Unfortunately for the Darcys, neither of their alibis was bulletproof. She was on a solo hike for part of the time when Scott might have died. He was showering and relaxing alone in their casita. Ryan couldn’t definitively cross either of them off the suspect list. He hoped Jessie was having better luck.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jessie feared they might topple off the cliff.
When Hugo pulled up in the golf cart at the pavilion for seaside yoga, the yoga instructor looked to be safe, but the couple appeared so close to the edge that it seemed like any loss of balance might send them over.
She was about to jump out to warn them when Hugo put his hand on her forearm.
“You’re thinking they’re about to fall off the cliff, right?” he whispered quietly.
She nodded urgently.
“It’s an optical illusion,” he assured her. “They’re actually a good ten feet from the edge, and the drop-off isn’t as steep as it looks. Please don’t yell a warning to them. It’ll ruin the lesson.”
“Okay,” Jessie said, settling back into the cart. “But someone should really consider relocating where they do this.”
“Jude actually prefers it this way,” Hugo said.
“Jude?”
“Jude Austen—he’s the yoga instructor,” Hugo told her, nodding toward the tall, thin man leading the Andrews through their poses. “He likes his students to have that initial fear you just felt when they arrive here. He says that it’s part of the lesson—to teach them that fear doesn’t have to define how you behave.”
“Is he a yoga teacher or a therapist?” Jessie asked.
“He’d probably tell you both,” Hugo said.
That didn’t surprise her. Jude looked like a confident guy. With his height and his elegantly wiry body, he was hard not to notice. Handsome in an understated way, he looked to be in his early thirties. His longish brown hair was tied back in a ponytail and he wore yoga pants and a simple, form-fitting white t-shirt.
“Next thing you’ll tell me he used to be a porn star too,” she muttered.
“Not to the best of my knowledge,” Hugo replied drily before adding, “the lesson’s over.”
The couple stood up and exchanged hugs with Jude. Jessie decided she’d been polite long enough and hopped out of the cart.
“Do you want me to stick around?” Hugo asked.
“Thanks but I’ve got it from here,” she told him. “I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”
He smiled, gave a little bow from his seat, and peeled out, tearing off back toward the Grand Hall. Jude Austen and the Andrews, who had been oblivious to her presence until now, all turned around, startled. Jessie smiled broadly and headed toward them. She had them on their heels and decided to use that.
“Hey folks,” she said, “Hugo didn’t mean to upset the mellow vibe. At least I don’t think he did.”
“Can I help you?” Jude asked, stepping forward. He apparently felt a duty to protect his students from the aggressive interloper.
“I don’t think so, Jude,” she said casually, as if they were old pals,” but I’ll let you know if that changes. I’m here to talk to Malcolm and Abigail.”
“It’s Abby,” the wife corrected pleasantly. She was grinning. Malcolm was not.
“Sorry, Abby,” Jessie noted, taking in the woman. Abby was a sunny ball of energy that seemed to vibrate with enthusiasm. Her wide smile could have powered a small appliance. Her red hair flowed wildly in the wind, crackling and popping like the flames of a campfire. Her green eyes were bright and shiny. She was petite and lean in her yoga wear, but had a sturdiness that suggested she ought not to be underestimated. Jessie, who guessed that they were about the same age, had to fight the urge to instantly like her.
“Who are you?” Malcolm Andrews asked sternly, yanking her out of his wife’s fairy tale positivity bubble.
“Should I call you Mal?” she asked, trying to throw him off.
The man, already looking sullen in his black t-shirt and black sweatpants, with short black hair and dark, stormy eyes, fought to control his obvious desire to ream her out. Jessie was almost amused at his irritation.
“Oh, don’t do that,” Abby warned playfully. “He doesn’t like it when people give him nicknames.”
“Apologies—Mr. Andrews,” Jessie said, choosing to ease up a little. “My name is Jessie Hunt. I’m a consultant with the Los Angeles Police Department, working on a case originating here at Peninsula. I’ve been informed that you and your wife might be of some assistance to me.”
“Has this been authorized by the resort?” Jude interjected. He looked put out that she was interfering with his time with the guests. She wondered if maybe she’d interrupted the moment when they would have slipped him a big tip.
“Didn’t you just see Hugo drop me off, Jude?” she asked mildly, before allowing an edge to creep into her voice. “He’s basically been my chauffeur all morning. But if you have concerns, please feel free to take them up with him. In the meantime, the Andrews and I are going to have a little chat. I’d appreciate it if you gave us a bit of space.”
Jude obviously didn’t want to but kept that to himself. Instead, he turned to the Andrews.
“It was wonderful working with both of you,” he said, all charm now. “If time permits during the rest of your stay, I’d be happy conduct another lesson.”
“Thanks so much, Jude,” Abby gushed. “We’ll see if we can make it work.”
Jude nodded solemnly, slipped on his sandals, and loped off on his long, muscular legs. When he was out of hearing distance, Jessie turned back to the couple.
“Is it okay if we talk here?” she asked, though it was more of an instruction. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
“Sure,” Abby said before Malcolm could respond.
“Great,” she said, diving in before he changed his mind. “Some of these questions may seem random and scattershot but please bear with me. What did you guys do this morning?”
Abby looked at her husband, whose cheeks turned pink. She began to giggle.
“What did I miss?” Jessie asked.
“Nothing,” Abby assured her. “It’s just that I’m not sure how specific you need us to be.”
“I’m looking to get a sense of your movements from about 8 a.m. until 11 a.m.,” she clarified.
“Well,” Abby replied, her body twisting into a pretzel like she had a secret she was trying to physically hold in. “Our movements until about nine this morning were extremely active but confined to our casita bedroom, if you get my meaning.”
“Jeez, Abby,” Malcolm said, covering his eyes with his hand as his cheeks went from pink to crimson.
“What?” Abby countered. “She wants a tick-tock of our morning so I’m giving her one. Right, Jessie?”
“You don’t have to get quite that specific, but it’s helpful to know you were in your casita until nine. What about after that?”
“After that…,” Abby tried to recall. “Oh yeah, I went to do some whale watching.”