The Girl on the Yacht (2 page)

“How’ve you been?” Marin still felt the spark in John’s touch. The next question just came out, “Why did you stop calling—was it something I did?”

“I was down here. We seemed to be drifting apart and I thought you were over me.” He shrugged his shoulders, and his eyes appeared less bright.

She took a second. “You always had that same insecurity.”

He shrugged. “Well, after you graduated and moved out of state, I heard you were seeing someone new.” He paused. “Mare, your life was busy.” His eyebrows went up. “My life was in chaos with my business.” He held open his palms. “I lost track.”

Marin looked down at her beagle to hide the look of sadness in her face. She pulled a treat from her pocket and tossed it.

The six-year-old, brown-faced beauty made a vertical leap in the air and snatched the flying morsel at the top of the arc.

“What’s her name?” John asked.

“She’s Bailey.”

John laughed at the swinging tail that seemed to control the dog. He stooped slightly and tapped his knee. “Beagle Bailey, it’s good to meet you.” He rubbed her honey-colored ears and peeked up at Marin with his baby-blues. “You’re a very lucky dog.”

The docile beast rolled over on her back. John did what was expected and rubbed her tummy. Her sighs conveyed her incredible joy, and the two became forever friends. She allowed him to continue.

“Bay’s a doll,” he worked his fingers through her soft fur, “aren’t you, girl?”

A happy thought welled up in Marin’s mind.
He knew I graduated and moved out of state. He did keep track.
Her mood soared at the discovery.

“I’ve thought about you so often.” He stopped for a second. “Have you had breakfast?”

“You’re with someone. I don’t want to––” She glanced up at the top deck of his massive yacht, and
she
felt insecure. Marin sensed a serious disconnect had developed over the years—in more ways than one. “I feel like a pauper in this neighborhood.”

“Come on over.” His voice trailed off. “I want to introduce you to some friends on the dock.”

Marin felt a combination of divergent emotions—happiness at seeing John again, and sadness from what might have been. She missed him so––his smile, his gentle nature, his love. She nodded and followed him on to his boat. Over her shoulder, Bailey sat at attention on the dock––the beagle focused on her mommy.

“Come on, Bay,” John called. “We’ll find you something to eat, too.”

The dog sprinted up the stairs and turned to face Marin with the biggest smile—food was on her mind.

“Can I get you a drink?” John asked. “I’m having a Bloody Mary.”

“It’s too early for me.” She looked over at the three people at the table. Her mind was drawn by the wonderful aroma of fresh pineapple, berries, and hot croissants, and to the awkwardness of meeting John’s girlfriend.

“Marin Ryan,” John started the introductions, “these are my good friends, Laura and Dan Douglas and––”

“Marin?” Laura, a blonde woman about Marin’s age, interrupted and stared at John. “
The
Marin?”

He nodded with a huge grin.

“From Santa Barbara?” Dan asked.

Dan Douglas stood and extended his hand. Marin stepped back to look up at him while he gazed down at her.

“You’re a big one,” she teased.

“Six-foot-seven-inches of teddy bear,” Laura announced. A good foot shorter, she stood up next to her husband and put her arm around his waist. “We met in college, too. He played football at S.C.”

His hand on her hip, Dan’s arms appeared to be long enough to wrap them around her body twice.

Fascinated, Marin said, “Let me guess. Not wide enough for a lineman, not small enough for a back. Linebacker, or,” she paused and stared at him, “or middle linebacker, if you had the speed.”

John looked at her as if she were speaking in Biblical tongues.

Dan grinned. “I had the speed,” he said proudly. “Middle linebacker—first string.”

Marin nodded.

“Welcome to E-dock.” Laura came around the table and gave Marin an unexpected hug.

Marin flinched at the sudden show of affection.

“These two were in the deep end––head over heels,” the other woman said.

John added, “You already know Beth.”

