he killed Trey, but keep in mind Dexter was in his final year of undergraduate work at Boston College at the time Trey died. The guy’s really smart. I bet by the time he was twenty-two he must have realized his own worth and grown out of his need to idolize an athletic bully. Again, I only spoke to each of the people on my list for a brief time to get a general background, but it seems to me that by the time that party rolled around, Dexter should have been well past the point of being happy being someone’s lapdog.”

  “So you think he could have drugged Trey to get back at him for the way he treated him in high school?” Victoria asked.

  “I’m not ready to say that, but Dexter would have had a legitimate complaint, and he’s one of the few people on the list who could have had the knowledge to put together the drug cocktail the police believe ended up killing Trey.”

  Everyone paused to let that sink in. While it was true you could get almost any information on the Web these days, it sounded like the drugs that killed Trey were pretty specific. I wondered if anyone else on the list had a background in chemistry or medicine, so I asked the question.

  “Actually, yes. There’s another person on the list with the expertise to concoct such a drug cocktail. Her name is Quinn Jenkins, but let me circle back around to her. First, I want to mention Coach Cranston.”

  “The baseball coach over at the high school?” Jack asked.

  “Yes. Coach Cranston has been the coach for a number of years and was Trey’s coach when he was in high school,” Alex said.

  “Trey was a star. Cranston must have loved him.”

  Alex nodded to Jack. “He did then. In fact, he put in a lot of extra time helping Trey hone his skills. He even managed to get him recognition from other coaches he knew i
n other parts of the country. The issue was, Trey more or less promised Coach Cranston that if he helped him get a college scholarship, he would take Cranston with him when he went pro. He promised to make him his agent. But when the time came to look for an adviser, he decided he needed someone flashier, someone with more experience. It was while he was home on spring break that he told Cranston he’d decided to go a different way.”

  “I bet he was angry,” Clara Kline, a sixty-two-year-old self-proclaimed psychic and the writer of fantasy and paranormal mysteries, commented.

  “From what I’ve heard, he was. Very angry. He’d stayed in contact with Trey all through his college career, treated him like a son, and discussed their plans for the future on many occasions. Trey’s announcement that he was going with someone he’d just met seemed to come from out of left field. I understand Coach Cranston was not only angry but hurt as well.”

  “Have you considered a scenario where they all conspired to drug him?” I asked as the grudges against Trey piled up fast.

  “Hang on; I haven’t even gotten to the best suspects yet.”

  “Okay, spill,” Brit encouraged. “Who do you think had the strongest reason to kill Trey Alderman?”

  “Two other baseball players come to mind. Both were at the party, both played in the charity game during which Trey died, and both improved in ranking with Trey’s death. Jett Strong attended Florida State University and was nationally ranked number two behind Trey. The rivalry between Jett and Trey was fierce, and each felt they deserved the title of MVP. During their four years of college, the two traded the number one spot a few times, but as of the day Trey died, it looked like he was going to edge out his rival and come out on top.”

  “And did Jett finish number one once Trey was out of the picture?” I asked.

  “He did.”

  I jotted down a few notes. “You said there were two rivals?”

  “Parker Wilson was the other one. He attended the University of South Carolina with Trey and was his teammate. He was a very good player in his own right, but he couldn’t quite compete with Trey, who always stole the spotlight. Many people felt if Parker had been on a different team he would have been a star, but as Trey’s teammate, he never got the attention he deserved.”

  “I bet that sucked,” Brit said.

  “I’m sure it did,” Alex agreed.

  “Why didn’t Parker just transfer to another school?” I asked.

  “It isn’t that easy to transfer once you’re committed to a sports program, plus he was attending the university on a scholarship,” Alex explained.

  “Now, what about this Quinn you were going to circle back to?” Brit asked.

  Alex shuffled through his notes. “Quinn Jenkins also attended the University of South Carolina and was Parker’s girlfriend. An assertive woman majoring in microbiology who felt Parker was getting a raw deal, she wasn’t afraid to let anyone who would listen know about it. There are people I’ve interviewed who felt Quinn was exactly the kind of person to remove obstacles in her way, no matter what it took. For the rest of the season following Trey’s death, Parker became the star of the team and was drafted by the New York Yankees. I understand he’s building a pretty spectacular career with Quinn at his side.”

  I completed my notes, then took a step back from the whiteboard. We really had a daunting task ahead of us.

  “Do you have a plan?” George asked.

  “I know you’re all busy with your own lives and careers, so I thought maybe you could tackle the suspects who live on the island, while I go after the ones who live out of state. Parker and Quinn live in New York, which is where I plan to start.”

  “And Jett?” I asked. “Was he drafted?”

  “Yes; to the Florida Marlins. The season is over, so I’m not sure whether he’ll be in Florida, but I’ll track him down.”

  “And Rena?” I asked.

  “She moved to New York to pursue her modeling career. I’ll catch her at the same time I visit Parker and Quinn. I’m planning to leave for New York tomorrow. I’d love to get the interviews and other research wrapped up before Thanksgiving if possible.”

  “Okay; I’m game to jump right in,” I said to the group.

  “Me too,” Jack seconded.

