“What about other cameras around the campus?” Ryan prompted. “Anything to confirm that Abby Andrews was whale watching, Ellie Darcy was at the tide pools, or either Matt Darcy or Malcolm Andrews were in their casitas?”

  “Nothing definitive,” Jamil told them. “Like that security guy told you, there’s not a ton of footage to work with. There aren’t any cameras near where the ladies were allegedly doing their activities and the cameras near the casitas don’t show the entrances to either couple’s. I do have a record of Malcolm Andrews briefly on a business call originating from his casita, but it ended well before the window of death, so that’s not dispositive.”

  “What about cell phone geo-location?” Jessie asked.

  “Spotty at best,” Beth explained. “Because you’re so isolated down there, and you’re right near the cliffs and ocean, the signal doesn’t get super specific. It shows all of them at the resort but doesn’t get granular about where they are on the campus.”

  “This just keeps getting better and better,” Ryan grumbled as he took a bite of his sandwich.

  “I do have some news for you,” Jamil said, “though I don’t know whether it’s good or bad.”

  “What’s that?” Ryan asked.

  “The spa attendant that found the body, Tony Dante, comes back clean. He has no record, not even a traffic ticket. And as far as being the thief, that looks unlikely. He’s been at Peninsula for eight months and the thefts only started up in the last five weeks.”

  “Good to know,” Jessie said, “though not that surprising.”

  “Should we limit the search to just folks hired in the last couple of months?” Jamil asked.

  “No,” Jessie instructed. “That might be useful for Kat’s investigation. But for us, it would leave off too many potential suspects.”

  She took a bite of her sandwich too. After all that time talking, it had gotten cold.

  “I may have found something that will surprise you,” Beth said. “As I go through these staff files, I’m finding quite a few sealed juvenile records.”

  “What do you mean?” Ryan asked.

  “Statistically, it’s a small number,” Beth explained, “But so far, I find seven employees who spent some time in the juvenile system. Because those records are sealed, I don’t know what they were in for.”

  “She’s right,” Jessie added, “Technically that’s barely over one percent of the staff. But for a place like this, it seems high. I wonder what that’s about. Are you able to prioritize all the workers with juvenile records and check to see if anything comes back once they became adults?”

  “Working on it now,” Beth told her.

  While they waited for a response, Jessie and Ryan both scarfed down the last of their sandwiches. Jessie followed hers up with a glug of bottled iced tea. Before they got any answers, Ryan’s phone rang.

  “It’s Chief Laird,” he said. “Jamil, Beth, we’re going to put you guys on hold while we take this call. We’ll be back on after.”

  “Not a probl—,” Jamil started to say before Ryan cut him off.

  He grimaced in momentary embarrassment before answering the call.

  “Hello, Chief,” he said, putting the call on speaker. “I’m here with Jessie Hunt. How can we help you?”

  “I thought you were going to keep me in the loop, Hernandez?” Laird launched in sternly. “But I haven’t gotten a call. It’s been a few hours now and I’m in a holding pattern. Do we know if this was foul play or suicide? Am I able to call Bridget Newhouse yet? I had Decker put you two on this thing because you’re supposed to be the best and here I am in the dark.”

  “Sorry, Chief,” Ryan said, though Jessie noted that he didn’t look especially apologetic. “We’ve been grinding hard on this and figured you’d rather we be working to solve the case than wasting your time with inconclusive updates.”

  “Are they inconclusive?” Laird demanded. “You don’t know anything yet?”

  “Nothing definitive,” Ryan said. “We’re waiting on the medical examiner’s preliminary report as to whether the death was a result of strangulation. Until then, we don’t even know for sure if he died some other way and was placed in the steam room afterward.”

  “Does that mean you’re leaning away from suicide?” Laird asked.

  “We can’t be sure, Chief,” Jessie said. “The angle of his body in relation to the ribbon around his neck seemed odd if he did it himself, but ‘odd’ isn’t enough to rule it out. And everyone we’ve spoken to who knows him acknowledged his struggles with depression.”

