CHAPTER THREE
Most of Fisher Island that wasn’t occupied by opulent residences and high-end high-rise apartment buildings was taken up by the nine-hole Links golf course. So, it was a testament to the Carltons’ wealth that their property occupied a full six of the islands roughly two hundred acres.
Most of that property consisted of a "garden.
" Marcus used air quotes in his mind because to him, a garden contained a nice green walkway with a few well-tended bushes and organized pots of pretty flowers with the occasional bee or songbird for company.
The mess he walked through on his way to meet Yesenia Lopez was nothing so calming or picturesque.
Squat baobab trees, thirty feet tall but with swollen trunks that looked like they belonged to much more massive trees, were crowded by dozens of different species of flowers, most of them supersized like the trunks of the trees.
The majority had bright red petals that shone with nectar.
A pungent odor wafted from many of these flowers, like fruit mixed with dead animal if both were left to rot for a few weeks.
Thick vines climbed the baobabs, forming a canopy of green that extended in between branches, covering much of the walking path Marcus was navigating.
The flowers and vines were pungent enough that no bees wanted anything to do with them, but they were coated with at least eight different species of wasp. None of the wasps actually stung Marcus, but several of them buzzed warningly around him.
The mosquitoes showed no such restraint. He slapped three of them dead before he left the back porch of the house.
Yep. Same old Miami.
His phone buzzed. When he saw the number, he sighed. Wonderful. My day’s about to get worse.
He answered, which was a mistake, but one he didn’t think about until it was too late. “Hey, Cheryl. Can I call you back? I’m working right now.”
Cheryl sighed. “Really? The first time I actually talk to you in three months, and you brush me off?”
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Is it urgent?”
“No, not at all. I’m only trying to save our marriage. Nothing that would matter to you.”
She hung up, which spared him the pain of admitting that he had already moved on from that marriage and was trying to move forward with his new relationship.
Gonna have to do that at some point.
Yeah. Like three months ago, when he accepted Kate's invitation for a date. Definitely no later than one month ago, when he had his tongue in Kate's mouth and his hand moving somewhere it would have arrived if Kate hadn't pulled away.
He sighed again. “Christ, I hate this shit.
Once more, he was spared the pain of confronting his personal life when he reached the pool house and entered to find a small, slightly built woman in her late twenties flanked by two burly Dade County Sheriff’s officers.
Sunlight streamed through the glass wall that faced the ocean beyond.
The officers weren’t talking to her, and from the slightly frustrated expressions they wore, it was clear they hadn’t learned anything of use.
Time for Marcus to give it a shot. He flashed his badge and asked, “Can you guys give us a minute?”
The officers shared the age-old look locals gave each other when the feds came snooping, but they offered no protest, and they were polite enough as they wished Miss Lopez farewell and left the shed.
Yesenia was sitting on a small concrete bench carved to look like a section of a Greek colonnade. For some reason, all rich people were either obsessed with plain gray futuristic boxes or callbacks to cultures that had died millennia ago.
Marcus sat on the bench nest to her, a respectful distance away. He offered Yesenia a smile. “Special Agent Marcus Reid. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
He expected a thready, noncommittal reply. Instead, he got a scoff and a somewhat defiant, “I didn’t lose anything. Except my job, I guess.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I take it you and the Carltons didn’t have a great relationship.”
She shrugged. “They were all right. They paid me well and on time, and they didn’t try to force me to do anything.”
That was an interesting response. “Force you to do anything like what?”
She shrugged again. “You know. Sex stuff.”
Marcus noted the rigid posture of her shoulders and the tightness at the corner of her eyes.
She was afraid. It didn’t seem like the fear a killer might show, though, and anyway, Rivera said she had an alibi.
This fear looked more like a general dread, the sort a woman might have if she worked for a freaky couple whose idea of boundaries was a little more permeable than most people’s.
“What did they do?”
She shrugged a third time, apparently a defense mechanism for her. She frowned and looked up at him. “Hey, the cops confirmed my alibi already. I’m not a suspect.”
“No, but you discovered the body, and you were close with the Carltons.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she replied.
“Close in proximity,” Marcus amended. “To be blunt, Miss Lopez—”
“Yeni.”
He flashed her a smile, one that worked on vulnerable people very well. It was a kind, strong smile. I’m safe. You can trust me. I’ll protect you.
Yeni softened a little bit under that smile, and Marcus continued. “To be blunt, Miss Lopez, we believe that the Carltons’ sexual proclivities had something to do with their murder. If the Carltons habitually harassed you, then there’s a strong chance they habitually harassed others.”
Yeni stirred a little. She didn’t shrug this time, though. That was a good sign. “They didn’t… harass me, exactly. They always took no for an answer. They just asked a lot.”
