by Tripp Ellis
6
“I’d estimate 48 hours, give or take,” Brenda said. “I’ll know more when I get back to the lab.”
“Did Nina see patients on her boat?” Daniels asked.
“If I recall correctly, yes,” JD said. “She saw patients here, did all of her podcasts and videos here.” In a low voice, he said, “I heard crazy stories about these couples cruises she offered. Designed to promote intimacy and spontaneity. I bet Nina could spice things up.”
Brenda shot us an annoyed glance.
“Looks like a crime of passion to me,” the Sheriff said. “You don’t defile a body like that unless you have strong feelings toward the victim.”
I moved back to the hatch and faced the compartment, trying to put myself into the shoes of the killer. “The killer comes in, catches them in the act. They’re startled. Sebastian climbs off the bed, and the killer puts two into his chest. He falls to the deck. Then the killer shoots Nina twice. The bullets entered on the right side of her chest like she was reaching for the nightstand. The blood splatter on the sheets confirms it.” I moved back to the bed and pulled open the drawer of the nightstand. Sure enough, there was a small 9mm pistol. "You can tell by the bloodstains that the killer repositioned her, spread her arms and legs, then stuffed the, uh… dong… in her mouth."
"Do you think the shooter was already on the boat?" JD asked.
"Let's check to see if the tender is missing. Otherwise, it's possible that someone followed them out here, boarded the boat, and shot them."
“Why don’t you contact that reporter friend of yours," Daniels said to me. "Let's get the word out and see if anybody was in the area during the time of the shooting. We know we’ve got a leak in the department and she's gonna find out anyway. Might as well give her the story straight up and score some brownie points."
"Oh, Tyson can give it to her straight up, all right," JD joked.
My eyes narrowed at him.
JD raised his hands in surrender.
"I'm gonna say jealous boyfriend," Daniels said.
"Or obsessed fan," JD added.
“Where were you 48 hours ago?” Daniels asked him, deadpan.
JD sneered back at him.
“What about pirates?” the petty officer asked. “We’ve had several reports of thefts at sea lately.”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
A diamond bracelet sparkled around Nina’s wrist, and diamond earrings dangled from her delicate lobes.
“The valuables would be gone,” I said.
A forensics guy held up a couple diamond necklaces he pulled from the dresser drawer. “She’s got a considerable amount of jewelry here. If it’s all real, it’s worth a small fortune.”
"Can you get prints off that sex toy," the sheriff asked.
"I can try," Brenda said. "Hopefully, we’ll be able to pull something off the shell casings."
"Let's dust all the handles and surfaces between here and the swim platform. The killer had to touch something on his way in or out."
“He may have been wearing gloves,” I said.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Daniels replied.
We stepped outside the compartment and let Brenda and the forensics team do their thing without distraction. JD and I searched the rest of the boat. The tender was still in the garage.
I called Denise and asked her to pull up information on Nina and Sebastian Simonton. I searched the Internet as well and found quite a few juicy tidbits and a lot of sultry photographs of Nina Harlow from her days as an adult film star. When she was alive, the luscious vixen had smoldering eyes and a rock-solid figure.
Her website featured her podcast, video series, and merchandise that included her two best-selling novels, Pure Passion and 99 Ways to Rekindle the Flame. There was a best-selling line of sex toys and lubricants, naughty lingerie, and a video course on better sex.
Nina had built herself a small empire, and it had all come crashing down.
She was the kind of woman that men would do stupid things for. One look into those smoky eyes, one kiss from those pouty lips, and you'd be hooked. I began to think this wasn't a crime of passion as much as it was a crime of obsession.
When Brenda and the forensics team wrapped up, we helped load the bodies onto the patrol boat. They were sealed in black zippered bags with reinforced carry handles.
The Coast Guard handed off the investigation to us and went about their way. JD and I stayed aboard Dirty Talk and piloted the vessel back to Coconut Key. It was a crime scene, and Sheriff Daniels wanted to maintain full control until we got a better handle on this thing.
