by Tripp Ellis
I ordered another round.
A moment later, Brooklyn Chase slipped through the crowd and slinked beside me at the bar. She asked in a sassy tone, "Catching any killers?"
"Not yet."
"That's too bad." She waved to the bartender and got served a lot faster than I did.
She had ditched the evening gown in favor of a T-shirt and jeans. She looked just as good.
“Did you see the event tonight?” Brooklyn asked.
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”
"Well, since you two aren’t judges anymore, you have no obligation to sit through all this stuff."
"We are connoisseurs of beauty," JD said with a grin.
"You were fabulous," I said.
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Wild." Brooklyn smiled and sipped her drink.
A high-top table opened up near the bar. Brooklyn dashed to it and took a seat. There were still empty drinks on the table from the previous occupants. Brooklyn motioned us over, and we took a seat.
"One more event, then this is all over for me," she said.
My face twisted. "What do you mean? You are a shoo-in for the semifinals?"
Her face crinkled dismissively. "Nah. There are much prettier girls that are more put together than me."
"You’ll kill the interview portion," I said.
"Only if they ask me about medical stuff."
"I'm sure you'll do fine. You seem like an intelligent, well-rounded individual."
"Why, thank you, Deputy Wild." Her eyes sparkled. "Honestly, I'm ready for this whole thing to be over. It's quite a time commitment. And right now, time is a precious commodity that I don't have much of."
We sipped our drinks as the horde mingled about. It was getting hot and stuffy from the crowd.
“Is this allowed?" Brooklyn asked. “Fraternizing with a suspect? I am still a suspect, aren’t I?"
She almost seemed to take a little glee in that statement.
14
"Yes, you are still a suspect," I said. "But maybe JD and I are deep undercover, and we're pumping you for information."
Brooklyn chuckled. "I hate to tell you, but I already know you’re cops. Your cover is blown. But if you want to get undercover, we might be able to work something out," she said with a devious glint in her eyes.
A woman like that didn't have to offer twice. Usually, I would take her up on the offer, but she was right, fraternizing with potential suspects is highly frowned upon, to say the least.
"Perhaps after we wrap up the investigation?" I suggested.
"What use for me would you have then, once you’ve caught your killer?" she asked, coyly.
"I could think of a few uses."
She grinned. "I bet you could."
"Should I leave you two alone?" JD asked.
"I wouldn’t want Deputy Wild to cross any ethical boundaries," she said with delightful mischief.
"Just a reminder, I'm the one without ethical boundaries," JD said.
Brooklyn chuckled. She surveyed us both with her sparkling eyes. "You two talk a good game, but I get the feeling that deep down inside you are pretty good guys."
Jack grinned. "I think you are an excellent judge of character."
She smiled. "Thank you. I have a good sense for people."
Brooklyn gulped the last swallow of her drink down. "Well, since I have a long day tomorrow, and it looks like we won't be engaging in any undercover work tonight, I will see you gentlemen later."
"Indeed," Jack said.
Brooklyn pushed away from the table and stood up. She traced her delicate fingers across my shoulder as she strolled away.
Jack watched her go, his eyes glued to the sway of her hips. "We better wrap up this case pretty quick. Don't want her to get away."
I concurred.
We stayed at the bar for another drink and watched the crowd, then JD drove me back to the marina at Diver Down. I told him we’d touch base in the morning, then strolled down the dock to the Vivere.
Buddy greeted me with enthusiasm as I entered the salon. I took him for a walk before bed, then crawled off to sleep in the master suite.
Sun blasted in through the portals as the morning came too soon. I pulled myself out of bed, showered, and fixed breakfast. Afterward, I called Cliff Burke and left a message on his voicemail. I didn’t leave much information, but I figured he’d know why a deputy from Coconut County would be calling. I didn’t expect a call back.
I took Buddy out for another walk, then stopped in Diver Down on the way back. Alejandro looked tired. His expression was hollow, and the bags under his eyes were a little puffy. He'd been pulling double duty, opening and closing for weeks, and it was starting to take its toll.
"I've got interviews set up for this afternoon. It would be great if you could attend."
"Sure thing. What time?"
"1:30 PM to 2:30 PM."
"I'll be here."
We desperately needed to hire another employee. This was completely out of my wheelhouse.
I left the bar and strolled back toward the Vivere. There was a cool breeze coming off the water. I boarded the boat, grabbed another cup of coffee from the salon, then sat in the aft deck gazing at the marina, listening to the gulls squawk overhead.
My phone buzzed with a call. I swiped the screen and answered the phone.
"This is Cliff Burke. I'm returning a call from Deputy Wild."
"Thanks for calling me back," I said.
"I got your message. How can I help?"
"I'd like to ask you a few questions about Samantha Baxter."
"I figured this might have something to do with that. I told the officers everything at the time. Have you found out anything new?"
"I'm working on it," I said.
"I really hope you can make some progress," Cliff said. "I still think about Samantha often."
"From what I gather, it sounded like you had a pretty intense relationship."
