Chapter 5
“No," Melissa said. "There were just some things he wouldn't talk about. He was very closed off in some regards. Don’t get me wrong, he would bare his soul on stage, but he could be quiet and introverted offstage.”
"Could Jonathan’s stress have been work-related?" I asked.
Melissa shook her head. "I don't think so. As far as I knew, he was retired.”
"Pretty young to be retired,” I said. “You know what he did for a living?”
"No. Honestly, I don't. He said he had done really well in some kind of tech industry, and that afforded him the ability to pursue his passion, which was acting. I think he still thought he could be a movie star. My God, he had the looks for it." You could tell she was smitten.
I gave her a card and told her I needed to speak with her husband.
Her brow knitted again with annoyance. "Why?"
"I think it's obvious. He’s here tonight and had access to the weapon.”
Her face tensed, and she glared at me. She spun around, and we followed her back into the dining hall and rejoined Nate.
“You’re up,” I said to him.
Melissa gave him a concerned look.
“I don’t talk to cops,” Nate said. “Not without an attorney.”
“What have you got to hide?”
“Nothing.”
“When people don’t want to talk to me, it makes me feel like they don’t like me, or they’re hiding something.”
“Maybe I don’t like you.”
I smiled and handed him a card. “If you change your mind.”
JD and I stepped away.
Jack muttered sarcastically, “Well, that’s a little odd, don’t you think?”
“Just a little.”
We talked to the rest of the cast, and they all had pretty much the same thing to say.
Hunter wasn't the only one to suggest that Melissa was having an affair with Jonathan, but nobody could provide definitive proof or had seen them engage in inappropriate behavior. It was just a feeling everyone had.
We spoke with the passengers and crew of the Mystic Voyager and collected names and contact information. Nobody had seen anyone suspicious enter the actors’ dressing room. I asked specifically if anyone had seen Nate enter the compartment.
Despite an extensive search, we never found the murder weapon.
It would have been easy for Ben to toss it overboard before we got there.
If he did drop it onto the deck after he shot Jonathan, someone could have picked it up and absconded with it.
Or thrown it overboard. There were endless possibilities.
I didn't know what to think, but there was something odd about this one.
I didn’t know just how odd it would get.
Paris Delaney and her crew confronted us on the aft deck.
She asked her usual barrage of questions.
I declined to comment and instead made a call for anyone with information to contact the sheriff's office.
Often, witnesses clam up in the moment. They don't want to say anything.
They don't want to rock the boat. They don't want to draw the ire of the killer.
But sometimes their conscience weighs on them, and they come forward a few days later.
I wasn't holding my breath.
We boarded the sheriff's patrol boat and headed back to Coconut Key. Benjamin was processed, printed, and put into an interrogation room. We filled out after-action reports in the conference room, then paid him another visit.
He told the same story.
I was a little surprised he didn't ask for a lawyer. He still seemed pretty torn up about it. Hard to say if that was because he was looking at jail time, or if he had genuine remorse. Maybe he was an innocent pawn.
I got the impression Benjamin didn't have two nickels to rub together. He might not be able to bond his way out if indicted.
We left the station and set out to find Jonathan’s wife, Chelsea.
I called Isabella, my handler at Cobra Company. I asked her to pull Benjamin's cell history along with Jonathan's, Melissa's, and Nate’s. Isabella had access to all kinds of intelligence resources, but it wasn't always legal.
I gave her the scoop, and she said she'd get back with me as soon as she had time to look into it. She had plenty of her own issues to deal with.
"Think Ben shot him on purpose?" JD asked.
I frowned and dismissed the notion with a headshake. "You think he’s that dumb?”
Jack shrugged.
Benjamin didn’t strike me as the sharpest tool in the shed. Still, even if he intended to kill Jonathan and pass it off as an accident, he had to know he’d be looking at a manslaughter charge at the least. That could earn him 15 years in prison and a $10,000 fine.
“Where's the gun?” I asked.
"Maybe he panicked and threw it overboard."
I shrugged. “Maybe Nate grabbed it during the aftermath and tossed it over.”
Daniels had sent a patrol unit to make the death notification. I was glad somebody else had broken the news. It was the worst part of the job.