JD took the helm, and we cruised across the water. It was a beautiful day—sunny and 74 degrees. There was a reason northerners flocked to the island paradise during the winter months.
I could tell that JD was preoccupied with the crime. A sorrowful frown tugged his lips. “That’s just a damn shame. I never met her, but I sure did get a kick out of her show.”
It wasn’t long before we pulled into the marina at the station. I tied off the lines and connected power and water for good measure. We sealed the boat with yellow police tape and put stickers over the sliding glass door that read: crime scene do not enter.
We ambled down the dock toward the station. I saw a news van in the parking lot, and Paris Delaney marched toward us with a cameraman and a sound guy. The crew trotted along, trying to keep up with the vivacious blonde.
I didn't have to leak the information to the press. Somebody had already done it for me.
Paris’s blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight, and her blue eyes sparkled. She wore a red blazer and a short skirt that revealed her delectable thighs. Her high heels clacked against the dock.
The cameraman focused the lens on me, and the sound man swung the boom mic overhead—the fluffy windscreen hung just out of frame.
"Deputy Wild, what can you tell us about the murders?”
“At this time, we are not releasing the names of the deceased until the next of kin have been notified. But we are asking anyone who has been in the vicinity of Eel Key in the last few days to contact the Sheriff's Department if they have seen anything suspicious."
“I see that you've just impounded Dirty Talk. That boat belongs to Nina Harlow. Did the murders occur aboard her boat? Is Nina deceased?”
I grimaced. Paris would do anything to break a story.
7
“I can’t discuss any details at this time,” I said, then continued toward the station.
Paris was a little miffed. Her face scrunched, and I could feel her eyes burn into my back as I walked toward the main doors. She finished her segment, and we stepped inside and found Denise at her desk. Her manicured fingers clacked away at the keyboard. The gorgeous redhead greeted us with a smile, and her emerald eyes pierced into me and stole my breath. "I think you’ll be interested in this."
"I'm all ears,” I said.
The office buzzed with activity. Phones rang, citizens filed stolen property reports, offenders were processed and printed. The aroma of stale coffee filled the air. Shafts of light beamed through the blinds.
It was a typical day.
"Sebastian Simonton was a tech entrepreneur,” Denise said. “He was partnered with a guy named Knox Murphy. They developed a new dating app called Soulmate. Last year they got an infusion of $162 million in venture capital."
JD and I raised impressed eyebrows.
"It gets better. I found an article online that said the company just inked a deal to sell the app for $1 billion to Instabook."
We stood there, slack-jawed. $1 billion was a lot of money. I shared a glance with JD, and we both were thinking the same thing.
"I'm not so sure Nina was the target," JD said.
"You might want to have a talk with Sebastian's business partner," Denise suggested.
"Can you look up his information?" I asked.
Denise smiled. "I already did. I'll text it to your phone."
"You're the best,
" I said with a smile.
"I know," she said in her adorable way with an innocent shrug.
“Better notify the next of kin ASAP. That information is about to be public knowledge when Paris broadcasts her segment.”
Denise’s pretty face crinkled with disdain. “That woman,” she said in a huff.
I thanked Denise, and we left the main office and headed toward the parking lot.
"Before we get into this, I need to get something to eat," JD said. He looked at his watch. “I’ve got the show at Sonic Temple tonight. I need to get to the studio, help the guys load up, and get the gear to the venue. Then we have a quick soundcheck before the doors open.”
“What time do you go on?” I asked.
“Not until later. 11 PM.” A mischievous grin curled his face. “I’ve got a little surprise for the guys. They’re gonna love this.”
I could only imagine what he had in store.
Paris and her news crew still lingered in the parking lot. She trotted toward us as we marched to Jack's Porsche. She came alone, no cameraman in tow. "Hey, off the record…"
I gave her a skeptical glance. Nothing was ever truly off the record with Paris.
