The Perfect Secret (A Jessie Hunt Psychological Suspense Thriller—Book Eleven) Read online

  “I’ve been better,” he admitted, his voice thick with exhaustion.

  “Well, maybe getting some fresh air will help,” she suggested. “I saw a picnic table out front. We can talk outside and if you feel like vomiting, the grass is right there. Better that than messing up this…lovely bedroom.”

  “Who are you again?” he asked.

  “I’m Jessie Hunt. I work with the police. This is Detective Karen Bray. You might remember Detective Purcell from earlier. We need to ask you some questions.”

  He nodded silently and followed them out to the patio table, making sure to sit in the most shaded chair. Jessie, Karen, and Ernie Purcell took the other seats. Matilda stood silently off to the side.

  “So,” Karen began, “we know you gave Detective Purcell here a statement a few hours ago. But frankly, Cord, it was pretty incoherent. We were hoping you could clear a few things up for us.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Great. So why were you in Jasper’s personal wing in the first place?”

  Jessie didn’t mind Karen taking the lead in the interrogation. It actually afforded her the chance to study Cord’s body language before diving in herself.

  “I had to pee,” he said. “But every bathroom was being used.”

  “Aren’t there a dozen of them?” Karen pressed.

  “There are a lot,” he replied. “But the party was so massive that there were just too many people. Lines to get in were five, six deep. And they were moving slowly, if you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t,” Karen said.

  Cord glanced over at Matilda as if seeking her permission, but she showed no visible reaction, so he continued.

  “Jasper’s parties can get wild. Sometimes people in the restrooms are having sex or…doing drugs. They lose track of time. Meanwhile, the rest of us are outside waiting to relieve ourselves.”

  “But you knew where to find an unoccupied one,” Karen prodded.

  “Right,” he said, getting back on track. “Jasper’s been letting me crash here for the last couple of weeks. I work as a VP of production at his studio, Otis Ocular. My condo complex had a gas leak. We were all relocated to a crappy motel. When he found out, he said I could stay here until it got resolved. So we’d hang out sometimes in his wing—play pool, watch a movie. So when things got tight last night, I thought I’d use his private bathroom. No one’s supposed to go in the wing without express permission, which is why I thought it might be free. But I also felt guilty because it was like I was betraying his trust.”

  “Sure,” Karen said. “So that’s when you found Millicent Estrada. Did you recognize her?”

  “Not then, because I was so freaked out and she looked so messed up, with her neck and all. But later on, when I saw a picture of how she usually looks, she was familiar. I think she’s some kind of lawyer or something. And she’d gone to lots of Jasper’s parties lately. I’d see her at the ones with fifty people and the ones with five hundred. But I didn’t really know her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “So she was a regular at the parties?” Jessie clarified.

  He shrugged.

  “I couldn’t really say what makes for a regular. Jasper throws so many of them and there are always tons of people coming and going, doing all kinds of wild stuff. It’s usually a madhouse. But I’ve definitely seen her around.”

  “And she was wet when you found her?” Jessie reconfirmed.

  “Yeah, when I shook her, hoping she’d wake up, water was dripping off her.”

  Karen leaned in and Jessie could sense that she was about to get more aggressive.

  “Cord, Detective Purcell here says you were pretty out of it when you gave your statement earlier. Is that correct?”

  “Yeah, I’d been partying pretty hard.”

  “In light of that, is it possible that you inadvertently stumbled upon Ms. Estrada alive in Mr. Otis’s personal wing and mistook her for a threat of some kind? Maybe lashed out at what you thought was an attacker?”

  Cord looked at her as if she was crazy.

  “No way,” he insisted firmly. “I was messed up, sure. But I didn’t do anything like that. I walked into that bathroom and saw her in the shower. I tried to help but she was already dead. I admit I was high out of my mind. But I didn’t touch that chick. Give me a lie detector test. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of in my life, maybe even illegal things, but not this.”

  And then, as if the stress of asserting his innocence had caught up to him, he suddenly leaned over to the side and vomited in the grass.

  As Jessie looked at the guy, sickly and pathetic, she internally dismissed him as a suspect. Not because he might not be capable of doing something awful in a drunken stupor, but because she doubted he could keep it hidden. If he was guilty, Cord Mahoney would have already confessed by now.

  “Thanks for thinking of coming out here,” he said to Jessie appreciatively when he’d caught his breath.

  “Sure thing, Cord,” she said before turning her attention back to the others, Matilda in particular. “This is a waste of time. We need to talk to the person who actually runs this place. That’s the estate manager. Take us to Nancy Salter now, please.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  They left Cord to sleep it off in his valentine bed.

  Matilda led them to meet with Nancy Salter, who was supposedly going to get them in to formally interview Jasper Otis. As they followed the young girl, zipping past multiple guest houses at breakneck speed, Jessie and Karen considered what they’d just seen.

  “I know they took Cord’s prints and DNA, but I doubt it’s going to turn up much,” Jessie said resignedly.

  “You don’t think it could be him?” Karen asked.