Jonathan Edwards had lived with his wife in the Platinum Dunes. He'd clearly done well for himself. The upscale neighborhood was full of cookie-cutter mansions with perfectly manicured hedgerows and landscaping. Palm trees swayed overhead in the gentle breeze.
Jack pulled to the curb in front of the house. The lights were on. We hopped out of the 1979 Porsche 911 SC in light blue metallic and ambled up the walkway. We passed a silver Lexus SUV and a black Mercedes AMG 63.
I rang the buzzer at the courtyard gate.
Chelsea’s voice crackled through the speaker a moment later. "Can I help you?"
I flashed my badge to the lens. "Deputies Wild and Donovan with Coconut County. I know this is a difficult time, but we need to ask you a few questions.”
In a shaky voice, she said, "Sure."
She buzzed us through the gate, and we stepped into the courtyard. The lush oasis had a trickling water wall.
The light in the foyer illuminated Chelsea as she made her way to the door. The frosted glass blurred her figure. She unlatched the deadbolt, pulled open the door, and looked at us with a somber face.
We didn’t look like your typical cops—JD with his long blond hair and Hawaiian shirt. Me in a T-shirt and cargo shorts.
Chelsea Edwards was a good-looking woman. In her mid-20s with stylish short blonde hair, she had flawless skin, ice blue eyes, a cute nose, and full pouty lips. You’d have to be a fool to run around on a woman like that.
Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, but she seemed to handle it well. In fact, she looked angry. Not an unusual reaction. Grief and anger can overlap.
"The deputies came by half an hour ago and told me,” she said, blotting her eyes with a tissue. “But they didn't have many details. They just said he was shot during a performance. Can you tell me more about that?”
"Certainly," I said, then gave her a recap.
A slight chuckle escaped her lips. "The Universe has a sense of irony, doesn't it?”
"I find that can be the case at times."
"Serves him right.”
JD and I lifted an astonished brow.
"How so?”
"That's where he met the slut.”
That hung there for a second.
"Melissa,” I said.
"Little tramp.”
"So you were aware of the affair?”
She huffed. "Of course. Do I look stupid?”
"No, ma'am.”
"I'm very sensitive to people, their vibes, their behavior. I knew the minute he started running around on me.” She seethed, and her eyes narrowed.
“He thought he was so clever. He left clues everywhere.
I mean, he really was such a moron. I pay all the bills around here.
I have access to the cell records, including his.
I saw all his phone calls. It wasn't hard to figure out what was going on. I tracked his phone through the cloud. He was too stupid to turn off location services and tracking.” She sighed.
“Don't get me wrong, Jonathan was a genius. Just a dipshit when it came to common sense stuff.” She frowned and blotted her eyes again.
"I don't mean to sound callous, but maybe this anger is my way of coping.
I loved my husband. I really did. I was devastated when I found out he was cheating on me.
I didn't know what I was going to do.” She lifted a saucy eyebrow. “But I figured two can play that game.”
"You’re seeing someone else?”
"I don't see how that's anyone's business, but yes.”
"Did Jonathan know about your affair?”
"I don't know, and I don't care. But I think Jonathan was too concerned with his own world to be bothered with mine.
" She frowned again and shook her head. "You know, when we first got married, I made a lot of sacrifices for him. There were a lot of long nights and missed weekends because of his work. He promised me that it was for a good cause, and afterward we’d have all the time in the world to spend together.
When he retired, he didn't know what to do with himself.
He went full-on into acting. Started taking classes, doing plays, community theater, whatever he could find.
Stupid little independent films. It's not like there's a huge film scene here, but there's something. I hardly ever saw the man.”
"The man you are seeing now, does he know about your husband?”
Her face wrinkled, and she looked at me like it was a silly question. “Of course. What am I going to do? Lie to the guy I’m cheating on my husband with? That’s too many lies to manage.”
“Did you lie to your husband?”
“No. He never asked.” She thought for an instant. “I guess I lied by omission.”
“Maybe your new boyfriend wanted your husband out of the way?” I didn’t want to grill the grieving widow too hard, but maybe she wanted her husband gone. It sure sounded like it.