Pirelli’s
down at the waterfront for dinner. In spite of an overcast evening, they dined
outside in the open air on steak and lobster and were on their third bottle of
wine when Jake insisted, “How about we take a walk on the beach, walk off this
meal, head down to the marina. I’ll show you my boat.”
“You really love that boat, don’t you?”
“It isn’t so much the boat. I like being out on the water.”
How could he explain that, after being the person of interest in a murder
investigation for the better part of a year, he’d needed to make some life
altering changes?
Waking up one day and finding his perfect life wasn’t so
perfect after all but rather an illusion had sent him into a tailspin. The
humiliation of it all had him searching for an outlet where he could lock
himself away from the pressures of his business and forget how he’d fucked up
his life.
Sailing had been it for him.
But he revealed none of that as they left the restaurant and
walked outside into a heavy lingering marine layer. They headed south, toward
the marina. With only streaky bits of lowering sun, the breeze right off the
water made the gray May evening feel chilly. He took one look at the slinky,
form-fitting black dress Kit wore and asked, “Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “I enjoy being outside. When I was a kid
I always hated being cooped up inside. I’m like my father that way. He was an
outdoor kind of guy.”
They’d just reached the outer fringes of the downtown shops
when Kit abruptly stopped and asked in a wobbly voice laced with emotion, “Do
you think you could find out for certain what happened to him? My father, I
mean. Alana told me he died when I was fourteen on location in Spain filming a
western. I always wondered if she told me the truth.”
She saw the questions form on his face. “He and Alana hated
each other. They divorced when I was a baby. There were long periods of time
when I didn’t see him.”
Jake looked out over the water, furrowed his brow. “I could
do a search online, start with the union, the Screen Actors Guild.” When he saw
her puzzled look, he explained, “He had to belong to the union in order to
work. As an actor, they’d keep track of his residuals. Might be a good place to
find out who’s getting what. I take it that’s not you.”
Again, she shook her head.
The implication of it all hit him at once. He suddenly
resented being put in the position of pointing out to Kit the sad possibilities
about this whole thing. “He could have arranged for his residuals to be part of
his estate through his will and the residuals are going to the person named in
the will. Isn’t it possible he might have remarried or for that matter had
other children? Do you have stepsisters or stepbrothers? I’ve never heard you
mention any.”
Looking at the puffy eyes from where she’d cried earlier,
Jake realized talking about this couldn’t be easy. Taking in those sad green
eyes, he wanted to take away the hurt. “This must be difficult for you, but I
don’t know any other way to do this except to strip away the layers one at a
time.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “I don’t care about his
residuals. I got used to the fact that I wasn’t exactly his primary interest a
long time ago. He never mentioned that he remarried or had other kids, but then
he was usually a half a world away. It’s entirely possible he had other
children. Even though, to tell you the truth, I hadn’t considered that
possibility until right now. Alana might have been right. I’m not exactly the
brightest bulb on the tree.”
They stopped momentarily, long enough for him to knuckle the
tear off her cheek. “Get his social security number. I’ll check a little deeper
than just surface stuff, find out more details, maybe even contact the
authorities in Spain for any information they might have about his death. If
you know the name of the film he was working on when he died, maybe we could
find out
down at the waterfront for dinner. In spite of an overcast evening, they dined
outside in the open air on steak and lobster and were on their third bottle of
wine when Jake insisted, “How about we take a walk on the beach, walk off this
meal, head down to the marina. I’ll show you my boat.”
“You really love that boat, don’t you?”
“It isn’t so much the boat. I like being out on the water.”
How could he explain that, after being the person of interest in a murder
investigation for the better part of a year, he’d needed to make some life
altering changes?
Waking up one day and finding his perfect life wasn’t so
perfect after all but rather an illusion had sent him into a tailspin. The
humiliation of it all had him searching for an outlet where he could lock
himself away from the pressures of his business and forget how he’d fucked up
his life.
Sailing had been it for him.
But he revealed none of that as they left the restaurant and
walked outside into a heavy lingering marine layer. They headed south, toward
the marina. With only streaky bits of lowering sun, the breeze right off the
water made the gray May evening feel chilly. He took one look at the slinky,
form-fitting black dress Kit wore and asked, “Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “I enjoy being outside. When I was a kid
I always hated being cooped up inside. I’m like my father that way. He was an
outdoor kind of guy.”
They’d just reached the outer fringes of the downtown shops
when Kit abruptly stopped and asked in a wobbly voice laced with emotion, “Do
you think you could find out for certain what happened to him? My father, I
mean. Alana told me he died when I was fourteen on location in Spain filming a
western. I always wondered if she told me the truth.”
She saw the questions form on his face. “He and Alana hated
each other. They divorced when I was a baby. There were long periods of time
when I didn’t see him.”
Jake looked out over the water, furrowed his brow. “I could
do a search online, start with the union, the Screen Actors Guild.” When he saw
her puzzled look, he explained, “He had to belong to the union in order to
work. As an actor, they’d keep track of his residuals. Might be a good place to
find out who’s getting what. I take it that’s not you.”
Again, she shook her head.
The implication of it all hit him at once. He suddenly
resented being put in the position of pointing out to Kit the sad possibilities
about this whole thing. “He could have arranged for his residuals to be part of
his estate through his will and the residuals are going to the person named in
the will. Isn’t it possible he might have remarried or for that matter had
other children? Do you have stepsisters or stepbrothers? I’ve never heard you
mention any.”
Looking at the puffy eyes from where she’d cried earlier,
Jake realized talking about this couldn’t be easy. Taking in those sad green
eyes, he wanted to take away the hurt. “This must be difficult for you, but I
don’t know any other way to do this except to strip away the layers one at a
time.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “I don’t care about his
residuals. I got used to the fact that I wasn’t exactly his primary interest a
long time ago. He never mentioned that he remarried or had other kids, but then
he was usually a half a world away. It’s entirely possible he had other
children. Even though, to tell you the truth, I hadn’t considered that
possibility until right now. Alana might have been right. I’m not exactly the
brightest bulb on the tree.”
They stopped momentarily, long enough for him to knuckle the
tear off her cheek. “Get his social security number. I’ll check a little deeper
than just surface stuff, find out more details, maybe even contact the
authorities in Spain for any information they might have about his death. If
you know the name of the film he was working on when he died, maybe we could
find out
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