Chapter 21
"Yes, I was with Randy last night," Amy said when I called. "What's this about?”
"How long were you with him?”
"So, you can’t verify his whereabouts after that?”
"No. I can’t. Is he in some kind of trouble?”
I ignored her question. "Any particular reason why the date was cut short?”
Amy hesitated. "We broke up.”
"I’m sorry to hear that. Had that been coming for a long time?”
She exhaled. "I just didn't feel like it was going where I wanted it to go. He's a really nice guy, but…”
“No spark?”
“There was at one time. I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
"Did Randy ever express any violent thoughts?”
"Are violent thoughts a crime now?”
I chuckled. "No. I'm just trying to get a sense of his personality. Was he ever violent with you?”
She was silent for a long moment. Too long. "One time. He’d been drinking. We got into a pretty heated argument. He hit me. I don't think he meant to. He would never have done it sober.” She was making excuses for him. At least she had gotten out of the relationship.
"Is that the reason you broke up?”
"Among others.”
“Did he ever express a desire to harm Coach Madison?”
"Did Randy do something?”
"That's what we’re trying to find out. Coach Madison is dead.”
She gasped. "When did this happen?"
"Between 9 and 10:30 PM the night you went out with Randy.”
There was plenty of time for Randy to have gone to Palm Haven after his breakup with Amy. He was probably enraged and perhaps lit up. Could be a combination for aggression.
"Was he drinking excessively on your date?”
"He had a few, if I recall.”
"Did he say anything about Coach Madison that night?”
"That was not a topic of discussion.”
"Would you be willing to testify if it came down to it?”
"You really think he killed Coach Madison?"
"Let's just say he had motive, means, and opportunity.”
She hesitated a moment, then stammered. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, if he's guilty, sure. I'll testify.”
"You know him better than I do. Do you think that's possible? Is he capable of murder?”
She exhaled. "Randy and his brother were close.
I know he was deeply disturbed by the loss.
It was something he talked about all the time and still harbored a lot of animosity and resentment.
Who wouldn't? I didn't think it was anything unusual.
But Randy can get dark at times. He can be a little up-and-down, and you never know which Randy you're going to get.
Honestly, it was just too much for me. He doesn't take his medication, and he self-medicates with alcohol, which only makes the mood swings worse.
" Amy paused. "Look, I think he's really a good guy at heart. We’ve all got our problems. But it just wasn’t working out for us.”
I thanked her for the information and told her we'd be in touch.
JD and I headed back to the Avventura and grabbed dinner at Diver Down. We shot the breeze with Teagan for a bit, then met the guys at O’ Grady’s to pregame a little before the show.
We were set to headline at Vibe at 10:00 PM.
All the debris had been cleared from Sonic Temple. It was now an empty lot after the explosion. I'm sure it wouldn't remain that way for long. Prime real estate on the strip.
Jack had been in contact with Harvey about it. He’d owned the place forever, but wasn't sure what he was going to do moving forward. Sonic Temple was an icon on Oyster Avenue, and the premier venue for live rock 'n' roll. It would be a shame if it never came back.
We headed over to Vibe around 9:00 PM, then hung out in the green room warming up until it was time to go on stage.
The place was packed.
Vibe was considerably smaller than Sonic Temple, and they were certainly happy to have the business. You could barely move in the place.
I took the stage and introduced the band.
Dizzy struck a power cord, and the guys rushed on stage and took their positions. Jack howled into the microphone, "Are you ready to rock 'n' roll!?"
The question was met with a roar from the audience.
The band broke into My Only Vice and pummeled the crowd with retro rock goodness for the next hour and a half.
After a couple of encores, the band came offstage a sweaty mess.
Throngs of groupies flocked, looking for autographs, pawing the guys. The band soaked up the adulation. Few things in life are better than being a pseudo-rock star after a show.
To my surprise, Tiffany squeezed her way through the crowd and slinked past the security guy. His job was to selectively filter out people.
I did a double-take. "Funny seeing you here.”
"I thought I'd come out and support. I can be a fan, can't I?"
"The more, the merrier.”
Jack signed a few autographs, then caught sight of Tiffany. I think he was as surprised to see her as I was. "To what do we owe the pleasure?”
She shrugged, then looked at the ground sheepishly before looking up at Jack with those big blue eyes. I had no doubt Tiffany's shy, starstruck routine was well-rehearsed. "I have a confession to make.”
I didn't think she was going to admit to murdering her husband. It wasn't that kind of confession.
