Chapter 38
"She's for sale, if you're interested?" the big guy said.
I flashed a sheepish smile. "No. I ran into your car with my bike. These assholes ran me off the road. I'm so sorry.”
He looked over the vehicle. "Where did you hit the car? I don't see it.”
"There," I said, pointing to the paint transfer.
He laughed and dismissed it. "Don't worry about it."
I dug in my pocket and gave him a wad of cash.
He didn't hesitate to take it.
It made me feel better about the situation. Francisco and Pedro escorted me back to the tire shop.
I wasn't sure what my next move should be.
Why did the bike bandits attack me? Was I asking too many questions?
Or were they trying to traffic me? It seemed odd that the attack occurred just after I had visited the police station, asking questions.
Maybe the cops in this town were so corrupt that they were involved in the trafficking. Maybe Kate was trafficked after all.
I didn't know what to think anymore. It made my head spin.
I called Tyson. "Hey, it's me. Are you busy?"
"What's going on?”
"I'm okay. I just had a little accident.”
Concern filled his voice. "What kind of accident?"
I cringed and gave him the details.
"So wait, let me get this straight. A dead girl came to you in a vision, and now you're trying to solve her murder?"
"Pretty much.”
"You're not a cop."
"You're always saying I would make a good detective."
“You have a hell of an intuition, but sometimes you’re a little too stubborn for your own good."
"Hello pot, meet kettle.”
"I think you need to get on a plane and come home."
"No. I'm not coming home now,” I said, like the notion was crazy. “I'm so close to figuring this thing out.”
"Sounds like you’re close to getting yourself killed.”
"You sound concerned."
"I am," Tyson replied.
I smiled. "I think it's sweet.”
"You don't know who was behind the attack. I think you should take the next plane out. Do not go back to that boat.”
"Why not?"
"I think it's pretty obvious. You're telling me Kate was killed aboard that boat. You're traveling with a murderer.”
"There's a possibility she may have been abducted here,” I said, playing devil’s advocate.
"You want me to come down and get you?”
"No. I can take care of myself."
"Remember what I said about being stubborn."
"I recall something to that effect."
"You’re going to get on the next plane to Coconut Key," Tyson said in a voice that wasn't to be questioned.
"You're not the boss of me!”
"Technically, I am.”
"Fine, I quit."
He scoffed. "You did not just quit.”
"You’ll give me my job back whenever I ask,” I said in an adorably cute voice.
"I want you on the next plane."
"You want me?” I said coyly.
"Teagan! I'm not playing games with you."
"What are you going to do, come down here and spank me?"
The guys in the tire shop swallowed hard at that one.
"I just might," Tyson said.
"Well, if that's the case, I'm definitely not getting on a plane."
“Teagan!” he growled.
"Okay, okay. Fine. I'm coming straight home. I'll call you when I make arrangements.”
"Are you just saying that?”
"No, I'm not just saying that. Look, I gotta run. I'll be in touch soon.”
"Be careful. I want status updates.”
"Aye-aye, sir," I said before ending the call.
I had one more phone call to make. Kate’s agent in Miami was easy enough to find with a quick web search. I dialed the number.
“Rinaldi Talent, how can I help you?”
“Nico Rinaldi, please.”
“May I tell him who’s calling?”
I gave her my name and the private investigator line.
“Hang on just a second.”
"This is Nico," he said when he picked up the phone a moment later.
I introduced myself again. "I'm hoping you can provide some additional insight.”
"I told the feds everything.” He paused. “She owes me money. I want her back as much as the next person.”
"She owes you money?"
"Commissions. She took a few jobs where the client paid her directly.” He paused. "I don't mean to be that guy, but I think she's off in Europe somewhere, partying, avoiding the world. Wouldn’t be the first time she's done that. Anya loves to disappear and reinvent herself.”
“Anya?”
"Yeah. That's her name. Katherine Anya Moreau.” After a pause, he said, "Actually, I think her middle name was Anne, but she changed it to Anya to be more refined. That's what she went by to her friends. I told her she should have used it as a stage name, but she wanted to keep it for herself.”
“Do you know how she got down to Corazón Bay?”
“On Declan's boat,” Nico said.
I felt vindicated. "What was she doing on Declan's boat?”
The line went silent for a moment. "I don't know what she did when she was on his yacht. You'd have to ask her that.”
He seemed a little defensive.
"Was she dating Declan?”
"If that's what you want to call it."
"I don't know. Why don't you tell me what you'd call it?”
"What are you getting at?”
"I'm trying to figure out what happened to Anya. Do you want to help me?”
He hesitated. "Are you recording this phone call?”
My brow wrinkled with confusion. "No. I'm not recording this phone call.”
"You understand how these things work, don't you?”
"What things?”
"Do I need to spell it out for you?”
"Yes. That would be nice."
After a long pause, Nico said, "Anya is a pretty girl.
I represent a lot of pretty girls. So does every other agency in this town.
There are a million more girls all over the world.
It's a competition for the prettiest. And they all want to be on top. But there are only so many pages in the magazines. And there is always someone prettier.”
"It’s a tough business, but I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
"Work had gotten a little thin for Anya. There is a limited window for a model. She was aging out.”
"How old was she?”
"25. That's the upper end of the spectrum.”
I may have been a little slow, but I put it all together. "She was paid to be aboard Declan's yacht.”
"It's a win-win opportunity for everybody. The girls get to make a little extra money, the clients get entertainment, and sometimes the model gets a new campaign or a husband.”
"We’re talking about prostitution."
"Whoa! Whoa! I did not say that. No one ever said that word. These girls are paid for their time. That's all they're paid for. Just like any other modeling gig. I am an agent, not a pimp.”
"Certain favors are expected.”
“I don’t know what’s expected,” he said, playing dumb.
“How many times did Anya entertain Declan?”
“She was one of his favorites.”
That hung there.
“And when she went missing, you didn’t think to call Declan?”
“No. She told me she was in Corazón Bay, heading to Monaco.”
“You talked to her?”
“Texted.”
“So you don’t know for sure she was the one who sent the message.”
“No. I guess I don’t.”
“What did the message say?”
“That she met up with some friends and was heading to Monaco.”
“She left the yacht?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Or what someone wanted you to think.”
He shrugged.
"Has Declan invited other girls you represent aboard his yacht?"
"I don't really discuss client business.” After a moment, he added, “He's a repeat customer."
"Maybe you should call him and ask him where Anya is right now.”
"Like I said, Declan is a good client.”
"Was Anya good talent?”
"I'm not calling him and getting in the middle of this. Why don't you ask him yourself? You're the private investigator."
He excused himself and ended the call.
I couldn’t wait to confront Declan.