Wild Heart

by Tripp Ellis

  "Does the app work? You make some pretty lofty claims," I said.

  "What can I say… It absolutely works. It's how I met my wife. And we are a perfect fit."

  "How long have you been married?"

  "Six months."

  JD and I exchanged a glance. Not near enough time to establish proof of compatibility.

  "So, how does the match system work?" JD asked.

  "It's a simple concept, really. Everybody that signs up to the platform fills out a specifically designed questionnaire about their likes, dislikes, political affiliations, sexual preferences, pet peeves, you name it. Some questions are more important than others, and we tend to ask the same questions in multiple ways, trying to get honest answers. People tend to lie and make themselves sound better than they actually are. But the questionnaire is just one small piece of the puzzle. The main compatibility measures are scraped from multiple databases and the Internet. The app searches through social media profiles and posts, credit history, voting record, and numerous other data sources which I can't reveal, to put together a complete profile. Then we have a specifically designed predictive modeling algorithm that will align people with common interests and rate them on compatibility. Are they looking for a good time? Are they looking to settle down and start a family? It really works."

  “With Seb gone, who assumes his share of the company?”

  “I don’t really know,” Knox said. “I’d have to talk to the lawyers. We sold the majority interest but maintained a percentage. The venture capital guys got bought out. We have a contract to stay on for five years. I’m not sure how this all works out without Seb.”

  “What about life insurance?” I asked.

  “I know the VC guys had a business policy that if either of the principles died, they would recoup.”

  “What was the dollar amount?”

  “I’d have to check, but it was enough to cover their full investment. But it’s a moot point now that the company has sold.”

  “What about you? Did you have a policy as well?”

  “Honestly, it never crossed my mind. I didn’t think one of us would get murdered.”

  “Still, you’ve amassed a considerable fortune.”

  “Yes, I have. And I see where you’re going with this. Sebastian was a friend. I had no incentive to murder him because I’ve already made more money than I could ever spend in five lifetimes.”

  “What about disgruntled co-workers or exes?” I asked.

  Knox’s eyes brightened. “Now that’s where you need to be looking.”

  JD and I exchanged a curious glance.

  “At whom, in particular?”

  9

  "You need to talk to Heidi,” Knox said. “That chick is certifiable."

  "How so?" I asked.

  "She went completely psycho on Seb. I mean, she seemed nice enough at first, then it was like a switch flipped. I always got a strange vibe from her, even from the beginning. When she gets mad, forget about it. She had those serial killer eyes. It was like she became possessed.” He shivered. “They had only hooked up a couple of times, and she was ready to lock that shit down. I get it. Sebastian was a good-looking guy. He always did well with the ladies. Plus, he was rolling in dough. I mean, what girl wouldn't want to make that guy her forever home? I told him something was a little off about Heidi, but, you know how it is, he had to do it anyway."

  "How long did they date?"

  "I wouldn't even call it dating. They hooked up a couple of times over the course of maybe a month. She was already talking about getting married and having kids. When Sebastian cut that off, she totally flipped out."

  "What did she do?"

  “Called and texted him all the time. Nonstop. One minute she would call him every name in the book, and the next, she'd send a flurry of texts apologizing. Weird."

  "How long ago did they stop seeing each other?" I asked.

  "I don't know… Maybe 4 or 5 months ago."

  "Have they seen each other since?"

  Knox hesitated. "I don't think so. But I don't think Seb would admit to me if he hooked up with her again."

  "So, it’s safe to say you didn't like her," I said, stating the obvious.

  "I told Seb to steer clear of her. Don't get me wrong, she's hot as fuck, but the juice isn’t worth the squeeze.” He thought for a moment. "I remember we were out one night, and he told her straight up that they were just hanging out and having fun and not to get any ideas about a relationship. And she lied and said she knew it was just casual. Heidi would say whatever she thought he wanted to hear."

  "That doesn't make her a murderer," I said.

  "Well, I'm telling you she should be a person of interest. The girl is unstable."

  “Did she ever get violent?"

  "Yeah, I guess you could say that. She’d get mad and smack him. And when he cut it off, she keyed his Ferrari.”

  JD winced.

  "And I'm not talking light scratches that buff out. I'm talking down to the metal."

  "Did Sebastian file a police report?"

  "No. He just let it slide. He didn't want to antagonize her. He figured it would die down given enough time."

  "Did the harassment stop?"

  "As far as I knew. I think she sent him a few shitty texts when she found out that he was hooking up with Nina Harlow."

  “How did Sebastian meet Nina?”

  “It’s kinda funny. Seb called into her show and said he had a crush on a girl but was too shy to act. Nina told him to just go for it and ask the girl out. Life is short. So Seb told Nina he thought she was hot and asked her out. Kinda put her on the spot. She said she didn’t date random callers. Seb said he was rich. Nina asked how rich? Seb said very. Nina said she would agree to a date if he donated a million dollars to her preferred charity. I guess she thought that would get rid of him, but Seb coughed up the dough.” Knox sighed. “I guess that was the worst money he ever spent. Maybe he’d still be alive if he didn’t hook up with her.”

