“Oh… kay,” KJ Parkhurst said. “That was awkward. I’m KJ. I’ll be working in the pro shop, but I might fill in as a valet attendant, or anyplace else I’m needed, according to my supervisor.”
Garrett fetched a can of Coke from the fridge. “Parkhurst? Are you related to Mr. Kevin? He’s like an OG golf member, right?”
“That’s my granddad,” KJ said, leaving it at that.
“So what… your family has a mansion that looks out on the golf course but you’re slumming it with us this summer for shits and grins?”
KJ grimaced. “Iwasa sophomore at Wake. Fucked up my knee playing lacrosse, got kicked off the team, flunked out, pissed off my old man. This,” he said, waving his hand expansively around the room, “is his idea of making me man up.”
He slumped backward and nodded at Livvy. “Your turn.”
“Olivia Grayson. Everybody calls me Livvy. I’ll be a server at the Verandah, so I guess Garrett maybe will be my supervisor?” She shot him a tremulous smile. “I was working at BluePointe, and I waited on Mrs. E one day at lunch, so she recruited me to work here. I’m alocal, grew up in town here. I’ve been going to the local community college, but I’ve got plans…”
“Plans,” Felice muttered. “Ain’t we all got some goddamn plans.”
“You’re the new chef, right?” Livvy asked. “I think I saw you in the kitchen when Mr. Burroughs was giving me a tour of the place.”
“Felice.” She obviously wasn’t the smiley kind. “I’m from Miami, well, Hialeah, I work hard, I mind my own business.” She glared at the men. “And I don’t want my kitchen messed up. Like Mrs. E said, if you cook something, clean up after yourself. And don’t nobody touch my stuff, especially my kombucha that’s in the fridge, and we’ll get along just fine.” She sat back, her arms crossed over her chest.
CHAPTER 17
WHELAN
Whelan got to town on Tuesday morning, and by that afternoon he’d rented a grubby, overpriced, furnished efficiency above a surf shop in the village. It wasn’t much—a pullout sleeper sofa, kitchenette, and tiny bathroom—but he didn’t need much.
On Wednesday, he activated his Uber app and started accepting fares. It was a good way to figure out the lay of the land, the money was semi-decent, and it allowed him the flexibility to do what he needed to do.
First stop was the Bonaventure sheriff’s office, located half a mile from the causeway that led to the resort. It was a picturesque pink stucco building designed to look like an annex of the Saint, complete with fake minaret and a wrought-iron balcony to nowhere. The place could have been mistaken for one of those cutesy cupcake bakeries.
Inside, the lobby looked more like a dentist’s office than a cop shop. A young, uniformed female deputy sat at a desk in the center of the room.
“Hi. How can I help?” Whelan found her unnervingly cheerful. For a cop.
He told her what he was looking for and she handed him a form to fill out. He scribbled in as much as he knew: the date of the incident, the victim’s name, and the location.
“Driver’s license?”
“Huh? He didn’t have a license. He was only eight.”
She laughed and held out her hand. “I meant your driver’s license.”
He handed it over, and she scanned it on some kind of box on top of her desk and began typing on her computer, her long nails clicking as her fingertips flew over the keyboard.
“Found it,” she said. A minute later she pulled a document from the printer and showed it to him. “That’ll be twenty dollars. And we don’t take credit cards.”
The 2002 incident report told him little he didn’t already know. The name of the responding officer, estimated time of death, the name of the witness who’d called in the report.
“Where’s the rest of it?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’d like to see the officer’s supplemental report, witness statements, coroner’s report. The whole file.”
Her smile evaporated. “I’m sorry, this is all the information I’m authorized to share with a civilian. Department policy.”
Whelan felt himself losing his cool. “It happened more than twenty years ago. What possible reason could your department have for keeping this file under wraps?”
“Sir?” Her tone had gained an edge. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like you to leave now.”
