The Girl on the Yacht (6 page)

With Bailey on leash, Marin stepped from the boat to the dock. The salt air tasted bitter, and the bright summer day chilled her face.

After dropping Dan off up the coast at his sister’s house in Huntington Beach, Marin and John pulled into the Blue Water Marina and parked. He turned the ignition key, and a harsh stillness settled over the Maserati. Marin sat, wordless, staring out the windshield at the docks, the boats, and the gloomy police presence. John put his arm over her shoulder, and it felt soothing.

“Not very good first days at your new marina for you and Bay, huh?”

She snuggled a little closer on his comforting shoulder.

Bailey moved her head slightly on the back seat to keep an eye on her mommy.

“I don’t really want to go back down there right now.” She scanned the tops of the boats in their low tide stalls.

“Yeah,” he rubbed her neck and then reached for the door handle, “but, maybe we can be of some help to your friend, Cameron. Let’s go in and see what we can do.”

They walked up to the black-iron gate where a young Newport Beach police officer stood guard. He advanced as they approached, left hand on his holstered pistol, and his right raised into the air space in front of them. “This is a crime scene—no one enters without authorization.”

“We’re boat owners—E-28 and E-34.” John reached into his pocket, and the neophyte tensed. “It’s my ID. Take it easy.” He held his wallet open in front of the man.

“It’s my first murder.” The officer stood steadfast. “I have my orders. No one enters.”

Marin removed her Sheriff Department ID. “I’m working with Cameron West.”

He examined John’s driver’s license and Marin’s consultant identification. He pressed the button on his shoulder microphone. “There’s a Marin Ryan and John Hunter at the gate.”

“Let them in,” Cameron’s voice came over the speaker.

“Ten-four.” He opened the gate and allowed them to pass.

“Relax, it probably won’t be your last murder in your line of work,” John said.

Fellow boaters along their path avoided eye contact, each of them trapped in their own world of sadness. Marin spotted the multi-tasking Cameron making entries into her iPad, while she marched steadily toward them.

Most people had the warm and sunny Saturday off, but Cameron West had homicide investigation stamped on her time card. A few feet away, she glanced up at Marin, “We need to talk.” Without slowing her pace, she led the way back to John’s boat and stopped short of entering the salon. “John, can you wait out here for a few minutes?”

Cameron closed the door after they went in and focused on Marin. “I know I said you could follow my next case for your research, but––”

“I’d really like to help. I’m familiar with boats––maybe I can contribute some small detail that proves helpful in your investigation. And, John knows everyone and just about anything you want to know about the marina. He could be helpful, too.”

“I don’t know anything about the docks or boats––maybe you can.” Cameron tapped the screen and scanned her notes. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

To change direction, Marin asked, “What did you find out so far?”

“I noticed unique bruises around the victim’s neck consistent with a unique type of chokehold. I think we’ll find she was dead before she went into the water––the M. E. thinks so, too.”

“What do you mean—specific chokehold?”

“It’s one used by trained professionals.”

“Trained professionals? You make it sound like killers go through a training program,” Marin said.

“Well, in a sense. This specific technique lifts the victim off their feet, rendering them silent. Death comes quickly. It’s taught to special ops insertion teams. There have even been recent reports out of Pakistan that terrorists have picked up these deadly skills in their training camps.”

“Laura’s final moments must have been horrible,” Marin said. “How do you deal with this all the time?”

“I never get used to it, but I focus on following the leads.” Cameron paced in the salon—the living room of the yacht.

“What are you thinking at this point?”

“It doesn’t appear to be random, that’s all I know.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Professional killer.”

“So, a professional killer murdered a local psychiatrist?”

“It means she pissed off somebody with those type of connections—and deep pockets––that’s who we have to find.”

Marin nodded and walked to the door. “Where do you start?”

“I want to talk to Raphael Montoya about his run in with Dan. I need to know what really went down with Laura and him,” Cameron said.

“I’ve never met the actor. Maybe John can help us there.” Marin bent down and unhooked Bailey’s leash. “Stay, Bay.” She reached for the door.

Cameron stopped her hand.