  "Do you happen to have Heidi's contact information?"

  "No. But I'm sure you guys can figure it out." Knox told me Heidi's last name, and I sent a text to Denise asking her to look up the girl’s information.

  "Can you think of anyone else that may have wanted to harm Sebastian? Business associates, competitors, rivals?”

  Knox thought for a long moment. "No. I really can't. Sebastian was a likable kind of guy. But that is one thing about success… you stay the same, but a lot of people around you start to change. They have certain expectations, and everybody seems to want something from you. People you haven't talked to in years show up asking for favors. It's kind of crazy. People you thought were your friends can start to hate you real quick. Jealousy is a strange thing, man.”

  Knox gave me his wife's cell phone number. I called Makenna while we were in his office, and she verified his alibi, which is exactly what I expected her to do.

  I gave Knox my card and told him we might be in touch. We left his office, and he prepared to make an announcement to the rest of the staff. He stepped out of his office and called his employees to gather around as we left the office and walked to the elevators.

  JD pressed the call button.

  “You think we have time to track down Heidi before you need to get to the practice studio?” I asked.

  He looked at his watch. "I think we can squeeze her in."

  The doors slid open. We stepped onto the elevator and descended to the first-floor lobby. Denise texted me a moment later with Heidi's contact information.

  10

  Knox was right. Heidi seemed really nice. She had a sweet, innocent voice that was breathy and soft. She had flawless, creamy skin, and her long natural lashes fluttered about her crystal blue eyes. Her blonde hair shimmered and fell to her shoulders like a waterfall of gold. Her petite little form drew the eye. She was the girl-next-door—someone you wanted to take home and meet the family, at least until her dark side came out.

  Sh
e worked at a pet store and cradled an adorable white kitten in her arms when we found her. She was in an aisle with a row of kennels on one side and supplies on the other. Parakeets chirped in their cages, dogs barked, fish tanks bubbled, and the air smelled like pet food, fur, and poop.

  We flashed our badges and made introductions.

  Heidi’s eyes rounded, and she shifted uncomfortably.

  "We’d like to ask you a few questions about Sebastian Simonton," I said.

  "Wow, that name is a blast from the past,” she said, dramatically. “I haven't seen Sebastian in a long time."

  "I wouldn't exactly call a few months a blast from the past," I said.

  "Well, it's ancient history as far as I'm concerned."

  "Can you tell me a little about your relationship?"

  She shrugged nonchalantly. "There's not much to tell. It wasn’t much of a relationship."

  "So, you were just casually dating?"

  "That's how I look at it. But Sebastian got a little… attached. Don't get me wrong, he's a nice guy and all, but he just got way too obsessive."

  "Really?" I asked with a slightly incredulous tone.

  "He was really needy,” she said, almost in a groan. “He wanted to spend every waking hour with me.” She flipped her hair. “I told him from the beginning we were just having fun, but he was ready to settle down. He didn't want me seeing anybody else. I think he was about to propose, honestly."

  Somebody was lying. "Is that so?"

  "I don't know. I just seem to have that effect on men. I don't know what it is." Heidi paused. "Why? What has he done?” Her eyes widened, and she gasped as a horrible thought filled her mind. "He's not stalking someone else, is he? He hasn’t killed anyone, has he?"

  "No. I'm sorry to say that Sebastian is dead."

  Her jaw dropped, and she gasped again. In an overly dramatic fashion, she covered her mouth and teared up. "Are you serious?"

  "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

  "Oh, my God, that is so freaky! I just had a dream the other day that he was dead."

  "Really?" I asked, curious.

  She waved it away with her hand. "I dismissed it as nonsense. I almost thought about calling him to see if he was okay, but I didn't want to start anything up again."

  "Tell me more about your dream."

  "I don't know, it was weird. I dreamt he got shot."

  JD and I exchanged a glance.

  She noted the exchange. "Why? Did he get shot?"

  "Do you own a pistol?"

  She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, why?"

  "Why do you own a pistol?"

  "Because it’s my right. And for self-defense. It's crazy out there. And I'm cute,” she said in an adorable voice. “Sometimes when I close up at the store, it's 10 PM, and the parking lot can be a scary place."

  "Do you have the pistol with you now?"

  She nodded, still stroking the cute little kitty. "It's in my purse by the register."

  "Do you mind if we see it?"

  She hesitated for a moment. "I don't see why not.”

  She put the little kitty back in a kennel with the others, then we followed her to the front desk.

  "Is anyone else working here today?" I asked.

  "No, it's just me today. It's been pretty slow lately." She dug into her purse and pulled out a 9mm and set it on the counter. “It's loaded, by the way. I have a concealed weapon license."

  “Can I see your license?"

  “Sure.” She dug into her purse again.

  Heidi handed the license to me, and I looked it over.

  You had to have a pretty spotless record to get a concealed weapon license. You needed to pass a background check and demonstrate proficiency with a firearm. The fact that she had been able to acquire one told me she didn’t have much of note in her background.

  I examined the weapon, press-checked it, and sniffed the barrel. It was loaded with 124 grain hollow-points and had been fired recently.

