“Hey guys,” Jessie said once Beth picked up and put them on speaker. “We’re headed to the Peninsula resort in Palos Verdes to investigate the death of Scott Newhouse, the mega-rich philanthropist. We need everything you can get on him: business dealings that went awry, feuds, marital discord, lawsuits, any legal hiccups, all the way down to traffic tickets. Can you send it to us in the next hour?”
“Not a problem,” Jamil assured them. “Although some of that may require more than just database searches. We’ll have to make some calls.”
“Just do your best,” Ryan said. “Don’t threaten anyone but definitely cajole.”
“I may put Beth on that one,” Jamil suggested.
“Wise move,” Beth said. “I have advanced cajoling skills.”
“Time to put them to use,” Ryan said. “Let us know when you have something.”
Once they hung up, he turned to Jessie and she knew he was going to change topics.
“You know,” he said, “As long as we’re at the premiere resort destination in Southern California, maybe we should take a look at their facilities to see if the place might work for our impending nuptials.”
Jessie’s jaw dropped open. Of all the things she’d predicted he was about to say, that was last on the list.
“Ryan,” she said, “There are people who’d have to sell a kidney on the black market to afford a weekend at that place. How much do you think holding a wedding there would cost?”
“It’s just an idea,” he replied. “Besides, even if it’s not the place for us, we might get some good ideas.”
She was tempted to tell him exactly what she thought of the idea right then. On more than one occasion she’d hinted that, since this was the second marriage for both of them, the prospect of a big wedding just didn’t feel right to her. She would be just as happy going to city hall for the ceremony, or even eloping.
But every time she broached the issue, he seemed to take offense. He said she deserved to do it up right, especially considering that her first marriage had ended because her husband was a sociopath who tried to frame her for the murder of his mistress and then attempted to kill her when she found out.
Of course, the way that relationship ended made her less inclined to focus on the spectacle of a wedding, not more. That ceremony and reception had been massive, and it didn’t end up making the subsequent marriage any better. But Ryan didn’t seem to get that she didn’t feel like she was missing out if they didn’t have an elaborate function the second time around.
Jessie sighed silently to herself. At some point they would need to revisit the topic, but not now. They could hash out their differences later. After all, they were headed into the lion’s den, a place where wealth and decadence tended to bend everything to their will, and they needed to form a united front if they were going to get to the bottom of what happened there.
CHAPTER THREE
Jessie was white-knuckling it.
Even though the lights and siren were no longer necessary because there was so little traffic on the road that led to the resort, Ryan could only go so fast. Hawthorne Boulevard, which ran from Inglewood all the way to the ocean, was winding, with sharp, corkscrew turns and sharp drop-offs into deep canyons. After a good ten minutes of that, the coast finally came into view.
It was breathtaking. The morning marine layer had burned off to reveal rocky, tree-covered cliff sides, which gave way to the Pacific Ocean. Waves crashed against the rocks of secluded coves. In the distance, nearly twenty-five miles off the coast, Catalina Island was visible.
Eventually Hawthorne came to an end, connecting to Palos Verdes Drive just a few hundred yards from the water. Ryan went south on the new street, passing a lighthouse and a nature preserve. A few minutes later, after one final series of hills, the Peninsula Resort & Spa came into view.
As they followed Peninsula Drive downhill to the property, they got a sense of just how massive it was. There were more red rust-hued roofs and cream building exteriors than Jessie could count. A golf course seemed to weave in and out of the complex. She counted three pools, one of which looked like it stopped at the very edge of a distant cliff. As they reached a gate with an adjoining guardhouse, they were greeted by a friendly but armed guard.
“First time staying with us?” he asked warmly.
“We’re actually here investigating an incident,” Ryan said vaguely, holding up his ID.
“Ah, yes, Detective, we were told to expect you,” the guard said. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“No idea,” Ryan admitted.
The guard got a paper map from the house and leaned in with it so they could see.
“We’re here,” he said, circling the guardhouse with his pen. “You’re going to follow this road around to the right. It will take you directly to the Reception Center in the Grand Hall. There are several parking spots for resort personnel. Park in one of them and head to the reception desk. They’ll have a security guard escort you to the spa area. I’ll call ahead to make sure they’re ready for you. Any questions?”
“No,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “That was pretty comprehensive.”
They followed the route the guard indicated, pausing at several stop signs and pedestrian crosswalks to make way for golf carts and guests. As they approached the Grand Hall, Jessie took in the scene. The structure, like all the others, had a Mediterranean look.
But this particular building towered over the others nearby, with a bell tower that looked to be about fifty feet high. It seemed appropriate for the place, which she’d heard would unenthusiastically accept reservations from the very rich but catered primarily to the filthy rich.
When they got to the roundabout near the main entrance, a valet darted out to help them, but Ryan waved him off and took one of the open personnel spots. The valet jogged after them and waited politely as they exited the vehicle.
“Welcome folks,” he said, slightly winded. “I’m afraid that spot is for hotel staff. Can I find a spot for you or direct you to the self-parking area?”
“Thanks, but that’s not necessary,” Ryan said, again holding up his badge. “We’re here on police business. Can you point us to the front desk please?”
“Of course, sir,” the valet said. “It’s right through those doors to your left.”
They headed in that direction. As they did, Jessie took note of their attire as opposed to the guests around them. Despite rushing to get ready before they left, she’d tried to dress appropriately for the location, wearing a light sweater and a pair of nice slacks. Ryan had done the same, wearing slacks and a button-down shirt with a blazer. She thought they fit in pretty well, coming off as devil-may-care, vacation business-casual. The only small giveaway that they might not be in leisure mode was her still-damp hair, which she’d put in a ponytail rather than try to style in the car.
They were just walking up to the front desk when they were met by a tall, bald man in a suit and tie, with a nametag that read: Hugo, Security. He looked the part. Easily six-foot-four and 220 pounds, the man presented like he’d just switched from a football uniform into a work one.