“Hey everyone,” Abby said, when they entered. “Ms. Hunt from LAPD is here.”
The room went silent. Everyone she expected to see was there: Bridget Newhouse, Malcolm Andrews, as well as Matt and Ellie Darcy. There were open bottles of wine on the counter and from their flushed faces and bleary eyes, it was clear that at least a couple of the folks had already had their fair share.
“Hi everyone,” she said somberly. “I just wanted to give you all an update on our investigation.”
“It’s about time,” Malcolm Andrews said, showing all the charm he exhibited at the cliff side yoga spot.
“Please, Malcolm,” Bridget pleaded, her voice rough and trembly, “let her talk.”
The woman looked exhausted and her eyes were red, though whether that was due to crying or drinking, Jessie couldn’t be sure. She imagined it might be both.
Unsure how best to break the news diplomatically, she decided to just be honest. There were so many people in the room that it would be hard to observe all of their reactions, but she didn’t have much choice.
Maybe I should have brought Kat with me for this.
But it was too late for that.
“I’m afraid we don’t yet have a definitive cause of death—,” she began before Matt Darcy interrupted her.
“We all know it was strangulation,” he said much more loudly than was appropriate. It was clear that much of the wine had been consumed by him.
“That’s correct,” she replied calmly. “But we are still waiting for results from the medical examiner that will tell us whether he did this to himself or if someone killed him.”
She scanned as many faces as she could. Bridget, Malcolm, and Abby all looked surprised at the revelation. And although she had never spoken to them before, it appeared that neither of the Darcys seemed shocked at the news.
“So you think he might have been murdered?” Ellie asked flatly, as if confirming a suspicion she’d already had. Jessie recalled how Ryan said that during his interview with them, the Darcys seemed to be cold to one another, for reasons he couldn’t determine. She sounded equally chilly now.
“It’s certainly a possibility that we’re looking into,” she acknowledged.
Bridget Newhouse stifled a sob, regrouped, and spoke very slowly, as if taking her time would keep her emotions in check.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” Jessie consoled, “but we don’t have much more than that now. We’re hoping that will change by tomorrow,” she said to Bridget specifically before speaking to the whole group. “That’s why we need everyone to remain here at Peninsula overnight. We’ll want immediate access to all of you should we have additional questions.”
“Are you saying that we’re suspects?” Malcolm Andrews demanded indignantly.
“In a situation like this, everyone’s a suspect until they’re not,” she said plainly. “Don’t take it personally. It’s better to view this as an opportunity to help get justice for Scott.”
“None of us is going anywhere anyway,” Matt Darcy said, with less volume but the same belligerence as before. “We’re Bridget’s friends and we’re here to support her.”
“That’s right,” Ellie agreed. “We already called their nanny and had her take the children over to our place to be with our kids and my mom. The press is sure to get a hold of this story, if they haven’t already, and we don’t want them staking out Bridget’s place with their TV trucks while the little ones are there.”
“That’s very considerate of you,” Jessie said, not mentioning that Ellie Darcy seemed super on the ball for someone dealing with such a shocking tragedy. She couldn’t determine if the woman was just built that way or if there was something else going on.
“Thanks so much,” Bridget said, walking over and giving Ellie a hug. Neither woman let go and Jessie began to feel awkward.
“I’m going to get back to it,” she said. “We’ll try to let you know when we have more information. You should expect that we’ll have additional questions for all of you so please stay by your phones. And I would recommend that no one talk to the press. We don’t need this to turn into a circus. That will just make it harder to get to the truth.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Abby said. When they got to the door, she took Jessie’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “Thanks for everything you’re doing.”
“It’s my job,” Jessie told her.
“We appreciate that. And if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
“I will,” Jessie said. She was about to leave when she added, “Actually, if you or anyone else thinks of anything that might feel relevant, no matter how small, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“I won’t,” Abby said. “But I’m not sure how much good any of us will be to you tonight. We’re planning to take Bridget to that bar, The Cove, and help her drown her sorrows.”
Jessie wasn’t sure it was such a great idea for these folks, all of them close to Scott Newhouse but any of whom might be responsible for his death, to go to a bar while raw with emotion. But she kept her mouth shut. If they were at the bar, that meant they were at the resort. And that’s what she’d come here to ensure.
With that mission accomplished, she had to get back to her partner and fiancé. She hoped that in the time she was gone, he’d had some kind of epiphany about the case. But she wasn’t holding her breath.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was actually Kat who had the unexpected insight.
As soon as Jessie returned to their bungalow, she was physically accosted by her friend, who pulled her over to the living room couch. Ryan was already sitting there, noshing on a finger sandwich, one of the many snacks that Kat had collected from the buffet.
“What is it?” Jessie asked, not sure if her friend was excited about the food or something more significant. She turned to Ryan. “Do you know what this is about?”
“She wouldn’t say anything until you got here,” he said, finishing up his sandwich and grabbing a piece of cornbread.
“Okay, let me start at the beginning,” Kat said excitedly.
“Always a good plan,” Jessie said.
“Don’t get smart, Hunt,” Kat said. “I may be saving your bacon here.”
“That reminds me, have some bacon,” Ryan said, handing her a piece.
Jessie took it and began nibbling as Kat filled them in on her adventure.
“When I went to the restroom up at the Grand Hall, a couple of employees came in. I was in a stall so they thought they were alone. One of them is apparently a maid who cleans all the offices in what’s called ‘the therapeutic wing.’”
“What’s that?” Ryan asked.
“I checked to find out,” she said. “It’s off in a secluded corner of the Grand Hall, sort of an annex. It houses the resort’s on-site chiropractor, physical therapist, and marriage and family counselor. They even have a financial advisor there.”
“I’m surprised that Honey Potter didn’t set up shop there too,” Jessie said.