“Did you ever ask them to stop asking?” Yeni’s eyes lowered, and Marcus quickly added, “You didn’t do anything wrong, even if the answer’s no. No doesn’t change to yes, no matter how many times someone asks.”
Sensing he was losing the plot, he cleared his throat and said, “So they asked you to join them in their bed repeatedly, and while they didn’t punish you for saying no, they kept broaching the subject.”
Yeni nodded. “I mean, it wasn’t always the bed. Sometimes it was the shower, the swimming pool, the kitchen…” She gave him a ghost of a smile. “That doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Not really,” he replied with another of his superstar smiles. “But I get the point. They were insatiable.”
She laughed. “Yeah, you could say that. Every Saturday, they’d host a party. The others and I used to plan our weeks around it. You know, because we had to cook and stuff and then clean afterward.” She made a face. “I think that’s why they paid us so well.”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine any amount was enough to make up for what you had to see,” Marcus said.
She shrugged once more. “I mean, it’s whatever. They loved each other. I can’t fathom watching my husband fuck some other girl and still loving him, but it’s what they were into.”
“What about the other staff?” Marcus asked. “Or the guests? Any of them have a problem being a part of this?”
She gave him a smile far too hard for a young woman of her age.
“They were all invited, and they all knew what they were getting into. None of the guests had a problem. And like I said, no means no, and they understood that. No one was made to do anything they didn’t want to do, and no one was allowed to pressure anyone else into anything. ”
That could be a different angle, actually. “Were any of the guests upset by this?” Her brow furrowed, and he explained, “Did any of the guests behave as though they wanted to pressure people into things? Did someone try something and get told off by the Carltons or kicked out?”
“No one was ever kicked out that I know about,” Yeni said. “I’ve only been here for five months, but no one had any big problems while I was working. There were times when people would get drunk and pushy, and Richard would have to talk to them, but I don’t think it ever became a fight.”
Marcus decided to circle back to that. “What about last night? You left around what time?”
“At three in the morning. I was supposed to sleep here, but the Carltons wanted everyone out of the house.”
“Was that normal for their parties?”
She shook her head. "No. It never happened while I was here. The other staff member says it happens sometimes, but not often. Usually, it's because the Carltons just want a break from other people. But it's not normal."
Bingo. “Considering how many people they entertain in the way they entertain them, I’m not surprised. Did they seem different at all last night? Other than wanting everyone out. By the way, did that include guests too?”
She nodded. “Oh yeah, the guests always leave by one. That’s the rule.
The parties always start at nine and end at midnight.
People get an hour to freshen up, sober up, and leave the property.
Then we clean everything up. Once we’re done cleaning, we usually sleep on the property in the staff bedrooms in the basement, but last night, the Carltons wanted the house to themselves. ”
“Who was left when you left?”
“No one. I was the last one out. They made a pass at me once everyone else was gone. I said no, and like always, they didn’t push it. Then I left.”
“Did you notice any vehicles in the area that shouldn’t have been here? Any suspicious people anywhere on the island?”
She gave him another hard smile. “This is Fisher Island. There are suspicious people here all the time.”
“What kind of suspicious people?”
“Hookers, mostly. High-priced ones. Drug dealers, also high-priced ones. A couple of times I saw people I think were gangsters. You know, like mobsters.”
“Any of them interact with the Carltons?”
She shook her head. “No. That was on the other side of the island, the high-rises. People don’t bother the rich people here.”
Marcus saved that to follow up on later. He was still leaning to this being an inside job. “I know this is a long shot, but would you be able to write down the names of the guests and staff last night? I know you said they all left before you did, but it’s possible someone could have come back.”
“Oh, they keep a list. Well, kept a list.”
“Who, the Carltons?”
“Yeah. They kept records of all of their guests. I assumed for legal purposes.”
More likely for blackmail purposes. “Where might I find this list?”
“On their computer. They kept the files there.”
He nodded, then got to his feet. “Wonderful, Yeni. Thank you for your time.” He handed her a business card. “If you think of anything else, please give me a call, all right?”
She took the card and deposited it into her purse. “They weren’t bad people,” she told Marcus. “They liked to be freaky, but they didn’t deserve what happened to them.”
“Most people don’t,” Marcus agreed.
He walked back to the house, leaving Yeni in the care of the sheriff’s officers.
The first tendrils of understanding were sinking into his framework for the case.
This could be Cox making another indirect appearance, but Marcus was betting that the person behind this was more disgruntled than disciple.
Either the Carltons had prevented his fun or threatened to expose it.
The killer had buried his true motive beneath a generous veneer of religion, but Marcus had a feeling it was far more mundane.