"I don't really know what it was for her, but I loved her. She was it for me. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her." He sighed. "I mean, what do you really know when you're an 18-year-old kid? I mean, I'm so different now than I was then. It's kind of hard to imagine picking a life partner at that age and having it work out. But, I think about it a lot. Not that things would have worked out, anyway."
"Why do you say that?"
"She broke up with me. She just didn't feel the same way I did."
"How did that make you feel?"
"It was devastating. When she told me she wanted to see other people, I couldn't breathe."
"Did it make you mad?"
"Sure, it made me mad. I was angry and hurt."
"Did it make you want to lash out at her?"
"Look, I know where you're going with this. I didn't kill Samantha. I would never have done anything to hurt her. Like I said, I loved her."
"A lot of people do bad things in the name of love," I said.
"I was cleared a long time ago. I wasn't even in Florida at the time of the murder."
"Are you sure about that?"
There was a long, awkward pause. "Of course, I'm sure."
"Because I have an eyewitness that places you in Florida at the time."
It was a half-truth.
There was another long pause.
"Who?"
"I can't say right now."
The speaker crackled in my ear as he paused. I hoped we didn't drop the connection.
"Is there anything you want to revise about your previous statement?" I asked.
"No."
"Mr. Burke, let me tell you one thing. I'm very good at what I do, and if you were in Florida at the time of the murder, I will find out."
There was another long pause.
A heavy sigh filtered through the speaker. He teetered on the brink for a moment, then finally said, “Okay, yeah. I was in Florida. But I didn’t kill her. I swear!"
"What were you doing here?"
"We had just b
roken up, and I knew she was going with her girlfriends on vacation. I don't know, it just tore me up inside, and I couldn't stand the thought of her going off and meeting somebody new. So, I hopped in my car, and I drove to Coconut Key.
"I don't know why. I just wanted to see what she was doing. I'll admit, at the time, I was obsessed. She was all I could think about. I followed her and her friends around, watching them go from bar to bar, meeting guys."
"That must have been difficult. Did that make you angry?"
"Hell yes it did. I wanted to…" He stopped himself before he said kill her.
"You wanted to what?"
"It's a figure of speech."
"Are you sure it wasn't more than that?"
"Positive. I told you, I would never hurt Samantha." His voice grew tense.
"Tell me about the night of the murder."
He took a deep breath. "I followed her to the Bait Station. She was there with Robin and Kim for a few hours. Her friends left, but she stayed. She was talking to that guy behind the bar."
"Ben Brown."
"Yeah. That's the guy."
"Then what happened?"
"The two of them left together. They walked down to Taffy Beach, holding hands, fooling around along the way. He took her under the pier, and he was all over her. Their clothes came off, and I couldn't bear it anymore."
"I bet you were pretty pissed off then?"
"You have no idea. I was in tears."
"Then what happened?"
"I left. I just walked away. That was it for me. I knew that I would never get her back after that."
"Did you see anybody else in the area?"
"I don't know. It was a long time ago, and I was only focused on one thing. That image is burned into my retina. I can still see it clearly when I close my eyes."
"Do you smoke cigarettes?"
"No. I quit a long time ago."
"Did you at the time?"
"A little. When I drank, or when I was stressed out."
"I bet you were pretty stressed out that night?"
"You could say so."
"Would you mind submitting a DNA sample so we can rule you out?" I asked.
15
"Sure,” Cliff said. “I guess. If It will help?"
"It will help," I said. "I'll contact your local PD and send an officer to collect a sample. They'll swab the inside of your cheek with a Q-tip. It's painless and only takes a minute."
"Okay," Cliff said.
I told him I would be in touch and urged him to contact me if he remembered any additional details.
“What about Ben Brown?" Cliff asked. “He was the last person with her.“
“I’m looking into that.“
“He’s the guy who did this. I know it.” His voice trembled with rage. After all these years, he was still mad about it.
Daniels called shortly after I hung up with Cliff. He barked so loud into the phone that I held the speaker away from my ear. "Thorston Van Doorn is up my ass wanting answers, and I don't blame him. Please tell me you've got something?"
I hesitated. "I'm on top of it. Don't worry."
"That means you don't have jack-shit."
"I'm getting closer."
"I've arranged a meeting. I need you to stop chasing skirts around that pageant for a moment and get over to the Van Doorn estate at noon. Take numb-nuts with you. They'll be expecting you. Reassure Mr. Van Doorn that we are doing everything we can."
"Wilco," I said. It was military jargon for will comply.
"What's this I hear about you working on the Samantha Baxter case?"
"Just trying to close the books on it."
"Somebody needs to close that case, but don't let it distract from this one. I'm not saying that one is more important than the other, I'm just saying that we have time on our side right now. We don't want this to turn into an unsolved cold case as well."
"Roger that."
I called Jack and told him about our engagement with the Van Doorns. He picked me up in the Porsche, and we headed across the island to the exclusive neighborhood.
The Van Doorns lived in a gated community. Jack flashed his badge to the security guard at the main entrance. The guard pressed a button, and the massive wrought-iron gate slid open. We pulled into the posh neighborhood, rolling past three and four story mansions. Palm trees swayed out front. Flashy exotic sports cars sat in driveways, polished to perfection. They were mostly garage queens that would never see the track, or be driven to their full potential. We pulled up the circular drive at the Van Doorn estate and parked the car.