  Laird was quiet for a moment. Jessie wondered how much the chief knew about those struggles and whether he was feeling any guilt about not doing more to help.

  “Assuming this wasn’t his doing,” Laird asked, “do you have any credible suspects?”

  “We’re still looking at Mrs. Newhouse,” Ryan told him, “as well as two other couples that joined them here for the weekend. None of them have iron-clad alibis and we’re exploring potential motives for each of them. We’re also looking into staff at the resort. Our research team is checking for criminal histories among them. There’s been a rash of thefts in recent weeks and while they may not be connected, we’re checking on that as well.”

  “How realistic do you think that possibility is?”Laird asked skeptically.

  “We don’t want to rule anything out, Chief,” Ryan said noncommittally.

  “So to be clear,” Laird pressed, “you’re telling me that it’s still not advisable for me to reach out to Bridget?”

  Ryan looked over at Jessie to get her thoughts. She responded carefully.

  “I don’t think there’s any harm in offering your condolences,” she said. “But maybe don’t do it directly. You could have your assistant call on your behalf and tell her that you’ve personally assigned us to the case, or maybe you could send flowers through the resort. I would just avoid any direct communication where she could ask you about the case or request any special treatment. If she is somehow involved, you don’t want it to look like you compromised the case or your credibility.”

  “Do you think my credibility is in question, Hunt?” he demanded haughtily.

  “Of course not, Chief,” she answered immediately, “But you never how the press will spin it. Once we’ve cleared her, we’ll let you know right away and you can smooth things over. But until then, I’d avoid any personal contact.”

  “Fine,” Laird said, sounding more like a petulant child than a police chief. “But if I wait too much longer and she’s not a part of this, the damage will be done. I don’t want her telling the media that the police chief was insensitive to her loss. So move fast. Maybe put a little pressure on that M.E.”

  “Yes, Chief,” Ryan promised.

  Jessie observed that he chose not to mention that he’d called the medical examiner’s office not fifteen minutes earlier and been told they didn’t have anything yet. It also occurred to her that there might be another way to show Laird that they were pursuing all angles.

  “One more thing, Chief,” she said quickly. “Peninsula hired a private detective named Katherine Gentry to investigate those thefts that Detective Hernandez mentioned. We know her well. If you authorize it, we could make her a temporary consultant and she could assist on our case. It would give us an additional resource without drawing unwanted attention.”

  “I suppose that’s alright,” Laird said reluctantly. “Captain Decker can make it happen. Just have her keep a low profile.”

  It was several seconds before they realized that they been unceremoniously hung up on. Neither of them commented on that as Ryan took Jamil and Beth off hold.

  “We’re back,” he told them.

  “Good, Jamil said excitedly, “because I think I may have a lead for you.”

  “Shoot,” Ryan told him.

  “It’s one of the employees with a sealed juvie record,” Jamil explained. “But he’s also got two adult convictions.”

  “What for?” Jessie asked, trying to control her anticipation.

  “One was for assault. The other was for theft.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  As they hurried down the hall to the main laundry room, Jessie noticed Ryan adjust the holster on his gun. She did the same.

  Jamil had given them a name—Ronnie Nance--as well as a mug shot. When they passed Ronnie’s name along to Hugo, the head of security checked with staff services and found the guy was on laundry duty today. When they got to the door of the laundry room, they found Hugo waiting for them.

  “Resort management wants me present for your interview,” he explained apologetically. “I’ll try not to get in the way. Do you want me to make the introduction?”

  “Sure,” Ryan said. Jessie agreed that it was good move. Maybe if Ronnie saw a familiar face first, he he’d be more likely to talk.

  Hugo opened the door and they entered the massive laundry room. Jessie knew she shouldn’t have been surprised that a resort as big as this had what amounted to a gym-sized facility to launder thousands of guest towels, not to mention clothes. She saw one large machine that she couldn’t identify with steam coming out of the top. It looked like something from the nineteenth century.