"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together," she said.
"Then why ask?"
"So Nina was murdered?"
"We will either confirm or deny that shortly," I said.
"I really liked her show," Paris said with a slight frown. "She was fun, spunky, and outrageous. I hope you have some leads."
"We’re working on it." I climbed into the Porsche and pulled the door shut.
"Let me know if there's anything I can do to help," Paris said.
I smiled. "Just get the word out that we're looking for potential witnesses."
Jack cranked up the engine, and I buckled my safety harness.
"See you around, Deputy," Paris said, wiggling her fingers as we pulled out of the parking space.
Jack sped out of the lot, and the engine howled.
We cruised to Mama Maya’s and were quickly seated by a cute hostess. The smell of grilled meat, beans, and jalapeños filled the air. It was one of the best Mexican food restaurants on the island. The place was always packed for lunch and dinner, but we were here at an off-hour, and the crowd was considerably thinner. The building was made of stone and had a Spanish tile roof. Inside, the walls were painted with bright festive colors—teal green, red, and amber.
There was no need to look at the menu. We knew what we wanted. Beef fajitas. Quick and easy.
We relaxed for a moment as the waitress collected our menus and returned shortly with a bowl of gooey queso and warm chips. We crunched away on the highly caloric snack. But it was worth every cheesy bite.
It didn't take long for a sizzling tray of beef to arrive at the table, popping and crackling. The delightful smell of spices wafted through the air. The cast-iron plate contained grilled onions and jalapeños beside the tender strips of beef. The meal was served with sides of Spanish rice, refried beans, guacamole, sour cream, shredded cheese, and pico de gallo.
The margaritas here were lethal. They came in large glasses with blue lips, rimmed with salt. We decided to forgo the tangy infusions of tequila for the moment. We still had work to do.
We packed all the goods into oversized flour tortillas, drenched them with cheese, rolled them up, and stuffed our mouths. Taste buds exploded with sensory overload.
"So, what's this surprise for the band?" I asked with a mouthful.
"Just a little something we need. Plus, I want to show the guys that I am 100% committed to Wild Fury."
"So you're turning down the offer to go on tour with…"
"Yep."
"That must have been a tough one."
"Yup," JD said.
"I think you made the right decision."
"I gotta say, I thought about it for a minute. Fronting one of the biggest rock bands in history is hard to say no to. But it would have been detrimental to Wild Fury. I think we can make our own mark."
"I have no doubt." I paused. "So, what's the surprise?"
JD grinned again. "You'll see." He paused. "Speaking of the band, we need to shoot the next video."
"I'm down whenever."
"I'm thinking next weekend. I can get the film school guys back. We’ll knock it out just like last time. Except, we’ll be a little more careful with the gear." His accusatory eyes blazed into me.
I raised my hands in surrender. "That won't happen again." I took another bite, then asked, "Any ideas for this one?"
"Nope. I'm leaving that up to you. You're the director. You come up with the concept. You did last time, and it worked. Why change a winning team?"
"No pressure," I said.
“There’s something else I want to talk to you about.”
“Shoot,” I said, encouraging him to continue.
“Later,” he said.
I wondered what was up his sleeve, but figured I’d find out soon enough.
We devoured the meal in no time.
Brenda called just as we were finishing up. "I'm gonna revise my estimate. Judging by the stage of insect larva, I'm going to put the time of death between 7 and 10 PM Wednesday night."
Insect larva wasn’t exactly what I wanted to think about while staring at a plate of Spanish rice. "Thanks, that's helpful."
"Also, I don't believe the victim was sexually assaulted, other than the placement of the sex toy, which was definitely put in her mouth after death."
“Anything else?”
“No prints on the sex toy or shell casings. Our killer was smart and wore gloves.”
My face tightened with disappointment.
“The bullets are jacketed hollow points. I’ll run ballistics on the slugs, see if they are a match for anything in our system.”
