Chapter 7
“He was a really nice man,” Susan said, her face tight with sorrow. “Beautiful family.” Then in a gossipy tone, she added, “But I guess there were problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“Well, I don’t really want to speak out of turn.” She wanted to speak out of turn.
"Any information you can share would be helpful to the case," I said.
Susan nodded. "Of course. I don't like to gossip." She loved to gossip. "But I think they were having some marital issues, if you get my drift.”
"Why do you say that?”
"I don't really know for sure. It's none of my business.
I just know that on occasion, I've seen Mr. Stewart with another woman.” She lifted a scandalous eyebrow and let it hang there for a moment.
“They think they're being all sneaky, but I’ve seen her aboard his boat on more than one occasion.
Much younger," she added with a disapproving expression.
"How much younger?”
"I don't really know. He never introduced us. But if I had to guess, I would say she was probably about 25.”
"Can you give me a description?”
"Gorgeous. Thin. Young. I said that already, didn't I? Long dark hair.”
"Did you happen to catch her name?”
"No. Like I said, he didn’t introduce her. I think he was trying to keep her on the down low. That's what the kids say these days, isn't it?"
I nodded. "Did she have any identifiable features?”
"She had a tattoo that ran down her spine. Chinese characters, I think. I can't say for sure.”
"When was the last time you saw her?”
"I'm not really sure. A few days ago, maybe.”
"Did you see her today?”
"No. I was out running errands, then I came back and took a nap.”
"What do you do for a living, Mrs. Collins?”
She smirked. “It's Ms. Collins. And I live off the money I got from my ex-husband. Asshole tax for 22 years of pain and suffering.”
We chuckled.
“Did you hear the gunshot?” I asked.
Susan frowned. “No. Not really. I think maybe I heard a small snap, but didn’t think much of it.”
“Did Preston ever express any suicidal thoughts to you?”
“No. I can’t say that he did. He was always friendly. Always ready to offer a hand. We try to take care of each other around here.”
“You live aboard?”
Susan nodded.
“Did you know each other well?”
“We were neighborly.”
“How often was he in the marina?”
She thought for a moment. "Oh, I don't know. He was probably out here a couple of times a week. Maybe a little more.”
"Do you know his wife well?”
"I see her on occasion, but I don't think she was as much into sailing as Preston. Then, with whatever issues they had, he started spending more time here. And more time with his," she cleared her throat, "girlfriend."
I gave her a card and thanked her for her cooperation.
With a sad face, she said, "It's such a shame. You don't think there was any foul play, do you?”
I smiled. "We're just keeping an open mind.”
She seemed relieved.
We talked to a few more neighbors, but nobody recalled seeing anything unusual. Nobody heard the gunshot. The suppressed fire would have been about 90 dB. Loud, but not deafening.
Jack and I walked the dock to the parking lot and found the main office.
The bell chimed as we stepped inside, and I ambled to the counter and flashed my badge to the clerk.
Livy was a cute girl in her 20s, wearing a blue polo shirt and tight white shorts.
The uniform complemented her tan skin and dark hair. "What's going on?”
I gave her a brief overview, and a horrified expression twisted her face. "Oh no! Not Mr. Stewart. I liked him.”
"How well did you know him?" I asked.
She shrugged. "I don't know. I would just see him around. He always smiled and waved. We’d talk here and there.”
Livy was the kind of girl that could put a smile on most men's faces.
"Did he seem depressed to you?”
She shook her head. "What happened, did he…?”
"It looks that way.”
She frowned. "I'm really sorry to hear that. His poor kids.”
"Did he bring his family here a lot?”
"Not a lot. Occasionally on the weekends.”
"I'll need to see your security camera footage.”
"Sure. I've got footage of the entrance to the office and of the parking lot. I don't have footage of the boats. Our residents like privacy. And with some of the things that go on around here, it’s probably best there are no cameras.”
I knew what she meant, but I asked anyway. "What goes on around here?”
"Oh, you know. Parties. Lewd and lascivious acts."
I'm sure if there were cameras in the marina, they would pick up sex acts on sundecks between stunning young ingénues and wealthy tycoons. Acts that those tycoons wouldn't want their wives to know about.
Livy moved to the computer at her desk and pulled up the security camera footage. "You can come around the counter," she said.
JD and I hustled around and huddled over her desk. The fruity smell of her shampoo wafted. Livy smelled good.
"When did this happen?”
"About an hour or two ago,” I said. “Did you see anyone come or go from his boat?”
She shook her head, and her raven hair swayed.
Livy moved aside and let me scrub through the footage. I scrolled back through the timeline until I came across something interesting.