  As Hugo led the way, she scanned the employees’ faces, looking for any that matched the mug shot they’d seen. Ronnie had pock-marked skin and a shaved head, with brown eyes and a nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. His file said he was twenty-two and that he’d been convicted twice and served two separate stints in prison totaling fourteen months. He’d also been arrested twice more, once for burglary and another time for vandalism, though he wasn’t convicted on those charges. Jessie wondered how someone with that record had managed to get a job here in the first place.

  She was about to ask Hugo that very question when Ronnie came into view. He was folding blue towels at a large table stacked high with them. Even though his back was to her, she knew it was him because of the tattoo of a cross that took up his entire left forearm, just as described in his file. Like everyone else working in the laundry, he wore a white t-shirt and white slacks. He wasn’t a big guy, maybe five foot seven and 140 pounds, but he had a coiled, wiry build that suggested he ought not to be taken lightly.

  “Hi Ronnie,” Hugo said as he stepped into the man’s sight line.

  Ronnie looked briefly startled before replying.

  “Hi, Mr. Cosgrove,” he said hesitantly, “what’s up?”

  His eyes were bouncing around and he had a twitchy, unsettled manner that likely explained why he had a job in the laundry rather than something more guest-facing. Jessie wondered if that was his natural state or if he might be high right now.

  “Ronnie,” Hugo said casually, nodding at Jessie and Ryan, “I have a couple of folks here who wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  Ronnie took one look at them and his eyes narrowed.

  “I’m pretty busy here,” he said. “Can it wait?”

  “I appreciate your work ethic,” Hugo told him, “but this takes priority. Don’t worry. I’ll clear it with your supervisor.”

  Ronnie still didn’t look enthusiastic but without any more reason to balk, he shrugged and put down the towel he was folding. Then he leaned in close to them so he didn’t have to yell over the noise from the machines.

  “Could we at least talk somewhere more private?” he pleaded. “It’s really loud in here. Plus I don’t want the other guys to think I’m in trouble or something.”

  Hugo glanced over at Jessie and Ryan, who both nodded.

  “Let’s go to the laundry manager’s office,” Hugo suggested, pointing at a door at the far corner of the room. They started that way, weaving in and out of several other tables piled several feet high with freshly folded blue towels, all monogrammed with a large cursive “P.”

  They were just reaching the end of the maze when, without warning, Ronnie turned and hopped onto the table behind him, sending towels flying everywhere. Before Jessie totally processed what was happening, he had leapt from that table to another one, and then a third, heading back in the direction they’d just come from.

  She was about to shout to Ryan when she saw that he had already started moving, running back the way they’d come, in and out of the tables. Jessie took the long way around, sprinting around the edge of the section of towel tables, hoping to make up for the extra distance with an unobstructed path. Hugo followed the same route as Ryan.

  As she ran, she kept an eye on Ronnie, who continued to jump from one table to another with impressive skill. When he got to the second to last table before reaching a clear path to the exit, he glanced back to see where his pursuers were. It was a mistake, as he lost his balance and tumbled to the floor.

  For a moment, Jessie thought they had him, but he popped right back up, darted around the final table, and made a break for the door. Ryan, still weaving in and out of the tables, was a good thirty feet back and Hugo was well behind him.

  She was about the same distance away from Ronnie as Ryan, but with no obstacles in her way, she could go all out. She focused all her attention on the back of Ronnie’s shaved head as her legs pumped hard, closing the space between them. By the time Ronnie reached the exit, she was less than fifteen feet away from him.

  He must have sensed her presence without looking back because as soon as he passed through the door, he grabbed it and slammed it shut. Jessie had to pull up hard in order to avoid crashing into it. She glanced back to see that Ryan, laboring slightly, was just now clearing the labyrinth of tables. She couldn’t wait for him.