“I don’t want a lot of civilians involved. With your background, I know you’ll be discrete with anything we discuss.”

“John just wants to help. He could save you some legwork.”

“Tell you what. He can fill me in on the people and introduce them to me. But, he can’t be in on the interviews.”

Marin nodded and opened the door.

“John, Cameron would like you to fill her in on Raphael, Dan, and Laura.”

“No problem. But, nobody here did this.”

“I have to look at everyone.” Cameron gave Marin a look that suggested she was totally apprehensive about John’s participation.

He stepped through the entry and walked over to the bar. He popped open the ice-maker, grasped a handful of cubes, and plunked them into the crystal old-fashioned glass. “What do you need to know?”

“Tell me about Montoya. How do you know him? Do you think he had an affair with Laura?”

“Well, I met Rafe when I pulled my first boat into the marina––it was six, maybe seven years ago. He had that old fishing boat next to my slip, and I had an older boat.” John let out a single laugh. “We were both struggling in those days. He was a bit actor trying to make it in Hollywood. He never gave up his dream and hung in there, even when the business kept knocking him down. Then, about four years ago, one of his friends directed an independent film and cast Rafe in the lead. It won some independent film awards and became a huge success. He’s been a movie star ever since.” The intense sunlight reflected off the white boats outside. “I don’t usually say this about guys, but, I love that man.” John shook his head. “He didn’t do it.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Cameron rolled her eyes north.

“He hasn’t changed a bit from those early days. He’s this happy character that loves women, and they love him back. Having an affair with Laura, though––no way. Don’t get me wrong––he liked her a lot––he likes everybody and they like him.”

“That’s kind of a contradiction, isn’t it?”

“No. There’s not a hurtful bone in his body. He wouldn’t do it––wouldn’t do it to Laura––wouldn’t do it to Dan. You’ll know when you meet him.”

Cameron sighed. “Tell me about Dan and Laura.”

John went on extensively about the couple. When he finished, Cameron asked, “Can you introduce me to Raphael? Then you’ll need to leave while Marin and I interview him.”

The three of them walked up to the back of Raphael’s thirty-eight-foot fishing boat in slip E-20.

The tall, good looking actor stood on the back deck in a raggedy orange T-shirt with a line of tropical drinks embossed on the front
––
mai tai, scorpion, and hurricane. He pushed back his jet black locks and stared at Marin with his gorgeous brown eyes. A smile grew across his face at seeing the two women. Just as quickly, it turned to a frown when he obviously remembered the morning.

“Cameron West, Marin Ryan, this is Raphael Montoya. He loves to fish when he has the time.” John turned to leave. “You women are on your own.” He spun back and pointed to Marin. “Rafe, she’s with me.” He winked at her.

“I hear you, man.” Raphael turned his attention to Cameron. “I like your gun.” He glanced from the Glock to her eyes. “You must be the detective. I’ve been expecting you. Do we go downtown to a dingy interrogation room?” His eyes brightened.

Cameron put out her hand. “I’m Homicide Investigator West, with the Sheriff’s Department. We can have our conversation here.”

“Come aboard,” he said with a disappointed tone.

Marin glanced up at the tall structure of metal that significantly narrowed as it rose higher. It reminded her of the TV tower that occupied the hilltop behind her mom’s house––only in miniature, the exception being the double seat and steering wheel near its top. She noticed Cameron looking up at the high perch with an expression that reflected her lack of familiarity with boats.

“I get a good view of the water from up there.” Raphael grinned. “It’s important to watch where the birds and dolphins hang out—that’s where the fish are schooling.”

With no gate to enter the boat’s back deck, Marin and Cameron sat on the railing and swung their legs over. Raphael offered a hand––no takers. The large open cockpit with no chairs or benches reminded Marin of an oversized play pen––she guessed it served the same purpose for anglers—it was their playpen when they hooked into a big one. The women leaned back against the railing opposite him.

“I knew I’d be questioned.” Raphael motioned for them to slide over to the shaded portion of deck. “I can’t believe Laura’s gone. She was such a beautiful person.”

“That’s a painful looking eye and jaw. How’d you get it?”

