Dead Wood - By Dani Amore Page 0,76

“Shannon.”

She had on blue jeans, a windbreaker and topsiders. A large bag was slung over her shoulder. Her hair was loosely pulled back. She looked…normal.

“Nice boat,” she said.

“It’s a tub of shit, but thanks,” I said.

She stood there, uncertain. It was odd seeing her by herself. No gang of hangers-on swarming around like a pack of bloodthirsty mosquitoes. She seemed smaller, less sure of herself. Maybe I was reading too much into it.

She stepped off the main dock and walked along the dividing dock between my boat and the one next to me.

I held her hand as she hopped onto the deck. Without saying a word, she went down the stairs to the cabin. After taking a quick look around and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I followed her below.

The cabin’s layout was simple. On one side was a small table surrounded by a U-shaped bench. The other side was a long counter with a sink, a fridge and the radio. Small storage compartments were tucked everywhere in between.

I gestured for Shannon to sit on one end of the bench and I took the other. The space was too small to sit face-to-face so she sat straight ahead and I sat with my legs out toward the stairs.

“Okay, who called this meeting?” I said.

“What happened to your face?” she asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” I said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How come you haven’t said a word about Molly’s death?” I said, ignoring her question. I mean, come on, your assistant falls down the stairs, breaks her neck, and you keep an appointment to meet a P.I. at ten o’clock at night? It was about as absurd as me killing two people and keeping an appointment with a country music star. Chaos reigned.

“I guess I’m all talked out about it,” she said. “I’ve been over it with the cops nine or ten times.”

“Now that you’ve got your story straight, why don’t you lay it on me?”

“I had nothing to do with it,” she said. “And don’t talk to me like that.”

“You weren’t there when she died?”

She shook her head. “Do you have anything to drink around here?” she said. “Aren’t sailors always supposed to have booze on hand?”

I hesitated and took a look at the big purse she’d slid off her shoulder and placed on the table.

“Oh, please,” she said.

It was a moment of truth of sorts. Did I think Shannon was knee-deep in this thing? The bigger question was, how could she not be? But as I looked at her across the table, my gut told me she wasn’t. I got up, went to the sideboard and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and splashed some into a clean glass for her.

“You’re not drinking?” she said.

“You need me to?” I said.

She shrugged her shoulders.

I waited while Shannon drained half the glass in one big gulp. The boat rocked slightly and I knew that the wind had picked up even more, if it was able to whip waves that big into the harbor.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she said.

With a shaking hand, she reached for her purse. I watched her as she pulled out a thick joint and a lighter. As she tried to light the tip, it slipped from her hand and landed on the floor.

“Just tell me what you do know,” I said.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice quavering. “I have people who are supposed to do that for me.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” I said.

She nodded.

“Too many people doing too many things on your behalf,” I said. It didn’t seem to register for a moment. When it did, she went pale and it was hard to see her as the superstar in the press. On the covers of magazines and the object of countless fan clubs and websites. She looked like a scared, lonely woman approaching middle-age.

“Please help me,” she said. “Tell me what’s going on.” Her lips trembled and the tears started rolling down her cheeks. “Do you know what’s going on?” she asked.

I let out a long breath. “I think I do.”

“Can you explain it to me?”

I took the CD from Molly’s purse, the one I’d found in the twins’ silver BMW. I went to the control panel of the boat where a small, built-in CD player was housed. I flicked on the power button and slid the disc in. I waited a moment and then hit play.

It was just static at first. Almost like a gentle scratching. And then soft, acoustic guitar. Gentle notes,