  “Never say never,” Jessie replied. “I’ve been burned too often to make that mistake. But it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. That whole wing was unoccupied. If he’d killed her, he could have walked right out of there and back to the party and no one would have been the wiser. But he called nine-one-one, gave his name, and stuck around, even though he was under the influence. Plus, even though polygraphs aren’t infallible, the general public doesn’t know that. Volunteering to take one suggests he’s either confident of his innocence or a sociopath of epic proportions. He didn’t strike me as the latter.”

  Karen was about to respond when her phone rang. The way her face fell when she saw the caller and slowed her pace, Jessie knew this wasn’t going to be pleasant. She pretended not to notice and walked ahead, joining Purcell.

  “Can you send me those crime scene photos?” she asked him. “I don’t want to wait for the preliminary report tomorrow to look at the body for the first time.”

  He nodded without speaking and pulled out his own phone. Behind them Jessie could hear part of Karen’s conversation.

  “I take him almost every week,” she said testily. “How hard is it for you to cut up some orange slices, sit on a lawn chair while cheering occasionally, then hand out said orange slices?”

  Whatever the person on the other end of the line said, it didn’t go over well.

  “I’m terribly sorry that you’ll have to miss the Rams game. Maybe you can record it. And if not, they play about fourteen more this year, so I think you’ll get over it.”

  They were approaching a severe-looking woman standing on a stone staircase overlooking the garden and hedge maze. Jessie got the distinct suspicion that it was Nancy Salter and glanced back at Karen, giving her the official “time to wrap it up” look. Karen nodded.

  “Just make it work,” she said. “We all have burdens. You have to find his cleats. I have to go solve a murder. Goodbye.”

  Karen hung up just as they came to a stop. Jessie glanced over at Ernie Purcell. To his credit, he gave no indication that he’d heard a word of the conversation.

  “Detectives,” Matilda said, “this is Nancy Salter. She’s the estate manager for Otis Estate. Nancy, you already know Detective Purcell. This is Detective Karen Bray and Jess
ie Hunt, a criminal profiler.”

  Nancy Salter looked formidable. She appeared to be in her late forties. She was tall, even looking down at Jessie, who was five foot ten. Her coal black hair was tied up in a tight bun that made her already pinched face look like a raisin. She wore no obvious makeup but had on an elaborate business suit, complete with a doily-style scarf that made Jessie wonder if she’d walked into an episode of Downton Abbey.

  “Hello,” Nancy Salter said, her voice both loud and nasally. “We’re pleased to have you. I’ve scheduled a ten thirty a.m. meeting with Jasper to discuss what he’s able to share regarding the matter in question. In the meantime, I’ve collected some of the revelers from last night’s festivities that are still on the property. If you wish to interview them, I’ll take them to you now.”

  She began walking without waiting for permission.

  “How many people are we talking about?” Karen asked as they all rushed to keep up.

  “About two dozen, I’d say.”

  “We’re going to need the names of everyone who attended the party last night,” Karen said.

  Nancy Salter looked back at her and seemed on the verge of laughing, but managed to contain it.

  “I’m afraid that’s quite impossible,” she said.

  “Why?” Karen pressed.

  “Because there was no guest list. Jasper is very welcoming. He invites friends and expects them to invite people he might find interesting. I can probably write down the names of people I’m certain were here, but that will be a mere fraction of the total actual attendees. To be honest, I wish Jasper would be a little more formal when it comes to his gatherings. It’s quite difficult to ensure we have enough food and beverages when, on any given night, we don’t know whether to expect twenty visitors or two hundred. I can tell you that based on the caterer’s bill, I estimate there were between four hundred fifty and six hundred people here last night.”

  Jessie decided to pursue a different area of inquiry.

  “I noticed cameras all over the property. Has your security team handed that footage over to Detective Purcell yet?”

  “They’re collecting what’s available as we speak,” Salter assured her.

  “Great,” Jessie said. “I’d like them to especially focus on the personal wing, from six p.m. until the first officers arrived on the scene.”

  Nancy Salter did actually laugh at that one.

  “Forgive my impertinence,” she said quickly. “It’s just that the notion that Jasper would allow his private residence to be monitored is laughable.”

  “But I saw cameras there as well,” Jessie said, trying not to get annoyed by the woman’s attitude.

  “Yes, they were installed in plain view as a deterrent. But they’re inactive. In fact, the residential wing and the garden hedge maze we just left are the only areas on the entire estate where there is no monitoring allowed.”

  “Why the hedge maze?” Karen wondered.

  “Jasper enjoys spending time there. It’s a place of solitude and mystery that relaxes him. And since he values his privacy, of course he wouldn’t want cameras there any more than in his own bedroom.”

  “Ms. Salter,” Jessie said, “I have to say, I find the assertion that, in the home of a public figure like Mr. Otis, in the middle of a massive party, with all the security on this property, there is no footage at all in the area where the crime took place…hard to buy.”

  Salter stared at her with what Jessie suspected was her most severe expression, the one she saved for employees who’d failed her or her boss. Jessie stared back, undaunted, waiting for an answer.

