The Girl on the Yacht (10 page)

The next morning, John woke to the crisp chill in the morning air. He threw on a pair of shorts and headed for the galley to make a pot of coffee. When he looked outside to the main deck, he saw Cameron and Marin, sitting at the table, deep in conversation.

“It’s about time,” Marin said through the open doorway while he poured his first cup of the day.

“What time is it?”

“Seven.”

“Are you kidding?” He shook off the sleepiness and sat down next to Marin.

Cameron slid over a small box labeled,
Hard Drive—Laura Douglas
.

John reached for it. “I should have something for you this afternoon. If it’s particularly difficult, it could be tomorrow. But, I’ll give it some serious time.”

“This morning, Dianne told me who you are. I’m curious, do you need top security clearance to set up the computer systems for the White House and Pentagon?”

He nodded. “And SCI.”

“I told you he had skills,” Marin said.

Cameron looked at John with a new respect. “How do you get Sensitive Compartmentalized Information clearance?”

“Not quite sure—they came to me. Anyway, I don’t have it anymore—after I sold the company. It’s not worth the hassle––the FBI, CIA, and NSA digging around in every facet of your being.” He took a sip of his hot coffee.

The detective looked out over the water. “Well, you are a mystery, but I have a homicide to solve.”

“I’ll call you with the password,” John said with total confidence.

“Don’t let me down,” she challenged him.

“When I know.”

“He doesn’t have anything else to do,” Marin teased.

“You
do
know that I’m right here.” John lifted his cup.

“Are you still here? See what I mean—nothing else to do.” Marin rolled her eyes up and Cameron laughed.

“Drink your tea.” He picked up the box and removed the hard drive.

“You two have so much fun together.” Cameron smiled. “I never have the time to find a guy who gets me.” She fiddled with her unruly hair. “This job of mine keeps me so busy and eats up my time. Yesterday, I got a call to a murder––in Laguna.”

“You have another case?” Marin asked.

“No, I was just backup. When I got the call, we thought it was a burglary. Turns out the guy was shot in the head––execution style. That doesn’t happen here very often.”

“Do you think there could be a connection to Laura?” John asked.

Cameron shook her head.“Totally different M.O.s.” She gazed toward the clubhouse in the distance. “This job in unpredictable, and it soaks up my time. How could I ever develop a healthy relationship with someone? Who’d want to take me on?”

“It’s their loss,” Marin said, “but I know how it goes. There’s always more work to do.”

Cameron quickly changed the subject. “I keep coming up with dead ends on this case, and it’s been keeping me up at night.”

“Laura’s death has gotten to me, too. It reminds me how short life is. I need to spend more time with family and friends, and with John.”

“Third billing?” John put on a sad face.

“You’ll have to work your way up.” Marin had a twinkle in her eye.

“I’m worth a fortune––I’m a real catch.” He turned toward the detective. “So, Cameron, I hear you’re looking for a sensitive, attentive guy.”

Cameron put her hand on John’s while gazing into his eyes. “So true. Maybe when I can find the time.” She sat back in the bench seat.

“Geez, a guy could get an inferiority complex.”

Cameron grinned at the lightened moment. “I’ll think about a relationship when I can find the time.” She got up to leave.

“Let’s get together for lunch in a day or so,” Marin said.

“Call me.”

John’s eyes focused down the dock. “Mitch is back.” He got up. “Come on, I’ll take you over and introduce you.”

“That’s okay––I do this for a living. I’m sure it won’t be much of an interview.” She passed John. “Just get busy on that password.”

Cameron stared for a moment at the long, smooth lines of the boat with
Moon Dance
stenciled across the back. On the white pillar that splayed out into a fiberglass roof over the upper deck, she caught the labeling—Meridian 441. An attractive man, maybe five-eight or five-nine, was on the lower deck wiping down the seats that surrounded the teak table near the back. His light brown hair fell gently to the side while he hurried on at a furious pace.

“Doctor Taylor?”