Marin stared at the woman with long brown hair. There was something familiar about her. She was at a loss to remember the beautiful, petite woman.
Already know her? When? Where? How would I know his girlfriend?

Beth sprung to her feet and made a beeline in Marin’s direction. “I’m so glad to see you.” The strange woman wrapped her arms around Marin and gave her a crushing, affectionate embrace. “Trust me, Johnny is, too.”

The name Johnny caught her ear and triggered a memory. Marin stared at the woman, and the baby blue eyes gave the beautiful woman away. “Sister Beth––from Wisconsin?” Marin held her away. “Last time I saw you,” Marin desperately tried to recall, “you were like––fifteen.”

“She’s a lawyer in San Francisco now,” John said. “She’s in Orange County for a meeting and is staying at my house for the week.”

Marin was the one leading the latest embrace. “We’ll have to catch up before you go back.”

Laura looked over at her husband. “Dan, maybe we should go. Let these three get reacquainted.”

John put his hand out to her. “You’re staying. I invited you for breakfast, and I want you to get to know Marin.”

Laura grinned and picked up a few bright red strawberries. She handed one to Marin and one to Beth. “You have to try these.” She paused. “By the way, our boat’s in slip E-30.” She pointed to the slip between Marin’s and John’s.

Dan picked up a croissant and looked over at Marin. “The way you brought your boat in was impressive.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Laura confessed.

“Marin’s been around boats her whole life. Her father was a Navy Captain.” John indicated that she should slide into the horseshoe-shaped seat across from the married couple. “She also has a Ph.D. in criminology.”

Marin glanced over at him. She took a bite of the ripe strawberry and felt the sweet juice float across her lips, while she digested what he said. “I teach over at the University.”

John stared at her. “What university?”

“Newport Coast. Up on the hill.” She glanced across the bay at the sprawling campus overlooking the Pacific on the far bluff.

“How long?” John had a puzzled expression.

“Two years.”

His radiant smile turned to a frown. “Two years? You knew I was in Newport, and you never tried to get ahold of me?”

“I read about all of the beautiful women you were dating.”

He looked hurt.

Dan seemed to sense the awkwardness of the moment and changed the subject. “My Laura’s a psychiatrist.”

John scanned away from Marin toward Dan. “Are you two staying on your boat tonight?” His voice seemed shallow. When Marin turned back to him, he chugged the Bloody Mary to the bottom of the glass.

“We’re here till Monday,” Dan said.

“It’s our first long weekend this year,” Laura said. “I’ve been swamped with patients, and I’m trying to finish some research.” Laura picked up on the uneasy moment between the reunited couple and speared another strawberry. “Aren’t these the best?”

Marin nodded her agreement, but her thoughts were on John.
Maybe I should have tried after I moved here.
To redirect the conversation, she asked, “Laura, what’s your research about?”

“It’s just behavioral stuff.”

“Tuesday, she’s heading to Maryland for a conference at Walter Reed Medical Center.” Dan filled the dead air.

“Are you going along?” Marin asked Dan.

“Been there before. I just sit around all day in the hotel room waiting for her to come back from meetings. She goes from morning till night. No, thanks. I’ll use the time to get caught up at my office.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

“Investments.” Dan’s tone suddenly changed. He stared out at the bay. “Or, maybe I’ll just come down to the boat and read a good mystery.” He turned back to Marin. “What about you two?”

John shrugged. “You know me––whatever.”

This is getting a little awkward
, Marin thought. The criminologist shifted in her seat and nudged John to let her out. “I should get back to my boat and crank out a few pages in my book. My publisher’s been hounding me to get him some chapters.”

John stood and moved aside, while Beth gave him a look that he shouldn’t let her go. “Maybe we can get together later today,” he suggested to Marin.

“That sounds good.” She turned to Beth. “It’s so good to see you.”

When Marin rose from the table, Dan asked her, “What’s the book about?”