  “Ms. Hunt, all I can tell you is our policy. I’m sorry that it doesn’t comport with your expectations, but there’s nothing I can do about that. What I can do is leave you in Matilda’s care to conduct any guest interviews you choose to do while I reconfirm your meeting with Jasper and attend to other errands.”

  “I assumed you’d be staying with us,” Karen said.

  “You assumed incorrectly, Detective Bray. My duties are numerous on this Sunday morning. Keeping Otis Estate running is much like operating an unconventional business. Jasper has a new personal chef who I need to check in on. The gardening staff is in an uproar over the trampling of several rose bushes last night. We are trying to resolve a mold issue in one residential wing of West House. And someone appears to have released one of the goats from the petting zoo and dressed another in a tube top. So I’ll have to take my leave of you. But rest assured, I will collect you when it’s time to chat with Jasper. Be well.”

  She was gone before anyone could reply. Matilda stepped forward.

  “Would you like to speak to the guests now?” she asked.

  Jessie, Karen, and Purcell shared an exasperated look.

  “Sure,” Karen finally relented.

  “Ernie,” Jessie said as they followed Matilda. “I know what Salter said, but have whoever’s collecting the video footage from last night check the residence just in case.”

  He nodded and pulled out his phone to text someone. She was tempted to see if he’d really made the request but decided she had to give the guy some autonomy, even if she was inclined to believe Karen’s assertion that he’d be more of a hindrance than a help.

  As they made their way to the pool, where the assembled guests waited, Jessie could have sworn she saw a goat trotting behind a distant bush.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The guests were mostly useless.

  Few had much recollection of where they were at any point during the night.

  “Can you tell me where it is?” one still-drunk girl wondered when Jessie asked if she’d ever been in Jasper’s personal wing. “I’d love to check it out.”

  “Jasper’s awesome,” a swarthy guy smoking a clove cigarette told them. “Coolest dude ever.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” Karen reminded him. “I want to know if you’ve been to his personal wing?”

  “He has a personal wing? That’s so cool!”

  They gave up on him and tried to question a group of ultra-fit twenty-something girls in yoga pants who were sipping mimosas at a patio table. None of them knew about the personal wing but several happily name-dropped when asked if they could list any attendees.

  “I got Rance Jensen to sign my boob,” one offered.

  “Me too,” another squealed.

  “The lead singer of that Hubert Humphrey band or whatever it’s called dedicated a song to me when they were playing that acoustic set by the fire pit,” said a third.

  Jessie suddenly felt old. She’d never even heard of the band. She was also exhausted. After two hours of interviewing mostly still-drunk partiers, she was actually glad when Nancy Salter reappeared at precisely 10:20 to collect them.

  “You’re relieved, Matilda,” she said. “Take your break. I’ll escort our guests to see Jasper. Please come to the personal wing momentarily so you can retrieve them upon the completion of their visit.”

  Matilda nodded and scurried off. Salter led them back along the route they’d followed previously, away from the pool and cabanas, past a series of guest houses, skirting the petting zoo and the hedge maze as they returned to the back entrance of South House.

  “Find the missing goat?” Jessie asked.

  “We did. Thanks for your concern. Unfortunately, one of our keepers suffered a kick to the shin while retrieving him. He’s been sent to the ER with a possible break—just another day in paradise.”

  It was a testament to Salter’s general inscrutability that Jessie couldn’t tell if she was being serious or sarcastic. They turned right from South House and again passed the hall connecting it to West House. They were just starting up the stairs when Karen pointed down to the end of the corridor.

  “Is that where the mold problem is?” she asked.

  “Indeed,” Salter replied. “We only just learned of it. Now that whole area has to be closed off while they do the remediation. We’re lucky it didn’t happen last month when Jasper
was hosting a wedding. There were a dozen overnight guests, including four in that wing. We would have had to scramble to find them accommodations. Small blessings, I suppose.”

  She climbed the stairs even faster than Matilda. Jessie was out of breath trying to keep up. When they arrived at the entrance to Jasper’s wing, Salter pressed a button on the intercom.

  “Yes,” Jasper asked.

  “I have our friends from LAPD here to speak with you,” Salter replied.

  “Please show them in, Nancy,” he said.

  She led them through the array of rooms until they came to his private dining room. Salter motioned for them to take seats. They did as she moved to the corner of the room, where she remained standing. Moments later Otis arrived, talking on his cell phone.

  “Tell them it’s my final offer,” he said as he took a seat, silently mouthing “sorry” to them. He waited for several seconds before replying, “I expect an answer one way or another by noon tomorrow. Otherwise we’ll move on to Belgium.”

  He hung up without saying goodbye, put the phone in his pocket, and gave them his most charming smile. It felt false to Jessie.

  “So,” he said, jumping right in. “As I told you earlier, I’m not sure how much help I can be. But I’m here to try. What do you want to know?”

  “Where were you last night between three and four in the morning?” Karen asked, launching straight in.

  He sat there for a moment with a look of contemplation on his face.

  “I couldn’t tell you for certain,” he said. “I was a bit of a social butterfly, moving from group to group, chatting, making sure everyone was having a good time. There was a period where I went off for a little private time with a lady friend in the pool house. But I think that was earlier, closer to two-ish.”