Chapter 22
Paparazzi pulled into the lot, chasing after Flynn. The vultures hopped out of their cars and rushed to grab photos and cellphone footage. They swarmed around, camera flashes flickering, shouting questions.
“What brings you into town?”
“Are you filming another movie?”
“Do you think your daughter got a fair trial?”
“Guys, guys,” Flynn said. “It’s been a long flight, and I’d just like to relax. I’m here in town to see friends. I’ve got several projects in development. And I’m not discussing my daughter.”
He posed for some pictures, then said, “Thank you, gentlemen. Now I’d appreciate some privacy.”
It was something you gave up when becoming a public figure.
They followed him down the dock to the Avventura.
People gawked at the movie star as he crossed the passerelle and stepped aboard the boat. With his roller case in tow, he weaved through the crowd.
Flynn was a lot of things, but he wasn't a self-important, pretentious douchebag.
He had more or less renounced the trappings of fame and downsized his life.
The yacht in Monaco was gone. He didn't travel with a security staff. No assistants. No entourage. All of that was absent. His career was in the tank, his wife had left him, and his daughter was serving a 7-year sentence in a juvenile facility on a manslaughter charge in France. With good behavior, she’d be out in 3.
It pays to have a wealthy, famous father.
Flynn had certainly found rock bottom and was now trying to crawl his way out.
"Where the hell are they?" he shouted as he meandered through the crowd, looking for me and JD.
From the sky deck, I shouted down to him and waved.
He grinned and made his way up. When he saw me, we clasped hands, and he gave me a bro hug. "Damn good to see you! Where the hell is Jack?"
Flynn looked around and spotted JD as he headed our way with a handful of beverages. Weaving through the crowd, careful not to spill, Jack arrived with nary a drop hitting the deck. He doled out the drinks, greeted Flynn with a handshake and a hug, then lifted his glass to toast.
We all clinked glasses and sipped the fine beverages.
I introduced Flynn to Tiffany. Of course, his eyes were instantly drawn to her mesmerizing, all-natural assets. Who could blame him?
I had no doubt this wasn't his first drink of the evening. He probably indulged on the flight from Los Angeles. His eyes narrowed at the vixen, and he pointed at her. "You. I know you.” Flynn finally placed it. "Coach Madison. My condolences for your loss.”
Tiffany thanked him.
Flynn said to me, "I hope you don't mind, but I figured I’d crash with you guys while I'm here.”
"Not a problem, but it's first-come, first-served. You better claim your guest room fast. They tend to fill up by the end of the evening around here.”
Flynn grinned. "In that case, let me get settled in, and I will be right back." He addressed Tiffany. "It was nice to meet you.”
"My pleasure.”
Flynn meandered through the crowd, smiling, shaking hands, and high-fiving. It didn't matter that he hadn't had a hit movie in a few years—people adored him.
He disappeared below deck.
"You sure do have intriguing friends," Tiffany said.
“Keeps life interesting.”
It didn't take long before delightful beauties slipped out of slinky dresses and climbed into the Jacuzzi with some of the band members.
It wasn't a party until someone got naked.
Several of the paparazzi loitered on the dock, snapping photos and taking video of the boat and the party that ensued. I'm sure it would be all over the Internet in a matter of moments.
Flynn returned, mixing and mingling, soaking up the adulation. He could say he wanted privacy, but he enjoyed the spotlight. I'm sure he'd miss it if nobody paid him any attention.
The party raged on, and between Jack and Flynn, there was never a dull moment.
The hour grew late, and couples began to pair off, looking for spare staterooms below deck.
I kicked the stragglers off the boat and told them they didn't have to go home, but they couldn't stay here.
Tiffany said to me, "It's been entertaining, deputy. I appreciate your hospitality. Would you mind walking me to my car?”
"Not at all," I said. "Are you okay to drive?"
"On second thought, I should probably call for a rideshare. I've had a few glasses of wine. Maybe a few too many.”
"A wise choice.”
"Or I could always stay here until I sober up, if you don't mind.” She tried to play it off as innocent, and it was almost convincing. Almost. Her sultry gaze seemed like an invitation.
"I don't think that would be such a good idea, given the current situation," I said.
"Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest anything.”
"Of course not.”
Tiffany called for a rideshare, and I escorted her to the parking lot and waited until her driver arrived.
The paparazzi still loitered around, and they didn't waste any time snapping photos and taking videos.
"Now that you’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing, what will you do?”
"Do you think it's appropriate to attend a party so soon after your husband's demise?”
"Have you already started dating?"
Tiffany ignored them, said goodbye, and hopped into the silver sedan. She rode off into the night.
The paparazzi followed me back to the Avventura.
"Are you romantically involved with Tiffany Madison?"
"No."
"Do you think it's appropriate for county deputies to fraternize with former persons of interest?"
"The Coconut County Sheriff's Department remains committed to solving Coach Madison's murder.”
"Is Tiffany Madison still considered a suspect?”
"Not at this time," I said before crossing the passerelle to the aft deck.
I stepped into the salon, petted Buddy, then climbed up to my stateroom and got ready for bed.
Buddy and Fluffy decided to follow. The aloof white cat seemed to be craving affection.
When I got into bed, she crawled up beside me, purring and flapping her tail as I crashed out. Buddy curled up at the foot of the bed.
One big happy family.
My phone buzzed in the morning with a call from Sheriff Daniels. He was not happy. "Wild, what the hell is going on?”