"I've been a fan of Wild Fury for a while now. I love how you capture the ’80s nostalgia, but it still somehow feels fresh and new.”
Jack smiled. "You know, we're just a group of guys having fun.”
"It shows."
Crash interrupted and asked me, "Is it cool if we bring people back to the boat?“
"Keep it a small event."
Crash scoffed. "Of course."
I gave him a doubtful look. I'm sure he had invited half the female population already. But I wasn't going to complain.
He looked at Tiffany. "You should join us."
Crash could barely keep his tongue in his mouth. Tiffany was mouthwatering.
"Crash, I don't think you've met Tiffany," I said.
He extended his hand to shake.
I continued, "This is Coach Madison's wife."
"Oh. Well, bring your husband along." Crash hadn't been keeping up with the news.
"My husband's dead."
"Even better!” He cringed, then cleared his throat after realizing his faux pas. "I mean, I'm so sorry for your loss.” He made a somber face. “I think the social interaction might be good for you.”
He rebounded quickly.
Tiffany smiled. "Thank you for your concern and kind words.” She looked at me. "If it's okay with Deputy Wild, I'd love to join the party.”
"Why wouldn't it be okay?" Crash asked with a knitted brow.
"Tiffany was a person of interest at one point in time,” I said.
Crash looked surprised, then surveyed Tiffany. "She’s definitely a person of interest, alright. But no. No way she's a killer. A heartbreaker, maybe, but not deadly.”
Tiffany chuckled. "I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or be offended."
"It’s a compliment," Crash said. "But don't worry. I think you could still be dangerous." Crash had no idea what he was getting himself into.
"Oh, I'm dangerous, alright," she replied. "I'm just not a murderer, as the good deputies have come to realize. At least, I think they realize that.”
"Fortunately, we have more promising leads," I said.
Tiffany looked intrigued. "I'd love to hear more about it, if that's something you can tell me.”
"Let's just say we found someone with a strong motive and the means to carry it out.”
Hope filled her eyes. "That's wonderful news.”
Pinky and Floyd hauled out the gear and loaded it into the Wild Fury van.
They took it all back to the practice studio and set up for the next practice session.
I paid those guys well, and they loved what they did.
Just two old-school rockers living the dream.
Or as close to the dream as they were going to get.
When they were done, they made it back to the Avventura for the after-party.
The Wild Fury phenomenon was something to behold. Even the road crew got treated like somebody special by the girls. Rock star adjacent.
The boat was packed, and music pumped through speakers at a reasonable volume, given the late hour. A few neighbors joined the party as usual. Jack slung drinks from behind the bar on the sundeck, and a good time was had by all.
I'm sure the media would have a field day if they found out Tiffany was aboard the boat, but so far, we had managed to avoid the paparazzi.
"Are you back in the house yet?" I asked her.
"No. I'm still at the Seven Seas. I need to get somebody into the house and clean it up.
All the carpet in the master bedroom needs to go.
Basically, all the carpet upstairs. I just don't want to see any trace of that when I go back. Too painful.” She paused and took a sip of her red wine.
Her lipstick stained the rim of the glass.
Tiffany had a magnetic quality—there was no doubt about it. It was easy to see why Coach Madison had fallen for her.
"I hope you don't think this is too soon."
"What do you mean?”
“Me being at a party, having a drink.”
"Everybody processes grief in a different way," I replied.
"I just can't sit in that cabana by myself. My mind goes to bad places. I keep seeing Brock when I close my eyes, covered in blood, my hands red. I keep having these recurrent nightmares. It's horrible."
I wasn't going to judge her for trying to cope with the situation.
"If I get out and keep my mind occupied, it keeps those thoughts and images away. I don't care if anyone else understands. I need to preserve my sanity at a time like this.”
"First and foremost, you need to take care of yourself. It's a challenging time for people. Stressful, poor sleep. They let themselves get run down. That's the last thing you need right now.”
She smiled. "Thank you for understanding.”
My phone buzzed with a call from Flynn. In that exuberant voice, he howled, “I have arrived! I'm on my way now. I expect you have plenty of whiskey to help us make it through the night.”
I laughed. "I think there's enough to go around.”
Less than 15 minutes later, a black limousine pulled into the parking lot and drove around by the dock.
The driver hopped out, hustled around, and grabbed Flynn’s door.
The movie star stepped into the night air like he had reached the promised land.
With that brilliant smile, he surveyed his surroundings.
The driver grabbed his bags from the trunk.
The movie star was here. And wherever Flynn went, it was the place to be.