Chapter 32
Thwack!
The fuzzy yellow ball careened through the air.
Sneakers shuffled against clay.
The ball bounced, and Elizabeth swung her racket.
Thwack!
She knocked the ball over the net like a pro. That frilly skirt of hers bounced, showing off toned, tanned legs sculpted by hours on the court. With her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and a visor on her head, she was pure focus.
Her partner, the club tennis pro, returned the ball with ease. Though she did have him running back and forth across the court.
She grunted and groaned every time she smashed the ball, beating it like it owed her money.
The exchange went on for quite some time.
I think he finally let her score a point. He knew what side his bread was buttered on.
Elizabeth took the small victory, then wiped the sweat from her brow and marched to the side of the court to grab a thermos of water.
"Are you mad at that little yellow ball?" I asked.
Elizabeth gave me a curious look. "I just picture the faces of my enemies."
I chuckled and displayed my badge.
"Oh, is that illegal? Are you going to arrest me for abuse?"
I flashed a reassuring smile. "No. Nothing like that. I just need to ask you a few questions.”
Her blue eyes narrowed at me. "That sounds interesting."
In her mid-30s, Elizabeth was breathtaking.
Sculpted cheekbones, pouty lips, and flawless skin.
No doubt she'd spent a lot of time at the spa—facials, exfoliating scrubs, Botox, red light therapy.
A man would have to be crazy to run around on a woman like that.
Dr. Latham didn't seem like much competition.
"My husband called and said you'd be asking questions. I'm surprised you found me so quickly. Did he tell you where I was?”
I smiled. "No. We're just good at our jobs."
"Apparently. He told me Dr. Latham was murdered.“
"Yes, ma'am," I replied.
"Please, call me Liz," she said with a little flirty sparkle in her eyes. "Is my husband a suspect?"
"We're talking to everyone who had any connection to the deceased."
"I hardly knew her. But she had good taste in perfume. Creed Aventus. I smelled it on my husband's clothes all the time."
"So you were aware of his extracurricular activities?"
She huffed and rolled her eyes. "He thinks he's so clever. He couldn't hide something like that from me if his life depended on it.”
"You don't seem terribly upset.”
She smirked, and her eyes glanced at the tennis pro for a moment. He was 27 with the body of a Greek God, pearly teeth, chiseled features, and wavy blond hair. He stood at the far end of the court, bouncing a tennis ball against his racket, occupying his time while she spoke to us.
I had no doubt he was servicing quite a few of the ladies of the Coconut Key Country Club, giving them more than just private lessons on the court.
"Two can play that game," she said in a deliciously devious voice.
"Can you tell me where you were last night between 9 and 11:00 PM?"
She laughed again. “It’s cute you think I care enough to kill someone over my husband." She huffed. "Please, if he wanted that troll, he could have her. That woman was not a threat to me.”
"So, where were you last night?”
A devilish smirk curled her lips. "I was getting a private lesson. Just ask Liam," she said, her eyes flicking to the Pro. She called for him. “Liam, could you come tell these gentlemen I was with you last night?”
He looked a little surprised she would admit it. He jogged to greet us, and we made introductions. “Yeah, we had a, uh, lesson on court #2 last night,” he stammered.
“What time?”
Liam glanced at Liz for a moment. “From, uh, 8:00 PM to 9:00 PM as I recall.”
“And afterward?” I asked.
With another sly smirk, Liz said, “I took a quick shower, got freshened up, and went home. Any other questions?”
“So, you’ve never met Laura?”
“Maybe at a function here or there.”
“Ever been to her office?”
“No.”
“So, if your fingerprints turn up on the murder weapon…”
“That would be impossible.” Her eyes brightened with intrigue. “How did she die?”
“I can’t discuss details about the case.”
She frowned with disappointment, then recovered. “It must be so exciting what you do.”
“It has its moments.”
My phone buzzed with a call from Rex Thompson.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I said, then stepped away and answered while Jack chatted with Liz. “This is Deputy Wild.”
“Rex Thompson returning your call.”
“Thank you. Listen, I’m looking for Greg Latham. Do you know where he is?”