Chapter 6
“Deputy Wild, what can you tell us?” Paris asked as we left the tennis courts. The camera lens closed in, and a fluffy boom microphone hovered overhead.
I made a call for witnesses to come forward and left it at that.
We stepped out of frame, made our way to the parking lot, and hustled back to the Porsche.
I climbed behind the wheel, cranked up the engine, and pulled out of the lot.
I called Isabella, my contact at Cobra Company.
She had access to intelligence resources the department could only dream of.
It wasn't always legal, but it came in handy.
I asked her to see if she could put any cell phones near the tennis court around the time of the murder.
I didn't think a killer would be stupid enough to leave his phone on while committing such a heinous act.
But it could have been a spontaneous crime of passion.
Judging by the number of times the racket hit Liam's face, it was a heated exchange.
It didn't take much digging to learn that Liam had a sister who lived on the island. From what I could tell, she was his only next of kin. Jack and I headed across town to make the death notification. Never a pleasant thing.
Lauren Prescott lived in the Delphine. It was an upscale midrise, popular with young professionals. I parked in the visitors’ lot, and we hopped out and hurried to the main entrance. I buzzed her unit from the call box, and she answered a moment later. "Hello?"
"This is Deputy Wild with Coconut County. Can you let us into the building? We need to talk for a moment."
"Talk about what?”
"About your brother Liam.”
"Is he okay? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
"It's better if we speak face-to-face.”
After a pause, she said, “Okay,” then buzzed us in.
We stepped inside and made our way across the lobby, then took the elevator up to the third floor. I knocked on #314, and footsteps padded down the foyer a moment later. Lauren unlatched the deadbolt, then pulled open the door and looked at us with concerned eyes.
She was an attractive woman with wispy blonde hair, azure eyes, and classic features. Both she and her brother had won the looks lottery.
"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news," I began, then told her of her brother's demise.
Her eyes filled, and she burst into tears. She grew wobbly, and we helped her into the apartment to the sofa. I grabbed a tissue from the coffee table and handed it to her. Lauren blotted her eyes and sniffled.
"Liam was all I had left," she said between sobs. She took a moment and pulled herself together. "How did this happen?”
"Your brother was murdered," I said.
Her eyes rounded. "By whom?”
"That's what we are hoping you can help us find out.”
She sniffled and blotted her eyes again.
"Can you think of anyone who may have wanted to harm your brother?”
Lauren frowned and shook her head.
"Was your brother seeing anyone?"
She exhaled. "Liam changed girlfriends like he changed underwear. He had a girlfriend for a little while a few months back. I thought it might stick. I really liked Stacy, but it didn't last."
"I take it you were close with your brother.”
"Yes. Of course. We had our moments, like all siblings.”
"What do you know about his cocaine use?”
Another surprised look widened her eyes. "Cocaine? I didn't know he was using cocaine."
"You know if he was dealing at the club?”
She looked at me like the notion was absurd. "I don't know. I thought he just gave tennis lessons.”
"I think he was giving a little more than tennis lessons," I said, trying not to be too sarcastic about it.
Lauren said nothing.
"When was the last time you talked to your brother?”
She shrugged and thought about it. "I don't know. A couple of days ago, maybe."
"So, you didn't talk every day.”
"No.”
"I take it your parents are no longer in the picture.”
Lauren’s lips tightened, and she shook her head. "It's just me and him. Now it’s just me, I guess. Mother passed a few years ago.”
"Who did he hang around with?"
"He was pretty tight with Blake. I think he was still hanging out with a couple of guys from high school, Rich and Reagan.”
"I'll need contact information for them as well as for his ex-girlfriend, Stacy."
She thought about it for a moment. "I can give you Blake's number, but I don't have anything for the others.”
"Last names, if you’ve got them. I can figure out the rest."
She nodded.
I dug into my pocket and handed her a card. She found her phone and texted me Blake's information.
“I have to ask. Can you tell me where you were between 8 and 10:00 PM last night?” I tried to put it as delicately as possible.
Her brow wrinkled. “I was working.”
“Where do you work?”
“I wait tables at Knock Out.”
It was a sports bar where the waitresses strutted around in hot pants and crop tops. Not a bad place to watch a fight or take in a game and some overpriced food.
“What time did you get off?”
“I got cut around 10:30 PM. It was a slow night.”
I thanked her for her cooperation and offered my condolences once again. We left the apartment, hurried back to the car, and set out to find Blake.