  She yanked the door open with her left hand while she undid the snap on her gun holster with her right, ready in case he was hovering on the other side, ready to pounce. Instead, she saw him bounding up the stairs, two at a time, to the main level. She did the same. Only with her long legs, she was able to take three steps at once.

  When she reached the top, she caught sight of him rounding a corner out of the staff only hallway, through a pair of swinging doors, into what she knew was a large courtyard that was popular with guests. The last thing she needed was a desperate Ronnie Nance plowing through innocent bystanders. She forced herself to run even faster.

  When she pushed through the doors, she saw him at the far end of the courtyard, about to pass under an archway that led out to the expansive lawn used for weddings. In fact, in the distance a large group was out there now, rehearsing the procedure for their ceremony later that evening.

  People nearby in the courtyard stared open-mouthed at the action. Jessie dodged an older woman with a glass of champagne and a waiter carrying a cheese tray, before picking up speed again.

  Ronnie had just made it onto the lawn when someone appeared from off to the right, blindsiding him with a tackle before rolling over him and popping upright. Jessie slowed to a jog as she processed who the attacker was: Kat.

  Her friend brushed grass off her blue dress as Ronnie lay on the ground, moaning and hugging his ribs. A few of the people from the wedding party glanced back at the sound of the commotion but Kat quickly stepped in front of Ronnie, blocking any clear line of sight to him. When they turned away again, Jessie bent down, pulled out her cuffs, and snapped them on Ronnie’s wrists. As she stood up and tried to catch her breath, Ryan arrived, followed closely by Hugo.

  “Hi folks,” Kat said amiably, as if they’d she just bumped into each other on a relaxing stroll.

  “How the hell did you—?” Jessie panted before Kat waved her off.

  “Take a second, ma’am,” she said, apparently still pretending not to know her.

  “Really?” Jessie asked once she’d taken a few big gulps of air. “You think after that display, anyone’s still going to think you’re just a lady who lunches and plays middle linebacker?”

  “Probably not,” Kat conceded. “But I like to commit to the role.”

  “You just happened to be in the perfect spot to nail this guy?” Ryan asked though gasps for air.

  “First of all,” Kat said. “Hello, Ryan. It’s nice to see you again, and looking so spry.”

  “You too, Katherine,” he parried. “It’s been too long. And I’ve never seen anyone in a party dress make a tackle like that. But still—.”

  “I know,” Kat interrupted. “You’re dubious about my ability to be in the right place at the right time. It’s possible that when I hugged Jessie earlier, I might have put a tracker on her. And it could be that when I saw her moving so fast just now on my phone screen, I suspected something was up and headed to where she was. Good thing too. If I wasn’t around, that guy would have plowed through that wedding party and be halfway to Long Beach by now.”

  “You put a tracker on me?” Jessie demanded incredulously.

  “Out of love,” Kat tried to claim. “I was worried about my friend’s well-being, what with investigating a possible murder and all.”

  “Wait,” Hugo interjected. “How well do you know these people?”

  “Keep up, Hugo,” Kat teased.

  “We go way back,” Jessie told him. “And I appreciate my dear friend’s concern for me. But she’s leaving out a crucial detail: we hugged before I told her about the Newhouse case, which means she put the tracker on me prior to having any reason to worry about me. Isn’t that right, Kat?”

  The private eye shrugged meekly.

  “I might have also thought that keeping tabs on you would get me closer to solving my case,” she said, looking down at Ronnie. “Did it, by the way? Did I tackle a thief or a killer? Maybe both?”

  Ronnie, who had finally regained the ability to speak, protested.

  “I didn’t do any of that stuff!”

  “We’ll see about that,” Ryan said, hoisting him up. “But I have to say, making a run for it before we could ask you any questions doesn’t reflect super well on you.”

  “I was just scared,” Ronnie insisted. “I thought that you might be serving me papers from my ex.”

 

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