“You must be Cameron from the Sheriff’s Department.”

She was taken aback by the recognition. “Yeah, have we met?”

“The gun gave you away.” He pointed to her holstered sidearm. “Tell them I’m not interested.” He glanced at her briefly before turning back to his chores. “You’re cute like Jackie and Marin said, but I don’t do blind dates––I told them that.”

“Excuse me?” Cameron felt like she was in some bizarre world where nothing made sense.

“Jackie’s always trying to set me up––now she has a co-conspirator––Marin’s been on the dock for only a few days, and they’re both ganging up on me.”

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” he stared at her.

“Laura Douglas was killed on the dock. I don’t know anything about a blind date.”

Mitch dropped the rag on the seat and swung back with a confused expression on his face, trying to understand her words. “Oh, God.” His eyes trailed down to the water. “Poor Dan, he must be crushed.”

He didn’t ask how or when it happened.
“Everyone’s a bit shaky,” she said.

“I apologize.” His blue eyes came up to meet hers. “How can I help?” He reached out to assist her aboard.

She put out her hand and thought she felt a teeny spark when they touched.
Static electricity.

“Doctor Taylor, I’m
Homicide
Investigator West. I understand you were at the dock party on Friday night.”

“Call me Mitch.” He forced a smile.

Her mind fell back into its state of inquiry. “About the party?”

“I was here Friday night.” He pointed to the lounge table with its wrap around seating.

Cameron sat.

“I can give you a half hour,” he said.

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“Hey, I have surgery in a couple of hours––I’m sure we can work it out. I need to check on my boat while we talk.”

Cameron opened her iPad.

“I have coffee brewing. Would you like a cup?” Mitch asked.

“Thanks––a little cream and sugar would be great.” She sat back into the soft seat.

A minute later, he reappeared with two steaming mugs and handed one to her. He signaled for her to follow him up the steps to the fly bridge. “It’s a nice morning view from up there.”

Surprised, she got up from the bench and followed him. When they reached the upper deck, he offered her a seat. Before she could pose a question, he set his mug on the table and turned to the console. After pushing the first of two green buttons on the display, an engine below revved to life. He did the same to the second button, and another engine started as if it were waking from a long sleep—a cough or two with a bit of grumpiness.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you I have to check out the boat. Don’t go anywhere—I’ll be right back.” Mitch put up his open palm and then shot down the steps.

Cameron got to her feet and peered over the railing. Below, he had jumped off the boat and was untying the dock lines. Before she could move, he had re-boarded and hurried back up the steps.

“I hope you have twenty minutes or so,” he stated more than asked while he slid in behind the steering wheel and pushed the throttles forward. The boat gently glided clear of its slip. He pulled back the right throttle, and the front of the boat swung right quickly at the command. He readjusted the throttles to equalize their output, and they were off into the bay.

Cameron wasn’t happy––she had lost control of her interview and now she was out in the ocean––the bay at least––but where was he taking her? Her next statement came out one solid word at a time, “What––are––you––doing?”

“I have to be at the hospital for surgery, and I need to work the engines before I go.” He gave her a warm, non-threatening smile. “You can interrogate me while we cruise around the harbor.”

“I’m conducting this interview, and––”

“Absolutely, and you’re doing an excellent job.”

Her anger was dampened by his light spirit. “Maybe I don’t want to go out on the boat.”

“Then you better jump off and swim to shore.”

She rested her hand on her gun. “Excuse me?”

He grinned. “So, are you going to shoot me?”

Cameron leaned against the railing facing Mitch. “You’ve got some nerve, buddy.”

“Mitch, it’s Mitch.”

“Okay, Mitch. Why don’t you just take the boat back in, and we can get on with the interview?”

“You need to lighten up. Look around.” He slipped his arm in a motion for her to take in the sights of the harbor. “This is a great place for relaxing.” He nodded his head. “We’ll get to your questions. Go ahead, ask me anything.”