“It’s the story of power and corruption.” She set her napkin on the table. “I’ve always been fascinated by what the rich get away with. It’s what pulled me into criminology.” She glanced over at Laura. “You know, we should team up and write a book together. You can do the psych theories, and I can do the crime theories.”

“Sounds like a best seller,” Dan said.

Michael pulled off Coast Highway at MacArthur Boulevard and headed north. A short distance in, he turned right on San Joaquin Drive and shot up the hill. The Suburban navigated its way through the maze of older streets on the ridge overlooking the nearby expanse of calm ocean.

The bland set of beige buildings occupied the entire block. He slowly drove by and continued along, cataloging every detail in his memory.
Overhead street lights located on the corners––none mid-block. That’s good. The only visible traffic camera is at the stoplight intersection, three-hundred yards to the east––excellent.

Michael made a U-turn at the next cross street and did another pass. Two blocks back he pulled the huge Chevy Suburban in against the curb.
It should be easy to avoid the camera from here.
He swung the door open, reached down, and grabbed the L.A. Dodgers cap.
I’ll come up on the building from the west and duck into the main entrance.

While he strolled casually along the sidewalk, Michael pulled the dark-blue hat down—his slow, natural pace suggesting a familiarity with the property. He slipped casually through the arched entry into the 1960s-style apartment building that had recently been renovated into tiny ocean-view condos. Michael ran the back of his finger along the names on the mailboxes, searching for Number 22. “Got ya.”

The following few minutes, he walked through the courtyards along the concrete paths to understand the layout and perimeter of the massive complex. When he had it, he made his way out back and came to a halt when he saw the empty parking space marked 22.

A silver Mercedes pulled in next to the open spot. A woman in her sixties reached back over the seat to retrieve her day’s shopping spoils. With a colorful Nordstrom’s bag in hand, she turned in the seat.

Michael approached and said softly through the closed window, “Excuse me.”

Intimidated by his presence and size, the woman flinched.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He gave his best puppy dog expression. “I’m a little embarrassed.”

Her tension seemed to subside. She listened without opening the door.

Michael continued, “You see, a couple days ago, I accidentally dented the car that was in this parking space.” He pointed to the open spot. “It was just a small scratch––I should never have left—I feel so guilty about it. I want to get in touch with the owner. When do you think I should come back?”

His sincerity and demeanor settled the woman. She smiled at him and pushed open the door.

He extended his hand to help her from the vehicle.

The woman said, “She’s spending the weekend on her boat over at the Blue Water Marina.” The grey-haired woman climbed out of the vehicle. “If you want to leave your number, I’ll give it to her when she comes home on Monday.”

“Would you? That would be great.” He took out a pen and searched his pockets for a piece of paper.

She held up the glitzy silver and black bag.

“Just write your name and number on this.”

He nodded and wrote the name, Tom Drake, and just as bogus, a phone number. “I really appreciate it.” Michael turned and walked slowly back through the building’s alcove toward the street.

Damn. No time to plan. I’ll be going in blind. I need to pick up a few things before I head down to the water. What had she said? Blue Water Marina?

An hour before sunset, Marin heard the seductive sounds of the marina boater’s life. They lured her away from her writing on her laptop, and over to the upper deck railing of her boat. Below, a dozen people had assembled in pod semicircles of folding chairs on the five-foot wide floating concrete path behind Laura and Dan’s boat. John stood over the barbecue with a margarita in one hand and a basting brush in the other. Marin smiled.

“Are you ever coming down?” John called up to her.

She descended the steps two at a time, landed hard on the back deck, and vaulted over the short transom wall on to the dock leg.

John set his glass down and dropped the brush into a bowl of sauce. He made his way over to her. In his khaki shorts, navy blue Tommy Bahama shirt, and ball cap with a “Master Diver” emblem, he was scrumptious. His alluring blue eyes sensually drew her into his outstretched arms.

“May I have this dance?”