“Keep me posted,” I said. I thanked Brenda for the information and ended the call.
JD signaled the waitress, and she brought the check. He stuffed a wad of cash in the leather folio, leaving a fat tip. We left the restaurant, our bellies full. Jack gave a quick glance to his watch and said, "Let's go talk to Knox."
8
The Soulmates office looked more like the rec room of a college dorm than it did a company valued at $1 billion. There were beanbag chairs, a pool table, a foosball table, two videogame stations with large flatscreen displays—one of which had a full-on racing seat, steering wheel, gear shifter, and pedals. The furniture was sleek and modern. There were sit/stand desks, fully loaded 27-inch iMac's, and downtempo ambient music filtering through surround speakers. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of the ocean a few blocks away. It didn't seem like a lot of work was getting done, but there were a few people diligently clacking away at computer terminals.
I expected to see more employees in a billion-dollar company, but there were less than a dozen, and all of them looked barely out of high school. There was no formal reception desk. This wasn’t a place that saw many visitors. This was the backend of a social app.
A young girl saw us standing awkwardly, scoping out the place. She had long, straight, raven hair. She approached and asked, "Can I help you?"
JD flashed his badge. "We're looking for Knox Murphy."
She hesitated, and concern filled her brown eyes. "Uh, yeah. He's right over there. She pointed across the open floor plan to a private office in the corner.
We thanked her, and she went about her way, gossiping with her colleagues as we strolled across the room toward Knox's office. His office was separated with floor to ceiling glass. Knox sat at a desk, talking to someone on his phone through Airpods. We knocked on the glass door, then pulled it open.
"Hang on a second," he said, looking perturbed at our intrusion.
JD flashed his badge again before Knox could ask who we were.
He had a boyish face and couldn't have been more than 22. Unlike the other office workers, Knox wore a suit but no tie. His brown hair was stylishly shaggy, and his bangs fell
to his eyebrows. He was handsome in a geeky kind of way. The Joubert watch on his wrist, and designer Di Fiore suit, told me he had expensive taste.
"I'll need to call you back," he muttered. Knox ended the call but didn't bother to pull the earbuds from his ears. The young CEO forced a smile. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"
"I'm afraid we have some disappointing news," I said.
I told him that his business partner had been murdered.
His jaw dropped and his eyes rounded. "Are you serious?"
I nodded.
He took a moment to process the information, then stammered, "What happened?"
I get concerned when people don't ask how a person died. Guilty people already know. Either he put on a good show, or he was genuinely curious. I filled him in on the general details.
Knox slumped and exhaled as it sunk in.
"Can you tell me where you were Wednesday evening?" I asked.
Knox's face twisted while he thought. "I was at home with my wife. Why?"
"Just curious. And your wife’s name is?"
"Makenna," he said.
"I'll need her contact information."
"Sure. Do you have any leads?"
"We have several avenues to pursue," I said.
Knox looked dazed. He shook his head, "I can't believe this."
"When was the last time you spoke with Sebastian?"
"Tuesday, I think."
"And it didn't concern you that he went missing for a few days?"
"No. We just closed the deal on Monday. Sebastian said he was going to take a few days off and spend time with Nina."
"How long had they been dating?"
He sucked his teeth, then blew out a breath. "I guess a month or two?"
"Was it serious?"
Knox scoffed. "The word serious and Sebastian don't really belong in the same sentence. I think they were just having fun. Seb liked to have fun."
"Seems like he was on top of the world."
"Yeah, amazing things are happening with the company. This is just terrible."
"Tell me a little bit about the app," I said.
"It's been a project we’ve worked on since college. We came up with the concept—I did all the programming, Sebastian handled the business side of things. He was good with people and funding. He got us the venture capital. He put together the deal with Instabook. This company wouldn’t be anywhere without him. I don't know what we're gonna do or what this means for the future." The magnitude of the situation began to sink in.