We both gazed up at the stunning home. The concrete structure had three stories, a Spanish tile roof, and two wings, one on either side of the main structure. There was an ostentatious fountain out front, and the canal in back was home to the Van Doorn's yacht. The house was solid, and could withstand anything mother nature threw at it.
I rang the bell, and a butler pulled open the door a few moments later. He was a young man with dark hair, wearing a tuxedo with long coattails.
We flashed our badges and identified ourselves.
"Please, come in. The Van Doorns are expecting you." The butler motioned for us to enter the home.
We stepped onto the imported Italian marble floor in the foyer. A dual staircase led up to the second and third floors. There was also an elevator to the right, and a parlor to the left. The butler escorted us into the parlor which was lined with leather-bound books. Oil paintings of previous generations of Van Doorns hung on the walls. We took a seat on a comfortable leather sofa, and the butler offered us a drink, which we declined, uncharacteristically.
"The Van Doorns will be with you shortly," the butler said in a low, soothing voice. He slipped out of the room.
Mr. and Mrs. Van Doorn greeted us a few minutes later. We stood up and made introductions.
Mr. Van Doorn was in his 50s. He had solid gray hair, strong features, and wore a tailored gray suit. Mrs. Van Doorn was a brunette about 45. She was pretty. She would've been prettier without the overabundance of makeup. The Botox™ kept her forehead wrinkle free, and her nose looked a little too perfect. The implants in her chest rounded out the dress nicely. I imagined she was quite breathtaking at 22, and was probably a beauty queen herself at one point in time.
"My condolences," I said. "I'm very sorry for your loss."
"I've read the autopsy report, and I'm not happy about it," Mr. Van Doorn said.
"Those things can be difficult to read."
"I want it changed," he said.
Mr. Van Doorn was the kind of man who was used to getting what he wanted.
"That's an official document from the medical examiner. It can't be changed," I said.
"Then I want another medical examiner."
"What is the issue?" I asked.
His face reddened. "It lists the cause of death as cocaine mixed with another drug, Vexatropanil."
"From what I understand, that's accurate," I said.
The muscles in his jaw flexed. "Van Doorn's do not die from drug overdoses. I don't want that anywhere in my daughter's record. You can list the toxic substance, but not the cocaine."
I paused for a moment, not sure how to handle this. "That's an official document, sir. It would be illegal to tamper with it."
He scoffed. "Murdering my daughter was also illegal, yet somebody seemed to do it."
I decided the best solution to the situation was to dodge it entirely and change the subject. "In that regard, do you know anyone who would have wanted to harm her?"
He frowned and let out a heavy breath. "If somebody doesn't hate you, you're not doing things right. Success always breeds contempt. My daughter was very successful in whatever she did. It comes as no surprise that she made enemies."
"Were you aware of her drug use?" I asked.
Mr. Van Doorn's upper lip quivered with disgust. "Like I said, Van Doorn's aren't drug abusers."
"I understand, but I need to find out who sold her the illicit
substance that she wasn't using."
His eyes narrowed at me. I don't think he appreciated my sarcasm.
"It's your job to find out these kinds of things. And when you find them out, I expect the utmost discretion."
"Of course."
"Money is not an object. If you need additional compensation or resources, please let me know. I want this wrapped up quickly and quietly. I don't want to read about salacious scandals in the paper regarding my daughter."
"I can assure you, we are devoting our full resources to the case. And no additional compensation will be necessary."
It was easy to see that Mr. Van Doorn was used to throwing money at problems. And with enough of it, problems would usually go away.
"I need to ask unpleasant questions, so please don't be offended," I said.
"The death of my daughter has offended me," Mr. Van Doorn said. "I don't think anything you say can top that."
"It's my understanding that there was a disagreement between Skylar and Mrs. Van Doorn? I've heard several conflicting stories. One was that Skylar wanted to win the competition without your help, Mrs. Van Doorn. The other was that you disowned her. Can you set the record straight?"
She hesitated, exchanged a glance with her husband, then returned her gaze to me. "I was disappointed with some of Skylar's choices."
"Choices regarding…?"
"This is a very private matter," she whispered.
"I understand."
"I wanted her to drop the lawsuit," Mrs. Van Doorn said.
"What lawsuit?" I asked. It was news to me.
Mrs. Van Doorn took a deep breath. She exchanged another glance with her husband, then returned her eyes back to me. "Skylar was suing the plastic surgeon who disfigured her."
My brow lifted with surprise. "Plastic surgeon?"
"That terrible Doctor Fantastic, or whatever the hell is name is."
"How did he disfigure her?"
A mix of anger and revulsion twisted on her face. Her cheeks reddened. "I told her not to do it. My daughter had beautiful, and natural, endowments, shall we say. But she thought they weren't big enough. I urged her not to do it, and if she was going to do it to use my surgeon in Palm Beach. But as teenage girls can be, she wanted to defy her mother and make her own decisions. She went with Dr. Looser instead, and that turned into a disaster."