The soothing sounds of
Bob Marley & The Wailers
filled the dock from the exterior speakers on John’s boat. The suggestive song, “Jammin,
”
seemed to be calling out to all within earshot insisting on the change of pace that dock life promised—the idyllic anthem for an evening on the water. She threw her arms over his shoulders.
If Marley’s “One Love” comes up next, everything would be perfect. There were great memories in that song.
“Is this how summer begins on E-dock?”

“It’s the weekend tradition. Dock parties always start with a dance and end with––”

“A kiss?” she inserted.

John grinned. “I was going to say it ends with a hangover, but hey––kiss––that works, too.” He held her away at arm’s length—examining her from boat shoes, to white shorts, to blue silk blouse.

She felt as if they had never been apart. “So, are we good?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He caressed her a little more softly and spun her in their slow dance. “I’m sorry I never called you.”

“Me, too.” Marin caught a glimpse of his sister sitting alone near a table filled with appetizers. “I’m going to say hello to Beth.” She rolled out of his tender hands. Dan Douglas cut her direct path off with a rolling cart stacked with the weekend’s groceries and boating supplies.

John raced to the barbecue, picked up his tongs, and flipped chicken breasts.

“Need some help?” Marin asked Dan.

“Yeah, thanks.”

She looked back at John and gave him the—come over and give us a hand—nod.

Instead, John held up his two hands––one grasping his drink and the other holding the tongs.

“I’m a little busy, here.” He grinned at her, winked at Dan. “Besides, you’re the one who volunteered.” He pointed the stainless steel tongs at her and gestured a shooing motion that she should get with it.

“Now I remember, you were always looking for a way out of hard labor.” Marin picked up a heavy bag.

Dan shook his head and laughed. “You two are meant for each other.”

“She started it.”

“He started it,” Marin answered and then turned toward Beth. “I’ll be right back after I help put things away on his boat.”

“It’s okay. I’m leaving soon to go back to John’s condo,” Beth said.

“It will only take me a minute. Hang around. I want to catch up.”

“I’ve got this,” Dan offered.

Marin followed him inside to the galley. She set the bag on the counter and began stowing the groceries in the full-sized refrigerator. “Dan, where can I get a drink around here?”

He gave off a short snort of a laugh.

“What?”

“Well, last year, we had a contest to find out who made the best margarita on the dock. There were a lot of entries.” He slowly shook his head. “After a long night of taste testing––a lot of taste testing––we decided to make the winning recipe this year’s E-dock margarita.”

“What’d the winner get?”

“We threw him into the bay.” Dan grinned. “It sobered him up, and we had a great time.”

“Nice––that’s really cold water.” She made a shivering motion.

“Like I said,
we
had fun.” He let out a guttural laugh.

“The winner didn’t,” Marin added.

Dan nodded toward the doorway. “We’re all in for some fine tequila with John doing his award winning entry.”

She laughed at the thought while walking though the doorway out to the dock and over to John. “Hey, where’s my margarita?” She held her empty hand in the air as if holding a drink.

John put the barbecue tongs into her open hand. “Take over. I’m falling behind.” He ducked into the recesses of his boat’s cabin.

Marin glanced over at Beth, smiled, and waved the tongs for her to come over and keep her company.

Beth got up, grabbed a carrot off one of the trays on the table, and walked over.

“How’ve you been?” Marin flipped the meat.

“You know, he really missed you.” Beth’s eyes peered toward the open cabin door into John’s boat.

“We’ll see what happens,” Marin said.

Beth smiled.

Marin glanced over Beth’s shoulder at the beautiful Italian motor yacht at the end of the dock, opposite John’s. The curves of the boat were different from the surrounding American boats––it looked more like an artist’s brushstroke in white against the dark water’s backdrop. Her eyes caught a slightly overweight man on the upper deck leaning against the stainless steel top rail, his right foot resting on the railing’s bottom bar. He peered down at the assembly. He wore expensive boat shoes, tailored slacks, and a nautical blue Polo shirt. He pulled out a lighter and lit a huge cigar.