  “I just went to the range a few days ago. Gotta keep up the skills.”

  “You go often?”

  “Once a week. I love shooting.” She closed her eyes and breathed through her nostrils, reliving the sensation. “The smell of gunpowder. The feeling of something powerful in your hand. The bang!” She opened her eyes on the verge of ecstasy. “It’s addictive. You know what I’m talking about, right? It’s almost as good as sex.” A mischievous glint flickered in her deceptively innocent eyes. “Almost.”

  “Do you mind if we take this to the lab and run some tests?” I asked.

  11

  Heidi's delicate face twisted into a snarl. I saw a flash of the demon in her eyes. "I do mind. And I don't appreciate your accusatory tone."

  "Where were you Wednesday evening?" I asked.

  Her eyes continued to blaze into me. "Right here! Working till 10 PM,” she snapped. “I'm sorry, but I'm not rich like Sebastian. I have to work for a living."

  "Was anybody else working with you at the time?"

  "No. Just me and the animals."

  I pressed the mag release and dropped the magazine into my palm. I set it on the counter, then ejected the round from the chamber. I caught it in the air before it hit the ground. I set the weapon on the counter along with the bullet.

  "You own a boat?" I asked.

  "I'm not answering any more questions."

  I frowned. With a mild dose of sarcasm, I said, “Thanks for your cooperation.”

  JD and I left the blonde in the pet shop. A parrot cackled as we pushed through the exit door, “Have a nice day!”

  JD muttered, “She went from nice to nasty real quick."

  With a voice full of skepticism, I asked, “Do you buy her story about Sebastian stalking her?"

  JD shrugged. “I don't think Sebastian was hurting for options."

  We hopped into the Porsche and cruised to JD's house. He pulled into the circular drive, and I got a view of his surprise for the guys.

  I had a good chuckle. It was so insane.

  A matte black muscle van from the ‘70s crouched in the driveway, ready to spring into action. It was lowered, had fat tires, and polished chrome Crager S/S rims. Massive chrome exhaust pipes ran along the sides, and the Wild Fury logo was painted on the side panels, complete with skull and sword. The van even had the classic bubble porthole windows in the rear sides. It was a beast and the ideal vehicle to haul around the band’s equipment from gig to gig.

  I was stunned. “Oh, my God! Where did you get that thing?"

  "I picked it up on an auction site, then had it completely rebuilt by Coconut Customs. All new interior, new engine, custom paint. The thing has got like 600 hp!”

  We hopped out of the Porsche and walked around Jack’s new toy. I marveled at the creation. The front grill had been custom made to resemble shark’s teeth. The bodywork and paint were flawless.

  JD clicked the alarm, and I pulled open the passenger door. The interior did not disappoint. There were diamond-stitched leather seats and matching floor mats. The dashboard had been completely redone with hand-stitched leather. The air conditioning vents were brushed aluminum, and they looked like exhausts on fighter jets. Of course, the thing had a bumping stereo system with massive speakers. White fuzzy dice hung from the mirror, and a chrome silhouette of a buxom pinup adorned the center console. The racing-style Alcantara steering wheel and all-new gauges almost made it feel like the cockpit of a fighter jet. The gas pedal was in the shape of a bare footprint in classic ‘70s fashion.

  The cargo compartment had a removable row of leather seats, and behind that, space for drums, guitars, and amp cabinets. There was no faux wood paneling in this ‘70s era van. No shag carpet. It was upholstered with leather and brushed aluminum panels. It was part throwback, part futuristic. It was a machine that could transport you to another dimension.

  JD hopped behind the wheel and twisted the ignition. The engine growled, and JD pumped the gas. The exhaust rumbled, and the piston
s screamed. Even sitting still, the van felt like it could launch to the moon.

  JD had a wide grin on his face. “What do you think? Think the guys will like it?”

  I smiled. “I think they’ll love it.”

  “Hop in. Let’s take her for a spin.”

  I climbed into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut. It smelled like fresh leather and oil. The van vibrated as the engine snarled and chimed. It echoed down the block and was the kind of sound that would piss off the neighbors if you started it up too early in the morning or came home too late at night.

  JD put the van into gear and rolled out of the driveway. He held back as we cruised down the street, but he was just dying to stand on the pedal. As soon as we turned out of the neighborhood, he stomped on the gas.

  The engine howled, and the tires spun. The van stood still as white smoke billowed from the wheel wells. Tires squealed as they put down a thick black streak on the pavement.

  After he’d burned through enough rubber, he let off the gas and smiled. The noxious smoke drifted away on the breeze. “How ya like them apples?”

  12

  The roar of the engine echoed off the buildings in the warehouse district. We rolled through the industrial part of town and pulled into the parking lot at the rehearsal studio. JD found a spot close to the entrance.

  It was a dodgy part of town, and the cars in the lot looked like veterans of a demolition derby—crappy vans and cheap imports with dented quarter-panels and patchworks of Bondo. Most musicians didn't have two nickels to rub together—a situation made worse by the ever decreasing royalty payouts and downward pressure on fees that live bands could command.