“A filming stunt went wrong.”

“That’s not what I heard.” Cameron stared at the actor. “This is a homicide investigation. Don’t screw with me.”

“Okay. Dan cornered me a couple days ago. He cold-cocked me.”

“Why would he do that?”

Raphael looked at Marin, seemingly embarrassed.

“He thought I had a thing with Laura. I didn’t.”

“Where would he get that idea?”

“He saw her coming off my boat.” He put his hand up over his brow to block the sun. “It. . . .” He was trying to find the right words. “She was helping me.”

“With what?”

“I’m having a problem with my director––all we do is fight on set. Cameron’s the only shrink I know, so I asked her if there was anything I could do to make the situation better. She suggested I try a different approach toward him. She told me that the director and I have similar personalities, and they conflict. I tried it the rest of the week, and the change has been incredible.”

Cameron stared deep into Raphael as if she were pulling out his soul. Then, she nodded as if satisfied with his explanation.

“How mad was Dan Douglas when he threw the punch?” Cameron asked.

“That’s the weird part. He walked up, nailed me, and said that I had to stay away from Laura. He showed no emotion, but I think he was really pissed inside.”

“Did you see her again?” Cameron asked.

“Are you kidding? I got the message.” He stared at Cameron. “Am I a suspect?” he asked with more excitement than worry.

“Everyone’s on my list.”

“Cool.” He focused on Cameron and repeated her comment in a gravelly voice. “Everyone’s on
my list
.” Then again a little higher tone. “
Everyone’s
on my list.”

“Actors.” Cameron shook her head.

Marin couldn’t help but smile to contain her laughter.
He is lovable
, she thought.

“You never know where you’ll find inspiration,” he said.

“Let’s get back to the interview,” Cameron said. “Do you do action films?”

“Yeah, most of my stuff is action-adventure. Did you see my last movie,
Eagles Flight?
”

“No. Don’t have time for movies.” Cameron refocused her thoughts. “Fight scenes?”

“Yeah.” He looked on quizzically.

“Have you trained in hand-to-hand for those scenes?”

“Wait a minute. I’ve had training, but Dan came out of nowhere. Totally unexpected. I didn’t––”

“How about choke holds?”

Raphael’s eyes widened.

Marin flinched at the implication.

“What’s that got to do with Dan? Is he saying that I choked him? I didn’t.”

Cameron, with that response, changed direction.

“I understand you were staying on your boat last night. Did you hear or see anything unusual?”

“No. I wish I’d been out on the dock when Laura came out. Maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Is there someone who can verify where you were this morning between three and four?”

“Yeah. Last night I went up to a local bar, called The Fishing Hole. I met a woman, and we spent the night together.”

Cameron opened her iPad and started typing. “Do you have her number or an address? I’ll need to verify your story.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t, but her name’s Tiffany––I think.” He gave a whimsical shrug.

Cameron stared at him in disbelief.

He pointed to the open doorway leading to the cabin below. “You can ask her.” He shouted down. “Hey, Tiff, the police want to talk to you.” He turned to Marin and grinned.

“Give me a minute,” a woman’s voice projected from below.

Shuffling could be heard in the cabin of his boat, followed by a light splash somewhere toward the front of the boat. Marin calculated the distance and came up with the right side porthole. She glanced over the rail at the gurgling bubbles from whatever was tossed overboard and then looked at Raphael.

He increased that broad grin that made him famous.

The young woman came out on deck wearing a bathrobe.

“How long have you been here with Raphael?” Cameron asked.

Tiffany glanced at Raphael. “What’s this about?”

“Murder,” Rafe said in a diabolical voice.

She winced.

“Just tell her what she wants to know.”

“All night. Am I done?”

“I need your name, address, and phone number.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Cameron held up her iPad to signal the woman to begin speaking.

“By the way––how old are you?”

“Twenty––two,” the woman said, with little confidence in her voice.

Cameron stared at her with suspicion. “I think I need some ID.” Cameron held out her hand.

“Okay, I’m nineteen.”

Cameron glanced over at the movie star. “Bar?” She moved her fingers in a motion that she still needed the ID.