“Rob, come down and meet our new dock mate,” Dan shouted up and then pointed to Marin.

He leisurely climbed off the black and white Italian beauty and weaved through the circle of folding chairs.

“Hasn’t this party started yet? Where are those great margaritas?” he demanded.

“John’s mixing below as we speak.” Dan turned toward Marin. “Rob Irwin, this is Marin Ryan.”

“Where’s Jackie?” Laura asked from the deck chair behind Rob.

“Trial––where else? You know she’s always late.” The dark-haired man extended his hand to Marin. “Good to meet you. What an interesting name.”

“My father liked the sea.”

“I’m guessing you have the same gene.”

Laura first looked at the man, then glanced over to the new boat. “Marin’s in E-28. She knows John from college.”

Beth seemed to enjoy the comment and glanced over at Marin.

“And, this is John’s little sister, Beth. She lives in San Francisco,” Laura said.

Rob spun around, and with the same graciousness, took her hand. “Beth, it’s good to meet you, as well.” He glanced over at slip E-28 and back toward Marin. He pursed his lips. “Hmmmm––nice boat––new?”

Marin nodded.

“Were you the one who brought it in this morning?”

She nodded again, while she plucked the finished chicken breasts from the grill and stacked them on a platter.

“Definitely have your father’s gene for seafaring.” Rob stared at the drink table of empty glasses and shouted in the direction of the open cabin, “Where’s my drink?”

“Coming,” John called.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Rob offered chairs to the two women. “What kind of work do you two do?”

“I have a legal practice up north,” Beth answered.

“My wife’s a lawyer, too. What’s your specialty?” he asked.

“Ocean law.”

He looked at her in a strange way, obviously trying to digest the information. “Shipping law or military law?”

“Environmental law,” Beth said.

“That can’t be too profitable.”

“I have a benefactor.”

He slowly nodded his head, obviously knowing that she was talking about John. He turned toward Marin. “And, what do you do?”

“I’m a criminology professor over at Newport Coast University.”

Everybody at the gathering suddenly took an interest.

“She’s writing a book,” Laura said. She rested her hand on Dan’s arm.

Rob, the sixty-year-old land developer glanced back at Marin. “What’s it about?”

“Crystal Sea Bank.”

“That’s the one our government gave all that money to, and then it went under anyway,” Rob said.

“It was a mess.” Dan slowly shook his head. “It almost took down major players in the banking sector.” He was fuming. “My problems are directly related to those bastards. They stole billions. The country’s in a real mess––hell, the whole world.”

“Those guys never go to prison.” Rob’s demeanor had changed.

Laura, the psychiatrist, nodded and pushed back her medium length blonde hair.

“Prosecutors are always apprehensive about going after the rich,” Beth said.

“It’s difficult to convict individuals––with their lawyers and their plausible deniability,” Marin said. “Usually, it’s a token fine against the company––it’s the easy way out.”

“My Jackie’d go after them,” Rob said, obviously proud of his wife.

Marin wasn’t sure what he meant.

“Jackie’s the District Attorney,” Laura explained.

There’s a person I’d like to interview for my research,
Marin thought.

“Wasn’t there a vice-president in the Crystal Sea case that confessed to fraud?” Dan asked.

“I remember––didn’t he go to Club Fed?” Beth asked.

Marin nodded. “I interviewed him last week up in Lompoc Prison.”

“What did you expect to get from him?” Dan asked.

“I just wanted to understand his motivations.”

“His motivation––he wanted to get rich the old-fashioned way––steal it. He ruined an awful lot of people who owned the bank’s stock.” Rob sat up straighter. “If you see him again, I have a question you can ask.” He stared at the darkening blue sky. “How did
he
get arrested when there are a hundred more criminals like him walking on the streets with huge wads of cash in their pockets?”