His laid-back demeanor forced her serious facade to evaporate into the sea breeze. She didn’t know what to expect, so she started in where she was most comfortable––questioning. “Were you here on Saturday morning––the day of the murder?”

“I hung around for a while on my boat after the party Friday night.”

“Did you hear or see anything unusual? Maybe a stranger walking around?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“What time did you leave the dock?”

“Around 2:00 a.m.”

“Can anyone verify the time?”

“I had breakfast with three other doctors at the IHOP across from John Wayne Airport.”

“Where did you go after that?”

“We flew to Cancun, Mexico,” he hesitated, “to attend a medical conference.”

“When, exactly, did you get back?”

“A little over an hour ago. I came right to my boat to clean it up and run the engines.”

Cameron looked out at the water as if she were finished questioning, then she continued. “I understand that Dan lost a considerable amount of your money in some investments.”

His face went into a contortion. “Are you kidding? Is that why you’re questioning me?” He shook his head to signal she was way off base. “It was a small amount of money to risk. I gave it to him because he’s a friend––what can I say? I think the most money he lost was his own. Ask him. As for
my
money, he was distraught, and he apologized. That was that. I learned a long time ago to never let money ruin a friendship.”

Cameron listened to his words and tapped notes on her iPad. She glanced up at the handsome doctor at the helm with his perfectly trimmed brown hair that framed a face of strong cheekbones and a chiseled roman nose that exuded confidence and control. His glimmering eyes, the color and shade of the water that surrounded them, instilled honesty and tenderness. She felt an attraction that she hadn’t experienced for a long time.

The boat crawled into its slip and nudged back against the dock. Mitch turned to her. “I’ll be right back.” He raced off the boat on to the dock and grabbed a dock line and looped it around the cleat.

He glanced up at her and pointed toward the helm. “Hey, can you turn the key off?” Mitch swung around the dock tying off the other lines. “I’m running late.”

Cameron climbed off the boat. It was over. She looked away to hide her disappointment.

He turned to her with a pleasant smile. “Now that we have the blind date out of the way, how about dinner tonight?”

Cameron stared into his blue eyes. “Can’t do it.”

Mitch shrugged. “Maybe another time?”

The crash echoed throughout the yacht when John shoved his desk chair back against the wall. Five hours of confined movement in his tiny makeshift computer room had left him frustrated—deeply frustrated—it had settled into his shoulders, fingers, and spine. Marin left for her boat near the first hour to work on her book. That proved to be a good thing. He had devoted total focus and concentration on the problem and yet, nothing. It was easily the most time he had ever spent trying to retrieve a password, and Laura’s computer was still locked.
This is some serious encryption.

He lifted his stiff body out of the chair and felt the tightness in his calves and thighs.
I need a break––I’ll let the computer do the work.
John turned his head back and forth to loosen his neck muscles from their hours of inactivity and typed in a few lengthy commands before hitting the return key.

A smile crept across his face as he thought about Marin and what she might be up to. John made his way up to the deck of
The
Hunter
, slipped on to the dock, and walked over to her boat.
How could it be so hard––I’m missing something.
His weary eyes swept across the back of Marin’s brilliant white Carver, and he realized she hadn’t given it a name yet.
I wonder what she’ll call it?

Still uncertain about his renewed relationship with his college lover, he knocked on the sliding glass door. She had the phone to her ear and waved him inside. As he crossed the threshold, he picked up on the conversation.

“What hospital?” she asked.

Hospital? I hope it’s not her mom or one of her sisters.
John’s heart sank when his thoughts drifted to Marin’s young nieces and nephews.

“I’ll call back in a day or two and reschedule.”

Reschedule? Who’s she talking to?

“Thanks, Warden, for the call.” She hung up.

“Warden?”

“My interview up at Lompoc Prison is cancelled for tomorrow.” She slipped the phone into her back pocket. “I guess I’ll hang out around here.”

John searched his mind to get the reference. “Oh, the guy from the bank—for your book. What happened to him?”

“Heart attack. He’s on his way to ICU at Lompoc Valley Hospital.”

