"No, he was between jobs at the moment. He worked in tech before, and I think he’d done okay. But he constantly complained about having to pay his ex-wife so much money. Plus child support."
"Do you know her name?"
"Angela Oliver."
It broke my heart to learn he had kids. A senseless reason to lose their father.
I gave Lacey a card and told her to get in touch if she remembered any additional details.
JD and I joined the sheriff below deck as Brenda examined the remains. "No signs of trauma," she said. "Everything is consistent with an overdose, but I'll know more when I get him back to the lab.”
There was enough heroin left in a glassine bag to test. There was a high probability he had hit a hotspot of fentanyl. Or perhaps he just overestimated the dose. Happens all the time when junkies fall off the wagon. They go back to shooting their old maintenance dosage, but they've lost their tolerance. Just a little bit can be enough to kill sometimes.
Brenda and her crew bagged the body, and we wrapped up at the scene. Wesley's remains were transferred aboard the patrol boat, and the sailboat would be impounded. JD and I took it back to the marina at the sheriff's office, then filled out paperwork.
I ran background on Tad Vickers to see if he had a criminal record, but the guy was clean.
Afterward, we set out to find Wesley’s ex-wife, Angela, to inform her of the tragic news. She had a few interesting things to say.
12
We caught up with Angela at her home in Whispering Heights. It was a nice neighborhood, but a far cry from the mansions of Stingray Bay and the Platinum Dunes.
Angela was a striking woman with long blonde hair that dangled well past her shoulders. She had tawny eyes, a natural face, and a trim figure. In her mid-30s, she was a little older than her replacement, but it was clear Wesley had thrown away a damn good life for the junk that killed him. The two-story house was the American dream. French gray siding, Arctic white columns, a well-tended yard, and a white picket fence. What more could a man ask for?
Angela was upset, but not surprised. A grim frown tugged her face, and her eyes misted with sorrow. "I don't know how I'm gonna tell the kids," she said, blotting the tears away with a tissue.
She had invited us in, and we sat on the sofa in the living room. The home was cozy and well-kept. Pastel yellow walls and whiteaccents. Breezy coastal furniture. French doors opened to a patio and a pool.
Angela's jaw tightened. "It makes me so mad. I just spoke to him last week. He told me he was out of rehab, and that was all behind him. He was done for good this time. For him, I really hoped he was telling the truth. There was no chance for us. He messed that up a long time ago.” She frowned. “Wes was such a kind soul. He was a hard guy to stay mad at," she said with a slight chuckle. She exhaled a frustrated breath as the memories flooded in. "I tried. I really did. I held out for as long as I could, but the kids could see what was going on. I couldn't have him around them in that condition. You understand?"
She didn't need to ask us for approval, but I'm sure somewhere inside, she felt responsible for Wesley's death.
"There's no one to blame but Wes. He made his own choices."
Angela frowned and nodded.
She grabbed another tissue from the coffee table and blotted her eyes again. "Can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee?"
"No, thank you,” I said. “We’re fine. You know Tad Vickers?"
Her jaw tensed, and her eyes filled with anger. "That little weasel has been selling him drugs since high school."
"High school?"
"Wes wasn't doing heroin in high school. Back then, it was weed, Molly, and a little cocaine on special occasions. As they grew older, Tad graduated to the heavy stuff." She thought for a moment. “Are you gonna put him in jail?"
"We're certainly going to have a talk with him.”
"He can be charged with manslaughter because Wes died, right?"
"If he sold him the drugs. But proving that might be difficult.”
"I hope you put him under the jail,” she said, anger narrowing her eyes. “I can’t imagine how someone who is supposedly a friend could watch another person deteriorate like Wes did and keep feeding him drugs. I guess it's all about the money with that guy.”
"When was the last time you talked to Wes?”
"Just a few days ago," Angela said. "Like I said, Wes called last week and swore up and down he was clean. Wanted to talk to me about working out some kind of custody agreement where he could see his kids again. I got sole custody after the divorce because of his drug use.”
