Wild Heart: A Coastal Caribbean Adventure (Tyson Wild Thriller Book 24) by Tripp Ellis

Author:Tripp Ellis [Ellis, Tripp]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tripp Ellis
Published: 2021-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

26

We found Eleanor Kensington in the cockpit of her sailboat, smoking a cigarette. It was docked at Mangrove Bay.

Eleanor was an interesting lady. She was in her mid-60s and had short bottle-blonde hair. Eleanor had certainly been a looker back in her day, and she kept her figure reasonably well—but probably not as well as she would have liked. Over the years, the cigarettes had pickled her face, and her makeup looked like something Picasso might have done. The heavy makeup ended up looking like the dry, cracked flats in Death Valley.

We stepped to the dock by the stern of her boat, and Eleanor smiled, blowing out a cloud of smoke through the side of her mouth. "Deputy Wild, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm afraid this isn’t a social call, Mrs. Kensington."

Her smile faded slightly. "Well, a girl can dream, can't she?”

I flashed a courteous smile. "We’d like to talk to you about Nina Harlow."

Her face soured. "That slut? Thank God she's gone!”

“Well, tell me how you really feel," I muttered sarcastically.

“She shouldn’t have been allowed on the airways, spouting that filth.”

"So you were a fan of the show?" I said in jest.

"Lord, no! But I did listen on a regular basis just to monitor what kind of depraved things she was saying. For Pete’s sake, some things need to remain private. I don't know if you ever listened to her show, but some of the things she talked about were just downright unnatural." Eleanor pointed to the sky. "He sees everything, and let me tell you, everybody gets what's coming to them. Sooner or later."

"So you think Nina deserved to die?"

She raised her hands innocently. Wisps of smoke drifted from the cigarette that was half gone. "I'm not one to judge. I'm just saying…"

"You own a gun, don't you?”

"I sure do."

"A 9mm?"

"I got a 9mm, a .45, a .38 special, and an AR 15 with extra magazines for when the shit really hits the fan."

"You definitely seem prepared. Can you tell me where you were last Wednesday evening?"

"I was right here."

"What were you doing?"

"I had dinner here on the boat with a gentleman caller. We had good conversation, a nice bottle of wine, and enjoyed a wonderful evening,” she said with a smile, straightening her posture, lifting her nose with pride.

"And who is this lucky gentleman?"

"It's none of your business."

"We’re just trying to verify your whereabouts."

She scoffed. "You don't really believe little old me sailed out on the water at night and crept aboard that whore’s boat and shot her, do you? I mean, you two must be getting pretty desperate if you're considering me as a suspect."

"You've clearly expressed a disdain for the deceased," I said.

"It's a free country. I can dislike whoever I want."

“That is certainly your prerogative.”

She hesitated, and her face crinkled. "If you must know, his name is Paul. But for God’s sake, don't harass the man. He's a fine gentleman. I don't need you two running him off."

"I'll need his contact information."

She gave it to me reluctantly.

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