  “I’ll consult my cards,” Clara promised. “I think this is going to be a juicy one. I can already sense lies and deceit. If I had to guess, the true motive behind Trey’s death is still buried deep beneath the surface of the cruelty and betrayal he left behind. Agatha,” Clara said, referring to her cat, “thinks there may be another player not yet identified.”

  “Please have Agatha let us know as soon as she figures out who we’re missing,” Alex said gently.

  “Oh, I will, dear. This is quite a task you’re taking on and we’re happy to help. Aren’t we, Agatha?”

  “Meow,” answered the cat, sitting primly in Clara’s lap.

  “And I’ll dig in with my research,” George promised. “I have several ideas already.”

  “I’ll build a social media map,” Brit offered. “I’ve found them to come in handy.”

  “I don’t know how I can help, but I’m in as well,” Victoria offered.

  “Great,” I said after everyone had chimed in. I looked at Blackbeard, my very opinionated and very intuitive parrot, who seemed to be able to communicate his thoughts and feelings. “How about it, big guy? You up for another mystery?”

  Blackbeard didn’t respond, which was uncharacteristic of him.

  I turned back to the others, “I guess he doesn’t have anything to say. Can everyone meet back here on Monday evening? That will give us time to do some digging around.”

  Everyone agreed Monday would be fine. Jack was going to make some calls the next day, and then he and I would get started with interviews on Friday. Hopefully, once we began speaking to people, a pattern would emerge.

  “Before everyone goes, I wanted to give you an update on the cabin situation,” I said. “The inspector is coming tomorrow and I expect we’ll receive the permits for the second three cabins.” I looked directly at Victoria. “I know you plan to move into the largest of the three, but that still leaves two cabins I need to find tenants for.” I turned toward Clara. “Are you sure you’d prefer to stay in the main house?”

  “Yes, dear. Agatha and I are quite happy in our room on the second floor.”

  “Okay, then, I’ll look for tenants for the other two cabins. I have a woman coming by tomorrow for an interview. Her name is Nicole Carrington and she’s a true crime writer. I’m not certain she’s interested in a long-term rental; so far, she’s expressed interest in leasing a cabin for a few months while she does research in this area. I feel as if we’re a family, so I wanted to be sure no one has had any negative experiences with her. I understand she can be assertive.”

  “Never heard of her,” Brit said.

  “I’ve never met her, but I’ve read her work,” George offered. “She seems to be committed to telling the victim’s story in much the way we do here. I found her research and conclusions to be thorough and well thought out. I have a feeling she’ll fit in just fine.”

  I looked around at the others. “Anyone else have an opinion?”

  No one spoke up, so I decided to go ahead with the interview to get a firsthand impression.

  “Okay, then; I guess that’s all I have.” I glanced at Victoria. “You should be able to begin moving in tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Great. Who wants to help me move my stuff over?”

  Everyone except Alex, who would be gone by then, agreed to help. Shortly after the group began to break up, I walked Jack to the door, then came back in to clean up.

  “So what do you think?” Alex asked as I put away the dry erase markers I’d been using for the whiteboard.

  “I think the mystery is intriguing and I believe the others are hooked as well, but I do wonder why you decided to write this specific book. You usually write science fiction. A biography seems out of you
r wheelhouse.”

  Alex shrugged. “I’m not sure what prompted me to write this book. I’m interested in sports, and Trey’s story was one that captured national attention at the time of his death. The whole thing seemed odd to me, so I did some digging and realized I wanted to follow the clues wherever they might lead.”

  “Well, I’m glad you brought the mystery to the group. I’ve found working as a team to be quite satisfying.”

  “I’m glad you’re in. I’m going to head out early in the morning, so I guess I’ll see you on Sunday, Monday afternoon at the latest.”

  “Call me in a day or two to touch base.”

  “I will. I’m hoping we’ll have the suspect list narrowed down a bit by this time next week.”

  I hoped Alex was right, though I’d found that when it came to researching cold cases, things were never as simple as they might initially seem.

  Once everyone had gone off to their own cabin or room, I wrapped myself in a heavy sweater and headed out onto the deck. It was a clear night and the stars shone brightly in the dark sky. I sat down on one of the patio chairs and closed my eyes. I loved listening to the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore. I felt the tension melt from my body as the gentle rhythm eased the stress created by a phone call from my mother earlier in the day. I’d hoped she would agree to come to the island for Thanksgiving. She had yet to see my new home or meet my new friends. I also really wanted her to meet Garrett, the brother with whom I shared a father, even though I knew it was going to be a sensitive subject to address.

  Of course, even though Mom admitted she wasn’t busy over Thanksgiving, she made it clear she was much too busy to come to my little island. She invited me to fly out to join her in Los Angeles, but spending Thanksgiving with her Hollywood crowd sounded like the worst idea I’d heard in quite some time. There was no doubt about it; I’d just need to have my own dinner. Not that I had a clue where to start in preparing such a meal. Gertie Newsome, owner of Gertie’s on the Wharf, had attended my Halloween dinner party; maybe she’d agree not only to spend Thanksgiving at the Turtle Cove Writers’ Retreat but help with the planning and cooking as well.