“So, it’s serious?”

“The warden didn’t tell me much––just that he’s headed to the hospital.”

John shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject. “Do you want to go over to the Bayside Restaurant and get a late lunch—early dinner?”

“Sounds good.” Marin turned toward the open passage into the bedroom. “Come on, Bailey.”

The dog shot out of the darkened room with her tail in a frenzy.

Marin hooked the leash to the dog’s collar. When the two of them hit the dock, she tugged the beagle toward the clubhouse and parking lot.

“Where you goin’?” John asked.

She looked back over her shoulder and saw him point at the dinghy tied up next to his boat. “Why drive if you can get there by boat?” He grinned.

“Bay, let’s go for a boat ride.” Marin reached down and unleashed Bailey’s collar. She didn’t have to say anything else.

The brown and white blur raced toward the dinghy at full speed. The leap was a beautiful thing. Her front paws extended out into the air like two arrows heading for the exact spot on the rubberized pontoon where she needed to land. It was a perfect landing––soft and accurate. Before John and Marin stepped into the small boat, Bailey had climbed on to the tube of air and extended her head well out over the water. Her guttural howl indicated that she was ready to cast off, and they should hurry up and get the thing going.

John laughed at her daring. “She’s going to fall in.”

“Not her.” Marin was grinning. “Bay’s a boat dog. Legs of a seasoned sailor. No way she falls overboard.”

A few minutes later, John guided the dingy to the dock in front of the restaurant. Before he could tie up to the cleat, Bailey made the daring leap over to the concrete surface.

Marin, leash in her hand, chased her without a hope of catching up. “Wait for me.”

The beagle had other things on her mind. She sniffed along the dock searching for a scent that she recognized. Her nose led her down the path to the restaurant’s patio and over to a miniature drinking fountain at ground level. She stuck her nose into the empty basin, and the water automatically turned on. Success––she lapped at the running liquid.

“How did she know how to start the water running?” John asked.

Marin shook her head without a definitive answer. “She’s smart.”

The waiter suggested a table near the watering bowl. He grinned.

“At least she didn’t head for the kitchen.” John looked down at Bailey. “Did you, girl?”

“It wouldn’t have been the first dog to do that,” the waiter joked while handing Marin a menu. He covertly reached into his pocket. “I have this for the good ones.” His hand came out with a treat. He nodded at John to check if it was okay.

John’s eyes shifted to Marin.

“Bay, look what he has,” Marin said.

Bailey sat at the man’s feet with both eyes focused on his right hand. When he dropped it, the morsel fell no more than three inches before it disappeared.
Snap
. She glanced back up at him for the next round.

“One’s enough.” Marin glanced over at the waiter. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. It makes my day. That’s why I work the patio.” He turned. “I’ll be back with water.”

Bailey went down on her stomach with her nose dangling over the seawall. She sniffed at every little scent in the passing breeze.

As they finished their late lunch, all three went into a relaxing trance at the water’s edge, watching the boats at play across the harbor.

“Did you get the password off Laura’s computer?” Marin asked.

“Not yet.”

“In college, you were the king of password breaking—losing your touch?”

“I’m starting to doubt myself.” He rolled his eyes to the side. “Maybe I’ve been away too long. In the computer game, you can fall behind in a few months if you’re not on top of it. But,” he paused while in thought, “this one baffles me. It has some kind of encryption that’s multilayered. I break through one layer and then there’s another. I don’t know where she got the program, but it’s pretty impressive. She must have some real secrets on there. Maybe she was a psychiatrist to wealthy people, or movie stars, or something.”

“What are you going to do?”

“You know me––I’ll solve it. I wrote a program on my mini supercomputer to attack it. It’s running now. I’ll see what it gives me when we get back.”

“Well, you’re on your own. I need to get back to my research.”

“I’ll come over after I get the password, and we’ll call your detective friend.”

“You seem pretty confident.”

“I just figured out another way.” He set his napkin on the table. “Let’s go.”